Down Styphon!, page 2
part #8 of Kalvan Series
When there were no replies, he nodded to the guardsman who cleaned his halberd head with Dracar s yellow robe, then went back to his station.
“Its taken several winters to set this up,” he continued. “But my Special Deputy, Yagos, has done an excellent job of learning the language of the Mexicotal.” He knocked twice on the table and Yagos, wearing armor, a helmet festooned with feathers and brandishing a turquoise club in the shape of a snake, entered the chamber. “Meet Huitzilopochtli, the Hummingbird God of the Mexicotal.”
Yagos jabbered for a short while in the unfamiliar language, then nodded at Anaxthenes.
“It appears that the Mexicotal view Yagos as some sort of deity. This has provided a great advantage with our negotiations. We will need a core of five archpriests and a score of highpriests to begin our talks at Tenochtitlan, the Mexicotal capital.”
Anaxthenes looked to his right where Archpriest Danthor sat. He would have been Anaxthenes’ ideal choice, but with all the challenges he faced in Balph and throughout the Five Kingdoms, he needed Danthor here. His next best choice was Archpriest Baphocles, a long-time supporter and excellent negotiator. “Baphocles, you will lead the expedition. Yagos will help you select your team. Some of the Mexicotal priests believe he is their Hummingbird God come to life, which explains his costume. Others are not so sure, but it has kept him safe from their sacrificial rites which have claimed our earlier emissaries.
“We will keep these negotiations a Temple secret and anyone who speaks of them outside of this temple will forfeit his life.” He pointed to Dracar’s head which was still leaking blood upon the floor. “Is that understood?”
“Aye, ayes,” came from all around the Triangle Table.
“Good. Neamenestros, Timothanes and Yagos, you remain behind. We have much to discuss. The rest of you are dismissed.”
* * *
ONE
I
Kalvan sat on a high-backed chair bouncing little Ptosphes on his knee. The child giggled in response; it was one of their favorite games.
“Giggly, giggly, giggly. Giggly, giggly, Joe,” he said in a sing-song voice.
Ptosphes laughed even louder, as he bounced up and down. He was at the toddler stage, but soon he would grow out of it and tire of playtime activities like this.
Demia watched with disdain, as though she were too old for such amusements.
One of the worst things about being the indispensable man was you didn’t have enough time for both what you wanted to do and what you needed to do, although this activity fell into the former category. So Kalvan tried to enjoy these few stolen moments with his children whenever he had the opportunity.
Their game was interrupted when Rylla, her face pinched, burst into the chamber.
Oh no! Kalvan thought. What now? His body temperature began to heat up in the sweltering Michigan air. Sometimes it's thick enough that a fish could swim in it.
“Astrath!” she cried out. “It’s time for the baby’s bath.”
Astrath was the new royal nursemaid, a buxom young lady with a special rapport with the children. They both loved her. Ptosphes catapulted out of Kalvan’s lap and ran over to the nursemaid as fast as his wobbly little legs would take him. His sister, a pretty little child with her mother’s upturned nose and complexion, followed behind.
When the children had vacated the chamber, Rylla turned to him. “We need to talk.”
Not again, he winced.
She caught his expression and frowned. “Husband, I know you’re tired of hearing about it, but Our people want to return to their homeland.”
Not all of our subjects, he thought. Or even most of them. The commoners had it better here in Thagnor than they’d ever had it on old Hostigos. Many of them had their own servants and owned small businesses, or worked for one of the busy royal firms. All they had left in Hos-Hostigos were ruined lands and demolished buildings. For that reason and others, Kalvan didn’t share Rylla’s urgency.
“This land is nice for a visit,” she continued. “But we are exiled from our homeland. Most of us will never feel comfortable in this cold and foreign place. Even Prince Sarrask agrees that it’s time to retake our home lands from the Harphaxi.”
Kalvan sighed. “You know we can’t leave here with King Theovacar poised at our back like a dagger. We’d be playing right into his hands.”
“We could leave a strong garrison. Not even the Grand Host was able to breach the walls you built here.”
“True, but now that Verkan has left Greffa we no longer have him as a threat to King Theovacar.” He had been sorely distressed when a letter had arrived from Verkan, telling them that on her return from Xiphlon City Dalla had been kidnapped. Verkan was unsure whether it was the Mexicotal, the Ruthani tribesmen or just bandits. Regardless, he was off to rescue his wife. And Kalvan couldn’t blame him one little bit. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if Rylla were taken from him. He knew one thing for sure: he would never rest until either she was rescued, or he found her body and took his revenge.
“I know that it’s a terrible thing that happened to our friends,” Rylla said sadly. “But King Verkan placed his friend Prince Kostran on the Greffan throne. I’m sure the prince will support us.”
Kalvan shook his head. “Prince Kostran is an administrator, not a warrior. Verkan needed someone he trusted and he’s counting on the walls he built to keep Theovacar at bay. But, the prince will not come to our aid. Theovacar could cause Styphon’s Own deviltry while our army is away. Destroy our farmlands, outbuildings and feast upon our allies. I’ve told you about the Romans in the Cold Lands and how they sowed the lands of their worst enemy with salt. Such behavior is not beyond a tyrant like Theovacar. He could even destroy our fleet. We don’t dare leave until he’s been vanquished.”
Kalvan knew that might take years, maybe a decade if he dragged it out long enough, with new projects and armaments that had to be perfected, before he was ready to leave. He had no desire himself to return to the war-damaged and wasted lands of Hos-Hostigos. True, he was the ultimate exile, since there was no way he would ever return to his own world. Could that be why I'm so stubborn? he asked himself. Maybe, but only partially. Mostly, it was because he knew how difficult it would be to reclaim and hold those blasted lands again. Hos-Hostigos was better left in the minds of men as a myth, like Camelot.
Nor would the new Great King of Hos-Harphax welcome their return. They would have to battle Great King Geblon, as well as outlaws and any armies that Styphon’s House brewed up. It might take them a decade to finish off their opponents, and how would they replenish those wasted lands while fighting battles against both human and natural opponents? No, their enemies now held claim to those lands that comprised Hos-Hostigos. It would be a long time before the Hostigi were strong enough to hold their new kingdom securely enough that they could strike out and reconquer their old homeland.
“I’m sorry, love, but we need to build up our forces here and defeat Theovacar and our other enemies in the Middle Kingdoms before we return to Hos-Hostigos.”
Rylla shook her fist in anger. “That could take two hands of years! I hate it here! The winters are too cold and the summers too hot and muggy. Too many children will be born in this blasted land never knowing their true home. Our children, too! I’m beginning to believe that you don’t want to return to Hostigos. Is this or is this not true?”
She was right, but he knew the truth was not going to play well in Detroit. “What I want is whatever makes you happy kitten. Of course, I want to go back to our home, but when it is safe to do so. What I don’t want to do is risk our family and home here in Nos-Hostigos; not after all the sacrifices we’ve made to get here. You have my word, that once Theovacar and the Grefftscharrer armies and fleet have been vanquished, we will return to Hos-Hostigos as conquerors.”
Rylla shook her head. “I see you are trying to evade my question. Kalvan, you are as slippery as a Saltless Sea eel.”
Kalvan only shrugged in reply. What can I say... ?
II
Great Queen Arminta made her way down the stone passageway, holding her candle before her to light the way. She enjoyed being able to move freely inside the summer palace without being accompanied by armed bodyguards. This had only become possible when her husband had outlawed Styphon’s House throughout Hos-Zygros and looted their temples, banking houses, temple farms and other holdings. Then he had all the highpriests put to death and exiled the underpriests and their ardent followers, most of whom had gravitated to Agrys City which was held in thrall by former Archpriest Grythos as regent for the young Agrysi heir apparent.
All this was done in payment for her kidnapping by the Inner Circle of Styphon’s House. Her husband was not a man to play fast and loose with as both his father, now in exile, and Styphon’s House had learned to their everlasting displeasure.
However, his new subjects felt quite differently. And not just because he was widely known—having been the only commander to beat Kalvan in battle—as the greatest soldier of his age. Phidestros, as Great King of Hos-Zygros, had made a number of major reforms, many of them at her suggestion—similar to ones Great King Kalvan had made in Hostigos. First, he had outlawed slavery, put selected commoners forward as judges instead of nobles and lowered taxes—which the gold recently looted from Styphon’s temples had helped pay for. Next, he had reformed the guild system, giving more power to the apprentices, and had formed royal guilds with much more liberal entrance requirements. Then Phidestros had provided free land to those soldiers about to retire, as well as find positions within the royal government for those with battlefield injuries. He had even established sanatoriums for those soldiers with afflictions too severe to work.
She was proud of both these reforms and her husband, who had acted upon her advice. To be both loved and accepted were gifts she had never expected in this life. She prayed her thanks to Yirtta Allmother, the source of life and fertility, every night.
Finally, Arminta arrived at her husband’s workroom where he spent most of his limited free time working with his tools. As a youth, Phidestros had been apprenticed to a cabinet maker and he still enjoyed working with wood, woodworking tools and building things like this new desk of his. The chamber was well-lit by oil lamps placed in sconces around the room. The Great King was busy sanding the top of a huge burl that she guessed was to be the top of the desk he was working on. Her husband had based his design on a similar piece of furniture that he had seen and studied in Kalvan’s palace in Hostigos Town during the Siege of Tarr-Hostigos, which one of the Hostigi prisoners had called a “desk.”
Not everyone in court thought his wood-working hobby was dignified or proper enough to serve as a great king’s hobby, but Phidestros didn’t give a flying fig, as he put it, about what “other people thought.” One of the many things she admired about him.
“Hello, husband. How goes your new desk?”
His face looked lupine when he looked up. “I’m making good progress. As soon as I have this burl smooth, I’m going to wax it which will bring out the color. Anything to take my mind off those high-born idiots I have to deal with all day!”
“Rough day?”
“Yes, some of those hard-headed Zygrosi nobles haven’t had it pounded deep enough into their skulls that things are different now, and that they can no longer treat commoners as their personal chattel or as slaves. Fortunately, some of the younger ones are more amenable to new thoughts. Those who refuse to bend to the new ways will be replaced.”
“Please, my husband, go slowly and carefully in replacing the scions of the older houses with your officers. I understand you need to reward your men, but it could also alienate some of those we need to support our reign. Not everyone was thrilled when you brought the Temple down.”
Phidestros nodded wearily. “I know, I know. But it had to be done. I had to show Styphon’s treacherous dogs that we were not to be trifled with. They’ll think twice before they raise their hand against us again.”
Not for the first time, Arminta wondered who had suffered most during her confinement to Balph. She had certainly hated it there, surrounded on all sides by the false priests of Styphon. On the other hand, her husband had been forced to bend himself to another’s will; something he hated at the best of times. It had certainly created a complete breach with Styphon’s House. Fortunately, thanks to Great King Kalvan, the Temple no longer had the power or manpower to enforce its will.
They had certainly made an implacable enemy in her husband. “I’m surprised Great King Geblon hasn’t renounced them as well,” she said. Geblon had been her husband’s loyal sidekick ever since he started the Iron Company.
“Geblon is right next door to Hos-Ktemnos and the center of Styphon’s Power on Earth. There’s not much they can do to punish me without raising another grand host and I don’t think they could find enough manpower to do it again. However, Geblon doesn’t have a big army and if Styphon’s Voice had Soton raise a large force against him, he would be in real trouble.”
“You could always come to his aid,” Arminta pointed out.
Phidestros stopped his sanding and looked up. “Not if Soton raised an army quickly and invaded Hos-Harphax. Hos-Zygros is a thousand marches away and we would have to fight our way through Hos-Agrys to get to Harphax. While there’s not enough Styphoni troops in Agrys to do more than delay us, it might give Soton enough time to topple Geblon and have him assassinated or imprisoned. That is why Geblon has refrained from sacking Styphon’s temples, although I’m certain he has been tempted. The way that wife of his spends money, he can use all he can steal, raid or borrow!”
Arminta nodded in accord. Great Queen Lavena was as spoiled as she was beautiful. Arminta had spent enough time at the palace in Harphax City to thoroughly detest Lavena, but not enough to wish her ill. However, if her spendthrift ways put Geblon’s throne in jeopardy, that would change.
TWO
Great King Kalvan moved his backside uncomfortably on the Fireseed Throne as he looked down at the long line of petitioners, all of whom wanted favors or justice. Few, he knew from past experience, would leave satisfied. He had been at this all morning and it appeared that his chancellor had scheduled enough supplicants that he would be here all day. Mytron knew him well: how much Kalvan hated the pomp and circumstance of the ritual of the presence chamber, so he had stocked the chamber accordingly, removing all the time-wasters and blowhards. Unfortunately, it was still necessary for him to adjudicate disputes and dispense rulings, in order to establish both his authority and the rule of law.
Kalvan removed his pipe from his belt and took out his tobacco pouch. He needed something to occupy his mind as Chancellor Mytron, the Highpriest of Dralm and chief healer, introduced the next supplicant. This one, a duke, was from Dorg, and a long way from home. I wonder what he wants?
The Dorgian went down on his knees as he approached the Throne.
Kalvan, irritated by the man’s slavish behavior, signaled him to rise. “Men do not come to me on their knees, no matter what you have heard to the contrary, Duke.”
“Yes, yes, Your Majesty. I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend—”
Rylla, who sat in her own matching throne at his side, made a knowing smile. She knew all his quirks and idiocrasies. Or at least, that’s how she saw them. Kalvan saw them as democratic principles that did not translate well into Zarthani society.
“I’m not offended, yet.”
The Duke quickly rose to his feet, his face beet red. “I have come to petition Your Majesty’s support against the vile creature, King Hyrum, who sits upon the throne of Dorg.”
“Why should I take up arms against a fellow king?” Kalvan asked. He got similar requests about twice a month, most of them directed against the King of Dorg. He saw no advantage to overthrowing King Hyrum and earning the reputation of usurper of other kings’ rule. Besides, if he conquered Dorg, he’d then be responsible for putting a competent ruler in Hyrum’s place, as well as ensuring the kingdom’s peace and tranquility. He had enough on his plate keeping the lid on Nos-Hostigos and its allies.
To say nothing of preparing for Theovacar’s next move and the possibility of another Styphoni invasion force.
“Your Majesty, King Hyrum is a tyrant of the worst kind. He kidnaps our women, right off the street, regardless of rank!”
Now, I know what rankles, Kalvan thought.
“He then takes them into his palace from which they never return. It is rumored that the Tyrant Hyrum commits all types of abominations upon their persons, then has them stuffed as one would stuff a dead owl or trophy stag! He then dotes upon his assembly of death, doing all manner of unspeakable things—”
“If these words are true, why do the nobles and commoners of Dorg put up with his transgressions?” Kalvan asked.
“King Hyrum has a strong household guard and the loyalty of the Royal Army. We do not have the arms or experience to defeat him, which is why we need your aid, Your Majesty.”
“And why should I embroil Nos-Hostigos in a war against the rightful ruler of Dorg that your fellow citizens will not undertake for themselves?”
“Because of Your Majesty’s reputation as a fair and good ruler, and because you know in your heart that Hyrum is an abomination before both the gods and men.”
“Nice words, but they won’t refill my coffers nor reanimate the many Hostigi soldiers who will die in such a war.”
“We will pay, Your Majesty,” the Duke stammered. “I can promise you in advance two hundred thousand ounces of gold and five times that of silver. Plus, you can plunder the Royal Treasury of Dorg, which is known to be the wealthiest in the Middle Kingdoms, now that Theovacar has been unseated from Greffa.”
“I’m sorry, Duke. My army cannot be bought with gold or sad stories of misrule. If you want to depose King Hyrum, do it yourself. I will not do it for you.”
