Riding the Red Horse

by Christopher Nuttall

  Editor's Introduction to:

  GALZAR'S HALL

  by John F. Carr and Wolfgang Diehr

  John F. Carr is a veteran of SFWA from way back and has some sixteen novels to his credit in addition to editing literally dozens of science fiction anthologies. Among John’s novels are Great King’s War with Roland Green, Kalvan Kingmaker, Siege at Tarr Hostigos, The Fireseed Wars, and Gunpowder God, all set in the universe of H. Beam Piper’s Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen. There’s a new one out, too, The Hos-Blethan Affair, written with John’s co-author, Wolfgang Diehr. Wolfgang is also a veteran, but of the US Army, and likewise has done his part in keeping the legacy of H. Beam Piper alive with two well-received novels, Fuzzy Ergo Sum, and its sequel, Caveat Fuzzy.

  Of those many anthologies, of particular interest to the readers of this one will be four volumes of the THERE WILL BE WAR series. In partnership with Jerry Pournelle, John edited Volume I, Volume III Blood and Iron, Volume VII Call to Battle, and Volume 8 Armageddon!. To him, too, the modern writers of military fiction owe their respects.

  As to the story that follows, there are few alternate histories as beloved as that begun with the late H. Beam Piper’s Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen, in which Corporal Calvin Morrison, Pennsylvania State Trooper and former US Army combat infantryman, is whisked to an alternate timeline, where early Indo-Europeans went east to Asia and then North America, rather than west, into Europe. In that timeline Corporal Morrison, known as “Kalvan” to the locals, makes a better gunpowder, builds an army, wins the battles, saves the princedom of his friends, marries the princess, and creates a new “Great Kingdom.” And that’s just in the first book! In the process of all that, he makes an enemy out of Styphon, the local god of gunpowder, makes a couple of mistakes that turned out to be much worse than he could have anticipated, and finds himself on the short end of the financial and manpower lever. In short, he loses a key battle and finds out why Moltke the Elder, and most experienced soldiers, find retreat to be the most difficult military operation of all.

  And that's where Economy of Force, Surprise, and their handmaiden, Deception, come in, with a little help from the local’s fear of Galzar, the God of War.

  GALZAR'S HALL

  by John F. Carr and Wolfgang Diehr

  “Without all colorful commentary,” the troubadour Gasphros said, “the Hos-Blethan Royal Army’s scouting parties will be here in a moon quarter at least, a moon half at most.”

  Captain Andros nodded, tugging at his beard. As a former officer in the Royal Army, he knew how determined the Royal Guardsmen could be. Great King Democriphon was both embarrassed and angered by the number of Styphon’s House temples they had plundered in the last four moons. It not only made the Great King look weak and ineffective, but angered the hierarchy of Styphon’s House to whom he was deeply in debt.

  “And you know what routes they will take?” Captain Andros asked.

  “Oh, yes,” the troubadour replied. “A few more ales and I would have had the key to the captain’s wife’s chastity belt. A look at the scouting map was easy to get.” Gasphros pulled out the skillfully inked duplicate parchment of the scouting map. “I would say they could get to this point rather easily,” he indicated the location with the tip of his pipe. “However, the enemy will have to slog through the swamp for at least a full day. That gives us plenty of time to prepare a trap.”

  “What kind of trap?” Andros asked.

  “A simple ambush, I would imagine,” Gycules replied. “We could meet them on the other side of that swampy area and simply shoot them down from–”

  “Nay!” Andros stormed around the table and came face-to-face with Ranthar. “I told you when I joined that I would have no part in seeing my former brothers in arms killed by you or anyone else in the company. If you do this, it will be without me, and I shall not remain among you.”

  Colonel Ranthar, having taken a step back, recovered himself. “What would you have us do? We cannot wait for them to come to us. Would you have all of us stand and be slaughtered?”

  “I…no. But there must be another way…”

  “I am open to suggestions, Andros, but if it is a choice between them or us…”

  “Ranthar,” Timnos interrupted, “Killing these men would only be a temporary victory. When this patrol fails to return, more will follow in larger numbers. Men looking to avenge their missing comrades.”

  “The reward on us would also go up,” Uncle Wolf Syros added.

  “I’m hearing more problems when I need solutions,” Ranthar said.

  “Colonel, I think I have an idea,” Gasphros said. “I will speak with the sharpers. If any have the skills we need, I will tell you my plan.”

  Ranthar shrugged and gestured for the bard to proceed.

  “What do you think Gasphros has in mind?” Andros asked nobody in particular.

  Uncle Wolf Syros laughed. “Who can know the mind of a bard?”

  Gasphros returned half a candle later. “We have what we need, but we will have to work quickly. First….”

  “Half a moon, Fannar. That is how long we have been wading through muck and feeding the mosquitoes, Dralm—damnit!” trooper Katan shouted.

  “And who got lost after taking a privy break, Katan? You did!” Fannar accused. “Two days you cost us looking for your sorry arse because the petty-captain thought you might have been seized by these bandits we are looking for. Or even Ruthani. Gods, I would hate to run into them out here.”

  “You two will run into worse than that if you do not shut those mouths of yours,” Petty-Captain Emeros hissed. “Remember you’re Royal Guardsmen, not recruits. We are close to the cursed lands of Mallegast. I do not want to run into anything worse than Ruthani out here.”

  “Wait,” Fannar said stopping. “This is Mallegast? I lost my cousin’s family in a flood there.”

  “No settlement was ever able to make a go of it in this place,” Katan added. “If the bandits are here, Mallegast will tend to them soon enough, I say.”

  “It will tend to us if you fools do not keep your voices down.” Emeros turned back to the rest of the squad. “That goes for the rest of you as well. There is no telling what might be hiding out here in…”

  “Sir!” Katar hissed. “Listen.”

  Emeros raised a hand, halting the squad, then gave an ear to the surroundings. He could hear the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, something splashing in the water and something else. It took him a moment to identify it as flute music. The melody, while a familiar tavern tune, was somehow different, as if there were no life in it.

  “Men, we may have found our bandits celebrating. Follow me and do not make any noise you do not have to.”

  The soldiers dutifully followed the petty-captain’s orders and lead. Emeros took great care in moving as quietly as possible and the soldiers behind him tried to emulate his example. Through the foliage they caught brief glimpses of color and movement; nothing that they could make out definitively. When finally Emeros emerged from the brush, sword in hand, he could not credit his eyes. The scene before him was like nothing he had ever witnessed before.

  Crowded around a long table, easily six rods in length, were men dressed in various uniforms and armor; some wore the back-and-breast favored by the armies of the north, while some sported armor typical of the Blethan army. The faces of the men were pale, as if they had been drained of blood, and in some cases bore hideous wounds, still fresh, upon them. All were eating from the platters of fruits, vegetables and meats before them and drinking from wooden steins with silver handles.

  Darting back and forth were young maidens, also pale of countenance, refilling the steins with a dark liquid that did not look like wine. One of the maidens bore a frightful wound on her chest, though it failed to slow her in the least. Another had a blackened eye. They look like Slain Maidens, hostesses of the dead! The petty-captain could not help thinking of camp followers occasionally killed at the edge of the fighting.

&nbs
p; Most of this, while noticed by Emeros and his men, failed to distract them from the most frightening thing they had ever seen; at the end of the long table, seated on a great throne of iron and brass, sat a man so large that everything else was dwarfed by his presence. Moreover, instead of a man’s face, he bore the muzzle of a great wolf!

  More wolf-headed men stood at the ready on either side of the giant. Those on the left held great battle-axes and those on the right wielded maces so massive no mortal man could be expected to use them in combat. It was all Emeros could do to pull his gaze away. By chance his eyes settled on a familiar face.

  “Andros!”

  Andros slowly turned his ashen face to meet Emeros eyes. “Emeros.” He spoke flatly, without passion.

  Emeros stepped forward. “What plays here? You have been gone for months.”

  “Has it been that long? I remember fighting the Ruthani, then arriving at this banquet.” Andros voice remained flat.

  As Emeros approached he saw a splash of red on Andros armor. It looked as though the petty-captain’s throat had been cut open. “Gods! Andros, what happened to you?”

  “I was killed by the Ruthani,” Andros said simply.

  “You were…what!” Emeros felt the blood rush out of his head. Killed?

  “Have you come to join the feast?”

  Emeros spun about to face empty air until he lowered his gaze. One of the maidens, the tiny one with hair like the setting sun, stood before him with a stein.

  “You must have died well to arrive here, warrior. Here, drink the blood of Galzar and be welcomed.” The woman held out the stein and Emeros took it without thinking.

  She said the blood of Galzar! Galzar! Emeros again looked upon the giant. Damned if it was not the very image of the War God. Emeros lifted the stein and drank without realizing he was doing it. The drink was stronger than anything he had ever tasted. It almost instantly went to his head.

  “How did you die, Emeros?” Andros asked in his flat voice.

  Emeros sputtered. “What? I am not dead.”

  Andros nodded. “We all believe that when first we find ourselves here.”

  “I am not dead, I tell you,” Emeros nearly shouted. He remembered the men behind him and brought himself under control. “I am on a search. There have been bandits about and—”

  “So they killed you? Well, a good death is its own reward. Join us…”

  “This is some kind of sham,” said a voice from the back. One of the soldiers, Emeros did not recall his face, boldly marched out with his sword drawn. “That cannot be a real man, not that big, so it is some kind of stuffed effigy, I warrant.” The soldier continued to walk toward the giant.

  Then the giant stood up.

  The soldier stopped and looked stricken, then took a step back. The giant raised a massive mace and pointed it at the frightened man. There came a bright flash from the mace and the soldier vanished in a billow of smoke.

  Andros shook his head sadly. “It is always sad when a warrior is sent to Regwarn.”

  Behind him, Emeros heard the screams of his men as they turned and ran. Many dropped their swords and arquebuses. Emeros, no coward by any measure, knew better than to challenge the might of the gods, especially that of Galzar, the God of War. He turned and ran after his men, dropping the stein though he retained his weapons.

  Two days later Emeros stood before his captain and tried to explain what had happened. Captain Mardan was not impressed. He sent a second scouting party to investigate. All they found were the weapons left in the grass and marks on the ground where something heavy had sat, like a great feasting table. They would have investigated more thoroughly but for the sudden melody that assailed their ears.

  Back in Mallegast the feast had just begun. The soldiers, face paint washed off and false wounds removed, enjoyed a hearty meal of roast flamingo, wild boar, rabbit, and victory.

  “Gycules, you make a truly wonderful Galzar,” Vanir said.

  “These built-up boots added a good two hands to my height,” laughed the giant, “and almost made me lose my balance! I forgot to close my eyes when I set off the mace and could not see a thing for half a candle.”

  Ranthar nodded knowingly to himself. Flash powder. The hollow maces were a nice touch as well.

  “You had it easy, Petty-Captain,” Timnos said. He still walked with a limp. “I twisted my ankle when I dropped through that, uh, trap door, is it called?”

  “That is always a danger in theater, Timnos,” Gasphros said. “You did well. Have you ever considered becoming a sharp?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Though it was fun sneaking into the back of the scouting party and playing my part.” Timnos thought for a second. “Won’t they wonder why none of their men are missing when they return and count noses?”

  “Maybe,” Gasphros interjected. “If they recover their wits fast enough. Hopefully they'll decide that someone Galzar has damned is lost to the memory of mortal man.”

  “Well, I hope they will not forget me,” Eldra said. “Um…on second thought, they had better. I might bump into that petty-captain in Tarr-Bletha. I’ll have to stay in chambers after I get back until this eye is healed. I hope Galzar appreciates my sacrifice.”

  “None of that, now,” Ranthar said. “We do not want to annoy Uncle Wolf Syros any more than this little play already has.” He handed the mercenary a fresh stein. “Here, Timnos, have some Blood of Galzar.”

  “Do not call it that,” Uncle Wolf Syros said irritably. “I appreciate that you had no good alternatives, but Galzar should not be mocked in this manner. I advise all of you to make a sacrifice to the God of War before your next campaign.”

  Colonel Ranthar nodded solemnly. “We shall, Uncle Wolf, and give three ounces of bronze…no, of silver, to the Temple of Galzar for each man who took part in the…uh…production! Yes, the production.”

  Syros eyes widened. “Uh, yes, that would be very generous. I shall ask my brothers to remember you all in their prayers.”

  “Good.” Ranthar snatched another stein from the table. “Now, have some Ermut’s Best and we will no longer call it Galzar’s Blood, though I think it honors him all the same.”

  Gycules spotted Tylla approaching. “My fellows, a toast to our maidens! Tylla, you were especially wonderful. That Emeros fellow almost fainted when you asked how he died. Oh, where is Andros? He was the best of all of us, I think. Oof! I mean, after Tylla, of course.” The giant rubbed his stomach where he had received a tiny, though well placed elbow.

  “You better believe it,” Tylla added.

  “I will see to him,” Uncle Wolf Syros said as he walked off.

  Syros found Andros at the edge of the camp. “Captain Andros, should you not be enjoying yourself. You comrades were spared and Mallegast is safe.”

  The Blethan released a long sigh. “I had forgotten what I left when I joined up with this bunch. Emeros was a good friend and I will miss him. I did not enjoy tricking him as I did.”

  Syros shrugged. “You saved his life. It was only chance that brought him to us that way. I cannot say I approved of the…production, but I am pleased nonetheless with the results.”

  “Uncle Wolf, we captains know each other almost all across the realm. I trained many of them. If not Emeros, it would have been another I had known. I can never go back to my old life in Bletha.”

  Syros thought on it for a moment before speaking. “You had already made that choice when you joined with Democriphon and Ranthar. Look, you regret tricking your friend, yet you saved his life by doing so. If the charade had failed, what would have happened?”

  “Ranthar would have come charging out of the brush with his men and slaughtered them all.”

  Uncle Wolf Syros nodded. “Just so. Take comfort in the knowledge that you saved an old comrade’s life. Now come. One of those sharper women was eyeing you earlier and it would be rude of you to ignore her.”

  Andros smiled, though there was some sadness in it. “Not the tall horse-face
d one, I pray.”

  “Naaaay,” Syros joked. “The one that looks to be at least half Ruthani. I hear those women know things that would make even an Uncle Wolf blush.”

  Editor's Introduction to:

  RED WAVES IN THE SOUTH CHINA SEA

  by James F. Dunnigan

  You've already been introduced to Jim Dunnigan, with his piece on Murphy's Law. What follows is a tour de force on the military and diplomatic issues with China—not just ours, but nearly everyone's—with tie-ins to research and development, surreptitious warfare, arms sales and transfers, base development, longstanding border issues, and China's eagerness to overcome and rewrite, possibly even gain revenge for, several centuries of humiliation at the hands of, again, nearly everyone.

  There is a widespread belief among English-speakers that the Chinese word for “crisis” is composed of two ideograms, one of which means “opportunity” and the other of which means “danger”. In fact, the first element is better translated as “critical point”, and in the following essay, Jim shows us just how apt a description of the South China Sea that is today.

  RED WAVES IN THE SOUTH CHINA SEA

  by James F. Dunnigan

  The Philippines and Japan announced further military cooperation to deal with growing Chinese claims on offshore areas that have long been considered the property of South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, the Philippines, and Vietnam. These five nations have formed a loose coalition, along with the United States and Australia, to oppose the Chinese aggression. India, also faced with extensive Chinese land claims, is something of an associate of this group. The coalition gets stronger every time China makes another aggressive move, as happened on November 23, 2013 when China claimed control over large areas of international air space via an expanded ADIZ (air defense identification zone). China wants all military and commercial aircraft in these new ADIZs to ask permission from China before entering. Coalition members responded by sending in military aircraft without telling China but warned their commercial aircraft operators to cooperate because it is considered impractical to provide the amount of military air cover required for all the commercial traffic. China sees this as a victory, despite the obvious coalition intention to continue sending military aircraft through the ADIZ unannounced. In response, China has begun running combat air patrols through the ADIZ itself and apparently intends to try to intimidate some of the smaller coalition members.