The Fireseed Wars

by John F. Carr

  “Good. Praise Dralm, the Styphoni don’t have any warships on the Sea of Aesklos.”

  “No, but most of the ships leaving Port Glarth are bringing supplies for the Host. It was fortunate that I only needed a small boat for my party.”

  “How are things in Hos-Agrys?” Rylla asked. “I heard about the League’s defeat in Hestophes’ last dispatch. Will the League reform with a new army before the next campaign season?”

  Lysia nodded. “They have no choice. If they do nothing, Styphon’s House will own the entire Kingdom by next fall. The spur that goads the Agrysi on is Arch-Butcher Roxthar’s Investigation. They’re afraid that the Investigation will find them to be heretics.”

  “I’d say that’s being realistic; a heretic to Roxthar is anyone who doesn’t believe that Styphon is the only true god.”

  “Yes, and the Agrysi people have come to realize that means almost all of them.”

  “I see the hand of Xentos behind this, as well,” Rylla said.

  “Oh, yes. He preaches to one and all the sins of Styphon’s House. I know the Primate’s heart is filled with sorrow over what happened in Hostigos and to her people.”

  “Too little, too late, for me.” She found it impossible to keep the bile she felt out of her voice. They might still be in Hostigos, her father and Harmakros alive, if Xentos had pushed the League of Dralm to intervene in the war with Styphon’s House last spring. Now, it was Xentos’ turn on the hot seat. Good, Dralm damn him!

  “I hope you’re not here to ask for more troops to help the League of Dralm?”

  Lysia shook her head. “No, Your Majesty, I came about a secret operation that Hestophes came up with. We have a one-time opportunity to put our own candidate on the Throne of Light.”

  Rylla leaned forward, her discomfort momentarily forgotten. “Yes. And how is that to be done?”

  Lysia told her about the stolen dispatch from Styphon’s Voice and the search for the King’s heirs throughout Hos-Agrys by the Styphoni and Captain Ranthos and Duke Mnestros. “If Ranthos finds the boy first--and I believe he will--and if we can find a suitable substitute, we can eventually put a Hostigi on the Throne of Light as the next Great King of Hos-Agrys.”

  “Dralm be praised!” Rylla exclaimed. “Do we have enough time to get a substitute back to Glarth?”

  “I believe so. Captain Ranthos swore an oath to me that he will kill any Styphoni that reaches the Duke’s mansion before we do. He’s a hard man, but he holds to his word.”

  “Then we have a chance to get our candidate into Glarth ...” Rylla tried to think of an alternate choice, but only one candidate popped up in her mind--Aspasthar. Yet, the boy was her last link to Harmakros. What would Kalvan do? she asked herself.

  She called for her Lady-in-Waiting and ordered, “Have Commandant Aspasthar brought to my chamber at once!”

  She hurried off and Rylla took this opportunity to relay to Lysia the state of the Grand Host’s siege and how Sarrask of Sask had defeated King Theovacar and sent him packing. She was just finishing one of Kalvan’s letters about the fall of Greffa when her Lady-in-Waiting returned with Aspasthar.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, standing at attention.

  Aspasthar looked so young; Rylla felt as if her heart was going to break. She hated the idea of sending this young lad into the middle of the Styphoni caldron. However, it was such a brilliant plan, if it came to success, that she had no choice but to go forward. Succinctly, she filled him in on the situation in Hos-Agrys, promising herself that if Aspasthar had the slightest reservation she’d find someone else--she had no idea who it would be, but someone would turn up.

  Aspasthar looked as happy as a boy who’d just found a golden crown on a cobblestone street. “Your Majesty, I volunteer. I’ve always known that one day I would get an opportunity to pay Styphon’s House back for what they did to Hostigos and to my father. The gods have blessed me with this opportunity!”

  Against this youthful fervor, Rylla didn’t stand a chance. He reminded her too much of her own younger self.

  “Then, Aspasthar, you must gather your kit and prepare to leave at once.”

  “I can be ready in a candle, Your Majesty!”

  Rylla smiled, turning to Lysia. “How long before your ship can sail?”

  “It’s a smuggling vessel. I told the Captain to wait at Ulrym and that I would see that his hold was filled with twenty casks of Ermut’s Best. Is that possible?”

  “That is agreeable. Plus, if he can get you back to Glarth Port quicker than the journey here, I’ll give him a purse of gold for every day he saves. This opportunity is beyond price!”

  “That will spur him and his crew. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Rylla turned to the boy. “Aspasthar, I don’t want you to be in Styphoni hands by yourself. Pick three boys from the Military Academy that would be good companions in a fight and know how to sew up their lips.”

  Aspasthar looked as if he were about to jump up and down with excitement. “I know just the boys! This is going to be an adventure to end all adventures. Thank you, thank you, Your Majesty!”

  The poor boy doesn’t know the half of it, Rylla thought to herself, as she watched him skip away with Baroness Lysia. She felt her eyes begin to tear, as she wondered what she would have done had Aspasthar been her boy: Would she have sent her son off into the enemy’s lair in the hopes that one day he would be in a position to help the Throne? It was a good question and one to which she didn’t have the answer. Harmakros, forgive me. Allfather Dralm, please keep watch over young Aspasthar! Please, do not let him come to harm.

  II

  The buckskin-clad scout, his arms waving, galloped into the clearing, reining his horse in at the last moment in a spatter of flying dirt clods and lather. “The Styphoni are about two marches away, sir!”

  The poor horse was bellowing so hard for air that the scout could barely be heard over his labored breathing. Grand-Captain Ranthos used the distraction to organize his thoughts. If the substitute boy was coming from Thagnor, he wouldn’t be here--unless the Goddess Lytris flew him herself!-- for another quarter moon at the earliest. They had already made one attack to slow the Styphoni, but they were as determined to reach the village of Salis as the Hostigi were to keep them out. There was only one choice--attack!

  Of course, they had to win or the Styphoni would go to the Duke’s manor and find it deserted, the boy gone and everyone else. It would be best to defeat the enemy, and leave a few survivors to inform Grand Master Soton that his plan had gone awry. Then, Soton would probably send an army to capture Dementros.

  This would give the Hostigi possession of the heir to the Agrysi dynasty. It would also give them time to put Queen Rylla’s candidate for the Throne of Light into the manor. If this had been a First Level operation, Ranthos would have used hypno-mech conditioning to have the villagers support their story. Instead, they had looted and burnt the village, chasing the villagers away. Duke Mnestros had played the role of kindly bandit leader, protecting the villagers from harm and encouraging them to go to Glarth Town.

  “Captain Reme, form ranks. We will fight them here.”

  He turned to the scout. “How many of Styphon’s spawn did you count?”

  “We’ve been watching them off and on for two days. Our latest count was one hundred and seventy-eight troopers, not counting the coachmen and drovers with the supply wagons.”

  “Good.” They outnumbered the Styphoni almost two to one. He doubted that would give the Knights pause; he knew the Styphoni were from the Order due to the way they couched their lances. The Knights held them much higher than the Agrysi and a few still had lance braces on their breastplates. They had, however, removed all proof marks from their weapons and armor, and were using standard issue Agrysi arms.

  He turned to Captain-General Kyblannos. “This place is as good as any other for Galzar’s Judgment.”

  Kyblannos laughed. “Praise Galzar, but I believe it’s the Styphoni who’ll be visiting
the Caverns of the Dead! Are the Knights arrogant enough to charge head-on?”

  Ranthos nodded. “Yes. If they believe we’re merely deserters or bandits, they’ll hit us as hard as they can, thinking we’ll turn and run. Of course, I’ll encourage them in that error of judgment.”

  “How?” Kyblannos asked.

  He shouted, “Take out the Raven Banners.” They were white banners with a black raven, signifying they were men under the colors of the Raven Hag of Death, and, as such, bandits outside any laws as well as Galzar’s protection. It was a mercenary corruption of the white freelancers’ flag which signified they were not under colors. However, on occasion, out-of-work troops would turn outlaw and fly the Raven Banner. It also meant that anyone who caught them was obliged to have them all hanged; it was a serious statement of intent.

  “That will do it,” Kyblannos said. “The Knights will know what it means and give no quarter.”

  “Men, gather round! Here’s what we’re going to do. Instead of countercharging the Knights, we’re going to hold our position until they’re about five rods away.”

  Several of the men gasped, as that was just an eyeblink out of lance range.

  Ranthos smiled, and several of the nearer troopers reflexively drew back. “My orders are that the first two ranks are to use their musketoons, then pistols and swords. I know you won’t like this order, but our success depends upon it. The Knights’ chargers, due to their disguises, are unarmored, and I’ve only seen two or three with chamfrons. That means their horses are vulnerable to head shots.”

  III

  “Your Sanctity, the Agrysi bandits are up ahead. They’re now openly flying the Raven Banner!”

  “The fools!” Grythos exclaimed. “We’ll feed their corpses to the ravens, that’s what we’ll do. They must think we’re another band of outlaws poaching on their territory. How many men did your scouts make out?”

  “Three to four hundred, sir.”

  “We’ll run them into the ground. Commander, give the orders.”

  “Your Sanctity, shouldn’t we use the wedge formation? We’re up against twice our number, sir.”

  “Not today. We don’t want to announce to the world that we are Knights!” The wedge formation was one that called for a lot of drilling and precision and was not used by any other army in the Five Kingdoms. This was a secret expedition and they had a lot of ground to cover before they would be back at Agrys City. If word leaked out that they were Zarthani Knights, every hand in Hos-Agrys would be raised against them.

  Grythos finished with, “Remember, Commander, I was a Knight Commander in the Order before I put on my priestly raiment. When the day arrives that three Blades of Knights cannot defeat twice their number of turkey thieves and arsonists, it will be time to remove Styphon’s Sun Wheel from our flags.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll draw up the men in formation for a charge.”

  “Very good, Commander.”

  Grythos watched from the top of the rise, as the Knights galloped down toward the enemy below. He wondered why the bandits had chosen such an empty clearing, with almost no trees or other cover, for their stand. He’d had his scouts check and they didn’t have any hidden guns to haul out. It didn’t make sense, but Soton had so completely disorganized the League after their attack on his men that it appeared their wits had been left behind as well as their best troops.

  The first four lines of the charge were lancers, followed by pistoleers with lightly armed skirmishers on either side. When the two lines had almost come together, the first ranks of the bandits fired musketoons at almost point-blank range into the Knights formation. Grythos was awestruck by the carnage.

  The first line of Knights went down as if hit by grapeshot. Their horses stumbling and tripping the ranks behind. It was a complete cockup!

  The bandits continued to shoot their musketoons and pistols, but it wasn’t the attacker’s gunfire that was causing most of the casualties; it was the out of control, falling, tumbling, dying horses. The only time he’d ever seen anything comparable was when three carriages in Balph had all tried to get through an intersection of the road at the same time and instead hit each other, with the coaches behind tumbling into them one after another.

  The bandits used the confusion at the front ranks to suddenly execute two flanking maneuvers! These bandits were using Hostigi-style tactics-- no, it couldn’t be. Kalvan was off in Thagnor with his city besieged.

  He needed to get word to the center. He ordered his trumpeter to sound “recall.”The recall order sounded, but his men were too tangled with each other and scrambling horses to comply with his order. He turned to the three oath-brothers. “Warn them about the envelopment!”

  But would they listen to the scouts? No, I need to be there!

  Grythos pulled out his horse pistol. “Follow me,” he cried to his bodyguards.

  Suddenly, he was down the rise and bandits were coming out against him with pistols and swords. The Knights were now completely surrounded and trying to fight their way out of the surprise envelopment. The bandits weren’t giving them a blade’s-width. He shot one man out of his saddle, then took a blow to the head from behind--

  IV

  Ranthos watched as the scouts went around and cut the throats of the seriously wounded Knights and stripped their corpses. There was going to be a fair profit from used armor and arms to be made out of this expedition. But the big prize was lying on the ground unconscious before him. An Archpriest of the Inner Circle--talk about a big fish! The question was: What to do with him?

  He kicked him in the breastplate with his foot. The Archpriest groaned, but his eyes remained closed.

  Captain Reme rode over. “We got most of them. Maybe five or six got away, several with wounds. Should we chase them down, sir?”

  His sudden respectful demeanor said more than his words. Ranthos hadn’t led his troops in battle since they’d left Greater Beshta; there they’d fought mostly against lightly armed border reivers with a few real soldiers as backup. This had been a real dustup. Plus, they’d killed Knights, Styphon’s House’s handpicked troops, among the best this time-line had to offer.

  “The men did well, even with orders they didn’t like.”

  “Sir, the men have soft spots for horses, not for Styphon’s spawn. And we killed a good lot of them, sir!”

  He smiled. “That we did. Let’s move over here, where we can talk in private.”

  Ranthos found a shaded spot under a big hemlock. “Who’s in the coach?”

  “We found a young girl, says she’s eight winters old, and her father, another Duke. He’s still shaking from his time with the Knights. Claims he wants nothing to do with his cousin Demistophon or the Styphoni devils. He overheard the Archpriest saying that Soton would have him beheaded and his daughter put on the Throne, if her cousin Dementros couldn’t be found. Apparently, the Styphoni said some things they shouldn’t have in his presence.”

  “Great Galzar’s Mace!” Ranthos said, as he took his pipe fixings out of his breeches. “It’s hard to believe Styphoni arrogance.”

  Captain Reme nodded. “That Archpriest Grythos is Styphon’s Voice’s handpicked man. He used to be a Knight Commander in the Order of Zarthani Knights. He was sent to the siege of Agrys City to watch over Grand Master Soton and Archpriest Roxthar.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “One of their Agrysi scouts told me. He overheard most of it from two drunk Knights, after they sacked a small village for victuals, who were bragging about their commander. He hates the Styphoni and would have deserted but for the oath-brothers. They captured one Agrysi deserter and skinned him with their knives, then they staked him out in the hot sun screaming until he died. The Knights and their oath-brothers thought it was marvelous fun, and the scouts stopped deserting. But it cost the last of their loyalty.”

  “That’s very interesting,” he said as he lit his pipe with his tinderbox.

  “There’s more, Grand-Captain. This Grythos is
supposed to be the new Regent of Hos-Agrys, after the City’s taken and Demistophon is beheaded for his crimes against Styphon’s House and his subjects.”

  “Hmm.” He drew long on his pipe, taking in a lungful of smoke. It would be a real coup to return to Eubros City with a live Archpriest trundled up and ready for questioning. On the other hand, this Grythos might do more good as a Regent than as a prisoner. Also, if they captured Grythos, Soton would have to conclude they’d put him under torture to get to the truth about what the Archpriest was doing in the hinterlands of Hos-Agrys, which would foul up all the good work he’d accomplished today.

  “Captain, toss the Archpriest into the pit with the rest of the dead. Let him think we thought he’d been killed, not knocked out. Throw a couple more of the badly-wounded in with the dead ones. The Archpriest will be so busy thanking Styphon he won’t question his good fortune, if it’s done right!”

  “Yes, sir,” Reme said with a big smile. He shouted over at the scouts, “You can stop cutting throats now! Scouts get back out on patrol. The rest of you have another candle to strip the dead and search for loot.”

  ** SUMMER **

  FIFTY-ONE

  he twenty-one members of the Inner Circle assembled in the Great Council Hall were all the Archpriests in Balph. This was the first Temple emergency since the Daemon Kalvan had been driven out of the false Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. Unlike the last years of former Styphon’s Voice Sesklos’ reign, there was no table talk or gossip; the new Styphon’s Voice on Earth ruled the Innermost Circle with an iron gauntlet.

  Supreme Priest Anaxthenes, seated at the apex of the triangular High Table, longed for the counsel of someone with a real military background. Unfortunately, Archpriest Grythos and Grand Master Soton were still overseeing the Siege of Agrys City and were unavailable, while Knight Commander Orocles, who had recovered from his amputation, had returned to Tarr-Ceros. Still, with this latest crisis, even the most naive priest could see disaster was on the horizon.