Gunpowder God (51 page)

Prince Simias shook his head. “Captain-General, you overestimate our enemy’s resolve. They shall melt away from our wrath and fall beneath our swords like barley before the scythe. It is our decision that we fight here and now.”

“I speak as the representative of Styphon’s Voice,” Roxthar intoned. “I agree, we shall destroy the League’s host right here before Varthon Town.

Eukides reluctantly nodded in agreement. Simias he could outmaneuver, but without Roxthar’s support, he could not guarantee the army’s pay. And, without pay, the mercenaries would depart and even the common troops would melt away.

T
he three Princes, Marshal Albides and Archpriest Roxthar were set to meet in the backroom of an abandoned inn they were using as headquarters for the Union Army. It was late in the afternoon and Captain-General Eukides had agreed to battle the next morning. Prince Simias had called the meeting because he no longer trusted their Captain-General’s judgment. Instead of pressing their enemies when the opportunity arose, Eukides counseled patience and waiting for supply trains.

Prince Phrynoss, who was the first to arrive, asked, “Why a secret meeting? Have the enemy’s intelligencers infiltrated our command?”

Simias shook his head. “Not that I know of. This is about Captain-General Eukides. Here, have a cup of wine.”

Phrynoss nodded. “Yes, the old man is getting weepy. I actually saw tears on his face when some of the Investigators pulled a woman and child out of their home to the test with a hot blade. The Investigators discovered an altar to Yirtta in the farmhouse. For a moment, I thought the old fool was going to raise his sword against Styphon’s own agents.”

“Haw! Haw!” laughed Simias. “I wish he had, then they’d have put the old stallion out to pasture.”

Roxthar entered the room like a bad odor. “What stallion?”

Simias quickly sobered up. “We were just discussing the Captain-General—”

“Eukides cares too much for lowborn scum,” the Archpriest interrupted. “Several times he has come to me with complaints about the Investigation. I will not brook any more of his interference. It is Styphon’s Work we are doing.”

Simias nodded in agreement, not because he agreed, but because the man frightened him more than a childhood nightmare. He’d heard rumors that, on more than one occasion, even Styphon’s Voice bowed to the Investigator’s demands. The Agrysi peasants called him a demon in human guise. Face-to-face with Roxthar, he found it impossible to disagree.

He felt more secure when he heard the greetings of Prince Varion. Simias didn’t have much use for Varion, since he was another peasant lover, but he was important because his troops mustered over a third of the Union’s forces and because Varion wasn’t afraid to disagree with the Holy Investigator. Since Varion had been heard to complain about the Investigation on more than one occasion, he would draw Roxthar’s ire like a metal weathervane drew lightning.

“What is this meeting all about?” Varion asked. “And where is Captain-General Eukides?”

Simias spoke first since he’d been the one to call the clandestine meeting. “We didn’t invite him. Questions have been raised about his competence as our commander.”

“That was plainspoken, for you, Simias. Captain Eukides has forgotten more about warfare than the three of us have ever known.”

“That may be true,” added Prince Phrynoss. “However, he’s getting rather long in the tooth and most of what Eukides knows dates back to the times of Great King Phultos, Demistophon’s father. Warfare has changed since the arrival of the Usurper Kalvan and Eukides has not changed with the times.”

Varion laughed scornfully. “And who here has? None of us have fought in a skirmish, much less a battle since the Usurper’s arrival in Hostigos.”

Phrynoss nodded sheepishly. “True, but we have kept up with the times.”

Simias nodded, adding, “Eukides’ day is done. He’s an old man now. It’s time for him to retire from the field of battle while he still retains all of his honors, his legend unchallenged.”

Varion shook his head in disbelief. “If you believe that to be true, then I challenge you to cross swords with that ‘old man.’ Then you will find out just how capable he truly is.”

Prince Simias drew back. Eukides’ reputation as a master swordsman was just one small pattern in the tapestry of his legend. “This is no time for showing off, we need to determine who is the best man to lead the Union Army into battle.”

Roxthar interrupted. “We must have a victory here over the forces of the False God Dralm. A victory here outside Varthon Town will end the war now as well as demonstrate the supremacy of the One True God.”

“Then who do you suggest? Prince Simias who once fought a skirmish in a border dispute with Meligos? One, I might note, that he lost.”

Simias’ face turned a brighter red than his crimson doublet.

“Marshal Albides is the Temple’s choice,” Roxthar said firmly. “He has fought Kalvan before—”

“And lost,” Prince Varion interrupted.

Simias choked back a laugh.

“No, no,” Prince Phrynoss said. “The idea of the Union of Styphon’s Friends is to show to the other princes and nobles of the Great Kingdoms that we are not in thrall to Styphon’s House. If we accept the Marshal as our leader, we lose all of our credibility. We will be seen as nothing more than the Temple of Styphon’s puppets.”

“I agree,” Simias said.

For once Archpriest Roxthar was silent.

“Further,” Prince Varion said, “the troops know and love Captain-General Eukides. If we replace our respected commander on the eve of battle, we will look weak and indecisive.”

Prince Phrynoss nodded.

Simias looked as if he’d just swallowed his tongue, while Roxthar’s eyes burned like red-hot coals.

Syllon turned down the third flask of ale and raised his hands to warm them on the campfire. The local Varthoni brew was heady stuff and he wanted a clear mind for the coming battle. Two of his companions had slipped away to be with whores from Varthon Town. Others were rolling bones, for the most part losing what little of their pay remained. He had already made his offering of two silver crowns at Lytris’ Shrine today and didn’t want to spend anymore of his luck.

From the line-up of the Union’s forces, Syllon knew the tomorrow sun would bring battle. Now, it was up to the gods and Hostigi steel. One thing he did know was that they could not rely on the Agrysi soldiers for much support; they were green for the larger part, although their morale was high. He wasn’t certain if it would remain so during the clash of arms to come.

“Have another drink,” Gatnos ordered.

He shook his head. “I’ve had enough, Gatnos. We’ll need all our strength to face the Red Hand in the morning.”

“You think it will come to that?” Gatnos asked respectfully.

Since surviving so many battles and a killing blow to the head, which had left a big dent in the left side of his skull without any apparent damage, many soldiers believed Syllon had been blessed by the Wargod. They often rubbed the top of his head for good luck or stuck their fingers in the depression. Some even believed he had been gifted with second sight. He found that hard to believe: If so, why had his farm been accursed and his woman leave him?

If I have a home anywhere, it is in the army barracks or on the battlefield
.

“Yes, Gatnos, I believe the Styphoni will attack. I shared a flask with one of the scouts last night and he told me they have no other place to go. The Union Army took everything that was not tied down with them as they passed through eastern Varthon and they’ve been eating the horses and oxen in their baggage train for the past few days. They need to sack Varthon Town as much as we need to protect it.”

Gatnos nodded. “Now, I see why they made you petty-captain, instead of myself. You see much farther than the end of your pikehead.”

Syllon had to agree.
Maybe the blow to my head did more than damage my skull. Maybe it sharpened my wits, too. Or is this one of Galzar’s gifts?

“It is true that I have changed since that injury.” He paused to pull a woolen cloak up over his head to protect it from the lightly falling rain.

“Toss more wood on the fire, or it will go out.”

Gatnos threw several splits of the green wood that they’d collected two days before on the fire. It smoked almost as much as it burned, but the warmth it threw out kept the chill out of his bones.

“I’m worried about Styphon’s Own Guard,” Gatnos replied, when he sat back down on one of the small logs set around the campfire. “Those blackguards are as tough as cobblestones.”

“The Temple rats bleed red like the rest of us,” Syllon replied. “Just be thankful it’s the Union Army we’re facing, not Soton’s Host. They would gobble us up like a turkey feasting on a corncob.”

Gatnos threw out his hands. “Truth. The Host numbers many times our own number. If we win, do you think the Captain-General will march against them?”

“No. Captain-General Hestophes is no fool, or the Great King would have never sent him on this march. However, I doubt our allies have half his wits.”

Captain-General Eukides found himself a nice perch on a hillside from which to sit down and study the League’s Army. He took his pipe out of his belt loop, took a big pinch of tobacco out of his pouch and began to tamp it into the barrel. The League’s Army was laid out in good order and came as close to a sandbox presentation of tiny clay soldiers as he’d ever seen. It was disquieting.

As a general rule, Eukides was opposed to fighting opponents in prepared positions. He preferred to maneuver his forces so that he had the advantage of terrain or position. Better yet, have them chase him and when they tired—turn and attack! Or best of all, surprise them. The problem with set battles—with all things being close to equal—was that the army with the most ammunition, highest morale and inspired leadership usually won.

While the Union Army had lots of weapons and ammunition, their morale was sinking and, for the most part, their leadership was suspect.
If Prince Simias would just leave me alone to do what I do best, we might have a chance to put an end to the League of Dralm right here and now. But that’s not to be, and the worst of it is he has the full support of Styphon’s House’s representative, Archpriest Roxthar
.

The other problem was their supply train was low on victuals. They had left Kryphlon City with insufficient food stocks for a long campaign; it was a mistake and he told them that before they left. But Prince Simias and the other princes didn’t want to wait for more supplies, falsely believing they could forage for whatever they needed in Varthon. What they hadn’t counted on was that the Varthoni, as they retreated, had stripped their fields of vegetables and grains, herded away, or killed, their cattle and livestock and left nothing behind for the Union of Styphon’s Friends Army to scavenge.

They’d been able to pick up some wild game and an occasional lost cow or pig, but certainly not enough to feed thousands of hungry men. Now they were supplementing their rations with oxen and horses from the baggage train. A supply train from Kryphlon would be arriving—unless it were captured by Varthoni outriders—sometime within the next moon half. Unfortunately, they only had enough food for another moon quarter; they would have to defeat the League’s Army and besiege Varthon Town for its foodstuffs. Otherwise, they were going to starve.

The way things were going for the Union forces it was almost as if the other gods were aligned against the Union of Styphon’s Friends.
Maybe the true gods have turned against Styphon’s House and its allies because of their presumption and their mistreatment of the other gods’ worshippers?
Eukides knew that there were no priests of Galzar with the Union Army; he wasn’t sure if it was because of the Ban, or if Roxthar had had them all murdered. Eukides wouldn’t put anything past that demon in human guise.

He heard the sound of hooves and the jingle of harness hardware as someone rode up beside him. It was his trusted companion, Captain Dylon.

“Doesn’t look good, does it, sir?”

Eukides shook his head. “We don’t outnumber them and we can’t outmaneuver them. And there’s no place else to go for at least a hundred marches. We can’t even out-shoot them with the pitiful guns at our disposal. Fortunately, their guns don’t look much better. Our only hope is when we charge up the hill that one of their flanks breaks.”

“Is that a sure thing?”

Again, he shook his head. “Look at their center.”

“The infantry?”

“Yes. See those banners, the blue halberd on a red field; Hostigi. The best troops in the Five Kingdoms. They won’t break unless we completely overpower them. Our best bet is the flanks. See all the princely and ducal banners?”

“If we hit the center with Styphon’s Own Guard,” Dylon said, “we could probably contain them. If we get a miracle, even push them back.”

Eukides nodded. “That’s what I think, but try convincing Investigator Roxthar of that.”

“True,” Captain Dylon replied. “He’d rather keep the Red Hand in reserve so they can keep our troops from retreating or turning tail.”

“Exactly. But I’m not going to order the attack unless he gives me four Temple Bands, at the very least.”

“You’ll make a powerful enemy, sir.”

Eukides laughed. “I already have too many. What’s one more? Besides, Albides is the only one in this blasted army who’s actually fought against Kalvan. He’ll know I’m right.”

“What if the Archpriest tells him otherwise?”

“There’s no love between those two. As strange as it may be, Marshal Albides may be my only supporter. With his help, we may have a chance to break the League’s center. Without it, we are all doomed.”

Eukides paused to light his pipe, when it was drawing, he said, “Captain, I want you to give me your sworn oath.”

“Of course, Captain-General. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?” Dylon asked, with a hurt expression on his face.

“No, no, old friend. I’m going to give you an order, but it will be one you will not want to obey. However, before I tell you what it is, I want your oath that you will do as I ask.”