Gunpowder God (13 page)

The cries of badly wounded men had rent the very air and the stench of rotting flesh and disease filled his nostrils. His own wound, a broken shoulder from a gunshot, had been minor compared to the injuries of most of the men who filled the tent to overflowing
.

He remembered looking up and encountering the piercing gray eyes of Duke Skranga, which were in great contrast to his unkempt red beard and hair. He wore an expensive blue robe with wine stains and a slew of gold chains with links the size of baby fingers. In one large hand he carried a wine flask
.

“Hello, soldier.”

“Yes, sir,” Xylon replied
.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, sir!” He rose up, until his feet hit the ground
.

“Wow
—
you’re a big one!”

“Yes, sir,” he replied; he got that a lot. He treasured the sweet taste of wine going down his parched throat. Until he started to choke
—

“Careful, not too much. I have a few questions, if you can talk. If you’re in too much pain, I can leave you the wine.”

He shook his head, using his good arm to brush away some flies. “There are those here who really need this much more than myself.”

“Don’t worry, soldier. I brought a cartload of bottles, courtesy of Great King Kalvan.”

“Long live Kalvan! I’ll have some more, sir.”

“I’m Duke Skranga, head of Intelligence. You can call me Skranga.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Duke smiled wryly. “One of those,” he muttered. “What’s your name and where are you from, son?”

“My name is Petty-Captain Xylon. I’m a Beshtan, or I was a Beshtan until I snuck away to join up with the Army of Hostigos.”

“Why did you leave Beshta, soldier?”

He spat on the ground. “Curse Balthar the Black and Styphon’s House and send them all to Hadron’s Privy Pit! One of Styphon’s highpriests wanted our townhouse for a temple. Well, there were many houses in our neighborhood the Highpriest wanted, including ours. Balthar owed Styphon’s House a lot of gold; in exchange, he gave them our home.”

“How?” Skranga asked, his brows furrowed
.

“His tax collectors suddenly discovered my father was in arrears with his taxes. That was not true; he’d paid all his taxes, but no one listened
.

These were new ones that suddenly appeared! My father tried to pay them, but he could not raise enough silver. His brother loaned him some coins, but it was not enough. We lost our house and my father and mother were sold at a slave auction to pay off their false debts!”

Skranga looked disgusted, but not surprised. Xylon knew that his story was not uncommon, at least in Beshta under Balthar the Black. Or any other princedom where Styphon’s stone-hearted priests ruled
.

“How did you survive?”

“I had been apprenticed to a scribe two winters before. I never knew things were so bad until I returned home from my master’s and found the house in shambles, all the furniture gone, the doors broken in and all their earthly goods gone. I tried to find my parents, but they were in Balthar’s dungeon waiting for the auction. I never saw them again…”

“What did you do then?” Skranga asked
.

“I stayed with my master another year, learning to mark runes, but when I started upon my full growth I was expelled. My master claimed I ate too much and should be apprenticed to a blacksmith. But with no silver and no sponsor, no one wanted me. So I lived on the streets, taking shelter where I could find it. I was bigger than most, even then at twelve winters, and was able to take my pick of food. I did not like to steal, but it was either that or starve.”

Skranga nodded his head
.

“I was asked to become a member of the Broken-Barrel Boys. I became one of their enforcers, which was how I learned to use a stave and knife. Later, I was given a sword and some training. I did not enjoy beating the unfortunate for debts they could not pay; in my eyes, the Broken-Barrel Boys were just a smaller version of the Prince’s tax collectors with a gang to protect themselves instead of an army
.

“I heard the stories about Lord Kalvan when he first arrived in Hostigos, about how he fought Styphon’s House and protected the poor. Some even said that he was the avatar of Allfather Dralm. I knew here was a man I could serve under with honor. I stole a horse one night and made my way to Hostigos Town. I knew that one day Great King Kalvan would fight Balthar the Black and win. I want to be in that Army. I want to see Balthar strung up by his neck!”

He took the offered bottle of wine back from Duke Skranga and drank his fill. He felt lighter than air. The Duke was the first person he’d ever shared this story with, and probably the last
.

“I can use men like yourself,” Skranga said. “I’ll give you twenty gold Hostigos Crowns as a signing bonus, if you’ll join the Hostigos Secret Service. Are you interested, Xylon?”

“Yes, but only if it will allow me to follow Kalvan to Beshta.”

“You have my word, by Galzar’s Mace, that you’ll be part of that army. Some of my operatives work openly, or secretly, with the Army of Hostigos. The Great King is already planning the invasion of Beshta, to punish that son-of-a double-striped skunk. The skinflint cost us the Battle of Tenabra and most of Prince Ptosphes’ pride. Believe me, Balthar will pay. Great Queen Rylla will see to that!”

Xylon smiled. “Like the Styphoni paid at Chothros Heights and Phyrax Field?”

“Yes,” Skranga replied
.

“Then I will join the Hostigos Secret Service, I swear by Allfather Dralm’s Star.”

“Good, it is rare to find men with your mettle—and great size! Now, how well did you learn your runes before you left your master?”

“I can read all eighty-seven major runes and about two-thirds of the minor runes.”

Skranga whistled. “That’s good, more than I can read of the minor runes myself. How well is your marking?”

“I can mark as well as I read. My master was a hard taskmaster, but fair. I would still be with him, but now I see that once I reached my full height I would have never been accepted into the homes of the rich as a scribe.”

Skranga threw back his head and brayed. “Not in Beshta! They would have feared you’d strangle them if they gave you an order you didn’t like
.

“However, your abilities will make you very valuable to the Secret Service.” Duke Skranga reached into one of his deep pockets and removed a heavy purse. “Here’s twenty Crowns, as a signing bonus. Can you walk?”

He rose to his feet; he felt a little lightheaded but otherwise well. “Yes.”

“Good. Xylon, you can ride in my coach with me to the Palace. I’m done here for the day. I’ll have Brother Mytron or Uncle Wolf Tharses look at your shoulder. Then we’ll go into Hostigos Town and buy you some decent clothes. I have
plans
for you, my boy!”

Duke Skranga had told the truth: he had been there as a guide into Balthar’s dungeon when the mad priest had tried to kill Kalvan. He had watched with joy as Balthar had died a hard death. Xylon had later joined Skranga, as one of his bodyguards, when the Duke had traveled to Harphax City and set up his spy ring. It was there that Skranga had arranged to get several of his most trusted agents into Balph, the center of Styphon’s spider web.

There had been a recruiter for Styphon’s Own Guard in Harphax City signing up new recruits. Claiming to be a former member of Balthar’s Bodyguard, Xylon had been welcomed into Styphon’s Own Guard. As Skranga predicted, the Sixteenth Band had been detailed to Balph and he’d spent most of the last two winters protecting various Highpriests and their interests. There had been little intelligence to send to Hostigos Town, but he had made contacts with the other Hostigi agents and knew that one day he would have information that would help tumble Styphon’s House into ruins.

When Archpriest Grythos had opened the muster books for the new Sephrax Guard, Xylon had personally asked the Archpriest if he could resign from Styphon’s Own Temple Guard to sign the muster book. Grythos, who was pleased for an opportunity to spit into the Guard’s eye, took him on the spot. Being the tallest man in the Sephrax Guard, he’d been quickly elevated to petty-captain and later captain. He was now, after Archpriest Grythos, commanding officer of Anaxthenes’ personal bodyguards.

It would have been easy to enlist a few confederates to kill Anaxthenes and the entire Inner Circle, but as tempting as that idea was, it would have been a futile act of revenge. Within a moon half, all the Archpriests who’d died would be replaced by an even more venal and blood-thirsty lot. Xylon had no doubts on that matter as he knew many of the top Highpriests in Balph, most of whom would commit murder—at the very least—to be elevated into the Innermost Circle of Styphon’s House on Earth. Cimon was the only decent Archpriest and it seemed as if the Holy City had become even more debased after he left to join Grand Master Soton in Agrys City.

He listened to the many stories of Hostigos’ war against Styphon’s House, both the victories and, lately, the defeats. The fall of Tarr-Hostigos and the sacking of Hostigos Town had left him depressed and worried for many moons. Now, it appeared that the Hostigi had a new home, Nos-Hostigos, and that they had defended it from both the Grand Host of Styphon and King Theovacar’s Navy. He wished he could join them in Thagnor, but his work was here in Balph. Maybe one day he would prove his worth to Great King Kalvan.

Anaxthenes was impressed with his great height and breadth, always asking for Xylon to be his personal bodyguard. The cost had been high. All eight of Styphon’s Voice’s personal bodyguards had their tongues removed so that they could never reveal what was said in Anaxthenes’ presence. Three of the original guards had died of the procedure. They’d had a hard time getting more, but the ten gold crowns per moon bought the necessary three. All soldiers were gamblers, none so much as the personal bodyguard of Styphon’s Own Voice.

Being Styphon’s Voice’s personal bodyguard allowed Xylon to be present at most of the secret councils among Anaxthenes’ trusted henchmen; unfortunately, most of the meetings were primarily concerned with struggles among the Inner Circle and very little information of value for Hostigos was revealed.

Of course, none of the Sephrax Guardsmen knew—or were expected—to be able to mark and read runes. That was Xylon’s secret and he would take it to his grave before he let it be known to anyone but his contact with Skranga.

Now, with Balph in an uproar about the ascension of Great King-Elect Selestros of Hos-Harphax, this upcoming council might be the one he’d been waiting for.

Kalvan inspected the new inner courtyard of the College of Military Sciences and noted that the entire college was built like a large castle with a tower where it met the second city wall. The courtyard was situated so that it was inside the actual College buildings like the core of an apple, with a large keep at the center. All the entrances were made of iron-reinforced oak and very well guarded. The keep contained the highly-secret Hostigos Skunk Works, where Ermut’s laboratory and the other secret labs were situated.

The Great King was seated, along with Dean Ermut and Captain-General Errock, at a pavilion to watch as Master Halvus demonstrated the first fire-siphon. It looked similar to a big musket, but with a large reservoir, where the Greek fire was held. Kalvan was pleased to see that it was one of Halvus’ assistants who was going to do the actual demonstration.

He watched as the young assistant bowed, then lit the wick with a flaming split from his tinderbox. The wick provided a steady but small flame. His target was half a dozen cloth-filled dummies wearing cheap sets of pikeman’s half-armor. When the assistant rammed the push stroke, it sent a stream of Greek fire out of the tube, which whooshed out in a three yard-length ball of fire that engulfed the dummies in flames. The stream of fire continued until the reservoir was empty. However, the fire continued to burn for several minutes, after the siphon stopped releasing Greek fire, leaving nothing but collapsed dummies with half-melted breastplates and smoldering rags.

“Huzzah!” Kalvan cried. He could imagine the effect of such a weapon on the superstitious Styphoni. Men who would face a volley of musket fire would turn tail when faced with such a diabolical weapon. The problem the Byzantines had run into with naphtha fire-siphoned weapons was due to the fact that they had such short range, about fifteen feet, and small loads that they ran out of naphtha. Often the push of the rear ranks threw burning victims into the enemy lines using the weapons, especially if pike or long spear armed phalanxes were many ranks deep. As he saw it, the fire-siphons were best used against fixed targets or missile units.

“By Wodan’s Lost Eye!” Errock exclaimed. “This is truly a weapon of the Gods.”

“Ermut and Halvus, come here.”

Ermut signaled and four servants came out with goblets and a flask of brandy.

When he’d made sure that everyone had a drink, he held his goblet up and made a toast. “To the wonders of science!”

They chattered about what they’d seen like a bunch of children. When everyone was all talked out, Kalvan asked, “Dean Ermut, how many of these fire-siphons can you make in the next moon?”

Ermut turned to Master Halvus, saying, “Here’s the man you need to ask, sire.”

Halvus, whose bald head and big nose gave him the aspect of a turtle inside his blue robe, said, “Your Majesty, with the help of some gunsmiths, I should be able to produce at least two score.”

“Good, Master Halvus. I’ll see to it that you have all the help you need.”

After Halvus stepped back, he turned to Ermut. “How are the fire devices for our Navy coming along?”

“We have learned a lot about the fuel and devices from Halvus’ experiments and our own. The problem with the shipboard devices is that they will have to be much larger and they will need some sort of bellows arrangement to shoot out the Greek fire. We are trying to adapt blacksmith bellows, only making them larger. We should have a working model within a moon half. The major problem we’ve run into is finding a way to heat the naphtha safely to fluidity so that it shoots out the siphon. The hand model uses a pig bladder for the reservoir which can be squeezed. The ship-sized siphons will need to be heated on the ship, which could be very dangerous. We’re working with them now to solve that problem.”