John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

Verkan Vail was reviewing the last of the message balls on his horseshoe desk when his secretary buzzed. He looked out the big window and saw Ranthar Jard, still in his Aryan-Transpacific breastplate and morion helmet. I hope nothing bad happened to the Foundry party on their way to Nostor, Verkan thought. Even two years AK, After Kalvan, there were parts of Nostor where bandits and robber barons held sway, in anybody's book, a dangerous place for a party of academics. And, today of all days, Verkan did not need a dust-up with the University crowd. He was cleaning off his desk in preparation for a trip to Greffa, with Dalla along this time. It was as close to a holiday as they'd had since he'd taken over as Paratime Chief.

Lately, former Chief Tortha Karf, as Trader Tortha, was spending more time on Kalvan's Time-line than he was. And that struck him as awfully unfair.

Ranthar practically ran into the room, shaking his head.

"What's up?"

"Chief, we've got problems. A group of Phaxosi soldiers hit the Nostor Foundry party-"

So much for this vacation. Any foul-up involving the Kalvan Study Team was a possible public relations disaster. "How are the Study Team members? Any losses or serious injuries?"

"No, Chief. A few cuts and abrasions, but there were no serious injuries, except some hurt pride. And we know who they're going to take that out on, don't we?"

Verkan expelled his breath. "Well, that's good news. I guess."

Ranthar laughed. "I wouldn't have lost any sleep over it, if Talgran Dreth or Varnath Lala had taken a lead pill!"

"I would have, think of all the forms we'd of had to fill out."

Ranthar slapped his head. "Forgot about that. Sorry, but that's all the good news. The bad news is that Rylla is going to use this as an excuse to declare war on Prince Araxes of Phaxos!"

"While Kalvan's away, fighting the nomads." Verkan paused to whistle. "Rylla could blow the lid off Hostigos' relations with both Hos-Agrys and Hos-Zygros; to say nothing of all the other princes and barons who will see this as evidence of Kalvan's empire building. On top of that, there's no real precedent for women generals on Aryan-Transpacific; if Rylla fails in her attack, she makes Hostigos-and by extension-Kalvan a laughing stock. If she wins, it could be good publicity; plenty humiliating for the Styphoni, but there's more to lose than to gain here. Or else prove that Kalvan can't maintain control in both the bedroom and the battlefield. He loses either way. Does Kalvan know?"

"No. And, thanks to some of Ermut's Best, at the Silver Stag I learned that she's not about to tell him. Of course, Rylla has good old Sarrask of Sask, as he told me with great pride, firmly in her corner."

"Ouch. He's a good fighter, but not much of a thinker. Can we get word to Kalvan of her plans?"

"Not without disrupting his work in the Trygath, where he's most needed. You got my message ball about Kalvan recognizing Nestros as Great King of Hos-Rathon?"

"Yes, I wondered about the advisability of that move," Verkan said.

"It seems that was Nestros' price for joining forces with Kalvan against the nomads."

"Cheeky bastard, isn't he! I think Nestros is letting the short term benefits outweigh the long-term liabilities. Wait until Styphon's House learns they have a 'new' Great Kingdom along their western border. Maybe it will work to Kalvan's benefit; certainly, he's found a reliable ally-at last. Now, if only Nestros can fight!"

"He's done a good job with the kingdom of Rathon, which was about half its present size at the death of his father. That expansion proves he can fight. And these nomad invasions are almost a yearly phenomenon in the Trygathi hinterlands. We'll know before long, Chief.

"Just before I left, I got a radio message from Dalon Sath that Kalvan and Nestros have taken to the field. A lot of Kalvan's strays have caught up, thanks to the delay. It looks like between the Army of the Trygath and the Hos-Rathon Army they have fielded over sixty thousand soldiers."

"But will that be enough? Latest visual confirmation and computer projection of the nomad army estimates the main nomad horde to contain close to two hundred and fifty thousand fighting men."

"I hadn't heard those figures. If Kalvan's not careful, he could end up in hot water all the way up to his chin. Is there anything we can do to help?"

Verkan shook his head. "My hands are tied. We've already come close enough to Transtemporal Contamination on Kalvan Prime, so a few well-placed lightning strikes-or Thanor's bolts, as the Urgothi clansmen call them-are out of the picture. Kalvan's on his own this time.

Ranjar Sargos shook his head in frustration, as the gaily-decorated war-wagon jerked its way up the hillside. The brightly painted warwagon was a flatbed wagon pulled by four sacred white horses; there was a mast with a crossbeam from which hung a white banner with a black raven-the Raven Tribe's banner. A number of his Tribesmen, led by Warchief Vanar Halgoth, had formed a Raven Cult to worship the Raven Hag of War. At the top of the mast was a jawless cow skull, with both horns sheathed in hammered gold. At both sides of the front of the wagon were red poles, topped with impaled human skulls, the domes festooned with red, blue and yellow colored streamers.

How could Sargos mount an attack with more than a quarter of his force two to four days away, foraging for food for this marching belly of an army? An army, which, when it wasn't bickering among itself, was belching in hunger. His advance scouts had just reported that Kalvan's Army was less than a day's ride away! Already, entire tribes were breaking off so that they could have the 'honor' of being first in battle. Next it would be clans leaving, if he did not call the War Council soon.

Sargos turned to his second-in-command, Warchief Ulldar Zodan. "How do we proceed against the dirtmen?"

Ulldar's beaked-nose face was covered with war paint in runic designs. Upon his head sat a horned helmet, his long gray hair hanging behind in a braided queue. "The Easterners will try to pick the battleground. It is their way. They wish to concentrate their firepower, since they are outnumbered. The Daemon Kalvan, unlike most of the Eastern Lords, has horses to drag his large guns with him-they are the most dangerous, as they are packed with chains and metal scrap. One shot can empty two-score of saddles."

"Then we must bring Kalvan to us, not go to him."

"Warlord, that is easier to say than to do. While our army is great in number, they are poor in what the Easterner's call 'discipline.'"

Sargos nodded. "There is much truth in your words, Warchief Ulldar. Maybe we can use our hotheads to cover our movements. Allow those without patience to blunt Kalvan's swords."

"There is much wisdom in this path." Warchief Ulldar, grabbed hold of the side of the wagon for support, as it traversed an especially bumpy stretch of terrain. "The Daemon Kalvan is a master of the arts of war. It will be most difficult to draw him into an ambush. Instead, let us pick a spot where our superior numbers will take the day. Men die just as easily from arrows and darts as they do from 'bullets.' Kalvan may have the gods' favor, but his soldiers are men like any other."

"Kalvan is not the only one who is touched by the gods," Sargos cried, thumping his chest.

Once again, the war wagon lurched from side to side and Sargos held tightly to keep his balance.

"We all pray, Warlord, that your medicine is stronger than the Daemon Kalvan's." Like many chiefs, Ulldar was also a wizard and healer.

"You speak the truth. But, unlike Kalvan, we do not have the gift of time. Our warriors grow more unruly every day, and entire clans threaten to desert us. But many remain who are willing to sacrifice their lives in their lust for glory and loot. It is up to us to spend them wisely."