Gunpowder God (22 page)

“Deputy Yagos, what are you doing here? Don’t you know that I am here by Styphon’s Voice’s orders?”

Yagos laughed again, as he climbed higher. “Me, too. I’m here to make sure you don’t say the wrong things.”

Danthor held the candle underneath his chin so that it accentuated his facial features to the climbing man and pulled his face into a grim expression. “And if I do?”

The slender man pulled out a small crossbow from under his tunic. “I’m here to make sure you don’t.”

This time Yagos’ words were forced, he’d gotten close enough to see the small pistol in Danthor’s hand.

Danthor pointed the gun right at Yagos’ head. “Get out of here. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you dead.”

“My master will be angry,” Yagos sputtered, his voice trembling.

“Your choice.”

The man quickly climbed, with monkey-like ease, back down the scaffolding and quickly disappeared down into the catacombs below the rails.

Someone closed off the entrance and the Great Idol began to move. He could hear the chanting of the slaves and the whinnying of horses as they slowly pulled the idol into the Plaza. When the Idol emerged from the Great Temple, the sunlight beamed through its eyes and he could see the huge crowd that filled Temple Plaza. He estimated the crowd at around fifty to sixty thousand worshippers and underpriests.

Suddenly the idol jerked to a halt and Danthor had to grasp hard onto the arm handles to keep from falling out of his seat.

The crowd roared as Styphon’s Voice came onto his balcony over the crowd. He began to talk through a speaking-trumpet: “Styphon, our Lord and Master, has come to speak to us about a great victory. Let Him speak!”

The crowd cheered so loudly Danthor could barely hear himself think. When the roar finally subsided, he said:

“MY WARRIORS HAVE MADE A GREAT VICTORY TODAY IN THE WAR AGAINST THE FALSE GOD, DRALM. AGRYS CITY HAS FALLEN TO THE HOST OF STYPHON’S DELIVERANCE. GREAT KING DEMISTOPHON’S HEAD IS ON DISPLAY OUTSIDE THE AGRYS CITY GATES. ALL PRAISE GRAND MASTER SOTON!”

A gale of cheers that sounded more like the howling of a hurricane rather than human voices resounded through Temple Plaza. Finally they resolved into a chant, “STYPHON VICTORIOUS! STYPHON VICTORIOUS! STYPHON VICTORIOUS! PRAISE STYPHON VICTORIOUS!”

When the chant had subsided to a dull roar, Danthor continued:

“THE TIME HAS COME TO REMOVE ALL TRACES OF THE BLASPHEMOUS TEMPLE OF DRALM AND HIS WHORE YIRRTA FROM THE FIVE KINGDOMS. WHEN ALL TRACES OF THESE IMPIOUS DEVILS HAVE BEEN REMOVED, IT IS MY WILL THAT THE DAEMON KALVAN BE CHASED DOWN TO HIS FINAL LAIR AND TORN INTO PIECES, BURNED AND TOSSED INTO THE WIND!

“ALL MY WORSHIPPERS DEVOTE EVERY DAY OF THEIR LIFE TO THE ERADICATION OF THE FALSE GOD DRALM AND THE DAEMON KALVAN.”

“THIS WILL BE DONE! I HAVE SPOKEN.”

The Styphon’s Great Image fell silent. From fifty thousand voices in Temple Plaza came the reply: “KILL DRALM AND THE DAEMON KALVAN! KILL DRALM AND THE DAEMON KALVAN! KILL DRALM AND THE DAEMON KALVAN! KILL DRALM AND THE DAEMON KALVAN! KILL DRALM AND THE DAEMON KALVAN!”

Captain-General Cythros was seated at his table in Tarr-Beshta, whittling on a piece of wood, when a sentry came in to announce that one of the border scouts had returned and was being escorted to headquarters. He set down the unfinished carving of a horse and tried to quash the nagging worry that something might go wrong that had not left his mind since the small army had left Besh Town six days ago. They weren’t expected to return for at least another moon.

“Have him brought before me at once!”

“Yes, sir.”

Cythros was too anxious to work on his carving any more and sat ruminating on all the possible disasters that the border party might have encountered. It was true that the border reivers had increased their incursions across the Beshtan border more than usual, even for this time of year. He had assumed it was their usual harvest-time raids to steal crops and farm animals. The border party, some fifteen hundred cavalry, had been sent to kill the worst offenders and burn out most of their holdings on the other side of the Beshtan/Syriphlon border.

Almost a quarter candle had passed when the scout, still in his travel-stained buckskins, came into his chamber. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Sir, bad news.”

“Out with it, trooper!”

“When we reached the border, sir, we ran into a large party of Ktemnoi raiders—”

“Ktemnoi! What are they doing so far north?”

“That’s what Captain Arvos wondered, sir. We chased them into a valley, only it turned out to be an ambush! They had an entire army waiting for us, guns and everything, sir. We took a horrible beating. I don’t believe more than four or five hands of us escaped.”

Cythros felt the bottom of his stomach drop all the way to his toes.
Ambush! They were set up. It could only mean one thing; they want to capture Princess Arminta. There’s nothing else here worth a force that large. I’ve got to get her out of here!

Beshta had had a run of bad luck. Kalvan had weakened some of the town’s outer walls and most of Tarr-Beshta when he’d stormed Besh Town and Tarr-Beshta to kill Prince Balthar the Black. Prince Phrames, his successor, hadn’t been there long enough to finish the repairs, just repair the breaches. Nor had Prince Phidestros, who’d been too busy fighting with Kalvan and the Royal Army. At best, against a determined foe, the Town might hold out for a quarter moon.

“Do you know who is leading the army?”

“We saw the banners of Knight Commander Orocles of the Order of Zarthani Knights. The rest were flying Ktemnoi mercenaries’ colors along with several Bands of Styphon’s Own Guard.”

“How many Styphoni are we going to face?” Cythros asked.

“I don’t rightly know, sir. Eight, maybe ten thousand men. All I know is that they butchered us like fatted cows. Our small force didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t stick around long enough to see anything else. I knew you and the Princess needed word of this right away. They’re coming!”

“Thanks be to you, trooper. Tell the sentry outside I need him to call all my officers to the Command Chamber. Immediately. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hestophes, Captain-General of the League of Dralm, waited for the Princes and other nobles to quiet down. Candles flickered and the oil lamps in their sconces sputtered as the door opened and a cold breeze whipped through the chamber. The room stank of burnt tallow and too many unwashed bodies.

When the room had quieted down, Hestophes said, “I called you all here to discuss the fall of Agrys City and how it’s going to affect all of us next spring.”

With those words, he had every noble in the chamber’s undivided attention.

“Now that Grand Master Soton’s taken Agrys City and most of the surrounding territory, including all of the Princedom of Agrys, we can expect him to consolidate his gains right through fall and winter. Since Archpriest Roxthar left for parts unknown, Agrys City did not undergo an Investigation. This was bad for us”

Prince Kyphanes interrupted. “How dare you! Roxthar’s leaving was a gift from the Allfather.”

Hestophes gave him the bent eye, which shut him up. Kyphanes was still angry that the League had demoted him from Speaker to regular member after the fiasco at Agrys City. “I will say that it was a blessing for the inhabitants of the City; however, it also has the effect of downplaying the Styphoni menace. And, there’s no guarantee that Roxthar will not return next spring to complete his Investigation.”

That drew a gasp from just about everyone seated at the table, including Primate Xentos.

“All of you need to realize that this upcoming invasion is a life or death war over the future of Hos-Agrys. Those who are not killed outright in the fighting will become slaves of the Temple. Look at their harvest of blood in Hos-Hostigos; it will take a hundred winters before those lands recover from the sword of Styphon!

“I’m not trying to frighten you, but telling you what I have seen with my own two eyes. You will have one chance, and one chance only, to stop the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance. To do so, we must begin now and work through the winter. But, first, we need to double the size of the League’s current force.”

“Impossible!” Prince Ptophlos of Orchon said. “Princes Simias, Phrynoss and Varion are all part of Styphon’s Union of Friends and may even fight on Soton’s side.”

“We may have to deal with them before we fight Grand Master Soton.” At the moment, Hestophes was not at all sure how they were going to do that unless there were some immediate changes. Before leaving to return to Harphax City, Captain Ranthos had reported that Great King-Elect Selestros was now sitting on the Iron Throne with Prince Phidestros’ support. If Selestros could be convinced to attack from the south, it would tie Soton’s forces down in Agrys City and they would have time to deal with their internal problems.

“The only thing we can be certain of is that Grand Master Soton will be leading the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance come spring,” Hestophes continued. “He will have a rested army with plenty of reinforcements. Many of his men have been fighting against Hostigos for the past three winters and they will be hard to defeat. We cannot stop Soton without a much larger force.”

“Then we are doomed,” Prince Kyphanes intoned, raising his hands as if to implore the gods.

Hestophes shook his head wearily.
It would take Galzar Himself to whip these princely armies into a force good enough to face Soton
. “Look, Your Highnesses, I do not live in Hos-Agrys; my home is in Nos-Hostigos. I’m here to help you, but I can’t do that if you’re already ceding victory to the enemy. All of you are going to have to return to your princedoms and muster all of your available forces, including your levy and your militia. In the spring, all the League’s individual armies must combine to create one big army.

“I will try to help each of you organize and train your army. However, I must have your complete confidence and the power to punish anyone, be it Prince or peasant, who defies my orders. Is that clear? If not, I might as well return to Thagnor in the morning!”

Prince Thykarses rose up. “Please, Captain-General Hestophes, do not lose all faith in the League. We may not be in agreement on how to stop Styphon’s House, but we all agree that the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance is a threat to ourselves, our princedoms and our way of life.” He paused to give pointed looks to Prince Kyphanes and Prince Ptophlos. “I also do believe that we all understand that if we do not gather our forces and put a stop to Grand Master Soton’s plan of conquest, we will all be dead or in chains by next fall. Is that not right?”

The Princes all nodded, a few looking sheepish.

“Even those who foolishly call themselves, the Friends of Styphon,” Thykarses continued, “will not fare well under the reins of Soton’s new Prince-Regent, Archpriest Grythos. It is said that he brought several shiploads of family and friends from Hos-Ktemnos with him to help him rule Agrys City. Many of the former Agrysi lords and merchants have either been executed as traitors, or are incarcerated in the dungeons of Tarr-Agrys, their lands parceled out to Grythos’ cronies.

“The League of Dralm is all that stands between Styphon’s House and the Temple’s domination of the Five Great Kingdoms. With Kalvan banished to the Upper Middle Kingdoms and Hos-Harphax in the middle of a dynastic war, we are the major obstacle to Styphon’s House’s ambition. I have already sent an emissary to Hos-Zygros to ask Great King Sopharar for aid. Here is his response:

My Dearest Friend, Prince Thykarses, and Fellow Members of the Harphaxi League of Dralm
,

You, the Princes of Hos-Agrys, are engaged in a war for the ownership of the Five Great Kingdoms. We are pleased that some among you finally realize the threat that Styphon’s House has always posed. We have long known of their perfidy and treachery and argued it to any and all who would listen. Sadly, in the past, few have done so. But the past is done, we are now in a new moment; one in which combined effort and forgiveness must be combined
.

The time for recrimination and blame has passed, it is now time for action. Toward that course, We are prepared to send you four thousand of our Own Royal Infantry and two thousand Royal Horse

The room broke out in spontaneous applause, with Princes hooting and banging their tankards and goblets on the long trestle table, shouting, “Down Styphon! Long Live Great King Sopharar!”

Several candles were knocked over and the room pulsed with light. One prince doused a piece of burning parchment with his wine.

Hestophes was glad that he had presented the job of reading the document to Prince Thykarses, instead of reading it in his own halting reading voice.

He rose to his feet. “King Sopharar has faith in our will. Now, it is your turn. Return to your princedoms and muster every man jack you can field!”

“You heard the man!” Prince Thykarses added. “Be gone, my fellow Princes! Muster your forces. When we meet again, it will be at the head of a great army that will push Soton and his devil worshippers back into the Eastern Ocean.”

“Aye, aye!”

“Down Styphon! Down Styphon! Down Styphon!”

P
rincess Arminta looked up from her knitting when she heard the banging on her chamber door. “Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s Captain-General Cythros, Your Highness. I need to speak with you.”

She turned to her maidservant and said, “Drasylla, please get the door.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Cythros, who was usually unflappable, almost threw himself into her chamber. She wondered what had happened. “Come in, Captain-General.”

The Captain-General was a tall man with regular features and a clean-shaven face. According to her husband, he was only clean-shaven because his beard was so sparse that he’d grown tired of being called ‘baby face.’

Cythros stood there all but wringing his hands.

“What is it, Captain-General?” Arminta asked.

“I…I…I’m going to have to ask Your Highness to leave Besh Town.”