The Fireseed Wars

"Do it," Lysandros answered, "but hurry. Blame the decision on me, if you like. Tell him I wanted to kill the madman and you convinced me instead to allow him to leave! Now that we agree on what to do with Roxthar, we have to consider our own predicament. With all our recent losses of soldiers, we badly need to find an ally against the Usurper Kalvan. I suggest that King Theovacar might be worth approaching."

The Grand Commander paused to pick up his pipe and fill the bowl with tobacco "As far as King Theovacar goes, why don't we offer him Nythros City as bait. We will have no use for the City once our work here is done."

"Excellent," Lysandros said with relief. He'd thought of that idea himself, but was afraid that the Order might want to hold onto Nythros as a base of operations in the Upper Middle Kingdoms. "I will leave for Greffa after Nythros falls. I will bring Tneovacar the Koynig's head as a present along with a thousand barrels of fireseed and five hundred arquebuses."

III

This has been a terrible season for the Temple's finances, Xentos observed as he read over the account books. Tithes and donations were down by almost a quarter despite the record fall harvest, even attendance at the High Temple had dropped noticeably. It wasn't the Temple's fault that Kalvan had gone down to defeat against the Grand Host of Styphon's House in Hostigos, although it was difficult to try to explain that to superstitious peasants and townsmen who still believed their amulets protected them from the spirits of their ancestors. Unfortunately, too many here in Agrys City, and elsewhere, linked the fortunes of Great King Kalvan with the Temple of Dralm.

For a while, Xentos acknowledged, this linkage had been a good thing; that is, while Kalvan was winning battles against the ungodly House of Styphon and gaining converts to the Allfather. Now, the Temple's association with Kalvan was a huge problem.

Recently, Haltor, Styphon's House Highpriest of the Agrysi Great Temple, had been demanding and getting prohibitions against the High Temple of Dralm. Great King Demistophon was not only an impious and odious ruler, but a cowardly one as well. Although, one never knew when the Great King would lose his temper and suddenly gain a spark of courage, as he had with his foray into Thaphigos. Although, Xentos knew that Demistophon would have never dared to take so bold an action if King Lysandros had been in his seat and not some two thousand marches away.

Still, it wasn't fair to blame all of the Temple's problems upon Kalvan and Demistophon. Styphon's House with its Investigation and persecutions of the Allfather's followers deserved the panther's share of the blame. To compound matters, the Primate still felt badly whenever he pondered the fate of his former parishioners and friends. Too many, such as Ptosphes, Harmakros, Thalmoth and Phosg had died during the Siege of Tarr-Hostigos. Those that had survived the military attack had then suffered the depredations of Styphon's Investigation, the horrors of which he found hard to believe.

There was a very small community of Hostigi exiles in Agrys City who had fled the Styphoni persecutions. He did his best to protect them, but lately that didn't seem to be enough. Twice now Styphon's bravos had attacked the pitiful band of Hostigi, leaving several dead and many badly beaten.

The time had come to face up to the fact that the Temple of Dralm was under attack from all corners. It was time to marshal the Temple's forces. But how? King Demistophon was an impious fool and the League of Dralm was more interested in internal squabbles than fighting Styphon's House. Maybe a prayer to the Allfather was the Temple's only hope.

Allfather Dralm, forgive me because I have been blind to your enemies and their black hearts. I have failed you in Your greatest hour of need. Please provide me a sign!

There was a loud knock at the door.

Xentos felt his heart quicken, like that in a bird's breast. Could this be the sign from Allfather Dralm that I just requested"?

There was an explosion and the door blew open, knocking Xentos off his feet. The last thing he remembered was the smell of brimstone and an overpowering bright light.

When Xentos awoke it was to find himself stretched out in a cot in the Inner Sanctum of the High Temple. His head hurt terribly and he had the taste of burnt fireseed upon his tongue. "What happened?" he croaked.

"Praise Dralm, the Primate lives!" a voice cried out that he didn't recognize.

"Let me through," Highpriest Davros ordered. "Can you move your limbs?"

Xentos stretched his limbs one at a time, and except for a terrible pain in his left ankle all appeared well. "Yes, I'm all here. Dralm be praised!'