Gunpowder God (14 page)

“Excellent. I’d like to have at least a dozen Greek fire ships ready by spring.”

“We will do our best, Your Majesty. But I wouldn’t expect any until the summer as we may need to have special ships built to contain the fire apparatus.”

Kalvan nodded. He could wait, now that he had here-and-now style flamethrowers.

S
typhon’s Voice Anaxthenes paced back and forth in his private study, oblivious to the rich hangings, tapestries and paintings that decorated the walls. It appeared that his scheme to own the rulers of the Great Kingdoms was about to slip out of his hand. While the new King of Hos-Ktemnos was still in harness, the Hos-Blethan Rebellion had let the entire Kingdom run astray. It appeared Great King Niclophon only had political control of those princedoms where his army was based; the moment they left, anarchy prevailed and order had to be restored.

In the Upper Middle Kingdoms, the Grand Host of Styphon had broken apart, retreating without capturing Thagnor City or the Usurper Kalvan. Grand Commander Aristocles had been forced to disband the Host in order to fight off a barbarian invasion, concocted by the Usurper Kalvan, to save the Order’s line of forts along the Great River.

Now, the self-proclaimed avatar of Dralm, Great King-Elect Selestros, was sitting on the Iron Throne with the help of a former ally and it was likely that Great King Lysandros would return to Harphax City in chains or worse.

Grand Master Soton was still battering the walls of Agrys City, while the League of Dralm rebuilt its army and prepared for the day he would turn his Host of Styphon’s Deliverance upon the countryside. Unfortunately, summer was almost gone and fall was almost upon the land. If the City didn’t fall soon, Soton’s invasion of Hos-Agrys would be delayed until next spring. By then, not even the gods knew what might be happening … The Usurper might return, Prince Phidestros might throw his support to the League of Dralm, or Soton might be defeated.

And, we are so close to ‘owning’ all the Five Kingdoms…
.

He heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he ordered.

Four of his most trusted advisors, Archpriest Dimonestes, Archpriest Neamenestros, Archpriest Danthor and Knight Commander Orocles filed into the chamber. The Zarthani Knight Commander was wearing a white tunic emblazoned with a black sun-wheel; he was a tall man with black hair and a gray-streaked beard, walking with the aid of a carved wooden crutch. Orocles had lost his leg right below the knee to one of the Usurper Kalvan’s guns.

Anaxthenes directed them to sit upon one of his thread-of-gold divans.

Orocles was there for his military expertise while Anaxthenes’ usual military advisor, Archpriest Grythos, was off aiding Grand Master Soton with the Siege of Agrys City. He was carefully grooming Orocles, who was ambitious and determined, for the seat of Grand Master of the Zarthani Knights when he was strong enough to unseat Soton. It boded well that Orocles also enjoyed the wonderful things and opportunities that great wealth provided.

Anaxthenes was weary of Grand Master Soton and his rigid adherence to the Order. During these times of turmoil, Styphon’s House needed a Grand Master who was more flexible, as well as more responsive to the Inner Circle and Styphon’s Voice. Someone who would do as he was bid, not concern himself with the welfare of peasants and townsmen along the border marches. Orocles looked to be such a man.

Grand Commander Aristocles was a good choice, but too close to the Grand Master. They had been close friends and comrades for tens of winters. He was unlikely to countermand his friend, even for his own profit. Furthermore, Aristocles showed little respect for Styphon’s priests.

Allowing these military orders so much independence has been a grave error on the Temple’s part
, he decided.
Once we have consolidated our power over the Five Kingdoms, I will make some major changes. I do not see why both Styphon’s Temple Guard and the Order of Zarthani Knights should not be answerable only to Styphon’s Own Voice
.

“What is your Divinity’s pleasure?” Archpriest Neamenestros asked. The other advisors sat around Neamenestros waiting for his response.

Anaxthenes came out of his brown study. “I’ve been looking into the future and I see storm clouds gathering on every side. We are about to lose our advocate in Hos-Harphax to a Dralm-loving sot. What can the Temple do to stop this abomination?”

Archpriest Dimonestes spoke first. “Our armies are already committed in Hos-Agrys and in the border marches. There is little we can do to aid Great King Lysandros.”

Anaxthenes shook his head. “I knew that! What I want is a creative solution to our problem, not a recapitulation of what we all already know.”

Orocles spoke up. “Your Divinity, I have some four to five thousand mercenaries and recruits that I’ve been training for operations in Hos-Bletha”

“Forget Hos-Bletha, let Great King Niclophon stew in his own pot for now. If he would have acted decisively, once these false kings began appearing, these revolts would have ended long ago. I told him to burn a couple of rebel towns along with all their inhabitants. If he would have followed my advice, the rebellion would now be a distant memory.”

“Your Divinity, I also have one Lance of Knights. How many Temple Bands remain in Balph?”

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!”

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.

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.

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?