Gunpowder God (30 page)

Kalvan motioned for Uncle Wolf Tharses to come to his side. Tharses’ limp had been aggravated by Thagnor’s cold nights and now he needed a wolf-headed cane to help him walk. A large wolfhound walked at his side. Tharses still wore a light shirt of finely-linked mail and a spiked mace on his belt; his head was topped with a wolfskin hood and a ruby-eyed wolf’s head. His gray beard was now laced with streaks of frost, but his eyes were still the deep-blue hue of a Michigan lake.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Any idea of what this is about?”

Tharses shook his head which gave the wolf’s head ruby-eyes, as they sparkled in the early morning sunlight, the appearance of life. “Maybe the Styphoni have come to their senses and want terms for surrender.”

Kalvan choked back a laugh.
The gods are not that kind! That would be far too easy…
.

The parley party included a bedraggled Uncle Wolf who wore a chain mail shirt that looked as if it had been gnawed by wolverines and the usual wolf headdress. He was accompanied by a Styphon’s House Temple Guardsman in banged-up armor and a civilian whose formerly rich velvet robe was in tatters.

They talked with one of the captains who directed them over to where Kalvan and the artillery were positioned. Grand-Captain Xykos, whom the Queen insisted he take with him, and Vanar Halgoth, the commander of his own guard, both bristled and put their hands on the grips of their sheathed swords.

The Temple Guardsman, who introduced himself as Commander Kalmoth, was almost as tall as Rylla’s giant bodyguard Xykos. “I have not come to ask for terms, but in the name of the One True God to demand that you end this siege.”

Kalvan could see Halgoth’s face turn brick red and quickly put his hand on his bodyguard’s shoulder.

Xykos already had his sword drawn and its point was resting a finger-joint from the base of the Knight’s throat. “When you speak to Great King Kalvan, address him as Your Majesty.”

The Commander spat on the ground. “And, if I don’t?”

“It will be your life’s blood joining your spittle there on the earth.”

“Sheathe your sword, Xykos,” Kalvan demanded. “They are here under the Wargod’s protection.”

“Galzar’s Terms does not give him leave to insult our King!”

“Let us listen,” Uncle Wolf Tharses said. “If his terms are reasonable, maybe we can end this siege without further killing.”

The Knight nodded and Xykos’ sword dropped to the ground. “Your Majesty, our terms are thus: if you do not end this unlawful siege, we will put every man, woman and child in Nythros to the sword. We will give you until noon to lift your siege or the bloodletting will begin.”

“Please, Your Majesty, listen to him,” cried out the bedraggled Nythrosi noble. “He means every word. They will kill us all if you do not do as he says!”

Xykos and Halgoth looked ready to run amok, while Uncle Wolf Tharses tried hard to maintain the neutral expression expected of his calling.

Kalvan took out his pipe and began to fill it with fresh tobacco. He needed more than a few moments to ponder this dilemma. It appeared that the worst of the Wars of Religion—the murder of civilian hostages, along with Roxthar’s Inquisition—had truly arrived here-and-now. If he gave in to the Knight’s terms, the murder of hostages would soon be legitimized and he could fully expect to find similar atrocities at every fort and castle he and his allies besieged from now on. However, if he didn’t capitulate, some twenty thousand women and children inside the city would die a terrible death.

Should I condemn this city to die so that others might not suffer so?
Kalvan asked himself, as he used his tinderbox to light a splinter.
There is no equitable solution
, he decided.

On the other hand, why not match one atrocity with another? He’d held off—against General Alkides’ wishes—on using the new Greek fire against the City for fear of killing too many civilians. Using it, also required that the fire-siphons be brought closer to the city walls than he liked. But now all the enemy cannons had been silenced so there would be no counterfire. Still, he really didn’t want to advertise one of his new weapons. He’d rather save it as a surprise for King Theovacar’s Fleet. But it looked like the Knights were forcing his hand….

“Commander, we will need time to arrive at a decision,” Kalvan said, keeping the anger he felt out of his voice. “We shall have your answer soon. Until then I suggest you retire to the City Walls before one of my men does something rash.”

The Knight nodded. “You will have until noon. I will await your answer.”

When his two companions declined to leave with him, he spat at their feet. “Convince the King that I mean every word. By Styphon’s Will, I swear, if this battle continues, blood will run until it overflows the city gutters.”

The moment he turned Uncle Wolf Tharses yanked his mace out of his belt and smashed the Knight on the helm, knocking it off his head, spinning him around and leaving him reeling. Another blow and his jaw was dislocated and he was on the ground, spitting out teeth through bloody lips. Another smashing blow to the head and the Knight lay twitching, bleeding freely from a deep gash on his head and out his mouth. His body made a big spasm, then the light went out of his eyes.

The other Hostigi, including Kalvan, stood rooted to the ground, frozen around in shock.

Finally, “What did you do, Brother?” the bedraggled Uncle Wolf asked. “Galzar will strike us all dead!”

Tharses spat a wad of tobacco on the dead Commander. “Ban of Galzar. There are no terms with scum like this under the Ban. Sorry, Your Majesty, but I lost my temper.”

And maybe just condemned a city full of women and children to certain death
, Kalvan thought to himself. Well, Uncle Wolf Tharses had forced his hand. No one could say he brought it on himself, although for some reason that thought was not very comforting.

“Well, we’ll have to attack first before the Styphoni realize what’s happened. We’ve got about half a candle—if no one from the City saw what just occurred—before the shit hits the fan.”

Everyone looked at him in confusion.

“Cold Lands expression. What I mean is, we’ve got to get moving fast! Alkides, we’re going to use the Greek fire. I want you to move all the small guns and fire-siphons up to the breaches. We’ll strike them all together. The Styphoni won’t know what’s hit them!”

The Greek fire project had been on the boil for some time. The most important ingredient was naphtha, or distilled petroleum. Saginaw (now Ragyath) had pioneered Michigan’s petroleum industry and Kalvan had ordered the University to build a series of collection wells there which had provided him with more than enough crude oil for his needs. While the original Byzantine formula of Greek fire was unknown, according to his former Chemistry professor, it most likely consisted of some combination of petroleum, quicklime, sulfur, pitch and saltpeter.

While the College of Military Sciences was working on siphons and safe heating devices for shipboard use, he’d also had them design some Greek fire grenades and hand siphons.

Under the fire of the big thirty-twos, Alkides moved all three batteries of small guns within hailing distance of the walls. The First Company of Sharpshooters, who carried as their banner a white skull on a red field over two crossed rifles, moved forward to keep the walls clear of crossbowmen and musketeer snipers. Behind them Kalvan brought up three regiments, the Royal Halberdiers, the Veterans of the Long March and the Third Royal Regiment. Behind them were six regiments of horse, two regiments of lancers and four of cuirassiers who would exploit the breach as the defenders were eliminated.

Kalvan, much to Captain-General Alkides’ dismay, positioned himself behind the mobile batteries of six- and eight-pounders. They were close enough to the widest breach to fire devastating volleys of grapeshot, which cleared the gap between the walls like a giant broom.

Halgoth, the Skull Splitter, had volunteered to lead the Royal Halberdiers, who were each armed with a wicked halberd, a brace of pistols and a sword. It was the Halberdiers’ job to provide defense for the Greek Fire Company, which was comprised of some eighty fire siphoners and grenade throwers.

Halgoth was impressed at how well the grapeshot had cleared away the Nythrosi defenders. The biggest problem was not slipping on the gore and blood-covered rocks and broken mortar. Enemy gunfire sharply increased as they made their way through the breach, with the Greek Fire Company taking several casualties. It was his job to make sure that their siphons and grenades were picked up by his men and kept away from the enemy.

Up ahead was a massive barricade, comprised of wagons, coaches and dead horses, blocking the main avenue. The Greek Fire Company halted and the grenadiers tossed their grenades. One blew up in mid-air, spraying incendiaries in all directions. For a moment, Halgoth could see the enemy soldiers staring and pointing up at it as if it had been dropped by the gods.

Then a wall of fire, as bright as a forest fire, covered the barricade. They heard the screams and cries of dying men, several of whom ran out of the barricade completely on fire.

For the first time in his life, Halgoth was awestruck; he had never seen a weapon of such awesome power and destructiveness. He made a quick prayer of thanks to Phyos, the Sun God.

It took almost a candle before the fire extinguished itself and there was some sporadic musket fire from further down the avenue. But, for the most part, an eerie quiet fell over the city, which was blanketed with a cloud of black and acrid smoke.

It took the First Royal Company of Engineers and a score of mule and ox teams to clear the smoldering wreckage from the street. The Royal Halberdiers led the way, followed by the Fire Company and the musketeers. The Sharpshooters were climbing up onto roofs and other vantage points. Behind them followed the lancers and cuirassiers, some of whom were already going down intersecting streets. About half a march away there was a wall of civilians blocking the avenue.

Colonel Mykonnos, head of Prince Sarrask’s bodyguard, ordered the army to halt when they were at extreme musket range. He motioned Captain Halgoth to his side with his other officers. “It looks like they’re using the citizens as a shield wall.”

Halgoth nodded, he was familiar with this tactic. It worked well with city dwellers, but not so well with nomads, like the Tymanni. “I say we have the lancers charge the wall. This will scatter them all, civilians and soldiers. Then we can come from behind and kill all the soldiers. No quarter!”

“The slaughter will be horrible!” cried one captain.

“It’s their choice,” Mykonnos said. “We can’t use the fire-siphons and grenades on civilians. This is our next best choice, for we cannot give in to terror tactics, as Kalvan calls them.”

The lancers moved forward on their chargers, the big chargers were snorting and clomping as they passed, while everyone else got out of the way. Their captain did not look pleased at having to charge civilians.

Halgoth considered the Styphoni to be craven cowards who would hide behind women and children. They had all seen the leavings of Roxthar’s Investigation. Fighting against priests, as they were learning, held little glory.

The Styphoni captives began to fight their captors and ran away the moment the company of lancers moved into position. Some of the Sharpshooters were already taking out individual Temple Guardsmen. Most of Styphon’s Own Guard were too tall to successfully hide behind women and children. When the line began to soften, the trumpet signal for charge rang out and the big chargers began to move. They were at a good gallop when the first line of lancers struck the line. By then, most civilians had either run away or been hacked down from behind by the Styphoni. The lancers made quick work of the remaining Guardsmen, leaving behind a terrible carnage.

Halgoth, with his axe in hand, led the charge of the Royal Halberdiers. Those Styphoni who had survived the initial onslaught died in droves.

Prince Eudocles was just finishing off a goblet of wine when his manservant knocked gently at the door.

“What is it?” Eudocles asked belligerently, his breath fluttering the flame of the oil lamp. It had been a long day at the gambling tables and Lystris had not favored his rolls of the bones. Now he was seated comfortably in front of a roaring fire.

“It’s Archpriest Idyol, Your Grace, with another highpriest.”

“Bid them enter.”

The tall, cadaverous Archpriest, followed by another Archpriest, slunk into the chamber like a spectre from Hadron’s realm. Idyol’s voice was as whispery as a graveyard wind. “Your Grace, I heard word of your terrible losses at the Den of Skull and Bones.”

Eudocles ground his teeth. “Do your agents-inquisitory hide in my privy chamber as well, Archpriest?”

The Archpriest grimaced. “I did not come to vex you, Your Grace, but to offer the Temple’s support. I would like to introduce Archpriest Danthor, who is the current Speaker of the Inner Circle.”

Eudocles nodded his head. He owed too much gold to Styphon’s Great Banking House to make an enemy of an Archpriest of the Inner Circle, no matter how unpleasant he was or how much Eudocles’ head ached. The new Archpriest was a graybeard, but he was in better shape than most of the breed. Styphon’s House’s priests lived well, ate well and often drank too much. Archpriest Danthor was not afraid to look him right in the eye and give him a frank appraisal in return.

He would have to be careful of this one. “Welcome, Your Sanctity. Pray tell, what has brought you all the way from Balph to this inhospitable land?”

“It is Styphon’s Work, Your Grace. To put it down to bare knuckles, we need your help to stop Great King Sopharar from making a terrible and great error. It appears he is about to involve himself in a war that will cost him and us dearly.”

“My brother is a sanctimonious fool, Your Sanctity. However, he does not take kindly to my interference in issues of state. If he wants to destroy the Kingdom, what am I to do?”

The new Archpriest looked him straight in the eyes. “Only that which your heart has always desired, Your Grace.”