John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

His own mouth was dry as dust and he felt the accelerated pulse of the rage as it coursed through his body. Vanar pulled a piece of jerky out of his pouch and began to chew. He fought down the urge to yank out his sword and charge into the enemy lines. He did not like this new way of fighting, but it was King Kalvan's way and the path his overlord ordered him to follow.

He watched as one of Kalvan's aides galloped up and talked hurriedly to the Great King, pointing furiously at the Hostigi left wing. Vanar gave the hand signal for the Guard to mount up on the double. Before the last of his men had taken their mounts from the horse handlers, Kalvan had signaled him and his regular cavalry guard to follow. He heard the Great King shouting, but all he could understand was the last word, "Charge!"

Kalvan was headed straight into a group of cavalry with iron scales. He made a quick prayer of thanksgiving to the Raven Hag of War and jumped into the fray behind his overlord. One of the scaled Ros-Zarthani cavalry aimed a wicked looking barbed dart at the Great King, but before he could throw it, Vanar's battleaxe cleaved his helmet, leaving a trail of blood and brains. Moments later he was at his King's side, wrestling a lance out of a cuirassier's arms. He looked over at Kalvan and smiled-life didn't get much better than this!

Suddenly a company of Styphon's Guard, wearing fancy red capes and silver armor, surrounded the King. Vanar usually only had contempt for soldiers who spent money on fancy armor and weapons, but these red birds appeared to have sharp beaks and talons as well as finery. He couldn't wait to test their claws against his battleaxe!

"To the King!" he shouted, as he bashed his battleaxe into the shoulder of a Red Hand, taking the man's entire arm off. Then all was lost in a red haze of killing and battle lust.

Rylla turned quickly in her saddle at the sound of someone running and raised her horsepistol. She quickly lowered it as she recognized green and gold plumes and the gilded armor of Prince Sarrask of S ask, moving with surprising quickness for someone so big. When Sarrask reached her horse, he paused to remove his gilded and engraved burgonet and catch his breath.

"Your Majesty, these slime-sucking Styphoni have broken our right wing!

Rylla felt her stomach fall. Would the right wing have broken had she held her position? "Dralm-damn the baggage train!" How would she ever explain this to Kalvan? She thought quickly, What to do? What to do? It had taken what seemed to be a complete candle to re-assemble the reserve from the baggage train botchery. All the dragoons were here and about two-thirds of the regular cavalry.

The rest were still chasing the false Sastragathi. With growing apprehension, Rylla led her command back up the hillside. At the top her worst fears were confirmed.

The entire right wing was gone, no sign of Hestophes or any of his troops. Kalvan's flood was supposed to kill only the Styphoni, but it appeared from the number of bodies that much of both armies had died in what was now a muddy swamp. What remained of the Hostigi left wing was retreating through a defile ahead of several thousand Ros-Zarthani cavalry. A lane of dead and wounded marked their passage. Only the center was still holding and it was about to be encircled by the Red Hand.

Rylla stifled a sharp sob, grasped the hilt of her saber so hard she could feel the metal cut her hand, then raised her sword and shouted, "Charge!"

She didn't wait to see if anyone followed but charged blindly down the hillside with Prince Sarrask at her side toward the hated Red Hand. She looked for her husband's banner but it was nowhere to be seen. Had she lost her only love as well?

She felt her horse stumble and would have fallen from the saddle but for Sarrask's firm hand. His face was a terrible mask of anger and vengeance and she was truly glad he was on her side. She knew her own face mirrored Sarrask's.

When they reached the Red Hand, her sword arm fell and slashed until it was as dead of feeling as her heart. She must have killed a dozen Temple Guard before they realized that they were being attacked from behind. Suddenly glaives were falling like scythes at harvest time and Rylla's saber was knocked out of her hand. She pulled a loaded pistol out of her sash and shot the silver helmeted Guardsman in the mouth. Then she heard her horse scream, threw her pistol at another red-cloaked Guardsman, and wrestled two more pistols from her saddle holsters.

Rylla looked around and saw she was separated from the rest of her command by an inlet of red. She dodged a glaive thrust and used one of her boot guns to shoot the Guardsman in the face. Something hard struck her breastplate, and for a moment, she thought she was going to be knocked off her horse. Then she caught her balance, righted herself and used her last bullet to take out another Guardsman. Finally, Rylla grabbed the pistol by the barrel and began to use it as a club.

She would take as many of these red devils with her as she could. Yes, there would be fine company this eve in Hadron's Great Hall!

A miasma of anxiety and worry lay over the Foundry quarters like a thick blanket of fog. The sky was filled with broiling dark clouds, and every few minutes sheet lightning would light up the sky. In the far distance Sirna could hear the distant roll of cannons, or maybe thunder-she couldn't be sure.

The normal clanging, banging and thrumming of the Foundry were absent. Many of the workers belonged to the Hostigos Militia and were off to fight the Grand Host; others had sons or brothers who were off to war and might not be coming home. Even the Study Team members were sticking to their quarters, avoiding the common rooms of the two-story stone farmhouse.

Sirna put down the sweater she'd been knitting to relieve the tedium, and went downstairs to the first floor dining area. Mrytta, the housekeeper, usually kept a pot of sassafras tea on the stove. Everyone but Varnath Lala allowed Mrytta to clean their rooms; the famed Metallurgist refused to promote sexual stereotyping "in any of its myriad of corrupting guises" and as a result her personal quarters looked like a pigsty. The only person sitting at the long plank table was Aranth Sain who was busy taking apart a long flintlock pistol and cleaning it.

"Do you mind?" she asked, pointing to a seat.

"No. Could use the company. This waiting is hard on everyone. I'd be down in the basement with Kirv watching the fighting on the sky-eye feed, but I'm not cleared for access. Although to be fair to Kirv-who's really a decent sort-if he let me into the basement, he'd have to let everyone else on the Study Team-"

"And that would be a disaster!" they both said in unison, laughing afterwards.

"What do you think of Kalvan's chances?" Sirna asked.

"He's got the advantage of fighting in his own backyard and the best man-for-man army in the Six Kingdoms. His biggest problem is sheer numbers. Kalvan wins one battle and Styphon's House throws twice as many troops at him on the next go-around. See, they know they can lose a hundred battles and still be in the game, but the moment Kalvan loses once-" Sain threw out his hands and brought them together with a loud bang! "Well, that's the end of Hos-Hostigos. Problem solved."

"Didn't he lose once already, at Tenabra?"

"Technically, but it was his father-in-law, Prince Ptosphes, who lost that battle-and it was a 'relatively' small skirmish compared to the fight that's going on in Sashta right now. Every time Kalvan commits his army there's a chance he might take it on the chin. Don't get me wrong; with the Fire-seed Mystery out in the open, Styphon's House only has a limited time to marshal their forces before their house of cards collapses, to use an appropriate Europo-American cliche. I learned a lot of them working undercover at the Missouri Independence newspaper with young Sam Clemens.