John Carr - Siege of Tarr-Hostigos

Kynnos had shared half his booty, except the golden image, with the Guard Captain. They had then escorted the merchant and his family to the slave pens. The last thing they wanted was the merchant to talk about the gold he'd spent to save his miserable hide under one of the Upper Investigator's 'Blades of Truth'-especially if that Investigator turned out to be His Holiness, Archpriest Roxthar! Killing the merchant outright would have been easiest, but Roxthar frowned on killing peasants and commoners before they had been judged by the Investigation. And no one, least of all Kynnos, wanted the Holy Investigator's eye turned in their direction-no indeed!

Which was why he'd asked the Guard Captain to come with him, while he told Archpriest Roxthar about the botched takeover of the Royal Foundry. The Captain had laughed in his face. "You tell the Holy Butcher whatever you want, but leave my name out of it. Or taste my sword, under-priest!"

Kynnos rued the day he joined the Investigation. Like most underpriests new to Balph he had not liked what he had found upon his arrival at the Holy City: too many underpriests competing for too few jobs, too many upperpriests who viewed their underlings as little more than personal servants and too many older highpriests. He hadn't joined the Temple to fetch and carry. Since childhood he'd dreamed of becoming an upperpriest with his own retinue and large estate.

Many underpriests were able to curry favor with one of the highpriests, or even an Archpriest, and use the favor to rise through the Temple hierarchy. He was not so blessed. His wife blamed this on his lack of ambition; yet how could he earn respect from those above him if all they saw was his arse as he scraped and bowed?

Kynnos missed those carefree days of visiting the High Temple, watching the dignitaries and every so often being ordered to run an errand, usually to inform some mistress or wife that some Sanctity or other was delayed. Then Archpriest Roxthar had begun his Investigation of corruption within Styphon's House. In the early days, the Investigation had been exciting, pulling superiors from their night chambers and torturing them over heresies for which, not surprisingly, they all were found guilty. There were few believers of Styphon, even amongst the most rabid of the Investigators, so why should highpriests be any different? Along the way, he'd been able to pocket gold coins and other valuables, some from bribes, others 'discovered' during the course of the Investigation.

What profit was to be found in the hovels of Hostigi peasants, for Styphon's sake? The merchant had been his first good haul since he'd arrived in Hostigos.

A moon-quarter ago, he had taken a wound in the arm from a knife thrust during the fight at the foundry, saw his superior killed, been lost in the burning wasteland of Hostigos and finally, after days of wandering through this deserted land, located the Holy Investigator at this blasted ruin of a farm. The truth was none of the party, including the Guardsmen, had wanted to return to face Roxthar's wrath. When he had awakened in the morning, it was to learn that all had fled-leaving him to face the Investigator with their lone, crazed prisoner. He would not have been surprised had the madman turned into a bat and flown away during the night with the rest of them, leaving him alone to face the Holy Investigator.

In the false kingdom of Hos-Hostigos without the Inner Circle to distract him and rein in his powers, Roxthar was like a blood-crazed wolf loosed upon the countryside. Styphon's Temple Guard were in mercenary heaven with whole towns to loot, ravage and pillage with no accountability; it was Styphon's Own Work, as Roxthar blessed it! Kynnos found little sport in murdering helpless serfs and freed men, or the drabs they were married to. Not for a few coppers and bits of colored glass.

Any comely wench the Investigation happened upon quickly disappeared into the clutches of Styphon's Own Guard. It was Balph all over again, only bloodier and dirtier and far less profitable! When he'd first heard about the expedition to Hos-Hostigos, he'd dreamed of untold riches and unheralded glory. Instead, he was sleeping in wet byres and herding frightened peasants. The only profit in this accursed land-unless a miracle occurred and Kalvan left his paychests in Hostigos Town-was in the slave pens. Already the Harphaxi slave dealers were gathering like the birds and flies above the dead littering Ardros Field as they made their way to Hostigos Town. And none of that gold would ever weigh in his purse.

The ambush of the Hostigos Foundry had been the biggest disaster of all. Roxthar had ordered them to take it at night before the Grand Host arrived; the Holy Investigator was worried that Grand Captain-General Phidestros would reach it first and take the Hostigi gunners captives and protect them from the Investigation. The plan had been that Kynnos and Gyff were to attack the Foundry under cover of the night and take them all prisoners, whereupon Roxthar would Investigate all those involved with the Daemon Kalvan's impious arts.

Unfortunately, the Foundry had been well guarded and even better booby-trapped, for when they went to fire the outbuildings, many of them exploded or burned as if covered in pitch. Investigator Gyff had been killed while capturing the main out-building along with several Guardsmen and mercenaries. Who had expected outlanders to fight so fiercely? As the only surviving Investigator he knew the blame for this misadventure would fall upon his head.

He hadn't had a good night's sleep for almost a moon-quarter. Now his sliced arm burned so badly he couldn't sleep even were he to be cradled in Styphon's Own Hand!

Roxthar's frightened little scribe, Myros, came out of the shed, saying, "The Holy Investigator will see you now, Investigator Kynnos."

Roxthar held court in the darkest corner of the shack, where lay blackness so dark even the flickering candlelight couldn't pierce it. The reason for the quiet was apparent in the broken body lying on the floor, the back encrusted with gore.

"Where have you been?" Roxthar asked. "Does it take six nights to bring back a few prisoners?"

Kynnos cringed. "Your Holiness, the Hostigi put up a fierce resistance, killing Investigator Gyff and many of our party. They used demonic arts to fire their own buildings and thus protect their secrets. I was bitten in the arm by one of their devils!"

He pulled up his robe to show his fiery knife wound, which now looked as if Hadron's Hounds had been chewing upon it.

"The Daemon's work!"

"Yes," said a relieved Kynnos, knowing he'd chosen the right scapegoat. "The Royal Foundry was a veritable nest of unclean beings. They fought with great cunning and supernatural strength, unlike any creatures of this world. I fear they also put a spell upon us so that we could not find our way in this realm of the damned."

"Unclean beings, truly. What about the women?"

"Even the women were possessed, Holy Investigator! Several of them flew up into the air and disappeared! They are all gone, as well."

"Witchcraft, too! It is worse than I feared. The Daemon's foul work has infected all the people in Hos-Hostigos. Our work here will take a long time. Baron Sthentros is right, the Daemon who calls himself Kalvan has taken captive the very spirits of the people of the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos'."

"We only took one man captive-all the rest are dead. Or disappeared!"

"A captive! Excellent, is he one of Kalvan's lesser demons?"

Kynnos tried to envision the pathetic Gorath Tran, as he called himself, as a demon and found it difficult. The poor Zygrosi was so addled he'd even begun to believe he was one of Kalvan's devils, threatening his captors with dire words about flying boats with lights and pistols that spit bullets as small as needles.