John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

Prince Ptosphes gripped the pommel of his sword so tightly that his knuckles whitened. "He who comes for my Hall, first must take it."

Tears streamed down Rylla's face as she walked over to her father and tugged on his sword arm. He remained as immobile as a statue. "Kalvan, order him to change his mind!"

Kalvan stared into Ptosphes' eyes and realized he'd have a better chance single-handedly moving the solid limestone mountains on which Tarr-Hostigos rested than changing Ptosphes' mind. "I'm sorry, Rylla. It is your father's decision and I'm in no position to make him do anything he doesn't want to do."

"Father, if you stay you will never see your granddaughter say her first words, lose her teeth, wear her first bonnet-" Rylla stopped when she saw the look of pain on Ptosphes' face.

"I do this so that my granddaughter may live to do all those things."

"Darling, he's right." Kalvan knew the people of Hostigos would do anything to please their beloved prince, even die with him. Not Kalvan, not Chartiphon, not even Harmakros owned the people's hearts as Ptosphes did. Only Rylla-and that was unthinkable. "No, your father is right."

"Then may Hadron take you both!"

"Hush, my daughter. You don't mean that. These are things that must be done. It will give me no pleasure to stall Styphon's Host, if you and Kalvan do not use my gift wisely. You, Kalvan, and Princess Demia are my future. Now, let us get back to work and plan your leave-taking so my death will not be spent in vain."

Tears coursed down Rylla's cheeks. "Father, do not speak as if your death is already ordained! These walls are thick and rest high above where Styphon's soldiers will have to fight. Maybe they will not have the heart to pay the price for their taking."

"Yes, all things are possible," Ptosphes said with a gravity that belied his words. "Take the Old Stone Bridge over the Athan River, then blow it up after you cross. That will slow the Styphoni devils for a few days."

Harmakros added, "I will send engineers to blow all the bridges along the Harph for two hundred marches in either direction. The Harph is still swelled by runoff, enough that the Grand Host will have to use Syrax Ford. That will cost them days in doubling back and forth along the river."

Kalvan watched as everyone got into the discussion of how to delay the Grand Host. Everyone but Rylla; she stood frozen, her face a tragic mask. Neither of them would ever forget this terrible day.

Paratime Police Chief Verkan Vall watched as Fourth Level farms, airports, cities and battles flickered overhead through the paratemporal silver mesh as the conveyer approached Fourth Level Aryan-Transpacific, Kalvan's Time-Line. Maybe Kalvan's Time-Line was a misnomer after the events of the past ten-day. Styphon's House's Grand Host, at the Battle of Ardros Field, had broken the outnumbered army of Hos-Hostigos and possibly killed Kalvan along with his friends and dreams. Dalla had wanted to accompany him, but the ominous silence from the Foundry paratemporal depot convinced him it was too dangerous, probabilities too fluid, to risk her life.

Verkan had been by Kalvan's side just a few days ago, before he'd lost the Mounted Rifles, and almost his life, to an overwhelming force of Styphon's cavalry. Dalla was calling it Verkan's Greatest Folly; it had almost been his last. His chest ached every time he thought of the gaping wound he'd taken from a point-blank pistol shot by some enraged Harphaxi trooper. Thanks to the miracle of First Level medicine he was feeling as well as ever, with only an occasional nagging chest pain to remind him of his lung wound and the six-hour wait for the med team.

Unfortunately, he had more to worry about than the fate of his friends and the dismemberment of Hos-Hostigos and Hostigos Town. The biggest of those headaches was the Dhergabar University Kalvan Study Team caught in the rout of the Hostigi army. Like all outtime researchers, they worked under the Paratime Police umbrella. That might not be enough to protect them on the kind of Fourth Level time-line where civilians were likely to end up a part of the body count when a victorious army swept through hostile territory. The entire University Team was unaccounted for; every casualty among them would be a gift to the Opposition Party.

Kalvan would have to fight his own battles for a while, against much longer odds than before. It would take all Kalvan's skill, as well as luck, to save his life and Queen Rylla's, never mind re-founding his empire.

Already the Grand Host's cavalry scouts had raided almost to the outskirts of Hostigos Town. Its main body could hardly be more than a day or two behind. One of Kalvan castellans might be able to hold Tarr-Hostigos for a few days. If the Grand Host had to stop and lay siege to the castle, Kalvan still might escape. While he would never rule a kingdom again, he and Rylla could flee westward to sell the services of their army in the Middle Kingdoms.

The conveyer dome shimmered into material existence inside the Foundry basement. The sensors read that it was empty of life and everything was in its place. Nevertheless, Verkan checked his personal equipment, pulled his pistol out of his sash and headed for the hatch. Somehow four Paracops reached it before him, all with drawn pistols and palmed First Level sigma-ray needlers.

"Sorry, Chief," Kostran Garth said. He didn't sound sorry. Garth was his brother-in-law, and one of a handful of good friends and completely reliable Paracops. Like Skordran Kirv, Andron Veral and Ranthar Jard. Verkan looked behind and sighed. The other eight men of his personal guard had closed tightly around him from the rear. Swaddled in bodyguards like a baby in cloth, Verkan stepped out into a large basement, where there was a large wall screen at one end showing an overhead of Hostigos Town. The streets were uncharacteristically empty and Verkan could see no sign of either the Hostigi army or Styphon's Grand Host. The rest of the conveyer-load of Paracops followed, lugging sensor gear or pushing anti-grav lifter pallets to ferry the dead.

The room before them held a desk, some First Level monitoring equipment, racks of muskets, barrels of unopened fireseed and hundreds of baskets of barley and corn. No sign of the small Hostigos Paratime Police garrison, five men-including his friend, Inspector Skordran Kirv.

No good to anybody except maybe the Grand Host was Verkan's thought as he strode across the room. Like the other Paracops, he held a flintlock pistol nearly two feet long, loaded and cocked. On his head he wore a high-combed morion helmet; his clothes were a sleeveless buff jack, dark blue breeches, a bright blue sash, and thigh-high boots. Nobody from Kalvan's Time-Line would have thought him anything but a Hostigi light cavalry officer-"General Verkan of the Hostigos Mounted Rifles, at your service, sir."

He opened the keyed magnetic lock to the door that led to the Royal Foundry of Hos-Hostigos, stepped back, let the four point men go first, then followed at their hand signals of "All clear."

The door was intact, as he had expected. Under local oak planking, it had a collapsed-nickel core. Nothing local could dent that, not even a two-hundred-pound iron ball from a big bombard. The door at the other end of the short stone stairway was similarly protected. It opened to the inside to show a shifting pile of stones, timber and metal rubble. While Paracops skipped out of the way, stones and timbers tumbled down the stairwell. Suddenly patches of sunshine were breaking through the up-ended timbers. Outside was the chirping of birds, but no human noise.

The rubble was a nuisance, but nothing that could stop five determined Paracops: so where were they?

"Step back, Chief," one of his protectors ordered.

The debris was quickly shifted aside and a passage was made through the wreckage into the badly damaged Foundry. Forges were overturned and big anvils squatted like toadstools amongst the rubble. Two walls were gone and the roof was mostly on the floor. The Paratime Police, with guns drawn, carefully navigated their way out of the Foundry into the courtyard.