Gunpowder God

by John F. Carr

  Anaxthenes counted the number of Bands in his mind. “Normally, there are ten bands of Styphon’s Own Guard stationed in Balph, but High Marshal Xenophes took half of them with him to Hos-Agrys, as well as another six from the surrounding cities and towns throughout Hos-Ktemnos. Roxthar has five or six bands under his command outside Agrys City. There are another four or five, according to Grand Commander Aristocles, stationed in the Nythros City States. Fortunately, four bands just returned from Hos-Harphax. Harphax City—now that the Unclean Selestros is seated on the Iron Throne—is no longer safe for Styphon’s followers. Most of the remaining Guardsmen in Balph are either guarding various highpriests and archpriests, or are protecting the Great Temple of Styphon, the Great Council Hall of Styphon or any of the many temples and shrines raised in Styphon’s glory.”

  He thought for a moment. This is my opportunity to scour Balph of most of the Temple Guardsmen. “I can give you the six Temple Bands here without compromising the Temple’s security. I’ll put my Sephrax Guard in charge of Baph’s security.”

  “That’s a start, Your Divinity,” Orocles reported. “However, that is not enough men to change the balance of forces in Hos-Harphax.”

  Styphon’s Voice nodded. “It’s unfortunate that Soton’s Host of Styphon’s Deliverance is mired in the Agrysi turmoil. I just received word this morning from my Chief Intelligencer that Prince Phidestros has assembled his army and is moving west into Sask. The Princedom of Sask is one of his boons for supporting the Heretic Selestros’ ascension upon the Iron Throne.”

  “Your Divinity, if Phidestros is moving his army into Sask,” Archpriest Neamenestros said, “it’s because that’s where he expects to find Great King Lysandros and his army. Is it too late for Knight Commander Orocles to intercept Phidestros in time before he attacks the Harphaxi Army?”

  Anaxthenes nodded, indicating that Orocles should answer Neamenestros’ question.

  “It would take me three or four days to muster my forces in Balph and maybe another moon of steady marching through the Pirsystros Valley to reach Sask since there are a lot of mountains to navigate. Phidestros has a moon quarter head start. The battle between him and Lysandros will be long over before I can march from Balph to Sask. If we fought Phidestros then, the only army standing between Beshta and Balph would be dead and buried.”

  Anaxthenes nodded. “I agree. If you were to engage him and lose, Phidestros would march his army straight to Balph and his soldiers would fall upon us like ravenous wolves.”

  “If our intelligence had been better, we might have had time to join forces with King Lysandros,” Orocles finished.

  “My Chief Intelligencer says that Beshta gobbles up agents-inquisitory like cats feasting on baby pigeons,” Anaxthenes replied. “We were lucky this agent returned alive. A loss to Phidestros would provide him with an excuse to bring his army into Hos-Ktemnos, and possibly into Balph itself! May Ormaz crush that jumped-up mercenary bastard’s bones!”

  “I fear events leave us stymied, Your Divinity,” Orocles said. “We must pray to the Wargod that Soton decisively defeats the Agrysi so that he will be able to turn south and strike at Harphax City and the Heretic Prince.”

  Anaxthenes winced at Orocles’ invocation of Galzar. Maybe he had misjudged him, if he was still clinging to such foolishness. Were there really gods, they’d all be damned! He paced back and forth in the room. He wasn’t used to being at the mercy of events beyond his control, and he didn’t like it. “Doesn’t anyone have a good idea? If not, of what use are the lot of you?”

  Archpriest Neamenestros, the top of his egg-like head beaded with sweat, spoke up. “Your Divinity, what if Commander Orocles were to take his forces into Beshta, while Phidestros has his army chasing after Lysandros in the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. Orocles could storm Besh Town and take prisoners, maybe even the Prince’s wife? I hear she is with child. She could prove to be a valuable hostage.”

  Anaxthenes felt his heart leap within his chest. “Neamenestros, you have just earned yourself a new palace! I like the way your mind plots. Orocles, muster all the men you can find. I’ll even loan you two companies of my Sephrax Guard. We will strike like a serpent right into the Bastard Prince’s own nest. He will come to rue the day he turned his sword against the True Temple!”

  II

  Captain Xylon, for all of his size, almost floated out of Anaxthenes’ private chamber at the end of his shift. He gave the incoming guards a nod to indicate everything was under control, then exited the palace. The Sephrax Guard had their own private barracks within the palace grounds and he quickly made his way to his private room. The information he’d learned at this meeting of Anaxthenes’ private advisors would more than pay off all the sacrifices he’d made to insert himself into Styphon’s Voice’s personal bodyguard.

  The other guards were in the great room sleeping on their straw ticks. After making sure they were asleep, he entered the armory and quietly closed the door, then sat his candle down and lit an oil lamp. After the flame caught and he could see better, Xylon used his dagger to pry up a section of the flooring to reveal a secret compartment. Inside the compartment was a rolled up sheet of vellum. He removed the parchment and took it and the lamp over to his desk.

  It took almost two candles to put all the important news into code and inscribe it. Duke Skranga had personally taught him the substitution code for his messages; the Duke claimed that King Kalvan had personally taught it to him. Maybe someday, in recognition of his services, he would be taken before the King. He prayed to Dralm that it might be so.

  Xylon had no idea what Prince Phidestros’ feelings were towards his wife, since it was an arranged marriage; however, he did know that this kidnapping and attack on Besh Town was an insult to Phidestros personally as well as an open declaration of war between Styphon’s House and Greater Beshta. After all, it was Phidestros who had led the Grand Host of Styphon’s House to victory over Hostigos at the battle-field of Ardros Field.

  Certainly, the news of the Styphoni invasion of Beshta would get Kalvan’s attention. Maybe there would be a way in which the King could use it to the Kingdom’s advantage. It was possible that the kidnapping of Princess Arminta would cause a permanent rift between the most powerful prince in the Five Kingdoms and Styphon’s House. This could only be good news for Hostigos.

  Xylon only wished he could play a more active role in events. Phidestros had already left Besh Town for Sask, but he could sneak away and travel to Tarr-Beshta to warn the castellan, the Prince had left behind, about the Archpriest’s plans. If the castellan believed him, there might even be enough time to spirit the Princess out of Beshta and to a sanctuary until Phidestros returned. Still, that would end his usefulness here in Balph. Furthermore, Phidestros was an enemy of Hostigos and it wasn’t his job to make strategic decisions.

  Now, he needed to get a few candles of sleep before he met with his contact at the House of Jars.

  III

  Great King Demistophon of Hos-Agrys had a terrible headache; it felt as if the back of his head had been smacked with a halberd! He was convinced it was brought on by the incessant pounding of Styphon’s artillery. The guns never stopped—even at night. Deep inside his palace, he could still hear the thud of cannon balls as they hit the walls of Agrys City. Lately, the Styphoni had taken to firing some of their shot over the walls where they killed pedestrians on the streets or crashed into buildings and houses.

  Curse and blast Grand Master Soton and that fiend in human form, Archpriest Roxthar!

  His people were growing restive. Every day there were demonstrations before the palace, protestors demanding that he do something to stop the Styphoni. Victuals were growing short; by the gods, he even had troubles getting fresh vegetables for his table!

  Only yesterday his Captain-General warned him that the Styphoni might break through the Agrys City Wall within a moon quarter. On top of that, his already outnumbered soldiers were weary from short rations and the continual bombardment.r />
  What am I supposed to do, he asked himself. I have beseeched the True Gods, but they have forsaken us! Our vassals went down to defeat, more interested in saving their own skins than in the safety of their Great King. There would be no more help from the League of Dralm, nor from his brother who had died in the assault. Betrayed by my own underlings and the treachery of the priests of Styphon.

  Demistophon looked down at his hands. They were trembling as if he had ague or the shaking disease! What is wrong with me? I know, it is fear. Fear of the Grand Master Soton and his army. Fear of the Investigation to come. Fear of seeing my City despoiled. Fear of my own death and the executioner’s blade! Or will they let Roxthar tear my body into pieces?

  He forced his mind to dampen the anxieties that scratched at his mind like claws. To add to his discomfort, the King felt he was sitting in a vise rather than on the Throne of Lights. “Something has to be done with this Dralm-damned throne to make it wider!”

  Demistophon hadn’t realized that he’d shouted his thoughts until Chancellor Tramoth jumped in the air, his arms and robe flapping like an ungainly bird.

  “What do you want now?”

  “Your Majesty,” whispered his Chancellor. “Davros, Highpriest of the High Temple of Hos-Agrys, pleads for an audience.”

  “Davros! What does that temple rat want now? Oh, never mind, I know. He wants to beg for more bread for the street rabble. Send him in.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty!” The Chancellor scampered from the audience chamber with what remaining dignity he had left.

  Primate Xentos, now that’s the priest I would like to see. If I could get my hands on his neck, I’d squeeze it until his eyes popped out of his head! It was Primate Xentos and the Temple of Dralm’s fault that Styphon’s House was besieging his city. The Primate had fled the City before the Styphoni had completely blockaded the port. Now the troublemaker was free to stir up further mischief, while Demistophon’s life would soon be in the hands of that madman Roxthar. If Xentos had not brought his troubles with him from Hos-Hostigos, the Styphoni would not be bedeviling him. Curse all the temples and their gods along with them!

  The audience chamber was empty except for the Great King and his guards. He could hear the echo of Davros’ footsteps when he entered the chamber. As he neared the Throne of Lights, the Highpriest fell to his knees and began to kiss the floor.

  “Up, Highpriest. What could possibly be so important that you disturb my meditation?”

  “I apologize, Your Majesty. The guns of Styphon’s House are smashing down the City Walls—”

  “You think I haven’t noticed?”

  “Yes…yes, I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I want to know what provisions you’ve made so that the upperpriests of Dralm can evacuate the City? Our lives are in danger! We will all be Investigated by Roxthar!”

  Demistophon began to laugh so hard that tears filled his eyes. “You…you…” he sputtered. “There is no escape! For any of us. You should have fled with your Primate! Now the Styphoni warships have taken control of the harbor. Their Host surrounds the City Walls. We are all doomed, myself included.”

  Davros, still on his knees, began to back away from the Throne. “But, but…there must be some way—”

  “You could sneak out of the City in a small boat, hiding in the morning fog like a thief. Perhaps you might even evade the Styphoni patrols. Your Primate must have or otherwise Styphon’s House would have paraded his head at the front gates. However, you will not have Our permission. My subjects’ morale would be sorely taxed if all of Dralm’s highpriests fled the City before the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance. Priest, it’s up to you and your cohorts to show the citizens a brave face.”

  Davros’ face turned as white as the first snow.

  “No, you and the rest of your flock will not escape death, not even by some miraculous accident. You will share Our fate.”

  Demistophon would have liked nothing more than to toss the troublesome highpriest into his dungeon, but his subjects would be rioting in the streets if he did. The real problem was that it was a religious war and he was on the wrong side.

  “Escort this man of Dralm to the streets,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the Captain of the Guard said, as he grabbed Davros by the hair and lifted him to his feet. The look of fear on Davros’ face was almost worth the discomfort his presence had called forth.

  ELEVEN

  I

  Kalvan took another sip of Sassafras tea while he pulled his thoughts together. The small window-slit in the stone wall let a rectangle of pale light into his study on the third floor of Prince Varrack’s former palace. The days were growing longer and it was already growing chilly. The Grand Host had lifted their siege early enough that the farmers had had time to plant their fall crops: barley, spinach, and cabbage along with the other seasonal crops. The corn was already thigh-high and healthy. Early indications, weather permitting, were for a bumper harvest.

  The buffalo expedition had left early this year. If they had half the success of last year’s hunt, there’d be enough salted meat to get them through the winter with food to spare. It didn’t hurt that they were practically sitting on the best salt deposits in Michigan. Well, good; that was one less damn thing for him to worry about.

  The political situation was still in flux due to the large number of Hostigi immigrants they were still trying to find homes and work for. There was some resentment among Thagnori as the newcomers took jobs and positions they believed were their birthright. Kalvan had had a lot of trouble with the local guilds, but they had given in when he threatened to bring them under Royal patronage. The Royal Riflemakers Guild, Royal Guild of Papermakers, Royal Fireseed Guild, Royal Gunsmiths Guild and the Royal Artillery Guild were still under his control.

  Another big problem was all the Nythrosi, Baltori and Ragyathi DPs, or displaced persons. Some of them, like the Nythrosi, couldn’t go home since the Grand Host had left behind a large garrison in the Nythros City States. Most of the Morthroni refugees had returned to Morthron after the Siege of Thagnor City ended. Still, many of the DPs and refugees preferred the stability of Thagnor to the upheavals in their own homelands. Kalvan was going to have to do something about them, and quick; otherwise, they’d run out of food this coming winter.

  On the plus side, his new Thagnori subjects had taken to his reforms like fish to water. With the promise of new prosperity—“a pigeon in every pot!”—they didn’t appear even to mind the influx of Hostigi who now significantly outnumbered the Princedom’s original inhabitants.

  Well, some of the Thagnori nobles had complained. The first couple who made a lot of noise had had their lands confiscated and titles revoked, which had shut the rest right up. He had plenty of Hostigi nobles willing to move into abandoned or condemned demesnes.

  Too many, in fact. He had a plethora of former Hos-Hostigos nobles without fiefdoms. Most of the former Hos-Hostigi Princes had their demesnes. Prince Sarrask, formerly of Sask, was settling his affairs in the Princedom of Ragyath. He was still rooting out the last of the Grefftscharrer garrison Theovacar had left behind, but most of the princedom was settling down. Soon the remaining Ragyathi refugees would be sent home whether they liked it or not.

  Kalvan might even have to march into Baltor and put in his own ruler; the Council of Seven, a nasty group of would-be-tyrants, had tried to set up shop in Thagnor City until he’d had them thrown into the Tarr-Thagnor dungeon.

  Prince Phrames, formerly of Beshta, was now Prince of Gytha. Prince Kestophes had been put to death as a traitor. Prince Armanes of Nyklos had died from wounds taken at the Battle of Ardros Field and now his son, Prince Carvros, had allied himself with Great King Lysandros. Cavros was no longer his problem, for now. Prince Tythanes had taken a bullet in the shoulder, during the Siege of Thagnor, and had appeared to be recovering until he got ill over the winter, probably pneumonia, and died.

  With Tythanes dead, Prince Pheblon, formerly of Nostor, was the only Prince wit
hout a princedom. Baltor was unoccupied and pretty much uninhabited, after the Grand Host used it as a staging area for the Siege of Thagnor; furthermore, its population was too sparse to make it a princedom. Pheblon was touchy now that he was the only landless prince and might not take well to being demoted to Duke.

  He yanked on his bell pull for Cleon.

  “More tea, Your Majesty?”

  “No, Cleon. Please tell Count Vinaldos I would like to see him.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  Kalvan had time to finish reading King Chartiphon’s latest dispatch, warning of troop movements along the Dorg/Lyros border, before meeting the Count. Lyros Town was the here-and-now equivalent of Peoria in otherwhen. King Chartiphon had consolidated his Rathoni holdings during the Siege of Thagnor, adding several former Hos-Rathoni princedoms, Mybranos, Lahrag and Distros, to the new Kingdom of Rathon. Chartiphon, who had agents and spies working throughout the Middle Kingdoms, was wondering if King Hyrum was using Grefftscharrer withdrawal from the area to advance his own claims upon Lyros Town.

  Good question, Kalvan thought. He was very pleased to see Chartiphon taking such an interest in his neighbors. Proof that the old adage ‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks’ was wrong.

  Count Vinaldos was a tall man with a small Vandyke beard, who dressed in a wine-red doublet with matching cape. He was quite handsome and the best-dressed man in Thagnor; he easily could have been a courtier from one of Rembrandt’s paintings.

  The Count bowed, saying, “How can I serve you today, Your Majesty?”

  “Have a seat, Your Grace.”

  He sat down and drew out his pipe and tobacco pouch.

  “First of all, I just received a packet from King Chartiphon. His scouts in the Trygath have noticed some unusual Dorgian troop movements along their border with Lyros. I’m wondering if King Hyrum’s preparing for a quick strike into Lyros, now that Theovacar’s had to back out of Greffa and can no longer claim Lyros as part of his sphere of influence.”