The Crown of the Usurper

by Gav Thorpe

  In the light of their fires, the Twenty-first were forming up. Hearing feet on the ladder behind him, Gelthius glanced down and saw King Ullsaard heaving his heavy frame up into the scaffold tower. The king gave the captain a nod as he squeezed onto the platform, stepping between the spear thrower and the rope fence that was all that kept a man from falling to his death on the courtyard slabs below.

  "Wind's too strong," said the king.

  "Aye, we can see them, right enough," said Gelthius. "They'll not get the drop on us that easy."

  "That's not what I meant," said Ullsaard. "The smoke isn't to hide them now, it's to get in our eyes and throats, and make it hard to see when they reach the wall. Trust me, I've done it myself, at Khar. It'll be plenty thick enough by the time they're ready to attack. I meant that the wind will blow those fires out of control soon, and being in fields and everything we can expect the blaze to spread. If Lutaan's men don't get through or over the wall, they'll be trapped against it by the flames."

  "Perhaps that's what Captain Lutaan intends, King," said Gelthius. Ullsaard turned an inquiring glare on the captain. "You know, by way of an encouragement."

  "Maybe," said Ullsaard, the smile on his face appreciative of the notion rather than humoured by it. "Potential death is a great motivator."

  "Works for me every time, King," said Gelthius. He fell quiet as Ullsaard surveyed every direction from the tower, spending some time looking Dawnwards to where the bulk of the Twenty-first were camped.

  "Expect the attack at the third hour of Dawnwatch," said the king.

  "Will do, King," replied the captain. He wondered how Ullsaard could predict the time of the attack with such accuracy and put it down to experience – there had to be something about the way the enemy were moving that suggested they would be ready in an hour, or maybe something in the Book of Askhos that recommended it as the ideal moment to launch an assault.

  Without any further explanation, Ullsaard swung out to the wooden ladder and disappeared out of sight, leaving Gelthius alone with the men manning the spear thrower.

  "Mark the position of the gate now," said Gelthius, worried by the thickening smoke.

  "Captain?" The three other men looked at each other. Confused and amused in equal measure. The one who had spoken pointed towards the gate. "It's there, captain."

  Gelthius produced a piece of charcoal from his belt pouch and handed it to one of the crew.

  "Aim the thrower just over the gate and make a mark on the ropes and spindle," explained the Salphor. It was trick he had seen used on the landship, when the fog was so close you could not see all the way up to the top of the mainmast. "When the smoke's thick, you'll be able to tell you're still pointing at the gate."

  "That's real clever, captain," said the man who had the charcoal. When the other two had rotated the spear thrower to the required direction, he drew thick lines on the ropes and the wooden disc that formed the main turntable. "Let's do it for a few other places too."

  Gelthius agreed on three other set elevations and directions – towards the corner of the stable block, the jetty on the lake and between the two outbuildings by the hotwards walls – so that he could shout out a command and they would know where to point the war engine.

  With this small measure taken, Gelthius had nothing else to do except wait. His promotion to second captain notwithstanding, with Ullsaard present and so few men there was no need for intermediaries between the commander and his companies. Gelthius was not a sophisticated man, and his experience of the world was coloured by his lowly ambitions, but it was not without some sense of pride that he thought of his new rank.

  It was, of course, utterly meaningless, he told himself as he looked out at the three thousand soldiers of the Twenty-first getting ready to kill him. Within a few hours – starting at the third hour of Dawnwatch if Ullsaard was correct – being second captain, legionnaire or a general would not make any difference. The last time Gelthius had checked, being a second captain hadn't made his shield and breastplate any thicker or his spear any longer.

  So he waited, feeling no different as a second captain then he did before his first battle with the Thirteenth. His stomach was tight and aching, and yet he was simultaneously hungry, having been unable to force any breakfast into himself earlier. There was sweat on his face and hands, despite the fact that the wind was cold, save for the heat of the smoke, which was thickening as the flames grew stronger and stronger in the predawn light.

  About half way through the second hour of Dawnwatch, the Twenty-first started their attack. Like a serpent uncoiling to strike, the massed companies of the legion emerged from their marching forts, lining up along the road to dawnwards and to coldwards. The three-headed serpent would strike from every direction, splitting the defenders. Gelthius knew nothing of siege warfare and wondered if this was a costly strategy or the most prudent. He supposed that there were only so many ladders in the enemy army, and the walls would allow only so many men to climb over, that it was pointless having everybody advancing together; they would simply get in each other's way.

  Gelthius wondered where he should fight, if he received no specific instruction from the king. Part of him wanted to be in the battle close to Ullsaard. He had seen the king fighting and there would be a certain amount of safety being nearby. Against this was the suspicion that Ullsaard was a lodestone for danger – it followed him around and he was always at the centre of trouble. A small, treacherous but vocal part of Gelthius also wondered if he could get away with positioning himself down by the lake, where he could quickly lose himself in the reed beds or, in a desperate situation, swim out to safety.

  The sound of drums sounded out a marching beat; one that Gelthius knew well. He saw the icon of Askhos being raised by the First Company at the head of the snake slithering up the road, like a single golden eye reflecting the reddish light of the dawning sun.

  It was hard to just wait and do nothing while the enemy advanced. The walls around the compound did not look so much like protection as they did a barrier to keep Gelthius in. They would be trapped once the Twenty-first broke through the gate or had a foothold over the walls. Then that high wall of stone and the rampart of stakes beyond would be a hindrance, not a help.

  As much as Gelthius wanted to tell that selfish part of himself to shut up, the voice grew stronger. All he really wanted was to be with Maredin and his children. That was all that he had ever really wanted since he had been taken away on Anglhan's landship. He had been days – only two days, he dimly remembered – from freedom when he had been caught up by Aroisius the Free's men and Anglhan had pitched them all into his insane plans. If Gelthius could send a message to himself back then, he would tell himself to keep his head down, wait to be assigned as driver to the herald, Noran, and then when they were in the middle of the Free Country, make a bolt for freedom.

  Betraying Ullsaard felt wrong, but the situation looked hopeless. Before he even knew what he was doing, Gelthius was climbing down the ladder to the ground. He saw Muuril standing by the main doors of the villa and turned away sharply lest the sergeant see something in the captain's expression. Feeling heavy with guilt but unable to stop himself, he walked around the stable block and headed towards the rear of the villa. There were several legionnaires between the building and the wall, standing on piled crates, one on a chair, to peer over at the advancing enemy.

  "Aye, here's the captain!" one of them, Anjoor, called out.

  Gelthius tried to think of something funny to say but his mind was too filled with fear for wit. All he could think of was making sure he survived to see Maredin and the children again. He just about managed to raise a hand to wave in acknowledgement and then hurried on, heading directly for the gardens at the rear.

  The sun was just about strong enough for light to creep around the villa and bathe the shore in dim greyness, the occasional fleck of red catching on waves and ripples. Gelthius was aware of the six men down by the water's edge, their lanterns gleaming brig
ht in the darkness. It might be good to make a quick inspection of the sentries, the captain told himself. He tried to ignore the sounds of marching men rising beyond the walls as he made his way down the stepped pavement towards the quayside.

  He was halfway to the water when he heard a shout from a man to his left. Gripped by guilt, thinking that somehow the guard had guessed his cowardly intent, Gelthius stopped immediately. He realised he was still in the light spilling between the slats of the shutters on the rear windows, and so easy for anyone to see, silhouetted against the house. He was about to turn back and seek shelter inside the building when he heard his name being called from the man at the lakeside.

  "Captain! Captain Gelthius! Something in the water."

  The smoke from the fires was drifting across the surface of the lake, making it impossible to see more than two dozen paces, but Gelthius could hear distant splashing as he scampered down the last steps and reach the shouting sentry.

  "Boat?" he asked, bringing up his shield in case a vessel was to suddenly emerge laden with men of the Twenty-first.

  They listened for a while, during which the quiet was broken by the slap of the spear thrower firing and a cheer for the men atop the tower. Even with the advantage of elevation, that meant that the lead ranks of the Twenty-first had to be well within half a mile.

  Trying hard to push aside all the other noises he could hear – the crackle of the fires, the noise of the men reloading the spear thrower, the crunch of small stones under his sandals – Gelthius strained to hear the splashing.

  "That way," said the sentry, pointing coldwards along the shore. Some of the other men were heading along the lake path, drawn by the commotion. Gelthius ignored their shouts of inquiry and looked out across the lake as best he could.

  Sure enough, there was something in the gloom. The dawn light was catching on more ripples and there was the sound of slow but steady splashing. It was not enough noise to be a body of men but Gelthius could not relax.

  "Who's out there?" he demanded. There was no reply and Gelthius' eyes were stinging from the smoke.

  "We'll take out a boat," he said, pointing back towards the short stone jetty. There were two boats, one with four large sweeps, the other with sweeps and a sail. Deciding that if things came to the worst, he could probably shove the legionnaire over the side and sail to freedom, Gelthius told the other sentries to go back to their posts.

  Between the two of them, they managed to get the sail lifted. Untying the rope on the jetty, Gelthius stopped for a moment, his attention attracted by a concerted shout from outside the compound: the sound of men charging. He turned to call out to the men on the tower, but stopped himself. He was too far away for them to hear or reply.

  "One thing, just one thing at a time," he muttered, pushing the boat and jumping over the widening gap to land next to the sentry, Aduris.

  "What's that, captain?"

  "Never mind." Gelthius took a quick look around the small deck and pointed to a rope attached to the yard arm. "Fasten that to that hook there, and I'll man the tiller."

  Under the ex-fisherman's directions, Aduris trimmed the sail and Gelthius managed to get them underway, heading in the direction of the faint noise. Away from the shore, Gelthius felt a calm descending on him. He could barely see the villa in the smoke and the jetty was fast fading from view as well. Soon the two men were cocooned in a grey mass, barely able to see twenty paces.

  Aduris was a good soldier, and as tempting as it was to leave Ullsaard and the Thirteenth to their fate, Gelthius couldn't bring himself to kill the man in cold blood; either by spear or drowning. And on top of that, there was no point making a break for freedom if he was going to sail into a fleet of enemies out on the lake.

  "It'd be quicker if we rowed as well," said Aduris.

  "And noisier," replied Gelthius. "Got to listen, ain't we?"

  So they kept quiet and listened. Gelthius heard splashing to his left, closer to the shore, and Aduris pointed and nodded.

  "Something that way," said the legionnaire.

  Gelthius moved the tiller and had Aduris trim the sail again. As they glided across the water, the slosh of small waves against the hull did not mask a louder splashing coming from ahead. Further out on the lake the smoke was thinner, but still Gelthius could not see anything. The captain tied the tiller to keep them on a straight line and prodded Aduris with his foot.

  "Get to the prow and keep a sharp eye," Gelthius told Aduris. The soldier moved to the bow and almost immediately looked back at Gelthius, animated.

  "Just to the left a little," said Aduris, fetching his spear from where he'd stowed it in the bottom of the boat. Gelthius adjusted the course and peered ahead. There was a shape in the gloom, low in the water. As they came closer, Gelthius saw arms rising and falling in powerful, slow strokes. The swimmer was about thirty- five or forty paces away, almost perpendicular to the boat's heading.

  "Ho there!" the captain called out, getting to his feet. "Stop where you are!"

  The swimmer complied immediately, a head bobbing into view, arms moving back and forth as the man treaded water.

  "Captain Gelthius? Is that you?"

  Now that he was closer, and with the aid of the voice, Gelthius recognised Gebriun. He had a short beard, several days' worth, but the face was unmistakeable. Gelthius called out with wordless delight, but then realisation hit him and his stomach knotted and his joy died.

  "You're alive?" said the captain as Aduris helped the naked legionnaire into the boat. "But Faasil said th–"

  "Faasil's been paid off," gasped Gebriun. The four words struck Gelthius like hammer blows, each a punch that made his gut spasm. The captain looked back at the shore as Gebriun continued, between deep breaths, but could see nothing in the gloom. "He tried to turn me too, and when I said no he had the Twenty-first come for me. I managed to escape, ran for it and hid out in the country hoping to find you or one of the others, but the legion was already days ahead of me. When I got here, I saw that there were soldiers in Menesun and the villa was surrounded. I've had to swim about three miles."

  "We have to get back, warn the others," said Aduris, grabbing one of the sweeps. He held it out to Gebriun. "Have you still got enough breath?"

  "You steer, I'll row," said Gelthius. Not less than a quarter of an hour before, Gelthius had been ready to run out on the men of the Thirteenth, but now he grabbed the oar and sat down, nodding for Gebriun to take the tiller. Gelthius had planned to quit the villa if things turned badly, but now that Faasil had been revealed as a traitor it somehow meant more to Gelthius that Ullsaard won. It somehow made it more real that his comrades, men who had been good to him, were about to die, and he couldn't let that happen without being with them, even if it meant he would die too.

  V

  It had always been one of Ullsaard's principles that he only started fights that he was sure he would win. Of late that principle had been tested several times, but none more so than now. He had not chosen this battle, and had certainly not desired any kind of confrontation, but he was forced to deal with the situation as he found it.

  The archers along the road had done little to buy the time Ullsaard had hoped for; twenty men with bows could do nothing to hold back several companies of soldiers in full armour and with shields raised. Without proper bellows-bows the men had difficulty penetrating the defences of the oncoming legion and so Ullsaard had quickly sent word for the bowmen to withdraw to the villa; there was no point risking them being killed by Lutaan's archers.

  Though his force was outnumbered six-to-one, Ullsaard was not despondent about his chances of victory. A good wall counted for a lot, and in their desire to bring Ullsaard to battle swiftly, Lutaan and Asuhas had not brought siege engines with them. Assault was the only option, and that was the easiest kind of attack to face. Bombardment would have been far more effective, forcing Ullsaard to either sally out and be butchered, or reduce his newly fortified home to rubble around him.

  A hard fi
ght across a well-defended obstacle was not the most desirable engagement for a legionnaire, and if Ullsaard's men could hold the wall long enough, and inflict enough casualties, the ranks would take matters into their own hands. It only took a few to decide that the risk was too great, the reward too little, and others would soon follow. And once one assault failed it was all the harder to have the men try again.

  Ullsaard prowled the small area of the balcony like Blackfang padding back and forth in her pen below. The king could see the three columns advancing on the villa and he wanted to do something other than sit and wait for them to land the first blow. He had racked his brains for some action that he could take to even the odds in his favour, and he had dismissed them all as too risky for uncertain gain. He had considered sneaking out in the night and setting fires in the legion camp, but a quick scouting party led by Muuril had returned with the news that the Twenty-first had double sentries on duty; Lutaan had not trusted his inexperienced officers and soldiers to keep good watch and had taken precautions.