John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

Kyblannos said, "They've got some real good brass casters and founders up in Hos-Zygros, and with the Captain-General's help maybe we can get us a crew or two."

"Done!" Phidestros said. It was time to cash in some of his markers. He was no longer a ne'r-do-well byblow of the Royal family, but a man of substance. Commander-and-chief of the biggest standing Royal Army outside of Hos-Hostigos.

"Also, I'm not going to have time to run the Iron Band anymore and do all this training. I've already got my replacement all broken in," he smiled openly. "Right Geblon."

"We'll promote Geblon to Grand-Captain of the Iron Band, if that's what you want."

Geblon looked as if he'd just been given his pick of the loot in King Kalvan's treasury. "Thank you, Captain-General. And you, too Kyblannos!"

"Kyblannos, as of today you are now Grand-Captain of the Royal Artillery Regiment of Hos-Harphax. All mercenary artillery units will also be brought under your command, including all guns, rammers, wagons, tools and powder magazines. You can recruit any of the gunners worth their salt. We'll use the gold Archpriest Grythos so generously offered to pay off their captains."

The Archpriest nodded sagely.

Kyblannos rubbed his hands together. "Thank you, as well, Archpriest!"

"In return I only want one thing." Phidestros paused to point to the growing orange glow off to the north. "Next year I want that to be Hostigos Town!"

Summer heat had come as the allied armies moved south toward the Lydistros River. The rain had not stopped completely, but it had diminished. So had the depth of the streams and the mud. While saddling up that morning, Kalvan had received a message from General Alkides, who had ridden ahead to the banks of the Lydistros to meet the boats coming downriver from Kyblos.

Chancellor Chartiphon, who had a talent for stating the obvious, said, "The high water has left no shallows and few rapids. It has also left less dry ground than one could wish. However, we may thank the gods for this, too. Prisoners say that the Zarthani Knights have withdrawn most of their river galleys and other vessels to Tarr-Ceros."

Thank the gods indeed, thought Kalvan. Counting bottoms, the Zarthani Knights had the second-largest navy here-and-now. Few of their ships could navigate beyond the mouths of the Great River, but they didn't need to. The rivers of the Sastragath, the Dellos (Tennessee) and Ellystros (Alabama) systems, were their domains.

Captain-General Harmakros was less grateful for what he saw as dubious favors. "His Grand Craftiness Soton may just be planning to lure us across the river. Then he can strike us bogged down before the fortress of Tarr-Ceros with the river at our backs."

Harmakros' son, Aspasthar, was seated next to Kalvan, but his eyes were on his father.

Prince Ptosphes, who was lighting his pipe, added, "You have to watch that one. He'd love to get us caught between Tarr-Ceros and his ships."

"We'll play that one by ear when we reach the Lydistros," Kalvan said. "Meanwhile, I won't have to answer to the Kyblosi for wrecked boats and drowned subjects."

Harmakros cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, I suggest we decide beforehand. Right now the Sastragathi see us as a gift from the gods. We give them hope of final vengeance on their ancient foes. If we don't cross the Lydistros and besiege Tarr-Ceros, the alliance may wash away down the river with the snags and dead pigs."

"We shall see," Kalvan replied. Now he wished he'd delayed his meeting to question Harmakros more closely. He should have remembered that Harmakros had commanded Sastragathi irregulars in the original Army of Observation, during the Year of the Wolf. The Captain-General knew more about handling them than his Great King, who was so damned tired he forgot to listen to advice even when he had it ready to hand.

Suddenly sheet lightning played along the darkening western sky. At the foot of the hill torches flared, drawing sparks of light from the mountain of armor, weapons and equipment left by the fleeing Knights. The big guns were destroyed and most of the swords blunted, but there was enough left to equip an army, and that fact hadn't escaped the nomad warriors. They were swarming over the piles like ants on a heap of honey.

Shouts of anger joined the shouts of triumph. Kalvan recognized Trygathi accents. He signaled to Colonel Krynos, his aide-de-camp. "Take a troop of Horse Guard and find out what's happening down there!"

Krynos took sixty men, leaving the rest around Kalvan. The Great King dismounted to spare his horse. If the united host didn't end its campaign with everybody walking and half of them barefoot, it would be Tranth's own miracle.

Kronos and the Royal Horse Guard rode up as the shouts reached a climax, then faded. Minutes later the shouting began anew.

A messenger breasted the hill, flinging himself out of his saddle as he reached Kalvan. "Your Majesty. The Sastragathi wish to claim all the Knights' gear, against your orders. They said they're under orders from Warlord Sargos, and you had promised them first choice."

"Dralm-damnit!" Kalvan growled. "First choice" was a fair offer to the unarmored, sometimes unclothed nomads. It wasn't the same as "everything," but try to tell that to an inflamed Sastragathi warrior! It was like telling a hungry wolf to take only one bite.

Captain-General Harmakros was carefully avoiding looking at his Great King. Then he turned in the saddle, and Kalvan saw his I-told-you-so expression, quickly replaced by surprise. A moment later Kalvan knew he must be matching expressions with Harmakros.

Sargos himself was riding up the hill. The Warlord rode at the head of a gaggle of his guards and subchiefs. Maybe they thought they were keeping a precise formation, but Kalvan couldn't tell which was the main body and which were the stragglers.

"Great King Kalvan! Is this the way you keep your promise to the clans? Your men have laid hands on mine, to keep them from there due. A great treasure lies down there! Will you have us put it to use, or have blood-feud with the tribes and clans?"

"I might ask you the same question," Kalvan replied, more patiently than he felt. Not all of the impatience was with Sargos either. "If blood has been shed, it was without my orders or consent and against my will. Those who shed the blood of tribesmen will be punished (tough luck, Krynos, but you were sent to find out what the trouble was, not to make it worse) and a blood-price will be paid."

"Will blood money guard the backs of men from the Black Knights' swords?" someone cried in a high-pitched voice. Kalvan saw that Sargos' teenage son Larkander was riding with his father tonight.

"No," Kalvan said, raising his voice to keep the argument from turning into a mob scene. There was too much steel and firepower to make this safe; one hothead could blow the alliance sky-high.

"No," he repeated. When Kalvan saw that the nomads were giving him at least half the attention a Great King deserved, he continued, "Yet not all the bare backs are tribesmen. Will not men of the Trygath fight better against our common foe with armor and weapons from the pile down there."

"We of the tribes have fought the Black Knights longer," one of the chief's said.

"This is well known. Yet if the Zarthani Knights are cast down from their castles and the land cleansed of Styphon's minions, who loses? If they survive to fight us again, who wins? Let us all join together and fight as one army."

Kalvan rested his hand on the butt of his pistol; the gold and silver chasing sparkled with each lightning burst. It was a presentation weapon from the Hostigos Gunsmiths' Guild, an unsuccessful effort to prove that they could produce elegant weapons quickly.