John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

"General Alkides!" Kalvan called downhill. "Is the flying battery ready to move?"

"With Galzar's favor, yes," the smoke-blackened artillery general replied. "I wish the guns really did have wings. This cursed mud's going to butcher the horses!"

"Not half as fast as those guns will butcher Sargos' warriors," Kalvan called back. The gun crews cheered their Great King's words. That started a chant of'Down Styphon!' mixed in with 'Down Sargos!'

There were only eight guns for the Flying Battery; three more were in emplacements and one had been lost in a swamp on the Nyklos Trail. As much as he wished for another battery or two, with maybe some six or eight-pounders, the Flying Battery was a far cry from the half a dozen catapults the enemy was using.

Kalvan walked over to General Alkides and asked quietly. "How is Great Captain Mylissos doing?" Nestros' chief of artillery had started the day a bit peevish over the council of war. It had been agreed that his ancient bombards would remain with the reserves, and not try to advance with the major attacks. Kalvan could even sympathize with him; after all, it was the first time in memory that Mylissos actually had enough fireseed to fire his massive hooped-iron pipes more than once or twice without exhausting his powder magazines.

"A sight happier than he was, now that he's got targets and fireseed to burn on them. I think he shifted a couple of those twenty-pound bombards without orders, but I'm not complaining. A twenty-pounder loaded with rocks and old nails isn't something I would care to face!"

Kalvan would have liked to have said more, mostly to Aspasthar. The boy was fighting his first battle away from his father, riding with Alkides as one of his messengers. But the boy looked as if he would take the encouragement as an insult, and by Dralm, there was Nestros and his guards in their red and white colors coming up the other side of the hill!

By abandoning royal dignity and running back to his horse, Kalvan was mounted by the time Nestros reined in and hailed him.

"Greetings, friend and ally! We are smiting the horde as if the gods themselves fought for us!"

So we are. Maybe too hard. Corpses can't fight the Zarthani Knights. Thank somebody for Ranjar Sargos. He made the horde more dangerous, but if we had to take the surrender of every petty chief one at a time we'd be here until winter!

A Hostigi messenger rode up and saluted both kings. "The lookouts in the Willow Spirit Grove report that Warlord Sargos is advancing on the Grove. They spotted his banner, the black raven on a white field."

"Tell them to wait as long as they can, and imitate a strong force meanwhile," Nestros said. "Then they can withdraw. Meanwhile, Sargos will be drawn forward, perhaps we can meet him hand-to-hand!"

Kalvan and Captain-General Harmakros exchanged amused looks. Nestros was no fool; he was familiar with feints and deceptions. At heart, though, he was also an old-style Trygathi warrior, whose highest ambition had to be meeting the opposing leader hand-to-hand and defeating him.

"As the gods will it," Harmakros said. Kalvan decided to let his Captain-General speak, even if protocol said he should be talking King-to-King. Even four-star generals needed something to take their minds off their sons' winning their spurs-or their shrouds.

"The gods willed that Sargos should be a fool," Nestros said cheerfully. "They also willed that Kalvan should come and bring his fireseed and strength to join ours. I think they will give us this one more small favor."

Kalvan doubted the accuracy of Nestros' description of his opponent. The Warlord had pulled his chariots back the moment he realized the ground was too muddy to let them get up speed. He still had his in reserve, while the other chiefs had mostly lost chariots, riders and teams together.

"Let the gods will that all our men hold their fire until they have a clear target, and that they be an enemy," Kalvan said. "We have more fireseed than any army ever seen in the Trygath, but not yet enough to waste!"

"My men are not children," Nestros said with offended dignity.

"Then let the heralds sound for the advance," Kalvan said. Both kings looked at Harmakros; he signaled the trumpeter. The brazen voice sounded, was picked up and relayed, triggering the launching of two signal rockets.

When the green rockets rose into the sky over Grax Hill, six thousand reserve cavalry would be launched at the heart of Sargos' army.

Sargos flung a javelin high into the willow branches. A scream rewarded him; an enemy lookout toppled from his perch and lay writhing until an archer dispatched him with a knife.

The heavy thud of many horses on the move reached the Warlord over the noise of his warriors clearing the willow grove of enemies. Sargos jerked his horse around and drew his last javelin from its leather bucket next to his right stirrup. His household guards followed suit, and the whole band streamed at a canter around the left side of the grove. He had left the warwagons behind with the reserve, three thousand heavy lancers-mostly hillmen, and six hundred chariots that were as useful on these muddy fields as udders on an ox. Warchief Vanar Halgoth and his Raven Cult berserkers were beating upon their shields and screaming taunts into the air. Althea and Headman Jardar Hyphos were on the move with twelve thousand light archers, most armed with horn bows and leather armor. Sargos didn't hold them in high regard, since they were as wheat before Kalvan's steel scythe of iron hats and cannon, or fire tubes as the tribesmen called them.

Ah, would that I had men to be my eyes and ears on parts of the field I cannot reach myself. Such is Kalvan's way, or so the prisoners have told us. Yet how could they reach me, in the midst of my foes, to bear their messages? To remain in the rear, merely so that I may know more-that is a coward's way and no warrior would follow me.

A contrary voice in Sargos' mind muttered, Kalvan leads that way, as often as not, and who says that those who follow him are not warriors? Enough of your warriors are with Wind after meeting them!

Clear of the willows, Sargos reined in and stared in disbelief. Riding down the hill in the enemy's center moved two mighty bands of armored horsemen, like vast steel-scaled serpents. Toward the head of each band floated banners, the red and white colors of King Nestros and the maroon and green of King Kalvan.

So Kalvan will take his chance of joining the spirits today? Well and good.

As Sargos prepared to charge, he saw Althea riding up to him shouting, "There you are!"

Sargos smiled and lifted his arms. "To victory, or to death!"

"If you don't wait until my archers arrive, it will be death from my bow!"

Sargos gave Althea a smile that forced her to sit back in her saddle. "Now, you will have your chance to proof your archers, my dear. They will test their mettle on Kalvan's armor."

Althea put her hand up holding a short arrow with a wedge point. "These barbs have been tested against the Black Knights! Now let Kalvan choke upon them."

Sargos laughed! "If I should die today, we will meet again in the Hall of Heroes!"

Althea leaned over and bussed him on the cheek, saying, "Together, my hero. If you fall, I will die avenging you!"

Before Sargos could reply, Headman Hyphos rode up at the head of a small army of mounted archers. He waved his spear. Sargos called Hyphos over, "The Kings are coming. Let us join them. If Kalvan falls, his army will die!" Sargos knew that statement was true with a certainty that told him it had been delivered by the gods.

Ranjar Sargos stood tall in his stirrups. "Hyphos, send the archers to the flank. Sting them good! Halgoth tell your berserks to follow me. Ikkos and Trancyles, ride like the wind and bring in all the warriors Chiefs Ruflos and Egthrad can spare! Tell Warchief Ulldar it's time to use the reserve."