Gunpowder God (44 page)

Soton paused to let everyone drink that in. Then he told them that two hundred winters ago, the Princedom of Kelos had been a part of Hos-Zygros until one of Prince Bosphros’ ancestors, Duke Valmestros, fomented a rebellion. Valmestros, with support from the Great King of Hos-Agrys, overthrew his Zygrosi overlord and ceded it to Hos-Agrys. For his treachery, he was made Prince of Kelos. Due to their much smaller army, there was little Hos-Zygros could do to redress this wrong.

He finished: “I have promised Eudocles that we will return Kelos to Hos-Zygros in exchange for his aid. He will strike at a time of my choosing.”

“Praise Styphon!” Zythannes cried. “A stab in the back from Eudocles’ army could change the course of the war and destroy our enemies’ morale. A brilliant plan, Grand Master Soton. I propose a toast to Styphon’s Hammer!”

“Aye, aye.”

When the toasting and boasting had quieted down, Soton resumed, “Since we do not know how many men the Usurper will be sending, it is urgent that we begin our conquest of Hos-Agrys as quickly as possible. Kalvan will have to send his forces by ship from Thagnor across the Aesklos Sea to Alssa, where there is a port, since Ulthor Port is in ruins and Glarth Town was destroyed last summer. From there, they will have to move overland about a thousand marches to join up with the League’s Army. This will take time, close to a moon or more.

“It is my will that we start our campaign before this moon quarter ends.”

There were gasps from around the room.

“The Agrys River is still swollen with water from the spring melt,” Prince Simias complained.

“We will not use the river, as our enemies will suspect. Instead the Host will move northwest through Cythor and Arbelon and strike Zcynos Town.”

“Yes,” nodded Prince Simias. “Let us kill the traitor Aesklos first.”

Soton smiled. “Once Zcynos has been brought to heel, we can let Investigator Roxthar and his minions feast on its carcass while we take the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance through the Princedom of Kelos and into Meligos. By then Kelos should be under Eudocles’ rule and we will have no resistance on our way to Meligos.”

“What about the League of Dralm, Grand Master?” Knight Commander Orocles asked.

Soton went over to the large deerskin map of Hos-Agrys that covered a good part of one wall. He took out his saber and pointed out the route he had just gone through. “This is not the invasion route the League will be expecting us to follow. Traditionally, armies from Agrys City have followed the Agrys River up through Cythor and into Meligos, or have gone west into Kryphlon where the Union of Styphon’s Friends’ Army is headquartered. I believe they will expect us to follow that route in order to combine forces with the Union Army.

“Would that be your strategy, if you were the League’s commander, Eukides?”

Captain-General Eukides said, “Yes, that’s the route I would have followed had you not suggested the more difficult coastal route. Furthermore, the League will not be prepared for an attack at that time; they will not expect the Host to begin its movement until the rivers have stopped swelling.”

“Exactly,” Soton said. “What I want you to do, right after this Council, is to travel to Kryphlon City and prepare the Union forces for an attack upon Varthon. Bypass the interior, which is mostly unsettled, and take the Union Army straight to Varthon Town. Since the League of Dralm’s forces wintered in Eubros, they will not be in a position to stop you until it is too late. By the time word reaches them of your siege of Varthon Town, they will be more worried about the Host which should by then be in the Princedom of Zcynos.”

“Excellent plan, Grand Master. Divide and destroy.”

“That’s the plan. After you take Varthon Town, I want you to burn it to the ground, like I did with Glarth Town. Then go south into Eubros. If the League’s Army has already left the Princedom of Eubros, then destroy Eubros Town and everything in between. If not, defeat the League’s Army. I will have Roxthar and his Investigators go with you to ensure that no Dralm worshippers get out alive.”

Plus
, he thought to himself,
it will get that pest out of my beard. Let Roxthar do his evil well out of my sight. His day of reckoning is coming soon enough
.

“Once you have pacified Varthon and Eubros you can go into Glarth and retake it for Styphon’s Glory.”

“What do we do if we run into Kalvan’s Army?”

“If they number more than the League’s forces, retreat and wait until they pass. If the Hostigi chase you, do not engage. Instead, lead them to us. Let your infantry escape into the woods, a company at a time, and lead the Hostigi with your cavalry. If I know Kalvan, he will not only bring his infantry but gun batteries. You should have no trouble evading them. However, if they out-flank you, bring them to battle and kill as many as you can. You will all earn a prominent place in the Wargod’s Hall.”

“To Styphon and Galzar!” Orocles cried.

“To Victory!” the room sounded as if from one great voice.

Before leaving the council chamber, Soton motioned for Knight Commander Orocles, Captain-General Eukides and Horse Master Sarmoth to follow him to his private audience chamber. When everyone was seated, he opened, “I believe that went well.”

They nodded in accord.

“I’m sure you both are curious as to why I invited you to a private audience so I’ll get right to the point. I want this war over quickly and decisively. To that end, I want both Commander Orocles and Master Sarmoth to be my eyes and ears in advance of the Host. I’ve already talked with Archpriest Heraclestros who was sent here by Styphon’s Voice to replace Highpriest Haltor, whom Demistophon murdered. Using Styphon’s couriers, Heraclestros has sent messages to the High-priest of Zcynos City and our banking houses in that city to use our gold to subvert the local princes and raise up the townsfolk in riots and insurrection.

“Commander Orocles, I want you to lead four thousand advance cavalry to take advantage of whatever discord and civil unrest that our gold has provoked. I also want you to raid the local farmers and merchants and establish supply depots so that we will have additional victuals at hand. This was a tough winter for both Hos-Agrys and Hos-Ktemnos, with ongoing troubles in both kingdoms. I do not want to waste time waiting for our food stocks to be resupplied by ship so I will need depots set up ahead of the Host. This is your primary objective, Commander—even more important than sowing discord among the enemy. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Orocles said, “But, Grand Master, travel along the Agrysi coastline is difficult; there are many hills and mountains in the way and the low-lying roads are probably still flooded.”

Soton nodded. “I know all this, but advancing along the coast is the last route that the Agrysi will expect us to take. Remember, surprise is an important part of any successful battle or campaign. This is why I need an advance party to set up supply depots and reconnoiter the way. The success of our mission is upon your shoulders.”

Both men nodded.

“What if the League of Dralm uses your absence from Agrys City to retake it?” Orocles asked.

“First, the League will have to dispatch the Union of Styphon’s Friends before they can mount a siege. In addition, I will leave a sufficient garrison to delay any siege until our return.”

Orocles shrugged his shoulders in surrender.

Soton suspected he’d rather stay in Agrys City and sample its pleasures rather than spend several moons with the advance party traveling over hill and vale.

“Horse Master Sarmoth will be my ears and mouth; I want him to contact our intelligencers and direct their energies into destabilizing the Princedoms of Zcynos and Kelos. If you can cause enough disruption and worry, it will keep some of the less loyal dukes and barons at home instead of in the field with their levy aiding their prince and the League of Dralm.”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied in unison.

“Good. It is my intent to make this war a quick and decisive one. I’ve already wasted one winter in this gods-forsaken land, when the Order needed me back on the frontier. I don’t intend to waste another one. I intend to spend next winter at Tarr-Ceros. If we wrap this war up and invest every princedom with a loyal prince, I see no reason why I can’t be on my way by fall.

“You two can leave, I have other matters to discuss with the Captain-General.”

After the other two left his command headquarters, Soton rose up to clasp shoulders with Eukides. “It’s good to see you once again.”

The Captain-General smiled. “The last time I saw you, sir, you were but a pup! I have heard much about your military successes since those days when we fought together in Hos-Bletha against the False King Halvros.”

Soton smiled. “Those were good times. We knew our enemy well and he was a worthy opponent; none of this killing women and children in the name of the gods. Fah!” He smashed his hands together as though squishing a rat. “Sometimes, this war of the gods disgusts me.

Eukides nodded. “From the reports I’ve heard, and I dare say I’m tempted not to believe half of what I hear, this war has dishonored us all.”

“I’m glad you’re a plainspoken man, like myself, Captain-General. Too many of these priests and princes use words like cloaks to camouflage their nefarious schemes and plots. The truth is those reports are not exaggerated; this blasted Investigation is a canker on the arse of the world.”

Eukides drew back, his face drawn and pale. “So it is true. Priests are killing and torturing women, children and defenseless serfs!”

“Every malicious word, every rumor is true. I’ve seen things that make sleep a distant memory. These white-robed priests have defiled war as we have known it, using it as an excuse to torture and maim the innocent. Galzar Himself must be retching from his Sky-Throne to the bottom of his guts. If it wasn’t for my oath of office and duty, I would march off into the Sea of Grass to a blessed oblivion. In the name of Styphon, I have committed acts that will stain my honor till the end of all winters.”

General Eukides fell back into a chair. “What little zeal I had for this war has now departed.”

“Like me, you will do your duty,” Soton stated flatly. “I have found through long experience it is better to be forewarned than taken by surprise.”

Eukides, who looked as if he’d aged a decade or more, slumped down in his chair.

“As grand commander, there are things I need to know. Captain-General, what is your view of Prince Simias?”

The old man spat on the floor. “A popinjay, a pimp, a wastrel, a blackguard… none of these words are strong enough. If it weren’t for the direct orders of Prince Varion, I would have never left my estates. I’m oath-bound to follow my Prince, but I’ll be damned if I’ll swear any oath to that whoreson Simias!”

Soton nodded. “I feared as much. His disregard of his vassals and the attention he paid to his appearance speaks volumes. You will have to work around him, rather than with him I fear. I will send you Archpriest Grythos—”

“Not another Archpriest!” Eukides interrupted.

Soton made quieting motions with his hands. “Grythos was a former Knight Commander with my Order. He was a good leader, but enjoyed killing too much for my peace of mind. Unless ransomed, few of those he took prisoner survived the experience. Still, he retains more knowledge of warfare than Prince Simias will learn if he lives three lifetimes.

“As far as Archpriest Roxthar, he will be your burden. He will attempt to wrest command of the Union, its army and anything else within his grasp. This is another reason I will order Archpriest Grythos to join you. He is not easily intimidated by Roxthar’s rants as there is no love between the two of them.”

Straightening up, Eukides said, “Win or lose, this will be my last command. I’ve already informed Prince Varion of my decision.”

Soton sighed. “I wish I could say likewise.”

T
he Black Horse Tavern in Thagnor City was crowded with soldiers and their hangers-on: ladies of the night, gamblers, bone tossers, knaves, blackguards and sharpers of every stripe. It was one of many soldiers’ inns and taverns in the city where the Great King had posted muster lists for volunteers for the war against Styphon’s House in Hos-Agrys. Syllon had come from his farm, not only for the drink, but to sign his mark.

Not that he cared a rotten fig about Hos-Agrys or their pusillanimous League of Dralm.
Where were they when we were thrown out of Hostigos?
he asked himself. Except for Duke Mnestros and his small contingent—nowhere.
To Regwarn’s Caverns with the lot of them!

Regardless, he was no kind of a farmer. He was tired of harvesting rocks not grain; instead of a tiller of fields, he was a killer of fields. For some reason, everything he planted came up stunted, or died. Maybe it was the bad soil; that’s what his neighbors claimed. Yet, they managed to wrest crops from the same miserable ground. So he knew it must be a sign from the Wargod.

The Thagnori widow he had married in the fall, during the victory celebrations, had left him after the winter wheat had all died. He had nothing left here but barren, rocky ground. It was time to do what he did best—break things and kill people.

Syllon knew the gods who had spared his life had something in mind for him. He was one of the Veterans of the Long March, after Prince Ptosphes’s defeat at Tenabra, and had fought at the battles of Fyk, Chothros Heights, Phyrax and Ardros. During the Battle of Ardros Field, he had taken a blow to the head from a warhorse’s hooves which had caved in part of his skull. He had been left on the battlefield for dead. He could still remember his vision when he visited Galzar’s Great Hall and met with his dead friends and comrades….

He had fallen down the white tunnel into a long great hall where he saw long departed friends and family. “Where am I?” he had asked. They had smiled, patted him on the shoulder, then taken him before a huge hearth, made of rich marble with gold veins. It had been more magnificent than any hearth Syllon had ever seen, even the Great King’s. A giant with a wolf’s head had turned away from the fire, haloed by the light, and had toasted him with a skull-cup of ale. The wolf’s eyes had burned like red-hot coals. Soldiers filled the Great Hall, some in armor unlike any he had ever seen, some who had fought at his side. “So this is Galzar’s Great Hall,” he had told himself. He had taken the skull-cup and begun to drink….