The Crown of blood tcob-1

by Gav Thorpe

  "Though one of our champions has fallen, our call for what is ours cannot fall silent," Ullsaard said, arms folded across his broad chest, rain pattering from his ceremonial armour, wind tugging at crest and cloak. He looked at the rows of expectant faces, and knew that what he was about to say would make or break his ambitions.

  "When one of our own has died, we say we have a lost a brother, for the legion is family. It raises us, nurtures us, teaches us discipline and respect, feeds us and gives us purpose. For me, the loss is greater than that, for I have truly lost a brother. Aalun was my prince, my mentor, my friend; but we also shared a father."

  The announcement was first greeted by astonished silence, but soon ripples of chatter spread through the ranks, while the First Captains looked at each other in disbelief. Ullsaard held up his hands for quiet, but the disturbance continued. There were some who laughed, thinking Ullsaard's proclamation was a joke.

  "Listen to me!" he bellowed. "I only tell you this now so that you may know that the Blood has not abandoned you. Our cause, for justice, has not changed. Though the Blood runs through my veins, though but for circumstance I might be called prince, you need know only one thing: I am still your general. The legion is still my family, and you are still my brothers. Today we take the next step on the path to glory and riches!"

  Ullsaard snatched up his spear from where it had been driven into the mud. He strode along the line to stand in front of the Thirteenth's first company and lifted the weapon above his head.

  "If I command, will the Thirteenth follow?"

  The legionnaires replied with an approving roar, lifting their spears in salute. Ullsaard turned to his right.

  "If I command, will the Sixteenth follow?"

  The company cheered, adding their voices to the Thirteenth.

  "If I command, will the Twelfth follow?"

  Ullsaard marched along the line repeating the same call, until all five companies were shouting. He looked at his First Captains and they had their spears raised, joining in with the roars of their men.

  The crackling of the pyre intruded into Ullsaard's thoughts and he spared a glance towards Aalun's burning body. He felt a flicker of guilt, but it was soon washed away by thoughts of what he could achieve without the prince to hold him back.

  He was one of the Blood too, and power was his birthright.

  Free Country

  Midwinter, 209th Year of Askh

  I

  The cold permeated the caves, a leeching chill that constantly numbed the toes and fingers. Gelthius blew on his hands and rubbed them together to get the blood flowing as he attempted to splice two lengths of cord. He sat cross-legged on the main deck of the landship, back against the larboard rail, while a steady cold breeze wafted over him from the cave entrance. Next to him, Lepiris filled lamps with oil, cursing occasionally as his shaking hands dribbled the flammable liquid onto his clothes.

  "I'll have t-" Lepiris stopped as a muffled shout echoed into the cavern from outside.

  Gelthius and the other remaining crew put down their work and took up the rough cudgels they had been given — metalringed clubs no more useful in a fight than a belaying pin. Others stirred in the cave and groups of rebels drifted towards the entrance, called by the cry. Gelthius slipped down the rope ladder and dropped to the cave floor, Lepiris close behind him.

  There was a commotion to the right as Anglhan pushed his way through the gathering crowd, Furlthia just behind him. The snow had stopped outside, but the valley floor was covered in a thick layer of white. As he reached the cave entrance, he saw Lord Aroisius and a handful of his chieftains coming down the valley from the right. In the mid-afternoon light, two figures approached from the valley mouth, walking calmly between the cliffs as the cries of the sentries followed their progress.

  Gelthius wondered what was happening; Aroisius and his men had their hands on the hilts of their swords, but had not drawn their weapons. The rest of the rebels crowded in behind their leaders, restless and bemused. The two strangers marched through the snow without pause and stopped a dozen paces away from Aroisius. Gelthius shouldered his way to the front of the mob for a better view.

  His eye was drawn first to a big man in Askhan armour. He was larger than even the biggest chieftain, and carried a round shield and golden spear. His breastplate and helm glimmered with water droplets as he planted his spear butt-first in the snow and took a couple of steps closer to Aroisius. Beside him walked a much younger, slimmer man, though as tall as his companion. He held up a hand in greeting, and directed his words towards Lord Aroisius.

  "There is no call for alarm," the man announced. "Are we not friends, Aroisius?"

  Gelthius glanced at the rebel leader, who eyed the new arrivals with suspicion. The ex-debtor caught sight of Anglhan close by, watching the meeting with interest, his gaze alternating between Aroisius and the strangers. Gelthius watched his master closely; instinct told him that Anglhan's attention was more than casual.

  "What are you doing here, Urikh?" said Aroisius. "How did you find this place?"

  There it was: a flicker of worry on Anglhan's face before he masked it. Gelthius sidled closer to his captain, cudgel in hand.

  "We have quite a lot of maps, Aroisius," Urikh, the younger man, replied. "It was not too difficult to work out possible hiding places for so many men."

  "Who is this with you? Why are you here?"

  Urikh looked at his burly companion with a smile.

  "This is General Ullsaard, of Greater Askhor," Urikh said. "He and I have a favour to ask of you."

  Aroisius was already shaking his head, perturbed by the arrival of the two men. Gelthius could feel tension; the sudden disturbance of an existence that had been routine for many days. The hillmen in particular were unnerved by the presence of an Askhan officer; for generations their tribes had raided into Ersua and Anrair, lands that had belonged to Askhor for most of the hillmen's lives.

  "We want to share your lodgings," Urikh said. "It looks as though you have plenty of room here, and our men do not take up too much space."

  "Your men?" Aroisius's eyes narrowed as he looked around the valley, empty save for his own people. "What men?"

  "They will be with us shortly," said Urikh. "We thought it better to come ahead and make sure they had a suitable welcome."

  "How many?" demanded Aroisius.

  Urikh looked towards the towering general beside him. The man was full of confidence.

  "I'd say about thirty-two thousand," said Ullsaard. "Plus camp followers."

  Aroisius gawped at this news while there were laughs from some of his chieftains. A disturbed muttering rose up from the crowding rebels. Still watching Anglhan, Gelthius saw the landship captain whisper to Furlthia, who shook his head in reply, frowning.

  "That is impossible!" said Aroisius. "We cannot house and feed that many men until spring."

  "There won't be a need to," said Ullsaard, stopping just a couple of strides from Aroisius, a satisfied smile on his face. "We'll be in Magilnada long before spring. Plenty of beds and food there."

  "What?" Exclamations of surprise came from both Urikh and Aroisius. Urikh stared at Ullsaard, brow creased.

  "I never said anything about Magilnada," said Urikh.

  "It's not your decision," replied Ullsaard. The general turned his eyes upon Aroisius. "Do we have a deal? We'll share camp for a while and I'll help you take Magilnada."

  One of the chieftains, Lubrianati, strutted towards Ullsaard.

  "My blood will be cold before I share air with Askhan dogs," Lubrianati growled. "Let's kill these bastards and have done with it."

  Gelthius saw Anglhan wince at this outburst and shared the captain's opinion. All eyes were on the Askhan general. Ullsaard did not even look at Lubrianati. He folded his arms across his chest, his full attention on Aroisius.

  "It is my belief that you are in charge here," said Ullsaard, his words softly spoken. "You should keep your men in order."

  "I have no ne
ed nor desire for Askhan aid in taking Magilnada," Aroisius said slowly.

  "My fucking money was good enough, though?" snapped Urikh. "You would not even have an army if it was not for me."

  Both Aroisius and Ullsaard darted looks of irritation at the younger man and returned to looking at each other.

  "Wait, wait!" Anglhan called out, stepping from the crowd. "Did you not hear them? They have thirty thousand men!"

  "I doubt it!" laughed Barias. "Any man would be a fool to march so many men in winter."

  "Thirty thousand, a hundred thousand, it makes no difference," said Aroisius. "We will reclaim Magilnada for true Salphors without your help. I will return your money, what is left of it, and we will continue without your support."

  "Are you breaking our deal, Aroisius?" Urikh hissed. "You spend my money and expect to give nothing in return?"

  "What is this madness?" exclaimed Anglhan. He turned his words to the assembled rebels. "Who would turn down such allies? If we wish to take Magilnada, this would seem to be to our fortune."

  There were laughs and shouts of derision amongst the crowd, though Gelthius heard most of it coming from the rebels. The hillmen were oddly quiet, despite the outburst from one of their chieftains. They watched guardedly, trying to guess at the outcome of this confrontation.

  A pointed silence ensued, Urikh and Ullsaard facing down Aroisius and his men. A sound startled all except the two Askhans: the distant beats of a drum echoing along the valley. It sounded a quick march, and as it rolled along the cliffs another noise could be heard, a constant rumbling. This soon resolved into the tramping of feet; thousands upon thousands of feet.

  The shouts of the sentries were filled with alarm as a line of armoured men appeared at the mouth of the valley, marching in step to the drum. Fifty abreast, rank after rank of legionnaires entered the pass behind their golden icons, spears shouldered, shields held up.

  Gelthius watched the reactions of those around him: fear in the eyes of the rebels, save Aroisius, who glowered at the oncoming army; surprise and delight from Anglhan; a mixture of worry and anger from the hillmen and their chiefs; and Ullsaard standing calmly in front of Aroisius with a slight smile.

  "Would you like to reconsider your position?" the general said. "There is no reason we cannot be allies."

  "Listen to him," said Anglhan. "Our quarrel is not with the Askhans, but with those toads that would squeeze the blood from Salphoria. What does it matter how we take Magilnada? We are strengthened by this alliance!"

  Aroisius rounded on Anglhan, his face a mask of fury.

  "You reward my trust with betrayal, you wretched thief!" snarled the rebel leader. "Has this been your plan all along? Usurper! You have not a single fibre of honour or decency in your whole body. You are a traitor to Salphoria."

  Anglhan did his best to look offended.

  "I swore to do all that I could to put Magilnada into your hands, Lord Aroisius," he said. "What better way to deliver the city than with the help of these men?"

  "Save your lies, you treacherous, spirit-cursed oathbreaker."

  "See sense," said Ullsaard. "Listen to your friend."

  "He is no friend of mine," rasped Aroisius. The rebel leader stared directly at Ullsaard, spittle flying from his mouth. "There is no alliance here. Take your men and leave."

  Ullsaard's hand moved so fast, Gelthius barely saw the general rip free his sword. In one motion, blade left scabbard and connected with the side of Aroisius's head, splitting skin and skull. As the rebel leader fell back with a cry, Ullsaard followed up, chopping his blade into Aroisius's neck, blood spattering across the general's face and breastplate.

  Gelthius glanced down the valley; the legionnaires were barely two hundred paces away.

  Lubrianati stepped up with a shout, but his sword was barely out of its sheath when Ullsaard's shield smashed into his face. The Askhan lunged with the tip of his sword, driving it into Lubrianati's left armpit, deep into the chieftain's chest. Lepiris moved out of instinct, but Gelthius grabbed his arm and hauled him back. Ullsaard dragged his sword from the body of Lubrianati and stood at guard, Urikh backing behind him, casting glances over his shoulder towards the advancing column.

  "No fighting!" roared Anglhan, stepping in front of Ullsaard to face the rebels; out of weapon reach of both, Gelthius noted. "Do not throw away your lives. This is a hopeless battle. We cannot win!"

  "Listen to your man!" bellowed Ullsaard. "No harm will come to any man that does not raise his weapon against me. Any that choose to fight will be shown no mercy."

  The sight of the two dead men at the general's feet, and the massed ranks advancing behind him, quelled any immediate attack. The legionnaires stopped at the command of their captains, barely fifty paces from the line of rebels that stretched from one side of the valley to the other. Ullsaard, Urikh, Anglhan and Furlthia stood between the two lines, watching warily.

  Gelthius tugged at Lepiris's jacket and the two of them melted away towards the closest cave entrance. Others were doing the same, Anglhan's old crew and bands of hillmen mostly; the line thinned as the chieftains raised their open palms and ordered their followers to stand back. With their numbers growing smaller by the moment, most of the ex-slaves and Salphor brigands threw down their clubs and spears, hurling insults and disgust at those that had backed down.

  Calm descended. Ullsaard wiped his sword on Lubrianati's jerkin and sheathed the weapon. He passed his shield to Urikh and placed his fists on his hips, regarding the rebels and hillmen impassively. The general's gaze turned on Gelthius, who froze, gripping Lepiris's arm tightly.

  "You!" barked Ullsaard, pointing at Gelthius. "Are you prepared to swear an oath of loyalty to me? Will you become a legionnaire of Greater Askhor?"

  Gelthius looked along the two lines of men. To his right stood the rebels, with their leather jerkins and mauls, their ragged trousers and bent-shaft spears; to the left waited the Askhan legionnaires, with their broad shields, their bronze-tipped pikes, their polished armour and their gleaming standards.

  "It's the legions for me, right enough," Gelthius replied in a quailing voice.

  "Good man!" Ullsaard replied with a grin. Still smiling, he took a deep breath and spoke to the others. "Any man not willing to join me will not be forced to. Those that wish to leave, step forward and make yourselves known."

  There was no movement at first, but then Barias strode up to Ullsaard and spat at his feet. In ones and twos, half of the chieftain's warriors joined him. Others drifted from the crowd, alone or in small groups, until there were several hundred men in the dissident group. Ullsaard nodded and walked back to his army, where his officers met him and they spoke for a short while. At the shout of "Split column!" the legionnaires divided their line, opening up a space down the middle of the valley.

  "Off you go!" Ullsaard shouted cheerfully, waving Barias and the others towards the mouth of the pass.

  With glances back to those they were leaving behind, the dissenters walked down the valley, passing between the lines of legionnaires. A few more men broke from those that had stayed behind, running to catch up with those that were leaving. When the last of them had caught up, Ullsaard turned to his army and raised his fist.

  At this unspoken command, the captains bellowed the order to attack.

  Like the jaws of an ailur closing, the legionnaires turned on the men in their midst, bearing down on them with shield and spear. Realising their plight, Barias and a few others drew their weapons, but it was too late; line after line of bronze spearpoints surrounded them, rank after rank of soldiers bore down on them.

  The clash of weapons and shouts lasted for only a brief time; all along the valley silence fell. The rebels were dead, only the legions of Ullsaard remained.

  Magilnada

  Midwinter, 209th Year of Askh

  I

  The only traffic on the road leading to Magilnada was a solitary two-wheeled cart drawn by a plodding abada. Cold sleet rained down on the wagon, whose
driver and companion sat huddled in their cloaks beneath an improvised awning of stretched canvas. Water caused the sheet to bow, so that now and then the driver reached up with a stick to poke the awning, sending icecold water sloshing over the sides.

  "Still, better than snow, eh?" said Gelthius. His passenger, the Askhan noble called Noran, replied with a doubtful look.

  "I like snow, in moderation."

  "What's 'moderation' mean?" asked Gelthius.

  "Not too much," Noran told him with a sigh. Gelthius absorbed this piece of knowledge with a nod, and stored it with the other long words he had learnt on the journey from the camp.

  They carried on, the cart rocking slowly from side to side, the wind bringing gusts of spray into their faces.

  "Ever seen Magilnada before?" Gelthius asked. Noran shook his head.

  "Not in person," said the noble. "I have seen drawings."

  "It's a mighty city, right enough," said Gelthius. "A mighty city indeed."

  "I was born in Askh, the greatest city in the world," said Noran. "It takes a lot to impress me."

  They rode on for a while longer, until Gelthius spoke again. It had been the same for the whole journey; Gelthius trying to pass the time with chat, Noran answering only reluctantly.

  "Pardon my saying, but you don't seem all that happy to be here," said Gelthius.

  Noran didn't reply straightaway. He drew his hood tighter to his face and stared up at the mountains. Gelthius thought the noble was going to ignore him, but then Noran spoke. His voice was quiet, his mood sombre.

  "Bearing all things in mind, I would rather be in Askh. I have a large house there, and a lodge in the hills I can visit if I fancy some mountain air. I would travel in a covered carriage, out of the wind and rain. Servants would attend me at my slightest word, bringing me good food and splendid wine.

  "Instead, here I am on the board of an open wagon, in the pissing rain, my belly half-empty, my clothes soaking to the skin. And what am I about to do? Ride into the city my friend, your general, is about to attack, at no small risk to myself."