Gunpowder God (2 page)

Armanes—Died at the Battle of Ardros Field.

Baldour—Mercenary General formerly from Morthron.

Chartiphon—Former Chancellor of Hos-Hostigos.

Clytos—Prince of Glarth.

Demia—Princess, Kalvan and Rylla’s daughter.

Ermut—Rector of the University of Hostigos.

Eutare—Lady, one of Rylla’s ladies-in-waiting and Prince Phrames’ betrothed.

Hectides—Old wolf hunter and scout for the Royal Army.

Herad—Admiral Herad, Supreme Admiral of the Royal Nos-Hostigos Navy.

Hestophes—Captain-General of the Army of Hostigos.

Kalvan—Former Penn. State Trooper and Great King of Hos-Hostigos.

Kestophes—Former Prince of Ulthor.

Klestreus—Head of Hostigos Security.

Mnestros—Duke of Eubros and Kalvan’s ally.

Mytron—Chancellor of Nos-Hostigos and Highpriest of Dralm.

Nathros—Colonel, Rector of Engineering College.

Pheblon—Former Prince of Nostor.

Phrames—Former Prince of Beshta and Captain-General of the Royal Army.

Rylla—Former Great Queen of Hos-Hostigos, Kalvan’s wife and co-ruler.

Sarrask—Former Prince of Sask.

Skranga—Chief of Hos-Hostigos Intelligence now in Hos-Bletha.

Tharses—Uncle Wolf Highpriest of Hos-Hostigos.

Tythanes—Former Prince of Kyblos.

Vanar Halgoth—Captain of Kalvan’s Tymannian Guard.

Vinaldos—Count, Acting Intelligence Chief.

Xentos—Primate of Dralm at the Hos-Agrys Great Temple.

Xykos—Grand-Captain of Great Queen Rylla’s Own Horse Guard.

Zothnes—Baron, former Archpriest of Styphon’s House.

Zythos—Prince of Cyros.

Altarn Vor—Deputy Bureau Chief, one of Verkan’s trusted advisors.

Aranth Saln—Kalvan Study Team Military Expert now undercover as Ranthos.

Barton Shar—Deputy Chief Inspector in charge of Stores and Equipment.

Danthor Dras—University Professor and expert on Styphon’s House Subsector.

Danar Sirna—Former Member of Kalvan Study Team and Phidestros’ mistress.

Hadron Dalla—Verkan’s wife and Paratime Police Chief’s Special Assistant.

Hadron Tharn—Dalla’s power-mad brother.

Hadron Zinganna—Dalla’s adopted Prole sister. Undercover in Greffa as Zinna.

Hasthor Flan—Councilman, Head of Opposition Party.

Kostran Galth—Paratime Police Inspector, Head of the Greffan Study Team.

Maldor Dard—Paratime Police Field Agent assigned to Harphaxi Study Team.

Raldrov Varn—New Director of the Kalvan Study Teams.

Ranthar Jard—Paratime Police Inspector.

Tortha Karf—Former Paratime Police Chief.

Verkan Vall—Paratime Police Chief.

Yandar Yadd—Newsie on First Level.

Albides—Second in command of Styphon’s Own Guard.

Anaxthenes—New Supreme Priest and Styphon’s Own Voice.

Aristocles—Grand Commander and second in command of the Order.

Cimon—Inner Circle Archpriest called the “Peasant Priest.”

Danthor—Paratime Professor’s undercover identity as Styphon’s House Archpriest.

Dimonestes—Archpriest, one of Roxthar’s followers.

Euriphocles—Archpriest, one of Anaxthenes’ co-conspirators.

Dracar—Archpriest of Inner Circle and Roxthar’s puppet.

Eukides—Captain-General of the Union of Styphon’s Friends Army

Grythos—Archpriest of the Inner Circle and Military Advisor.

Heraclestros—Archpriest, former Highpriest of Agrys City.

Neamenestros—Archpriest and one of Anaxthenes’ allies.

Phyllos—Highpriest of Harphax City Great Temple.

Roxthar—Holy Investigator and Torquemada of Styphon’s House.

Sarmoth—Horse Master of the Order of Zarthani Knights.

Soton—Grand Master of the Order of Zarthani Knights.

Yagos—Anaxthenes’ Special Deputy and spy master.

Xenophes—High Marshal of the Styphon’s House Temple Guard.

Demnos—Captain-General of the Army of Hos-Harphax.

Geblon—General, Phidestros’ loyalist and friend.

Hythar—Count, Lysandros’ Chief Intelligencer.

Kaphros—Duke, in charge of Hos-Harphax while Lysandros is away.

Kyblannos—General, Phidestros’ chief of artillery and advisor.

Lyphannes—Chancellor of Hos-Harphax and Lysandros’ advisor.

Lysandros—Great King of Hos-Harphax and Kalvan’s enemy.

Lukthos—Great King of Hos-Ktemnos.

Niclophon—Great King of Hos-Bletha.

Phidestros—Prince of Greater Beshta.

Simias—Prince of Cythor in Hos-Agrys.

Sopharar—Great King of Hos-Zygros.

Sthentros—New Prince of Hostigos.

Thessamona—Lady of Death, Anaxthenes’ favorite concubine.

Varion—Prince of Kryphlon in Hos-Agrys.

Aesklos—Prince of Zcynos in Hos-Agrys.

Arminta—Princess and Phidestros’ wife.

Davros—Highpriest of the High Temple of Dralm in Agrys City.

Dementros—Son of Duke Thalros and heir to the Ktemnosi Throne.

Demistophon—Great King of Hos-Agrys.

Errock—Captain-General of the Thagnori Army.

Eudocles—Grand Duke of Zygros and Sopharar’s brother.

Eukides—Famous Argysi Captain-General.

Eythart—Prince of Morthron.

Hyrum—King of Dorg.

Ingvard—King of Wulfula.

Kyphanes—Prince of Meligos in Hos-Agrys.

Lavena—Great Queen of Hos-Harphax.

Osthwuld—Duke of Thagnor.

Ranjar Sargos—Var-Wannax, or Great Chief, of the Sastragath.

Ranthos—Former Paratimer Aranth Saln who is undercover as a mercenary Captain.

Roldolf—High King of Xiphlon.

Ruffulo—Greffan Duke from an old family.

Selestros—Son of the former king of Hos-Harphax.

Sestembar—Count and Eudocles’ right-hand man.

Sopharar—Great King of Hos-Zygros.

Theovacar—King of Grefftscharr.

Varrack—Former Prince of Thagnor.

C
aptain-General Demnos, second in command of the Hos-Harphax Army, pushed his way into King Lysandros’ pavilion with an expression on his face as if he had just seen his best friend killed.

Lysandros, Great King of the Kingdom of Hos-Harphax, was seated at his table eating a dinner of turkey and succotash. His pavilion was empty except for his body servant and two halberd-armed Royal Bodyguards in Harphaxi red and yellow colors. “What is it?” he demanded, taking a half-eaten turkey leg out of his mouth.

Demnos was a broad man with a flat face and a squared-off beard. A thick red ribbon of scar tissue wormed its way from the hairline to just above his thick brown mustache, giving the Captain-General the look of a competent and well-tested soldier, a fact which he’d proved time and time again on the battlefield. Lysandros found it disconcerting to see his face as tightly drawn as a fist. “Your Majesty, I have more bad news.”

“What now?” Lysandros asked, his stomach flip-flopping. He shoved his thick silver plate with its half-eaten meal aside, knowing this was one more dinner he’d never finish. Ever since the Army of Hos-Harphax had broken off from the Grand Host and sacked Morthron Town, everything had gone to Regwarn. They had been assailed by constant and wearing attacks by the Rathoni irregulars, who picked off small groups of stragglers, scouts and even small detachments. The Rathoni riflemen attacked from trees, bushes and any other kind of cover, while the Sastragathi irregulars ambushed scouting parties and anyone who left the protection of the main body of the Army. It was getting so bad that the men had to be taken in armed parties to visit the latrine trenches.

The harassment had begun the minute the Army of Hos-Harphax had left the battlefield outside of Thagnor City and ransacked Morthron. The attacks had continued as they made their way through the Duchy of Baltor and into the former Hos-Rathoni Princedom of Vesthar. It had become so dangerous away from the main body that it was only upon threat of death that anyone would go out on a scouting party.

Lysandros had been forced by desertions to put the Royal Pistoleers on guard duty over the supply train; otherwise, half the army would have deserted with all the victuals they could carry. Besides his own Bodyguard, the Royal Pistoleers were the only body of troops that he could trust. It was unfortunate he hadn’t been able to talk Grand Commander Aristocles into giving him several Bands of Styphon’s Own Guard. He never thought he’d admit it, but he really could use a couple of Temple Bands to keep his own army in line.

Nor would Aristocles allow him to use what remained of the Nythrosi fleet to ferry his men over to Glarth Town, although since Soton had sacked the town the Glarthi merchants were now selling supplies to Kalvan. Prince Clytos of Glarth was also a member of the League of Dralm and at war with anyone associated with Styphon’s House. Furthermore, Grand Commander Aristocles of the Zarthani Knights had commandeered all the ships he could lay his hands on in case Kalvan invested Nythros before returning to Tarr-Ceros with over half the Order’s troops. The remainder had been stationed in Nythros with the remaining Temple Guardsmen.

“We’re already low on supplies, thanks to your desertion,” was Aristocles’ stinging rebuke. “If you need more victuals, strip the fields and lay waste to the towns and tarrs in your path!”

Lysandros would have preferred to go through Glarth anyway, but for the fact that to get there he would first have to cross the wasteland of Ulthor and then make his way across mountainous Agrysi territory with his army. There was no predicting how the Agrysi princes might take such a move, especially since Grand Master Soton was besieging Agrys City. Since the invasion, the Agrysi princes were openly hostile to anyone connected with Styphon’s House. Were he to cross the border with his army, he might find himself low on supplies and facing a well-supplied army in unknown territory.

What a Styphon mucking mess
, he thought to himself.
What had the Archpriests been drinking when they decided to attack Great King Demistophon, a legitimate Great King, in his own territory?

Demnos, who appeared to have screwed up his courage, said, “We’re running out of feed for the horses and oxen, sire.”

“Already? I thought we took half of the Host’s supplies.”

“We did, Your Majesty, but the quartermasters were more interested in foodstuffs than feed for the animals. Nor did we have much time; we were both worried that Grand Commander Aristocles might change his mind and fight us over the supplies.”

Lysandros nodded, remembering the chaos as his command broke off from the Grand Host of Styphon’s House. They had taken more than their fair share of supplies, since their number wasn’t even a quarter of the Host’s total. When the Host had started its conquest of Hos-Hostigos, the Harphaxi Army under Captain-General Phidestros had mustered over thirty thousand soldiers. Over four thousand men had either been killed or badly wounded at the Battle of Ardros Field, while another three thousand had died during the Siege of Tarr-Hostigos.

Prince Phidestros had left with three thousand of his Iron Band, two thousand more Besthtans, plus some four thousand former Harphaxi mercenaries as well as another nineteen thousand Ktemnoi, Agrysi and other mercenary troops. Otherwise, all the mercenaries would have been lost as soon as news of the Ban of Galzar reached the Grand Host.

Counting the nine thousand men he had lost in the Upper Middle Kingdoms campaign, Lysandros was lucky to be returning to Hos-Harphax with twenty-one thousand men in reasonable health and not severely wounded. And he would need every man jack of them, if he was to retain the Iron Throne; especially if it turned out Phidestros had thrown his support behind Prince Selestros the Wastrel for there was little love between him and the jumped-up mercenary captain.

“How bare are our wagons, Demnos?” he asked.

“We have enough feed, counting on local forage, to last us for another moon quarter, which will just about take us into Ulthor. And you know how bad things are in the Usurper’s former territories. I still think we’d be better off, since we can’t go through Glarth, to go south to Tarr-Lydra and then north through the Pirsystros Valley.”

Lysandros shook his head. “First, we’d have to fight our way past King Chartiphon and his Rathoni troops, which might mean their entire army supported by the Hostigi, only to find out we’d have to bully the Knight Commander of Lydra into providing us with provisions he might not even have. After the Orders’ battles with the barbarians, I don’t know if they have victuals to spare. Next we’d have to enter Ktemnoi territory without permission.”

“Do we even know who the new Great King of Hos-Ktemnos is?”

Demnos shrugged. “Last I heard Grand Duke Lukthos was the temporary regent. He’s one of Cleitharses’ cousins and probably his closest living kin since Prince Anaxon died. When Aristocles was in his cups, he let it slip that Grand Duke Lukthos was the Inner Circle’s candidate for Great King of Hos-Ktemnos. But that was moons ago; he may already have been enthroned.”

“I’ve never even heard of this Duke, may Ormaz and his demons curse Kalvan and his damnable Hostigi!” Lysandros spat, too weary and saddle sore to think of any proper insults. “We’ll put the oxen on half-rations first, ten teams at a time, and when they grow weak, kill them and roast them. That will help us save on provisions, as well as foodstuffs.”

Demnos nodded. “The fresh meat will help morale, too. But even more than that, we need to end these attacks by the Rathoni.”

Lysandros shrugged. “Send out more scouts?”

“We can’t do it, Your Majesty. Too many of our scouts are dead or missing.”

“Desertions?”

Demnos shook his head. “Most of them have been picked off by the Rathoni riflemen and their Sastragathi irregulars. Besides, by Galzar, where would they desert to? Anyone who leaves the main body is in mortal danger and thousands of marches from home. Otherwise, half the army would have already departed.”

“Are things that bad?” Lysandros asked, shaking his head in disbelief.