Down Styphon!, page 4
part #8 of Kalvan Series
“However, it does appear that certain fractures have occurred within Styphon’s zone of control. I’ll let Chief of Intelligence Klestreus give you the latest news.”
Klestreus slowly rose up from the other end of the table. “We have just received a message from our spies in Hos-Ktemnos that a boat arrived from Hos-Zygros containing as cargo the heads of several hundred Styphon’s House priests. If that isn’t a declaration of war against the Temple, I don’t know what is?”
Kalvan had ordered his spymaster to keep this news quiet until today’s meeting. It was his hole card, and he was hoping it would introduce some sanity to the proceedings.
“Maybe we can forge a peace treaty with Great King Phidestros,” Prince Phrames said.
Kalvan nodded. “I believe this is an avenue we should approach.”
Rylla shook her head. “More delays! Were already past the second moon of spring. How much longer do we have until we can no longer mount an effective campaign this season?”
“Not long, Your Majesty,” Sarrask said. “We need to move quickly and decisively.”
“But where and how?” Kalvan asked rhetorically. “One path is to go north to Ulthor City and work our way through Hos-Agrys; certainly, the surviving League of Dralm Agrysi princes will welcome and join with us, more than offsetting those who joined forces with the Styphoni. According to our intelligence operatives, we know that Soton took most of his army back to Hos-Ktemnos last year and has returned to Tarr-Ceros.
“Moreover, what will Great King Phidestros do while were attacking his neighbor? Will he welcome us, or view us as a threat? I fear the latter. We do not have enough men to fight both the Agrysi and Zygrosi armies at the same time, especially since Phidestros took at least thirty thousand or more well-trained and veteran troops with him into Hos-Zygros.
“Plus, when we advance upon Agrys City we will be close enough to Hos-Harphax that Great King Geblon, even without Phidestros’ support, could march north and attack our siege party. Then we would have to face both the Styphoni and Harphaxi armies.
“I’m sure that if you have any questions about it, either Prince Mnestros or Captain-General Hestophes will fill you in on the situation in Hos-Agrys after the meeting. As far as returning to Hostigos directly, there’s no way we can retrace our route through Hos-Hostigos. According to our intelligence reports, Great King Lysandros’ men fell upon the land like a plague of locusts, eating everything that was alive including their own horses and oxen. Those farms and outbuildings that survived our passage were burned or leveled by the Harphaxi as they made their way home. It’s far too late in the year to establish food depots and arsenals for our army in those destroyed territories.”
“There must be another avenue,” Rylla interrupted.
“I suggest we attempt a two-pronged attack,” Prince Sarrask offered. “First, we send an envoy to Hos-Zygros to talk terms with Great King Phidestros. Meanwhile, our army can strike the Styphoni to the south, hitting the Zarthani Knights—starting with Tarr-Ceros, then once it’s destroyed, roll up the rest of their forts along the Great River like a rug.”
When did Sarrask get so damn smart? Kalvan wondered. Or was this plan Rylla’s idea? It sounded like something Gonsalo Cordoba might have come up with during the Italian Wars when the Spanish took Sicily and worked their way up the Italian peninsula.
“Once the southern border has been secured,” Sarrask continued, “our forces can join up with Skranga and Democriphon’s—or Great King Valthros’ or whatever he calls himself these days—Royal Army of Hos-Bletha. Both armies will outnumber Great King Niclophon’s forces by three or four to one. Once Niclophon is dispatched we can run through Hos-Ktemnos like a dose of the salts, killing all the Styphoni and their minions throughout Niclophon’s lands. He has long suckled at the Temple’s breast; now he will pay for his infamy. Our intelligence tells us that the great king of Hos-Ktemnos has not had the men or time to rebuild the Sacred Squares. Once we have destroyed the rattlesnake’s nest that is Balph and cut the head off Styphon’s snake, I would bet my treasure train that Great King Lukthos of Hos-Ktemnos will surrender or sue for terms.”
“Hear, hear!” cried out a number of voices.
Kalvan shook his head in wonder. Sarrask—most likely with Rylla’s aid—had come up with a workable plan. One that would be impossible for him to shoot down, Dralm-damnit!
To salvage what he could from this debacle, Kalvan held up his cup of wine. “To Sarrask, for a whale of a good idea.” Prince Sarrask had come a long way from the time he had arrived on that cross-time flying machine, when he was one of Hostigos’ biggest enemies. Now, Sarrask was one of their most loyal paladins, right up there with Baron Hestophes and Prince Phrames.
Rylla was beaming, as was Sarrask—his face bright red with embarrassment.
“We will start drawing-up plans for the investment of Tarr-Ceros at first light," Kalvan announced. He knew one of the secrets of good leadership was knowing when to fold one’s hand while being gracious about it. Obviously, not everyone shared his desire to stay in Nos-Hostigos. Sarrask’s plan wasn’t foolproof, but it was better than anything he had come up with—or had wanted to.
“This will be our second siege of Tarr-Ceros. The first was a partial success, but we left without pulling down the walls. This time we will stay until we’ve cracked the heart of this tough nut and killed or captured Grand Master Soton and his top aides.”
Captain-General Errock nodded. “I agree, Your Majesty. We cannot afford to leave the Grand Master at our backs while we besiege the other Order forts and tarrs. However, Tarr-Ceros will be, as you said, 'a tough nut to crack,’ and I doubt we can do it before the weather turns bad.”
Kalvan nodded. “A good point, Captain-General. However, the invasion plan—as presented by Prince Sarrask—is not time-dependent. Although I agree, the sooner we can take Tarr-Ceros the less time Styphon’s House will have to prepare for our march upon the unholy city of Balph. Meanwhile, we will inform Duke Skranga and Great King Valthros of our plans so they can prepare for our arrival.”
“Good idea,” Errock interjected. “Tarr-Ceros has adopted many of Your Majesty’s defensive tactics since your investment of their fort. Their walls are now protected by earthworks, bulwarks and more guns. It will not be easy to break through their defenses.”
Kalvan nodded. One of the problems with introducing novel tactics and weapons, both defensive and offensive, was that one’s enemies often quickly adopted them as well. From what his spies had to say, Phidestros was developing his own rifle corps, while even Styphon’s House was working on transitioning from muskets to rifles. However, no one else had developed their own explosive artillery shells and the last two years had seen some great improvements on the Hostigi versions.
“We have a lot more guns and shells than we had during our earlier siege,” Kalvan stated. “I plan to rain shells down upon Tarr-Ceros like Thanor’s Hammers falling out of the sky!”
“Huzzah and Down Styphon!” shouted voices from a dozen throats. “Huzzah and Down Styphon! Huzzah and Down Styphon!”
When the chant had quieted down, Kalvan continued, “We need to send one of our most trusted men and advisors to Hos-Zygros to parley with Great King Phidestros and win him over to our side. Or, barring that, keep him neutral. I plan to send Captain-General Hestophes, who’s already been in Hos-Agrys, and knows the lay of the land, to Zygros Town to set up talks with Phidestros. As his advisor, I plan to send Highpriest Tharses.”
Prince Sarrask noted, “We will miss his generalship, Your Majesty, but Baron Hestophes is the right man. And, by Galzar, so is Uncle Wolf Tharses!”
Even Rylla nodded in accord.
Kalvan bent over to speak to Prince Phrames in private. “How anxious are you to return to Beshta, Prince?”
Phrames shook his head. “Not at all, Your Majesty. I only ruled the Princedom of Beshta for a short time, but it had been so badly managed by Prince Balthar that I was only able to introduce the most rudimentary reforms. I—unlike most of these fools—am very happy here as Prince of Gytha and have no desire to leave Nos-Hostigos to return to Beshta.”
Kalvan sighed. That solved one problem, since—no matter what accommodations they reached—Phidestros would not be willing to abandon Greater Beshta. Sashta didn’t matter since its former prince, Prince Balthames, was dead and buried in an anonymous grave.
“Hestophes, you will meet me in my private audience chamber after the meeting and we will discuss the details of your mission.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the stout Captain-General replied.
Kalvan could tell from his tight-lipped response that he wasn’t happy about the assignment, but as a good soldier would do as ordered. Hestophes had already spent most of a year in Hos-Agrys working as head of a Hostigi fifth column. Now, he’d be going to Hos-Zygros to meet with Phidestros. Meanwhile, his wife was on permanent assignment, as nursemaid and guardian, to Harmakros’ son, Aspasthar in Agrys City. The way the war was going it was likely to be a long time before they would get together again. He wondered if he could tolerate such a long absence from Rylla. Probably not, he decided.
He turned to Admiral Herad, “I would like to meet with you, as well, Admiral.”
The Admiral stood up and bowed. “At your pleasure, Your Majesty.” Mental note: Write long letter to King Chartiphon and tell him what's going down.
FOUR
I
Grand Master Soton smacked his knee with a fist in frustration. A delegation from the Inner Circle had arrived from Balph and he didn’t care one whit about whatever it was they wanted. It was just more time-wasting nonsense. He had more important things to worry over. There were rumors that the nomads were gathering again on the other side of the Great River—weren’t the Ormaz-spawned bastards satisfied with all the booty they had taken after attacking Dorg and overrunning Wulfula last summer?—and several of the border forts were still in need of major repairs. Plus, he was having little success in getting new recruits for the Order.
He picked up his mace and began to swing it back and forth. Slowly, he felt himself begin to relax. A knock at the door to his private chamber brought him back to the world and its many problems.
“Yes, Sarmoth?”
“I have Archpriest Danthor to see you, Grand Master.”
“Send him in,” he replied. Of all the archpriests of the Innermost Circle, Danthor was one of the canniest and most down to earth. He could be reasoned with, unlike so many others. It could easily have been worse; Styphon’s Voice Anaxthenes himself could have come, or sent Archpriest Neamenestros or one of his other vile minions.
Archpriest Danthor, a tall man who walked with a commanding stride, entered the chamber. He was also one of the few archpriests with a full head of silver hair; probably more common in Hos-Bletha—where he was from—than in Hos-Ktemnos where most of the upperpriests shaved their heads. However, it did mean that he stood out in a crowd of highpriests like a flamingo among a flock of pigeons.
“Your Worthiness,” the Archpriest said, “it is good to see you in good health.”
Soton nodded. “Welcome, Danthor. Although, I suspect I will not welcome any requests you have brought with you from Balph.”
Danthor smiled. “I believe not, Your Worthiness. However, I do have fresh news: Have you heard about Great King Phidestros’ latest betrayal?”
“No, what has that jumped-up bastard done this time?”
“Phidestros sent a boat to Balph containing the severed heads of all the upperpriests and loyal lowerpriests in Hos-Zygros. Styphon’s Voice and the Inner Circle have sent me to ask you to respond in kind.”
“With what?” he asked, his voice rising. “I have barely enough troops to garrison the Order’s forts. Would the Inner Circle rather have a nomad invasion next spring, or Phidestros’ head on a silver platter?”
Archpriest Danthor shrugged. “Both, probably. There is no end to their desires, real or pretend.”
“Exactly,” Soton roared. “I’ve spent the last three years fighting Kalvan and conquering Hos-Agrys. The cost has been abysmal; I’ve lost over twelve thousand Order troops, most of them irreplaceable. Our recruiters have to compete with depleted mercenary bands, Great King Lukthos’ muster parties and with Styphon’s Own Guard’s recruiting efforts—all here in the Sastragath or in Hos-Ktemnos since our enemies or neutrals control the other four kingdoms. So, from where am I supposed to gather this army that the Inner Circle wants me raise? It will have to be a big one in order to beard one of the greatest generals in the Five Kingdoms. Don’t they know that Phidestros took over twenty-five thousand veterans of the Fireseed Wars with him when he left Hos-Harphax to claim the Ivory Throne?”
“I doubt that they took that into consideration, Your Worthiness. Before the Usurper Kalvan arrived, the members of the Inner Circle never had to deal with such contingencies. Now, they hide their heads in the sand and make orders that only the gods could carry out.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Soton said, nodding his accord. “Take a seat, Danthor. Are the archpriests such fools as to believe that Great King Geblon will allow me passage through Hos-Harphax to attack his former master? Even if we were to travel to Hos-Zygros by boat, we would be forced to land on inhospitable shores that our enemy owns and rules. To successfully attack Phidestros, I would need at least fifty thousand well-trained soldiers and hundreds of big guns. Now, unless the Inner Circle has a sorcerer who can magically procure these items, there is no way that I can raise an army to fight in Hos-Zygros, even with all the gold in Balph at my disposal!”
The Archpriest nodded his agreement. “I will return with your words, although they will not be welcome to the Innermost Circle.”
Soton shook his head in wonderment. “What do these cow-faced morons think Kalvan will be doing if I hare off to fight Great King Phidestros? We just received word that King Theovacar has been murdered and his killers have made peace with Nos-Hostigos.”
“King Theovacar dead! This news has not yet reached Balph.”
“Of course not, we just learned about it ourselves. Apparently, there was a palace revolt and Theovacar’s nobles rose up against him, overthrew him and had him beheaded. Now, the Usurper Kalvan has lost his only enemy in the Upper Middle Kingdoms, and is free to resume his war against the Temple.”
“Will he strike soon, or bide his time?” Danthor asked.
Soton shrugged. “Only Styphon knows for sure. I suspect the Usurper will wait until next spring before he makes any military move against us. However, Kalvan has built his reputation on not doing what others have predicted that he might do. Our agents-inquisitory have told me that he has used this time of peace to rebuild his army and now more than two-thirds of his shot companies are armed with rifles.”
“That is very bad news. I will have to leave sooner than anticipated. Styphon's Voice Anaxthenes will want to know of this latest development.”
“Yes, and maybe it will make him reconsider his war against Phidestros. It would be the gods’ own disaster if Kalvan and Phidestros forged their wills together and became one against the Temple.”
“The very foundations of Balph tremble at the thought,” Danthor replied.
II
Kalvan realized, as he waited for Hestophes, he’d been out-maneuvered and out-flanked by the Return to Hostigos Party, but that in large part it was his own fault. He was the one who’d told Rylla that the major obstacle was King Theovacar and the Grefftscharr fleet. Once that threat had been neutralized—and had it ever!—well, he would either have had to change his position, which Rylla would never forgive him for, or make good on his word. The problem with making good on his word was that it would embroil the Kingdom in a major war that could go on for years.
Just as he was becoming accustomed to the peace of the last year, he had to give it up to make preparations to attack Tarr-Ceros. They’d had enough problems with that fortress during their previous siege; fortunately, now they had much better tools. It was too bad they hadn’t finished the job then, but Kalvan had faced other problems such as a nomad invasion and a Styphon’s House inspired invasion of Hos-Hostigos.
Kalvan used his tinderbox to light up his pipe and drew in some smoke. The problem was they were going to have to level Tarr-Ceros, which was the biggest and strongest castle here-and-now; it reminded him of one of the old Crusader fortresses, only bigger. Unfortunately, everyone was waiting for him to come up with another miracle, like last year’s Greek fire. Well, he didn’t have any new weapons to pull out of his hat, but they did have lots more cannons, as well as shells that only misfired two out of every ten times they were used, versus the older ones that went off prematurely, or not at all, one of out of every three or four times.
Plus, two-thirds of the Royal Army’s musketeers were now armed with rifles. That would help keep the Knights from skirmishing or attacking from sally ports.
He heard a knock at the door.
Tome in,” he said.
“Your Majesty,” Hestophes said as he entered the room, holding a large jar. “I figured if we were going to talk, we might need some of Ermut’s Best to lubricate the wheels of thought.”
Kalvan nodded. “Good idea.” While he had greatly decreased his input of spirits the last couple of years, a few drinks every once in a while didn’t seem to hurt. Maybe it would help allay some of the anxiety he was feeling over the latest turn of events.
While the Captain-General was filling their goblets, he said, “Hestophes, I know you’d rather stay with the army and help orchestrate our attack on Tarr-Ceros, but I don’t have anyone else with your credentials and background to negotiate a deal with Great King Phidestros.”
