The Fireseed Wars

by John F. Carr

  Sarrask graciously bowed to King Verkan. “Thank you, Your Majesty. But that’s old news. Although I must say, it felt good to beat the tripes out of Theovacar’s Companions! These Greffans--yourself excepted King Verkan--have a lot to learn about Hostigi-style warfare. But, stab me, Great King Kalvan’ll teach em!”

  Kalvan looked down at the leather dispatch case with distaste. He could spend half the afternoon going over those documents before he got to the meat of them. “Sarrask, you know as much as anyone in Thagnor City about what’s going on. What are these all about?”

  The big man actually preened. Still, regardless of Sarrask’s many vices, he’d kept the excess weight off and was in fighting trim.

  “Can you summarize the important news?”

  “Oh yes, Your Majesty,” Sarrask replied, all but bursting out of his breastplate.

  “First, and most importantly. Queen Rylla has given birth--”

  “Dralm-damnit! I should have been there. Is she all right?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. And you are the father of a new son, I mean heir-- Prince Ptosphes the Second. Queen Rylla invited me to the viewing, and he’s a big baby with all his limbs and digits.”

  Kalvan’s chest swelled until it felt as if it were about to explode. “Ahhh. This is good news indeed! Verkan, we shall have to announce it to the City. Let there be three days of celebration--”

  “Your Majesty, you might want to hear the rest of the news I bring.”

  Kalvan nodded, trying to hide his impatience. Thank god, Rylla survived the birthing chamber--This may have to be the last one for a while. And it’s a boy! Now, we have our heir. I can’t risk anything happening to her. What would I do if she came down with childbed fever and I lost her?

  “The Grand Host has broken apart! First, Great King Lysandros and the Harphaxi Army left. There was great rejoicing throughout the City. Then five days ago the remainder of the Host packed up all their weapons and foodstuffs and departed. From the direction they took, it appears they are returning to Tarr-Ceros, not Hos-Ktemnos.

  “As soon as they left, the Great Queen ordered me to take my command to Greffa City and bring these dispatches to Your Majesty.”

  “You’ve done well, Prince.” So, Sargos had been true to his word. Now the Knights were needed back along the border marches. Good riddance! Then another thought hit him. “Did Queen Rylla take it into consideration that the retreat might really be a feint and that the Grand Host might be lying in wait for the Army of Greffa to return to Thagnor?”

  “The Queen has been in seclusion, Your Majesty, so I don’t know if she’s considered it, but Prince Phrames mentioned it. He’s sent several companies of Sastragathi irregulars to follow the Styphoni to see that they’re not doubling back or up to some other trick.”

  “Good.” It’s nice to know that I can leave for a while and the whole place doesn’t fall apart, thought Kalvan. It also appears that Sarrask and Phrames are now working together, probably due to Sarrask’s victory over Theovacar and his timely retreat--I certainly never would have allowed Sarrask that command, if I’d been there. Still, it was he, not Rylla, who had, once again, underestimated Sarrask. He had a feeling that Sarrask would rather walk on red-hot coals than disappoint his Queen.

  II

  Harphax City was like a city in the aftermath of a siege, Sirna decided. Disheveled bodies lay strewn along the cobblestone streets: some were tosspots sleeping off last evening’s hangover, others were beggars in rags, but more than a few were blood-soaked corpses from the previous night’s riots. These days Harphax City was a dangerous place to travel even by day, forcing her to hire a score of bodyguards to guard her coach. There were very few travelers on the city avenues; however, shadowy forms could be seen lurking in allies and in dark doorways.

  The furtiveness of its inhabitants was beginning to remind her of Hostigos Town after it was sacked by the Grand Host: the ruined buildings, the constant smoke, the pale, drawn faces of the citizens--everything but the white robed Investigators. She would love to have been able to leave Harphax City for one of the smaller towns where she would be safe, but she had obligations to the Queen as Lavena’s only friend. Furthermore, Sirna was also working for the Harpahxi Study Team, which would allow her to return to Home Time Line and Dhergabar University in something other than disgrace--unless she bugged out.

  If she demanded it, the Study Team would provide her with a paratemporal conveyer to take her back to Home Time Line. She still found it hard to believe that she would be treated as a celebrity. But the thought brought her little comfort. She did not want her escapades of the past year broadcast throughout Dhergabar City and First Level. Her privacy was more important than any fleeting fame.

  Besides, even with all the furor of Harphax City, she was safe here from Hadron Tharn’s machinations.

  Ahead loomed the stone towers of Tarr-Harphax, the Great Queen’s last refuge. Two ten-days ago, rioters had attacked the Palace, breaking in and setting it on fire. If it hadn’t been for the King’s Bodyguard, the Queen would have died there. Now she was ensconced in a stone fortress.

  There were armed soldiers at every gateway and Sirna was frisked more than once. It took her half a candle before she was presented to the Queen in her private audience chamber. The room was dark and dank, and you could see the moisture stains on the wall where the hangings and tapestries met. Lavena looked shrunken, as though she was falling into herself, while her big belly hung down on her frame. Her face was wan and she hadn’t bothered to put any makeup on--a first.

  “Sirna!” she cried, jumping up.

  They hugged tightly, and Sirna was concerned by the fact that she could feel Lavena’s rib bones poking through her flesh.

  “Your Majesty, are you all right?”

  “I’m here all alone,” she said, as her eyes began to well. “Dralm-damnit!” she cried, as she wiped her eyes with the edge of her robe. “I don’t know these people, and I don’t trust any of them, either. The guards look me over like a fresh piece of meat. And that oily Chancellor Lyphannes; he’d sell me out for a silver service setting!”

  Sirna had met the Chancellor and noticed that he couldn’t meet her eyes. She wondered if he was selling out to Prince Selestros’ faction or had designs on the Throne for himself.

  “I’ll stay here with you, if you want,” she heard herself say.

  “Thank you, Sirna, thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  “You need to eat more, you have to think of the baby.”

  “I know, I know. I’ve just been so worried ...”

  What am I thinking? Sirna asked herself.At least, my guards are loyal, since they were picked out by Maldar Dard. Besides, it’s partially my fault Lavena’s in this predicament. If only I hadn’t titled that play King Kaiphranos.

  “How are things on the streets?” Lavena asked.

  It sounded as if the Queen was starved for information. Her courtiers probably didn’t want to pass on more bad news, or didn’t care.

  “Things are calm at the moment. That will probably change at dusk, when most of the soldiers return to their barracks. Only a few will do night duty and they keep to the better parts of town.” Where they get bribes to stay on guard from the merchants and the nobles.

  “If only the army could keep the curfew.”

  Probably not, because many of them are among the worst of the rioters, certainly the looters.

  “Maybe it’s time to consider leaving the capital, Lavena.”

  “Sirna, you’re joking. And go where? Hostigos Town, which is now a cemetery, and stay with my father? He can’t even protect himself.”

  “You’re right. There is nowhere to go that’s safe. At least the Army is on your side.”

  “For now...”

  III

  Hestophes himself was now in charge of the operation to put a Hostigi on the Throne of Light; it was too important a job to leave in Ranthos’ hands, although the former Greffan had done a good job of res
cuing the lad. Hestophes was seated in the Great Hall of the manor waiting to be reunited with his wife, who had disembarked from the Prince Ptosphes a quarter moon ago. He wondered who she would be bringing to take Dementros’ place at the manor in Zeleos.

  There was a knock at the Hall door. One of his bodyguards opened it and a petty-captain stuck his head in. “Captain Lysia has returned, sir.”

  “Show her and her party in.”

  A moment later his wife came in alone. Without thinking about propriety, Hestophes rushed forward and gathered her in his arms. He might have crushed her but for her steel breastplate. “How is the Great Queen?”

  “She is well, but big as a hut! The baby should be born by now. Praise Dralm that it will be a boy and heir to the Throne!”

  “What is her opinion of the plan to put a Hostigi on the Agrysi Throne?”

  “She was quite enamored of the idea. Enough that she put her godson, Aspasthar, forward to be the claimant.”

  “Harmakros’ son!” he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. “There must be no end of good candidates, so why Aspasthar?”

  “Because he’s several winters older than his age both in experience and maturity. Not that he still doesn’t act like a boy sometimes; I ought to know, having spent a moon half with him and his three compatriots.”

  “You brought more than one boy?”

  “Yes, my love. It was the Queen’s idea; she wanted him to have company he could trust and possibly use to pass messages. As the new King, Aspasthar will not be out of Styphoni eyes for a moment.”

  Hestophes mulled that over for a moment. “She’s right. Either Archpriest Grythos or one of his priests will have the boy under constant surveillance. With three more boys to stir the bowl, it will be much harder to keep an eye on any one boy, much less all four. What was Kalvans advice?”

  “He is still in Greffa, waiting for the Grand Host to retire,” Lysia answered. “King Chartiphon has been making heavy raids upon the Styphoni supply lines and they are growing low on foodstuffs. If the Grand Host of Styphon doesn’t leave soon, it will be too late for the peasants to plant their potatoes and corn.”

  And, if that happens, it won’t be good news for anyone in Thagnor City, Hestophes thought. Rations had been tight last winter and without a fall harvest people might starve this coming winter.

  “Also, her Majesty and I discussed your plan and made some more improvements.”

  Hestophes braced himself for the worst. There was no telling what those two she-panthers might have come up with.

  “We decided it wasn’t safe to leave the boys on their own. The Queen thinks it might be best if we had someone to watch over them.”

  “But who, my love? The Duke was buried five years ago. The Lady Tymolara hated the old Duke, but who knows how trustworthy she’ll be in Agrys City, where she could sell us out for a wheelbarrow of gold?” Wheelbarrows were another of the Great King’s gifts, thought Hestophes, one that at first seemed simple and obvious. Once Kalvan had demonstrated them they had spread throughout the Five Kingdoms like dandelion seeds, improving the lives of farmers and workers throughout the Great Kingdoms.

  “I know who will take Tymolara’s place, my husband. Great Queen Rylla and I discussed this idea and drew the same conclusion.” Lysia beamed at him as if she’d just won an archery competition. “It was Rylla’s idea that I take her place!”

  Hestophes felt his stomach drop. “But it’s too dangerous! Besides, I might not see you again for many winters--”

  She grabbed onto his neck so tightly he thought it might bend. He felt her tears as they soaked his ruff. Between sobs, she spoke, “I know, my love ... it might be a very long time and I will miss you every moment. Still, we owe the Queen this service. I haven’t been happy watching you from afar, suffering under the fools that the League placed over you. I’m glad we decided to tell no one of our plan other than Ranthos and the few Hostigi we needed to smuggle young Dementros, his half-sister and the Lady Tymolara out of Hos-Agrys.They should all be safely inside Thagnor City by now, where they will be kept under assumed names. No one must know, so darling, there is really no one else but myself who can make this deception work.”

  “I know you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I like it! It does make me want to take the war to the Styphoni with a vengeance!”

  “That’s the right idea. The sooner the Styphoni are driven from Agrys City, the sooner we can be together.”

  FIFTY-THREE

  Prince Phidestros watched as General Geblon, holding his banner, a gold thunderbolt breaking a black iron chain on a green field, approached the City Gates of Harphax City and drew within hailing distance. Phidestros was on horseback at the top of a ridge, in his new silvered parade armor, with five thousand horse behind him waiting to see if the Gates would open peacefully or remain closed. At the first sign of armed resistance, his orders were to pull back; he was determined that this was not going to turn into a siege. He had come to Harphax City to restore order at the invitation of the rightful Prince; not to fill the gutters with blood. Not that he cared about a little spilled blood, but Arminta had convinced him that his reputation would suffer unless his entrance was peaceful.

  The City’s fate was balanced on a knife edge. If they were refused entrance, the riots would continue until the bandits and minions of Yathar, the Death Bringer, ruled the streets. The Harphaxi City Watch had resigned en masse, claiming they weren’t paid enough silver to die for their jobs. The pitiful remnant of the Royal Army that Lysandros had left behind had either deserted or barricaded themselves in their own barracks.

  Suddenly the gates burst open and several hundred celebrants ran out to greet their liberators. He was glad he didn’t have to hide the smile that broke out on his face.

  “It looks like the Princess’s groundwork opened the old lady’s legs, Captain,” General Kyblannos hooted.

  Phidestros clapped him on the back and laughed out loud. The Princess had sent word to several of her fellow aristocrats to enlist their aid in putting their rightful King back on the Iron Throne. Two days earlier he’d sent Cythros, Captain of the Blue Company, into the City with his most trusted soldiers to secure Great Queen Lavena and Chancellor Lyphannes to ensure they survived the tumult as the Kingdom changed rulers. Lavena and the new baby would be useful in case anything happened to Selestros or he proved difficult to manage, while Lyphannes was necessary to ensure a smooth transition between rulers. He’d met the Chancellor before and knew he was amenable to bribery and intimidation; Phidestros would use whatever it took, even if it meant throwing Lyphannes to the mob as a symbol of Lysandros’ oppression.

  General Geblon returned with a delegation of city fathers, nobles, High Guildmasters, a Styphon’s House Highpriest, a brace of magistrates, an Uncle Wolf whom he remembered from last year’s campaign, and several wealthy merchants of note.

  One notable Elder in magnificent robes of ermine and dark red velvet approached him, saying, “Welcome, Prince Phidestros, I am Head Elder Xenophrames. Your Highness, We, the Elders of the City of Harphax, welcome your return and your promise of order and stability. The City is yours and we have prepared a victory celebration to commemorate your great victory over the Usurper King Kalvan.”

  For a moment, Phidestros had thought the cat was out of the bag and the official was going to say Lysandros.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I give my personal oath as Prince of Greater Beshta that I will restore order to the streets of Harphax City. There will be a dawn-to-dusk curfew and anyone out after light has fallen will be put to the sword. Rioters and thieves will be beheaded. Rapists and murderers will be drawn and quartered.”

  The City Elders and merchants gave a collective sigh of relief.

  “My men, except for those on watch duty, will be billeted in the Royal Army barracks in Tarr-Harphax. They will be given liberty every six days. My own Provost Marshal will be in charge of discipline.”

  The City Elders nodded in accord.

  “Now,
about this victory parade?”

  That remark defused the tension and everyone laughed.

  “Welcome to the City, Your Highness!”

  The narrow streets and thoroughfares of Harphax City were filled to bursting with crowds of townspeople, guildsmen, merchants, stall-tenders as well as serfs and peasants from the surrounding towns and villages all dressed in their finest clothes. There was a festive air to the occasion and everywhere the Royal Flag of Hos-Harphax flew beside a white banner with the eight-pointed Blue Star of Dralm, which he supposed was the personal banner of Prince Selestros. Surprisingly, Phidestros’ and the Iron Band’s banner was also displayed openly throughout the City.

  Even after reading the reports about the city-wide riots, he was surprised to see whole sections of the town burned right to their foundations; in some cases only a few blackened posts were left standing. On other streets, there were occasional storefronts or buildings burnt-out like blackened teeth in a beggar’s smile. In the merchant’s quarter there were armed guards before every store. It was almost as if he and the Iron Band were the returning force that had saved the city after a vicious sacking.

  Everywhere he went he was greeted with roars of applause and cheers. More than once he heard the crowds chant “Phidestros the Great!” and knew that such words could easily cloud a man’s mind to little else. Arminta had warned him about the heating of the blood that such chants could bring about, as well as the bad decisions they fed. His time would come.

  “They love you, Captain,” Kyblannos yelled into his ear. “By Galzar’s Mace, we could take this City with two companies!”

  Phidestros let his head fall back and he laughed uproariously. “Yes, for a fortnight, until I restrained their excesses and looting. Then the mob would change its mind and decide that I am Phidestros the Foul!”

  “You are right about that, Captain. I remember, when I was with the Gold Eagle Company, we saved a coastal town in Glarth from sea raiders; after two days of leave they were ready to tar and feather the lot of us! I was thinking maybe the Iron Band should ransack this cursed place and leave the ruins to those down-in-the-mouth gentry behind us!”