The Fireseed Wars

"Primate, you are truly under Allfather Dralm's protection," the Highpriest declared. "A gang of ruffians forced the door of our back portal and two entered the Temple and fought their way to your bed chambers. If it were not for the two Brothers who fought them off, they would have killed you with their swords."

Davros held up two wickedly sharp short swords. "These were hidden under their cloaks, along with the petard they used on your door. We believe they are agents of Styphon's House."

"Why?"

"Both were circumcised, Primate."

Xentos nodded. It was true that in the Great Kingdoms only the Temple of Styphon practiced such a barbaric rite upon its priesthood. All initiates to Styphon's House's temples were circumcised as part of their initiation rites. Those young men who survived the rite were deemed worthy to serve their evil god and granted permission to wear the white robe of the outer circle. It was also not unknown for those who wished to curry favor with Styphon's House to undergo the circumcision surgery; it was a dangerous stratagem as many who underwent the surgery died from the fester devils.

Davros continued, "We have already sent a formal letter of complaint to Great King Demistophon. Their hair is cut short in the style of Hos-Ktemnos so we believe they were dispatched from Balph. Maybe this will awaken our Great King from his slumber."

Xentos shook his head. "No, Davros. Only the destruction of the High Temple and all our deaths might accomplish such a miracle. The Great King does not want to see the truth, but only what his heart desires. He wants territory and Styphon's gold. He cares nothing about our struggle against the One-God fanatics. But it is my duty to speak to him anyway; it is always possible that the spirit of Dralm may enter his heart."

IV

What is that, Aristocles thought, as he woke up and felt around for the hideaway pistol that he kept next to his bedding. His oath-brother, Shelawa, was already sparking a flint to light a beeswax candle. There were more knocking noises at the door of the room inside the large farmhouse he was using as a temporary billet and headquarters. When the pistol was safely in the his hand and cocked, he asked, "Who is it?"

"Sergeant Machias, sir, I've got an urgent message for you."

Aristocles got up off the straw tick, laying his pistol down. In the Sastragath it wasn't unusual for an enemy to slip into a Knight's tent and slit this throat. Even though it wasn't necessary here, keeping a pistol handy was a lifelong habit; one that had saved his life on two occasions.

Shelawa had the candle lit by the time he had his cloak on and the Sergeant was in the room. The Sergeant used his tinderbox to start a fire in the hearth, as it was close to freezing. None of them were accustomed to this chill weather; in Hos-Ktemnos it was only this cold in the middle of winter.

"One of Styphon's Couriers just arrived, sir. He said it was urgent. Since his horse was half-dead and he was suffering from frostbite, I took him at his word."

Aristocles checked the seal in the flickering light; it was the Seal of Styphon's Own Voice. He whistled. "Give me your knife."

He used the blade to open the seal, then removed the letter. It took him an eighth of a candle to decipher. "By Styphon's Brass Balls!"

"What is it, sir?"

"Go get Great King Lysandros! Tell him to meet me downstairs."

"Yes, sir. Shall I wake the cooks?"

"No, it's too early."

Almost a half of a candle had passed by the time Aristocles heard King Lysandros' party arrive. He'd had more than enough time to decipher the code again and write out a decipherment in runes, dress and put on his weapons. He was crunching the stale end of a loaf of bread when the Great King entered the Knights' command quarters.

Machias had on a hot cauldron of cider and offered the King's party cups as they arrived.

Lysandros looked unsettled and half-asleep. He started to say something, but thought better of it and instead took a cup of hot cider.

"Lysandros, you'd better come with me."

The King raised his eyebrows. "Is it that important?"

Aristocles nodded. Lysandros took him at his word and walked to the back briefing room by himself. He shut the thick plank door.

Inside, the King asked, "What is it, man? I hadn't gotten two candles of sleep when your messenger arrived!"

"A secret message from Styphon's Own Voice."

That silenced Lysandros.

"Do you want to read it?" Aristocles asked.

"Yes."The King poured over the parchment, then read it twice again. He sputtered: "Are you sure this is real? I don't see Anaxthenes' seal."

He showed him the original message with Styphon's Own Seal. "It was in code and I translated it for your eyes."

Lysandros nodded, "What are we going to do? I like the Prince. He and I shared a cask of beer last night."

"We don't have any choice, Lysandros. If Anaxon leaves with the Ktemnoi contingent, we don't have a Grand Host anymore; by Ormaz… we'll barely have an army."