Gunpowder God (24 page)

The Highpriest smiled. “There’s nothing here that the Prince wants, Your Highness. We don’t have much food and the town was looted to the root cellars just last summer. Prince Phidestros is only in Hostigos because that’s where he expects to meet the Harphaxi Army. Most of the southern trails are flooded and there is no northern route due to the Investigation and the bandits. Western Hostigos and Nyklos are a wasteland.”

“Praise Styphon,” he muttered. Sthentros knew his position as Prince of Hostigos was precarious; soon Styphon’s House would be his only ally if anything happened to his son-in-law, Great King Lysandros. If Prince Phidestros defeated the Great King, well, then Great King-Elect Selestros would be the new Great King. Selestros would quickly appoint one of his cronies as Prince of Hostigos and Sthentros would either have to fight for his crown, or flee.

He had less than five full companies of soldiers, barely enough to keep the bandits and looters out of Hostigos Town. Certainly not enough to maintain peace within the borders of Hostigos, much less fight a war. Nor did he have the gold to raise any more soldiers, if there were soldiers to be had in Hostigos or, for that matter, anywhere else in the Five Kingdoms.

Furthermore, if Great King Lysandros was defeated and killed, his daughter would no longer be Great Queen. He was hoping for a loan from Lysandros to tide his Princedom over until next spring.

Then there was Great King Kalvan. It was rumored that he’d started a new Great Kingdom in the Upper Middle Kingdoms. Was that possible? If the claimant wars went on long enough, it was possible that King Kalvan might return to reclaim his former lands in the ensuing power vacuum.
That will be very bad, especially for me. King Kalvan—if Rylla doesn’t have me drawn and quartered first—will have my head the moment he sets foot in Hostigos.
No amount of conniving and fast-talking would save him from Kalvan’s headsman this time.

Great King Lysandros was his only hope, and what an insubstantial one he had turned out to be. Lysandros had wasted his men and his gold in a futile attempt at revenge upon the Usurper Kalvan; now, he was in a position to lose everything in the upcoming battle. With his army half-starved and most of their horses eaten, they were little more than an armed band of marauders. Prince Phidestros and his army would run through them like scythes in a barley field.

Although Sthentros would never have thought he’d live to see the day; it was his own insignificance in relation to the current political morass in Hos-Harphax, as well as the distance between Hostigos Town and Harphax City, that kept him out of the current fray. After the Investigation, Hostigos was so worthless and downtrodden that no one in the capital considered it a worthy prize. Of course, once the claimant wars were over things would change and what was once forgotten would once again be remembered.

Then his problems would really begin. Unless Phidestros decided to crown his own Prince of Hostigos before he returned to Besh Town.
One more Ormaz-spawned damned thing to worry over!

“Is there any other news, Highpriest?”

“Yes,” Walthar replied. “Great King Lysandros’ army needs support against the Beshtan Army. A messenger just arrived from Balph saying that you are to order your men to attack Prince Phidestros.”

Sthentros rose up out of his chair. “Are you mad? I have less than five hundred men to protect my entire Kingdom. If I set them upon Phidestros’ army, which numbers in the tens of thousands, they will all die. How then will we protect our homes and farms from bandits and army deserters?”

“Styphon’s House will see that you are sent soldiers to replace those who are lost in the fight against the False Prince Phidestros.”

Who is the real ruler of Hostigos?
he wondered,
if this midget in a bedsheet can order me around like one of his minions.
Unfortunately, the truth was: Styphon’s House was his only ally, if Lysandros went down to defeat.

“I will send out the orders today. I will also order them to remove the colors and badges of Hostigos. I don’t want Phidestros coming after me when the battle is over.”

“Don’t you have faith in your son-in-law?” the Highpriest asked.

He shook his head. “He boasts well, but he’s met his match in Captain-General Phidestros.”

The Highpriest Walthar shrugged, not even bothering to wipe the satisfied grin off his mouth. “It’s best to be prepared.”

Am I so insignificant, that even this hoptoad can insult me?
It was a question he didn’t want to answer.

“What we really need are more Temple Guardsmen.”

“There are no troops to be spared. Not with an army at the gates of Besh City.”

Sthentros’ mouth dropped open. “The Temple is attacking Phidestros’ holdings! This is madness. Now, Phidestros will have good reason to attack Hostigos Town.”

Highpriest Walthar laughed. “He is not our problem. When he learns that Princess Arminta is a prisoner of Balph, he will light out of here like a scalded dog!”

Suddenly it all came clear, why Walthar wanted his soldiers and why he wasn’t worried about the Army of Greater Beshta.

Now, the question is: How can I turn this to my advantage? If I wait until the battle is over, I could sack the Styphon’s House temple and use that gold to buy more soldiers. I might be able to win Phidestros’ favor, if I sent a note, telling what Highpriest Walthar’s tongue let slip. If I could purchase his good will, there would be little to fear from Great King-Elect Selestros or Styphon’s House…

I will send my men to Prince Phidestros, but instead of sacrificing them in a futile and needless attack on Phidestros, I will give them a message warning the Prince about the Temple’s attack on Besh Town. If my men reach him first with the news, that will put him in my debt
.

From his perch on a small rise just outside Besh Town, Knight Commander Orocles studied the siege that was laid out around him like a royal feast. A score of small guns, eight and twelve-pounders, on carts were concentrating their fire on the Besh Town Gates, while a storming party gathered behind them. There were two abandoned towers, one blackened and in ruins before one of the walls, where the Beshtans had poured molten lead and burning oil on it. The other tower was half-collapsed and only a third of it was above ground. It had foundered when an underground tunnel had been blown up just before it reached the walls. The hard-packed soil before the walls was littered with doll-like bodies from men who’d fallen during last night’s sortie.

Besh Town was set at the bottom of a valley. Looming high over the town was Tarr-Beshta, high up on the ridge top and, if properly defended—which knowing Prince Phidestros it most certainly was—could prove to be as costly as Tarr-Hostigos to besiege. All Orocles knew for sure was that the butcher’s bill would be high if he hadn’t read the Princess correctly.

“What are we to do with the townsmen, sir?” asked the Commander in charge of securing the town, through the battle din.

Archpriest Grythos, who wore a full set of blackened armor with a black robe displaying Styphon’s device, a white sun-wheel on his back, said, “Let’s kill them all. All the less we will have to fight later.”

An artillery volley roared out and the last of the gate towers collapsed, throwing up smoke, stones and bricks.

“I’m still in command here, Archpriest,” Orocles answered. “Do not offer advice, unless asked.”

Grythos gave him a look under which a lesser man would have withered. Orocles had known Grythos when they were both Horse Masters in command of their own Blades. They had both served under Grand Master Soton, then himself a Knight Commander. While not a coward, Grythos had preferred to stay out of the thick of battle and save his efforts for afterwards. Those who knew him said that his best work was torturing prisoners and extorting ransom.

While former Knight Commander Grythos was good at getting answers out of reluctant prisoners, Orocles had never liked the man, nor trusted him. Once Soton had been elevated to Grand Master, he’d had no room for his ambition to grow. Therefore, no one who knew Grythos had been surprised when he had resigned from the Order and left to become a Highpriest at the Great Temple of Styphon in Balph.

Still, when compared to Archpriest Roxthar, Grythos was the epitome of reason and good temper.

Orocles surveyed the wreckage of the Besh Town Gates, through the cloud of fireseed smoke. The Gates looked as if several of Thanor’s Sky Bolts had struck them. The Beshtan defenders were still firing their handguns, but most of their artillery had been stilled. Soon Orocles would give the order to storm the town and the real destruction of Besh Town would begin. The fighting, from building to building, could get downright nasty, unlike Agrys City where, once the walls were breached, the Agrysi surrendered after a short fight.

“Commander Delmos, kill anyone who resists until I give the counter-order,” Knight Commander Orocles ordered, swinging his peg leg back and forth in the saddle, something he did whenever he was nervous. It had taken several days for their guns to knock down the Town Gates. The opposition had grown more ferocious as the bombardment continued; it looked like they might have to take the town one building at a time.

“Women and children, too?” the Commander asked, his voice balking.

“Until I say otherwise.”

“It’s a dirty business we do here,” Commander Delmos muttered.

“It’s Styphon’s business and you’ll do as you’re told.” Orocles said, pointing out the stark figure in white robes on a donkey moving toward them who implied more of a threat than mere words.

“
Yes, sir!
”

Orocles’ intelligencers had informed him that Phidestros had left one of his captains and his wife, Princess Arminta, in charge of defending the Princedom. If she was as tenderhearted as his intelligence implied, he was sure she would prove to be the key that unlocked the fortress looming over them.

Are the Beshtans going to refuse terms and force us to tear the town apart
? He knew many of the Beshtan soldiers were veterans of the Fireseed Wars; by Galzar, he’d fought alongside many of them. And devoutly loyal to their Prince and Princess. If his plan failed, this sack would be bloody work for both sides.

“Commander, the one thing you must not do is harm a hair on Princess Arminta’s head. She is our primary target. It’s our job to find the Princess and return her to Balph. If something untoward happens to the Princess, we’ll all be sharing one of Investigator Roxthar’s racks with the Beshtans. Styphon’s Own Voice will see to that.”

Commander Delmos nodded forlornly. “It’s not my problem, the Princess is safe inside Tarr-Beshta.”

“If Arminta’s as soft as I’ve heard, she may be in town to stay with her subjects,” Orocles said begrudgingly. “The fact is, we don’t know for sure where Princess Arminta is staying. The Beshtans refuse to talk with our emissaries.” Due to the Ban of Galzar, the Uncle Wolfs refused to be attached to any of Styphon’s House’s armies and the Beshtans refused to parley without them.
I guess they don’t trust us…
.

Orocles admired Arminta’s courage, while damning her stupidity.
It’s a good thing she’s not my wife!

Archpriest Grythos clapped his gauntlets together making a clanking noise. “I want to see this horse-faced princess that the Bastard Prince wed. It is said that the marriage was arranged by Great King Lysandros to tie Phidestros both to his cousin and to his person. Too bad for Lysandros that Phidestros has been faithful to only half of his vows.”

Orocles ignored Grythos, instead pointing to the old stone fortress that topped the high ridge on the other side of Besh Town. “Yes, you’re right, Commander Delmos. That old tarr’s not going to be an easy nut to crack! Even the Daemon Kalvan broke a tooth or two on it when he chased that blackguard Balthar into his darkest lair. Here’s what we’ll do. Take the artillery companies and five Bands of Order Foot up the ridge and start work on breaching those walls.

“Let the rest of the army, except for a reserve, loose on the Town. When the Princess sees what’s happening to her subjects, this time she may well embrace our herald.” That was his plan; if Arminta didn’t give herself up as hostage for her people’s lives and held out until Phidestros returned, they’d next be meeting in Regwarn’s Caverns.

“It might work, if she has a soft heart,” Commander Delmos said.

“Yes, a counter to that icicle in Phidestros’ chest,” Grythos interjected.

“You know, sir,” the Commander continued, as if Grythos hadn’t spoken. “Once word reaches Phidestros of this tragedy, he’ll never rest until he chases us all up Hadron’s Arsehole.”

Orocles shook his head. “I tried to explain that to His Divinity. He just laughed.”

The Commander nodded. “All the Temple rats are all the same. They let us do their dirty work, while they rake in the rakmars. Phidestros will bloody their sheets, the whole lot of them!”

“Watch your words, Captain!” Archpriest Grythos cried. “Styphon’s Ears are everywhere. Besides, Supreme Priest Anaxthenes is the glue that holds Styphon’s House together during these perilous times. Those words could cost you your life!”

“Do not threaten my men, Archpriest, or I’ll send your head back to Balph in a potato sack!” Orocles roared.

Grythos’ face turned red, but he kept quiet. He kneed his horse and took off in the direction of their camp.

“Mucking priests! Good riddance.” The Commander turned to spit a wad of tobacco on the ground where Grythos had been sitting on his horse.

Orocles nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe, after this expedition, you might consider retiring and finding a nice holding in Hos-Bletha. You will be receiving a good share of the reward Styphon’s Voice is going to give us for the Princess. Enough to buy a decent barony in Hos-Bletha.”

Delmos nodded. “I understand the Blethans’ve got a nasty little internecine war going on there, sir. And, it’s right nice and far away.”

“Yes, and plenty of work for men with blood on their swords. Speaking of blood, let me write up a demand for surrender to Princess Arminta. Find me a herald and we’ll have him deliver it. Meanwhile, set the men loose!”