Down Styphon!, page 21
part #8 of Kalvan Series
“One of our agents-inquisitory from Dalthrax just reported in, Your Majesty. He brings bad news, very bad news.”
“What tale does he tell? Out with it, man!”
Archimanes paused to rise up on his haunches. It was hard for a man his age to grovel on marble floors—to say nothing about the loss of ones dignity. “He says that the Usurper Kalvan arrived at Dalthrax Port over a moon-quarter ago.”
“What in Hadron’s name is Kalvan doing there! Does your agent have any word on the Usurper’s plans?” Niclophon demanded.
“Not directly. My intelligencer is not known to the Pretender Valthros’ intimates so he has to take his information third-hand from barkeeps, serving wenches and whores. He did say that many other boats were arriving on a daily basis, all of them ferrying Hostigi soldiers, horses, armor, supplies, fireseed, weapons and armaments. Thousands upon thousands of men. He’s heard talk in the wineshops that Kalvan is joining forces with the Pretender Valthros.”
He could hear the noise of grinding teeth as Great King Niclophon mulled over this latest news.
“Damn that loathsome pile of rat droppings Valthros! Somebody should have strangled him in his cradle. How many soldiers has the Usurper brought with him?”
“Our man counted some fifteen thousand before he departed. He said they were still unloading ships when he left and that rumors were told that the Usurper Kalvan had brought over forty thousand men with him.”
“Bah! I don’t believe it—still, even if he only brought ten thousand men, it will be enough, when combined with the Pretender’s forces, to send us straight to Regwarn!”
Archimanes was wringing his hands. “What shall we do, Your Majesty? Kalvan is known for firing his enemies out of cannons, especially those allied with Styphon’s House!”
“You had to bring that up! Where is that damnable Archpriest?”
“Archpriest Lesthros left for Balph yesterday, Your Majesty. He claimed that he had to attend an important conclave in the Holy City.”
“Like a rat running out of a burning building! His own agents probably got word of Kalvan’s arrival and he left town without even telling us.”
A wise man, thought Archimanes. He knew that if he told Niclophon about Kalvan, he would never leave the palace alive. I only wish I had some place to flee to myself
“How many men can we raise to defend Bletha Town?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty. You need to ask Captain-General Theodoros.”
“Then, you cack-handed bastard, bring him to me at once!”
III
Captain-General Theodoros made his way to the Great King’s private audience chamber as fast as dignity would allow. He was greatly worried by the rumors circulating through the wineshops and taverns that Great King Kalvan had arrived in Dalthrax Port. The two guardsmen at the King’s door were standing arms akimbo and he noted their dress was sloppy. The captain of the guard was one of the Great King’s favorites, a bootlicker who probably knew about as much about soldiering as Theodoros knew about inn-keeping.
Inside the chamber, Great King Niclophon rose up as he entered, with a scowl prominent upon his face. “What took you so long?” he demanded.
“I was in the barracks doing an inspection, Your Majesty,” Theodoros explained.
“Have you heard the latest news?”
The Captain-General shook his head; he wasn’t about to repeat barroom gossip as news.
“One of our agents-inquisitory just returned from Dalthrax with terrible news. The Usurper Kalvan has arrived at the port at the head of a large army. His first act upon arriving was to meet with the traitorous Pretender Valthros. Our agent reports that it appears that the Usurper Kalvan is going to join forces with Valthros and besiege Bletha Town.”
Theodoros fought to keep his face from falling. My worst fear realized.
“If this is true, we will have to call up the princely levy and make preparations for a siege. We’ll need lots of foodstuffs, fireseed and—”
“Enough! Do you think I am a fool? Do you think that I don’t know what a siege requires?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said. “I was just stating what I believed we should focus our attentions on.”
Niclophon shook his head in exasperation. “What we need to focus on is how to best keep our Kingdom and our heads upon our shoulders. Will the Usurper’s forces be enough to take Tarr-Bletha and Bletha Town?”
“More than enough, Your Majesty. If Kalvan’s guns were enough to bring down the walls of Tarr-Ceros, they will certainly blow away the pitifully thin walls surrounding Bletha Town. They might halt his advance by a few days, nothing more.”
“I had hoped he would stay in the Sastragath after bringing Soton to heel. What about Tarr-Bletha?” asked Niclophon, who had suddenly turned pale.
“Those walls are much stouter and will fare better under cannon fire. They should hold up for maybe as long as a moon-quarter; should Kalvan refrain from a direct attack and try to starve us out.... Well, there isn’t enough food stored to feed the town’s populace for more than a moon-half. Nor do we have enough soldiers in the entire Kingdom to halt his advance.”
“Then what is your advice?”
“Run—run like the wind!”
TWENTY-FIVE
I
Kalvan had gotten a message from Uncle Wolf Xanthos that there were problems at the army bivouac. He arrived with his bodyguard to find Xanthos at the edge of the clearing with several other priests. “Your Majesty,” he said. “More of the men are coming down with the disease you called cholera. They’re vomiting and suffering from the flux.”
“Is it the bloody flux?” Kalvan asked, a symptom of dysentery which was much more serious than cholera.
“No,” the Uncle Wolf replied.
“Let me see some of your patients,” Kalvan ordered.
Xanthos hesitated and he held up his hand. “Your Majesty, I would never forgive myself if you were to come down with this dreaded disease.”
Kalvan was pleased by his response; it meant that his lectures about communicable diseases were beginning to be taken seriously. “In this case it is not a problem. Most hot-climate diseases are either carried by mosquitos or bad drinking water. Have some of the men been drinking directly from the streams again?”
An elderly Uncle Wolf with white hair and a straggly beard came forward. “Your Majesty, some of the younger men do not listen and drink freely from the pools and streams. Many of them are among the stricken.”
“Be sure and tell the rest of the men why they are ill. Now, take me to the infirmary.”
Xanthos led the way. The first of four infirmary buildings, built to Kalvan’s specifications, was a large open building with big open windows and canvas wings to allow fresh air to circulate. Kalvan carefully examined the first victim: he was a younger man with deeply sunken eyes, cold skin and wrinkled hands and feet. All classic symptoms of cholera.
He was relieved; he’d feared it might be something much worse. At least some of the men had a chance of recovery from cholera. Napoleon’s army in Haiti had grown ill with Yellow Fever, and most of them had died there. If he remembered correctly, Yellow Fever was another mosquito-borne disease, like malaria, that came from Africa so it was very unlikely it had made it to the North American continent here-and-now. Still, he was relieved that it was late in the year; men unaccustomed to the tropics did not do well in the heat and humidity when mosquitos were at their peak.
“Xanthos, these men are suffering from cholera. If they had listened to your warning, they wouldn’t be sick. Use them as examples: have those who survive talk to their comrades and tell them why they got sick.”
Uncle Wolf Xanthos shrugged. “Your Majesty, you don’t understand. I could talk to the men until I run out of breath, and some will still not listen or hear a word I’ve spoken. They’ll listen even less to this lot. We need something to tell them better than the name of a disease they’ve never heard of. They need to be frightened of drinking fresh water.”
Kalvan paused to light up his pipe, trying to think of a way to reach the common soldiers. Then it came to him. “Aha! Tell them that the rivers and streams in Hos-Bletha are ripe with Swamp Devils who will give them fevers and the flux. They are too small to be seen by the naked eye, and only boiling the water will kill the Swamp Devils. Will that do it?”
Xanthos smiled, showing a mouthful of broken and darkened teeth. “Yes, Your Majesty. Yes, Swamp Devils. Now, that’s something a soldier can believe in.”
II
Danar Sirna looked around the corridor warily as she arrived at the archpriest’s private chamber. There were a lot of spies in the Harphaxi Royal Palace, many of them under Great Queen Lavena’s wing. A midnight visit to Archpriest Danthor’s private rooms would require more explaining than she was prepared to do.
The two guards, both Temple Guards with red capes, ignored her presence as she tapped at the door. A moment later Danthor opened the door into the anteroom. “Come in, girl. Make it quick or there’ll be rumors running through the palace that were bundling.”
She repressed a shudder at the thought. Scholar Danthor was ten times her age and as bossy as her father had been. There was no attraction here, at least on her part.
Sirna nodded her head back at the doorway. “What about them?”
“Those two work for me; they know how to keep their mouths shut.”
Despite having lived at the palace for over a year, even she was impressed by the richness of Danthor’s quarters. One of the perks of going undercover as a Styphon's House archpriest, she surmised. Sirna was even more surprised to see a familiar face waiting inside. It was Aranth Sain, the former Hostigos Study Team military expert, who had been presumed dead after the destruction of the Hostigos Royal Foundry
“Aranth!” she cried. “I thought you were dead...” She had to fight back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.
Aranth nodded and gave her a wry smile. “No, I managed to escape from the Red Hand. I decided it was time for an outtime sabbatical, so I left the area and joined up with some other deserters.”
“You could have told me! I thought we were friends.”
“We are, Sirna. I didn’t want to burden you with my secrets. Later, you were shacked up with that Phidestros fellow and I didn’t want to be anywhere around him. He can smell a rat a mile away. I figured you had your own fiddle. Then, after he married Princess Arminta and you hooked up with Great Queen Lavena, I thought you had it made being the new queen’s confidante and all.”
If he hadn’t been wearing a steel breastplate, she would have beaten her fists on his chest. “Had it made: I’ve been living a nightmare existence with a she-wolf capable of having my head chopped off because I curtsied at the wrong time!”
Aranth shrugged and looked, for him, apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t know the full extent of your situation. From afar, it looked damn good.”
“Well it wasn’t, and it isn’t!”
“Enough bickering, children,” Danthor interjected. “You both have bigger problems than reliving the past. I just got word from Balph that Great King Kalvan has arrived at Dalthrax Port with his army, some thirty thousand strong. If I know our man, shortly he will be invading Bletha and deposing Great King Niclophon.”
“What’s that have to do with us?” Aranth asked.
“Plenty. Things have been hopping in the Five Kingdoms ever since Tarr-Ceros fell to Kalvans army. I just got back from Agrys City where I learned that Prince-Regent Grythos intends to strip Agrys City of most of its military garrison—some ten thousand men—to come to the aid of the Holy City. He’ll be joined by five thousand men sent by Agrysi princes who, while not loyal to the Temple, well understand that if Balph falls, Hos-Agrys will be the next target.”
Aranth whistled. “That news isn’t even in the wind.”
“Not yet,” Danthor added. “You just got here, Aranth, so there’s a lot you don’t know. It gets worse. Great King Geblon has started to feel the pinch and has beefed up the Royal Army of Hos-Harphax. He’ll be sending twelve thousand men or more to Balph himself. And he’s not the only one. Most of the Harphaxi princes who have supported Styphon’s House have been sending in their own ‘contributions’—to the number of ten thousand or more men. With promises of more by the time spring arrives.”
“That’s not good for Kalvan,” Sirna said out loud.
“No, it’s not. He’s going to have over seventy to eighty thousand men arrayed against him when he reaches Hos-Ktemnos. True, his men are veterans and have better weapons, but he’s going to be seriously outnumbered.”
“So what does that have to do with us?” Aranth Sain asked.
“Sain, if Kalvan should win, your position here might become untenable. If he loses, there will be little need for artillery officers and you’ll find yourself out of work. Sirna, on the other hand, is in a much more vulnerable position.”
Sirna nodded. “Lately, Queen Lavena’s been mistreating her maidservants worse than ever before. Geblon, for the first time, is acting like a Great King and taking charge, and she doesn’t like it. She has to accept it because it’s their heads on the chopping block. She knows that if Kalvan wins, he will have her killed. So she’s been taking out her anger and anxiety on the palace staff!”
“Exactly,” Danthor said. “That’s why you both need to leave Harphax City.”
“But how?” Sirna asked.
“Quickly and surreptitiously,” Danthor said. “You’ll need a place far enough and isolated enough to be out of the Queen’s reach. There’s a small village in Phaxos that’s a perfect hiding place. The headman in charge 'rents’ hideouts to people on the run. A number of wealthy Hostigi stayed there after the fall of Hos-Hostigos. Lately business has been slow, so I’m sure Headman Dagnar will appreciate your business. I will send an envoy to ensure his cooperation. He doesn’t know me as an archpriest; if things get any worse here I may be joining you.”
III
Finally, after the better part of a moon-half, all the princes of the “new” realm were gathered within the walls of Tarr-Pytha. Rather than waiting for them to arrive, Kalvan would have preferred moving directly against Bletha Town before the King’s army had time to prepare for their assault. However, Democriphon and Skranga had argued that it was best to involve all the princes and make it a joint decision to rise up against Great King Niclophon. Reluctantly, Kalvan had agreed; if Democriphon was going to continue on as great king, this would give him an opportunity to display his leadership skills among his princes.
All the allied princes, Prince Calthros of Drathor, Prince Kosklos of Artigos, Prince Vythron of Taurnos and Prince Mythros, gathered in the Great Hall. Great King Valthros, flanked by Great King Kalvan and Chancellor Skranga, sat at the head of the hall. Valthros opened with, “We have invited you all here to join in with us in the invasion of the Princedom of Bletha, where the Pretender Niclophon sits upon the Silver Throne. We invite you to join us as observers. The troops we have already gathered should be more than sufficient for our purpose.”
This had been at Kalvan’s suggestion. If the princes were allowed to bring additional soldiers, there would be too much jockeying for position and backroom politics. Plus, they would have to wait another moon for all their forces to come together in Pytha. Kalvan wanted to get the invasion underway and over with as quickly as possible.
Valthros rose to his feet, looking every inch a Great King. “The moment we have all been waiting for has finally arrived. Great King Kalvan of Hostigos has arrived to help us vanquish the False King who now occupies the Silver Throne. His army will be joining Our own in the invasion of Bletha. It is Our desire to move quickly, before Styphon’s House can come to the False Kings aid.”
The assembled princes nodded their agreement.
“Once the False Kings army has been defeated and he has been taken prisoner, he will be tried by the Council of Princes. I will recuse myself from the trial; you will be the ones to determine his sentence.”
It had been Kalvan’s idea that instead of immediately beheading Niclophon, they leave his fate up to his former princes. From the smiles on their faces, he knew Kalvan had made the right call.
“All of the False God Styphon’s temples,” Valthros continued, “will be sacked; their treasures to be shared equally among all the princes who have loyally supported their true Great King.”
That pronouncement got more than smiles, several of the princes rose to their feet with calls of “Down Styphon!” and “Long Live Great King Valthros!”
Democriphon, who had already accumulated a mass of gold and treasure from a year’s worth of sacking Styphon’s House temples, had told Kalvan before the council that he thought this division of spoils would help cement his vassals to his new realm. Kalvan thoroughly agreed.
When the hall had quieted, Valthros continued, “We shall be leaving for Bletha Town in two days. Any of you who wish to join as observers are welcome to come along.”
That brought out a few more cheers.
“Now, let me introduce you to Great King Kalvan of Hostigos who has been fighting the False Temple for over five winters now.” Valthros sat down.
All cheered and applauded when Kalvan stood up and paused, surveying the Blethan nobility seated along both sides of the table. “As you all know, Styphon’s House has been falsely selling fireseed as a temple miracle for hundreds of years. This has allowed them to gain dominance over nobles, princes and even great kings. However, their ‘miracle’ has been nothing but a Big Lie, a scam designed to extort your gold and compliance. In my homeland in the Cold Country, fireseed is as common as flour. When I first arrived in the Five Kingdoms, I shared my knowledge with former Prince Ptosphes of Hostigos and in response Styphon’s House gathered a great host to kill us and bury the secret of the Fireseed Trinity.
“Gathering the largest force ever assembled in the Great Kingdoms, the Grand Host of Styphon’s House overran Hos-Hostigos and destroyed Tarr-Hostigos with a month-long siege. However, thanks to the heroic Last Stand by Prince Ptosphes and Captain-General Harmakros, We, along with the better part of Our army, were able to retreat to the Middle Kingdoms and found the new Great Kingdom of Nos-Hostigos.
