The screeching ravens overhead darkened the sky and drowned the cries of the babies and wounded trailing the retreating army, as the Hostigi made their way along this Trail of Tears. Kalvan's mount whickered as they passed another horse. He gouged its flanks with his boot heels to keep his horse's head forward. He was riding, with a small escort of Lifeguards, back along the Hostigi train to get a better idea of just how many refugees and supplies accompanied the retreating army. Actually, they were no longer an army but a folk migration-like the Zarthani immigrants of half a millennium ago, only traveling west instead of east.
They had just crossed the Ulthor border and were now following the Nyklos Trail across the Princedom of Ulthor. The Ulthori border guards had glared at them sullenly as the endless train of soldiers and refugees passed into their Princedom, probably thinking about the Grand Host following behind. Prince Kestophes, his head heavily bandaged from a sword blow, was leading the van with Rylla and Prince Sarrask. The border guards had joined the column reluctantly after Kalvan had reminded Kestophes of his duty.
Only Sarrask was in good humor. Kestophes acted as if he'd already lost his Princedom and was only waiting for an audience with Investigator Roxthar. Rylla was stiff as a board, rejecting everyone's sympathy and concern. Kalvan had wisely left her to herself and to Lady Eutare, worried sick over Prince Phrames who had taken a gunshot wound to the shoulder. Brother Mytron was hovering over all of them all like a mother hen with her chicks.
As his party made its way around a tall stand of trees, mostly first stand walnuts and hemlock, they ran into another Hostigi party bearing Baron Hestophes' banner, a black boar's head on a yellow field. Kalvan gave orders to halt and waited for the Captain-General to appear. What was Hestophes doing here when he was supposed to be with the rearguard holding back the Grand Host's pursuers?
Hestophes, riding a huge black destrier and wearing armor that appeared to have been beaten by baseball bats, pulled up short when he saw the Great King's banner. "Your Majesty!"
"Captain-General, where is my army?"
Hestophes turned and looked over his shoulder. "Behind the rearguard. The Styphoni have broken off, but not without heavy casualties. But I fear it was not our stout defense that caused them to turn back. A captured mercenary captain told us that the Great Host is preparing for the final attack on Tarr-Hostigos and have recalled their advance army to join the attack."
Kalvan shook his head and pulled out his pipe. Ptosphes had bought them breathing room; he just hoped he could capitalize on his father-in-law's dearly purchased gift. His biggest problem was where to go. He knew that as soon as Tarr-Hostigos fell the entire Grand Host would be on his trail, and without an endless stream of refugees to slow them down. It was fortunate for all involved on the Hostigi side that the Grand Host had taken the bait of Tarr-Hostigos and stubbed their toes on it. He suspected the siege was more a priestly decision than a military one, which meant Archpriest Roxthar was running the show and not just the Investigation.
"The Agrysi captain brought us more news. The High Temple of Galzar in Agrys City has proclaimed a Ban on the Grand Host because of their mistreatment of Hostigi prisoners. Great King Lysandros, who is now in Hostigos Town, has tried to circumvent their Ban by enlisting most of the Host's mercenaries into his Princely armies. Some of the more devout followers among the mercenaries, like our Agrysi captain, have deserted their posts in protest."
Kalvan snorted. "Or, not wanting to be regulars, are bugging out. There must be a way we can use the Ban to our advantage." Kalvan suspected Roxthar was more interested in killing heretics than in winning battles. What he needed was a good diversion to buy him more time. Then it hit him in the face. It was time the League did something useful, even if it were only acting as a ruse.
"Hestophes, what do you think Captain-General Phidestros would do if word arrived that an invasion force from Hos-Agrys was imminent?"
"Hos-Agrys!" Hestophes grinned, and shook off his fatigue like a dog ridding itself of fleas. "Has the League of Dralm finally moved off its rump and come to our aid?"
Kalvan paused to light his pipe with his tinderbox. "No. But rumors know no boundaries. And, with the Grand Host now under the Ban of Galzar, anything is possible. What if Phidestros and Soton learned of a large Agrysi force coming south through Thebra and into Nyklos?"
"They would have to answer it, of course, Your Majesty." Hestophes smiled. "Are you thinking of what I'm thinking?"
Kalvan exhaled a small cloud of smoke and smiled. "Yes. We'll dress up our own League Army and send them against the Great Host. Maybe that will buy us some time." It was unfortunate that Duke Mnestros had lost the better part of his army at Ardros Field; the Duke's force had taken over fifty percent casualties when the left wing had collapsed. At that point, he had agreed there was little more the Duke could do and had sent him back to Hos-Agrys. He hadn't missed the extra mouths during the retreat, but the Duke would have been the perfect foil for this gambit.
"Your Majesty, I would like the honor of leading the League forces of Dralm against the Unholy Host."
"The honor is all yours, Captain-General Hestophes." All the other commanders Kalvan might trust for such a perilous and important mission were wounded, dead or missing in action. "Now, round up General Klestreus-you should be able to find him at the nearest chuck wagon. Tell him I want a list of every Agrysi prince, duke and baron he can think of that's in sympathy with the League of Dralm. I will also need a list of all their colors, devices and banners. If we're going to make this invasion real, we are going to need the right window dressing."