by John F. Carr
Sarmoth raised his helm and peered at the distant tableau. “These are the Temple Bands, but they are not Roxthar’s bands.”
“No, but try telling that to the Hostigi! I fear they will not see any difference; although, if truth be told, there is little since these bands will be set loose on the Hostigi once we cross the border into Hostigos.”
“Won’t the Grand Captain-General have anything to say about that?”
Soton smiled at the younger Knight. “Phidestros will bluster and threaten, for all the good it will do. His heart’s in the right place, but the paymaster is still Styphon’s House and Roxthar has the authority of the Inner Circle and his Investigation. And the Temple Bands to make his will felt.”
Roxthar’s Investigation had turned this war against the Usurper into a war unlike any Soton had ever witnessed in all his fifty winters. He had heard the stories about atrocities committed against the Hostigi population by Roxthar’s Investigators. At first, he hadn’t wanted to believe them, even though he knew better from the Investigations depredations in Hos-Ktemnos. But repetition and several eyewitness accounts were impossible to refute. To commit such acts of cruelty on a vanquished population struck him as madness, or bloodlust, like that of a pack of wolves slaughtering a herd of sheep inside a corral.
Uncle Wolf Olmnestes, the Host’s Highpriest of Galzar, had veritably blown the wax out of his ears with his heated words about the Investigation. Already word had been sent by Olmnestes to the High Temple of Galzar in Hos-Agrys and any day a delegation might appear placing the Grand Host under Galzar’s Ban. It appeared that Roxthar’s excesses would cost the Temple a complete victory over the Usurper Kalvan, and maybe lead to a war with Galzar afterwards. He suspected that the latter would not cost Roxthar any sleep, but then the Archpriest’s military knowledge could be contained in a thimble!
He suspected the Grand Host would face the Ban of Galzar before a moon-quarter had passed--he’d even said as much to Phidestros. This would make it impossible for Styphon’s House to hire any mercenaries in the Five Kingdoms until it was rescinded, which would be no time soon with Roxthar and his Investigation looking under beds and into chamber pots in every man’s cottage in the Five Kingdoms. The Ban would also mean that all mercenaries currently under oath to the Grand Host would be obliged to forswear their oaths and retire from the field, which would be disastrous.
If news reached Roxthar’s ears of Olmnestes’ words, it would be no surprise if the Highpriest were murdered in his sleep. Soton would have to put a guard of Knights around the Highpriest of Galzar--the murder of the popular Highpriest could tear the Grand Host asunder--Ban or no Ban!
The Grand Master watched in surprise as the Hostigi suddenly formed into a hedgehog formation. Phidestros’ spy had claimed that Kalvan had relinquished pikes for his Royal Army?’Then it hit him, of course! Kalvan may have done away with pikes, but not his Princes. He gnashed his teeth in anger at the thought that Kalvan might exit this battlefield with a crippled, but intact army.
Once again, Soton upbraided himself for swearing an oath to Anaxthenes that he would aid Roxthar in every way, as long as the Investigator stayed out of Balph until winter. Yet, Soton knew full well the Speaker was correct; if Roxthar was away from Balph, it would be possible for Anaxthenes to claim Sesklos’ chair as Styphon’s Own Voice. Too many of the Archpriests, despite their loathing of him, were too frightened to take a position against Roxthar in person. Oh, but were they brave when the Investigator was out of Balph!
Soton set off another string of curses, this time against Temple politics and all the compromises that came with them. He turned to Sergeant Sarmoth. “Sound the battle horns!”
“Yes, sir!” The tone of his voice said, ‘it’s about time.’
Soton hoped his large subordinate was right.
He had a Wedge of Knights behind his point; maybe they could break through the hedgehog. At least, Kalvan’s soldiers were men he could fight and kill--not Temple upperpriests who hid behind words and bloody white robes.
With Soton at the head, the Wedge of heavily armed Knights and Sergeants came down the hill like an avalanche of steel, which unfortunately slowed to a crawl as they crossed the valley and then rode uphill to meet Kalvan’s retreating center. The shock of impact when they struck Kalvan’s hedgehog was not enough that the Knights were able to break through the forest of pikes aimed at their mounts. The lead destriers were trained to charge into pike heads, but that only worked if they were galloping, since at slower speeds the horses’ instincts rebelled against what appeared to be certain death.
Within moments, the Knights were stalled in front of Kalvan’s center, with pikes impaling screaming horses and Hostigi muskets barking confusion and death. The Order used their horsepistols in return, but they didn’t have enough firepower to break the hedgehog.
“Curse and blast them!” Soton cried, as the Hostigi formation not only held, but was giving the Order more casualties than it was taking. Slowly and inexorably Soton’s Knights were pushed back as the Hostigi pikemen opened more files for the musketeers and arquebusiers to shoot. Halberdiers and two-handed swordsmen began to run through the pike files, attacking isolated Knights and Brethren.
Soton found himself fending off one attacker with his mace, while his armored horse reared and started walking backwards, trying to stay away from the stinging pikeheads.
Reluctantly, Soton gave the signal for retreat.
Sarmoth looked at him in surprise.
“We are taking too many casualties. Let us pull back and let the light cavalry and skirmishers harass this porcupine of Kalvan’s. We have won the battle, now we must win the war.”
IV
Phidestros’ victory joy turned to dust when he saw who was at the forefront of the party coming to meet him. Leading the delegation was Archpriest Roxthar, followed by Grand Master Soton, Captain-General Anaphon and Captain-General Mythross, commander of the Temple Guard. He dismissed all his aides but Kyblannos.
“Congratulations, Captain-General,” Roxthar said, with a smile that would have looked more natural on a ravenous wolf. “You have done well for the One God.”
Phidestros’ attempt to look appropriately humble at Roxthar’s words put a smile on Soton’s face. “Yes, Your Holiness, we have struck a great blow for Styphon.”
Roxthar nodded as if Kalvan’s defeat had been preordained. “The victory is not complete as long as the Usurper still lives.”
“Kalvan still lives? I heard he’d been gut-shot.”
“We have no proof, only words as to whether or not the Daemon is alive. Until I see his corpse, I will believe he is alive.”
“Have you seen the Daemon in the flesh, Your Holiness?”
“Of course not. But I will know him, Styphon be praised!”
“Your Holiness, there are as many rumors as truths on the battlefield. I agree that the only way to be certain Kalvan is dead is to find his body. This we will attempt to do.” Phidestros left out the unspoken part of the sentence, that he would do his job best if unhampered by Archpriests, Mythross and other meddlers.
Roxthar looked at him sharply. “There are other important duties that lie ahead, such as our Holy Investigation. Hostigos overflows with every brand of heretic and infidel: all must be put to the Investigation.”
Phidestros suppressed a burst of anger. Killing civilians was not the job he’d signed on for. “There are military matters that have to be undertaken first. Isn’t that right, Grand Master?”
Soton nodded, but looked as if he would rather be taking his dinner with his Knights than attending to this foolishness.
“What matters are these?” Roxthar asked.
“For one,” Mythross interjected, “we have to punish the western barbarians for their traitorous attack upon my Guardsmen. They must pay and pay mightily.”
Phidestros stared Mythross down, forcing his gaze to the ground.
“We had already agreed that it was a mistake--”
“No, that was your conclusion, Phidestros, not mine. I want those godless swine punished!”
Phidestros gritted his teeth. “I believe the Holy Investigator will agree that it is more important to crush Kalvan than it is to punish mercenaries who have fought and died well for Styphon. As I told you before, Captain-General Mythross, I will order the Ros-Zarthani to remain in the rear to secure our supply trains. To do more would be most unwise.”
“Captain-General Phidestros is following the path of Styphon,” Roxthar pronounced. “You will continue to answer to him in all things military.”
Mythross looked as if he’d just swallowed a crabapple, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Our duty here is clear,” Roxthar continued. “Before all else, we must destroy the Daemon and his followers. To this end, I will send mounted troops of my Investigators, with Temple Guards, ahead of the Host. They will capture the Daemon’s subjects before they can flee and detain them for the Investigation.”
Now it was Phidestros’ turn to choke. “But, but. . . Our first priority must be to pursue the Hostigi Army so they cannot reform and counterattack.” The Hostigi had left behind a rearguard that was blocking the valley from both sides. He had sent out detachments to either flank, but it would take time before they would be able to climb the mountains on either side of the valley and force the Hostigi rearguard to abandon its position. Phidestros saw finding a way to advance the Grand Host out of this valley quickly, not harass civilians, as the first order of business.
“Destroying the Daemon’s army is just part of our work,” Roxthar proclaimed in a tone that brooked no argument. “The Grand Host shall have its turn. But first we must scour Hostigos of all traces of the Daemon and his corrupt teachings. Nothing else is as important to the Great God Styphon.”
This is Hadron’s own way to run an army, thought Phidestros. The only way he could ignore Roxthar’s orders and live to tell about it would be to have his men behead Roxthar with the nearest sword and put his Investigators and Mythross’ Temple Guardsmen to death. Of course, he’d have to go through Soton first, and--even if he won--well, there would go his Princedom . . .
“Your word is my command, Your Holiness.”
Phidestros noticed that he wasn’t the only soldier biting his tongue. Captain-General Anaphon was so green he looked about to spill his tripe.
“As for you, Captain-General Mythross, I order you to stop wasting heat on our allies that could be used to scorch our enemies. Round up horses for those of your men who are on foot and break them up into tens to escort my Investigators.”
“Yes, Holy Investigator,” Mythross replied, then left as though Kalvan’s fireseed demons were scorching his hindquarters.
“Grand Captain-General, why is the rest of the Grand Host milling around here like sheep who’ve escaped their pens?”
“My captains are trying to reorganize the units that have become disorganized and scattered. The Hos-Ktemnos Captain-General not only managed to get himself killed for his poor generalship, but cost me a quarter of the Harphaxi Army in casualties and all the Ktemnoi cavalry!”
“How could this be? Are we not the victors?”
“Yes, but only just barely. When Marshal Zythannes’ cavalry regrouped after running from Kalvan’s men like curs, they discovered their commander was dead. The captains held an election and decided to return en masse to Hos-Ktemnos.”
“The cowards!” Soton boomed, as though releasing all the pent up anger he had been carrying since arriving with Roxthar. “They ran from the battle like dogs and now they’ve put their tails between their legs and gone home! At least they didn’t take the Sacred Squares with them.”
Phidestros nodded in agreement; the Ktemnoi cavalry were nothing to brag about, but the Sacred Squares were the Host’s best infantry. Nobody, except maybe his mistresses, would miss Zythannes.
“Styphon shall punish them in due time,” Roxthar said, as though he had just received this word direct from the Palace of the Gods. “How long will it take to gain command over your army again?”
“About a half sun. There will be no moving them until the corpses are stripped and the seriously wounded given Galzar’s Grace. Remember, Your Holiness, we are dealing with soldiers, not temple priests.”
Roxthar’s eyes grew hard. “Yes, but it is your duty to see they do Styphon’s Will. Remember your place.”
“The Grand Host has taken many casualties, Your Holiness: some eight to ten thousand Hos-Ktemnoi of the Sacred Squares are dead and dying from the Hostigi guns, twelve, maybe as many as fifteen, thousand of my own Harphaxi gone, and only Hadron knows how many dead mercenaries. Soton, how many of your Knights remain here on Ardros Field?”
“Too many! Two or three thousand casualties, maybe more. We have not had time for a full muster.”
“Once our soldiers have stripped the dead, gathered their wits, filled their stomachs and slaked their thirst, they will be ready to drive Kalvan’s army to the Great River, if need be.”
“We shall drive the Daemon and his impious minions from this land,” Roxthar pronounced, “water the land with their blood, strip the very flesh off their bones and feed the wolves with their leavings. We will chase the Daemon and his army to the very end of the world. They will die, all of them.”
Phidestros felt the chill of Roxthar s words cut right through his buffalo skin jacket. He would not want to be in Kalvan’s boots at this moment. His earlier victory joy was all gone and the only taste in his mouth was of ashes.
TWENTY-NINE
The sounds of gunfire filled the night air, waking Sirna from a sound sleep. What’s happening? she asked herself, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The shouts grew louder and she heard what sounded like fireworks going off in the Foundry courtyard.
Sirna, who’d been sleeping fully dressed ever since the invasion of Sashta, got up off her straw tick. She hadn’t been sleeping very well ever since word had come from a ragtag gang of soldiers that Kalvan had been defeated and the Army of Hos-Hostigos was in retreat. She picked up a musketoon from beside her bed. Hers and Aranth Saln’s had been the only voices of reason as the Study Team elected to stay in Hostigos instead of taking the conveyer home.
Varnath Lala was convinced she could negotiate with the Styphoni and sell the Study Team’s skills to the invaders, thereby learning invaluable information about the inner workings of the newly reformed Styphon’s House. Talgan Dreth had run once from the Styphoni, “But never twice. Never again!”
The rest of the Team echoed one viewpoint or the other in a marathon gab session that tried Sirna’s patience to the breaking point.
Skordran Kirv, the Paratime Police operative, had been just as stubborn; if the Kalvan Study Team wouldn’t leave, neither he nor his men would use the transporter either. “Nobody will take it amiss if we post a few extra sentries on the towers, Dralm damnit! If we don’t we’ll look like fools to the Styphoni and traitors to the Hostigi.”
“Treason? Are you mad?” Talgan Dreth asked.
“Great King Kalvan’s last words to me at Tarr-Hostigos, before he left for Beshta, were: ‘If things go badly, be sure to evacuate the Foundry in a timely fashion. Whatever the cost, do not let them be captured by the Grand Host!’ Would you like to explain to Duke Harmakros why you attempted to keep me from observing the Great King’s orders?”
“Harmakros is--”
“Not dead, yet. Until he is, he’ll be watching over Hostigos Town and everything nearby. Which includes us.”
Harmakros was probably already seething. Word had come from Tarr-Hostigos yesterday to start evacuating the Foundry. The horns of Skordran Kirv’s dilemma were: first, neither he nor the Paratime Police dared let the University Study Team go into exile with Hostigi refugees for fear they would blow their cover under the adverse conditions they’d encounter; second, the Paracops couldn’t evacuate the Foundry until such time as the Grand Host were near enough that the Styphoni could be blamed for the disappearance of the Zygrosi brass-f
ounders and helpers.
What the Paratime Police didn’t want was some refugee telling Kalvan the Foundry had been evacuated a day before the Grand Host had even arrived! Kalvan had proven he could add and even multiply on a number of different occasions. The last thing anyone wanted was to have Kalvan start adding up his strange journey and the peculiar habits of the Zygrosi Foundry workers.
What evacuation meant to Sirna personally was the end of her assignment on Kalvan’s Time-Line. Kalvan would write off the whole Study Team as ‘lost in action,’ which meant Sirna would be returning to Home Time Line--for good. She’d greeted this possibility with both regret and anticipation. Regret that she would have to leave this bustling time-line when things were going very badly for people she had grown to know and admire. Anticipation at leaving some of the more unpleasant University faculty for the peace and quiet of the library where she would write her thesis, and at living again where civilized amenities were taken for granted.
Regret at having to confront Hadron Tharn and having to explain why she had not provided the information she had been charged with obtaining.
“Well, if there is one thing I’ve learned from living here, it is to confront problems directly. If Tharn makes any threats, I’ll just tell him to desist, or I’ll have a polite chat with Paratime Police Chief Verkan Vall. That should shut Tharn up like nothing else.
“I still think there is time enough,” Talgan Dreth continued. “Every hand we set to watching for enemies still hours or days away is one less man to move things into--to safety.”
Sirna smiled. Talgan Dreth had to be overwrought indeed to come that close to breaching Paratime security. She rather wished he’d come closer. Anything to make sure the Kalvan Study Teams wouldn’t be encumbered with him when they returned to Home Time Line.
