by Gav Thorpe
It was almost too much, but Meliu pulled away with a parting lick before Noran's pleasure burst forth. She giggled as he rolled to his back and lifted her onto him, pushing her dress up above her waist. Cupping Meliu's buttocks, Noran steered her into position and she lowered herself towards him, but stopped short, brushing the tip of his member but no further.
Meliu grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands behind his head as she wormed her way up his body.
"Your turn," she said, placing a warm thigh on either side of his head, lowering herself onto his face. Intoxicated by the scent of her, he thrust his tongue out, pulling his hands free so he could grip her backside again, dragging Meliu further onto him as she ground her groin back and forth across his mouth.
Meliu's breath came in short pants and squeals. Noran felt her fingers clamping onto the top of his head and for a moment he was worried that her nails would draw blood, so tight were their grip.
This time Noran pushed her away, sitting up so that she fell to one side, her face and chest flushed with red, one breast protruding from the top of her dress. For a moment in the dim light, he swore she looked like Neerita, so happy with him, so eager for more. The sensation passed with a twinge of guilt, but that was easily swamped by Noran's desire to finish the act.
With Meliu still on her side, he lifted her upmost leg and pushed himself slowly inside her. There was a real hunger in Meliu's eyes as she looked over her shoulder at him, almost pleading with him. He could resist no longer and started with quick thrusts, each made deeper by her movement back against him.
His climax built swiftly and strongly, and Meliu's wild eyes betrayed her own approaching moment of fulfilment. Every muscle tightened in Noran's body as he reached the highest point, all of his lust and grief and anger and loss condensing into a feral shout as it burst out of him into her. The whole world stopped for a few spasming heartbeats, his ears hissing with blood, barely hearing Meliu's shriek of pleasure.
As he sank back into the bed covers and pillows, Noran enjoyed the calm that washed over him. But the bliss would not last, something nagged at him: Meliu's tight grip on his arm, digging into flesh, pinching the hairs on his skin.
"What is it?" he asked, opening his eyes and turning his head slightly to look at Meliu. Her stare was fixed on the door. Noran lazily rolled over to see what she was looking at.
Luia stood in the open doorway, hand on the frame, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
"You were at the jewel market!" Meliu snapped in accusation.
"I am back," Luia replied quietly. She slowly shifted her eyes from Meliu to Noran. "My sister is a brainless slut, so I can understand her part in this. You? I thought you would be wiser. You have a wife for this sort of thing."
"Have sex with Anriit?" Noran laughed. "My cock and balls would freeze off before I was finished."
"You seem to find this situation amusing," Luia said.
She walked stiffly across the room and sat on the end of the bed. Meliu straightened her dress and pulled the covers over Noran's bare legs in an attempt at decency.
"You've fucked more men than the female population of this city, who are you to judge your sister?" Noran said.
"That is true," said Luia, smoothing a hand across the blankets. "I would not think twice about this squalid little tumble between you. In fact, if I had known you were looking for some bedroom action, I would have helped you myself."
"So why are you looking so smug?"
"My husband expects the least from me," Luia said, leaning back with all the contentment of a cat with a rat. "I am not sure he would be so forgiving of my sister. And I never sleep with any of his friends or subordinates."
Meliu's expression was of growing realisation of what they had done and her voice broke into sobs when she spoke.
"Ullsaard will kill us," she said.
Noran dismissed her worries with a shake of the head.
"No, not for this." He turned back to Luia. "And besides, he is not going to find out, is he?"
"If you are worried about him finding out, then you are worried about how he will react," said Luia. "You are close friends, but Ullsaard is a territorial man, used to being in command. He does not like it when his wishes are disobeyed, and more importantly he gets very angry when his expectations are not met. You know this. And he is a violent man by nature."
Noran leapt out of the bed and lunged for Luia, but she skipped away and he tripped on his falling trousers, landing flat on his face. Luia's laugh filled the room.
"What are you going to do to silence me? Kill me? That is not going to work, is it? Threaten me? You cannot, there is nothing you know that is as damaging as what I know."
"For the sake of your sister?" suggested Noran, awkwardly hauling himself back onto the bed. "She will be blamed as much as me."
"Meliu is safe because she is also Allenya's sister. Ullsaard will beat her, severely I would say, but he knows she is dim-witted but harmless, and he will suspect you of seducing her. If he hears the story from the wrong person…"
"What is it that you want from me?" asked Noran as he secured his trousers and tightened his belt. "Money?"
"I do not know… Yet." Luia approached Noran and he flinched as she reached a hand out towards his groin. "Perhaps it is you I want."
"No, no, no!" Noran backed away. "To sleep with one wife might be forgiven, but I am not repeating the mistake."
"This was a mistake, was it?" There was a brittle timbre to Meliu's question and Noran had to choose his words carefully.
"It was a mistake to be caught, but what happened between us was not wrong. We needed each other and found each other at the right time. That is all."
"Shameful!" laughed Luia. "You show no remorse at all for fucking your friend's wife. Does Ullsaard mean so little to you now? Perhaps I would be doing my husband a favour by telling him of your disdain. Betrayal can grow so quickly, you know. First you take one of Ullsaard's wives, next you will be heading back to Askh to gain favour with the king by hanging Ullsaard out to dry."
"I would never do that!"
"A year ago you would never have slept with me," said Meliu, jumping from the bed. Noran dragged his gaze away from her swinging breasts and looked at her distraught face. "Was this some way of getting at Ullsaard? Were you going to use me?"
Noran had to laugh with the shock of it all, a bitter snorting that threatened to engulf him.
"You really are a stupid cow if you believe this bitch."
"I think you had better leave," Meliu said primly. "Urikh will be back shortly."
"It might be best if you leave the city altogether," said Luia. "To avoid the temptation of a second performance. I have to protect my sister's reputation."
Noran looked at the two women, who were now standing side by side. He tried to comprehend what was happening, but found no reasonable explanation. Noran was forced to conclude that the pair of them had either conspired to trap him, or were most certainly insane. Leaving the city sounded like a fine idea.
"I shall pack my things and leave before dusk," Noran assured them. "I will go to Ullsaard and explain to him what has happened. If he chooses to kill me, so be it. It might even be a relief."
Noran hurried from the room, confused and angry. Luia's laughter followed him down the passageway. He stopped on the landing, turned around and strode back into the bedchamber.
"Get out!" he snapped at them. "This is my room!"
Anrair
Spring, 209th Year of Askh
I
A town's mood was like the weather; you could sense when it was changing. Gelthius knew what it was like to live in a place where the harvest had failed, or the local chieftain had died to be replaced by a better or worse man. He could sense the mood of Talladmun in the quiet of the markets; the nervous manner of people in the streets; the houses left empty by families that had fled.
The town knew war was coming soon.
"There he is."
Gelthius looked at his
companion, the general's eldest son, Urikh. He was pointing at a third captain standing with a company of legionnaires at the duskward road leading into the market. The officer was tall and thickset, with a flat face and straight-cropped hair poking out from under his helmet. Urikh passed Gelthius a folded piece of parchment sealed with a blob of wax.
Gelthius headed across the market with the message, ambling through the thin crowd looking at the wares on display. It was meagre fare. Only those farms within a couple of days' of the town had brought their winter stores. Everybody farther afield was too scared to travel, though whether it was the renegade legions or the hillmen brigands that frightened them more Gelthius couldn't say.
He stopped at one wagon laden with limp spring cabbages and listened to the farmer asking for far more than they were worth. The woman shopping shook her head and walked away. It was the same all over the town. No ore meant the forges had gone cold. No food meant prices were rising so quickly only the governor and his legion could buy anything, and often they did, taking all of the available food, leaving the people of the town to go hungry.
Crossing the open pavement to where the third captain stood, Gelthius performed his "tripping up" routine. Rather than shouting at him as usually happened, the captain stepped up to help Gelthius to his feet. Surprised, the Salphor almost forgot to slip the message to the captain. He pushed the parchment into the officer's hands with a whisper.
"Read it later, in private."
With that, Gelthius staggered away, leaving the confused Askhan captain looking dumbly at the letter for a few moments before he carefully folded it and pushed it down into his breastplate.
"My brother is an idiot," Urikh muttered when Gelthius rejoined him. "Let us just hope he has not forgotten how to read."
II
Urikh had sent word that Nemtun had definitely left Talladmun with half the legions, chasing a rumour of Ullsaard encamped five days to coldward in the Enairian forests. Governor Allon had gone with him, leaving the cowardly Murian in charge of the army protecting Talladmun and the road to Parmia.
Ullsaard had not had things all his own way, and his forces had been depleted by raiding parties, escorts and diversionary forces, and the thousand men still posing as rebels in Magilnada. In all, he had about three and a half legions at hand, more than enough for the two dispirited legions Urikh claimed were stationed in Talladmun.
It was a bright morning, full of the promise of spring. Twenty thousand legionnaires marched along the road to Talladmun, which could be seen nestled in the foothills a few miles away. Ullsaard's army made no attempt to hide its approach. The general wanted the opposition to have as much time as possible to get scared. If Urikh and the others had done their jobs properly — and he had no reason to doubt they had — the mixture of Murian and Allon's men would be more than nervous about the army bearing down upon them.
A mile from the town, Ullsaard faintly heard the warning horns. He called the army to a halt on a low, long hill overlooking the farmlands outside Talladmun; each phalanx took its position in a line that stretched for half a mile, clear to see for every soldier on the walls. After nearly two seasons spent running away, hiding in the mountains, posing as rabble and beating up innocent merchants, Ullsaard was looking forward to having a proper battle. Part of him hoped that his clever plan would not work and he would have to fight for the town.
He did not have to wait long.
A column of armoured soldiers snaked from the town's closest gate, about five hundred men. They carried with them their golden standard and Ullsaard could see a figure riding an ailur at their head: Governor Murian. Ullsaard signalled to his own bodyguard from the Thirteenth and urged Blackfang down the slope.
The two delegations met half a mile from the town wall, and the contrast between them became clear. Proud and confident, Ullsaard swung down from Blackfang and strode up to his opponents while Murian hunched in his saddle, surrounded by guards. The governor's eyes never strayed from Ullsaard and he fidgeted with a piece of parchment in his hands.
"You got my letter?" Ullsaard called out lightly. Murian held out a hand, the parchment shaking in his fingers. "Good. Do you have any questions?"
"The king will have me skinned and then boned like a fish if I do what you ask," Murian said. "I cannot hand over my soldiers and the town without a fight!"
"The king is not here," said Ullsaard, stopping a little way from Murian, arms crossed. He fixed the governor with his best stare, perfected over years of command and fatherhood. "I am."
"But this is outrageous!" Murian swallowed hard and tried to rally some confidence. "We can hold the town until Nemtun returns with the rest of the army." "No, you can't."
"What makes you so sure? I have enough men to hold the walls, and supplies for more than ten days."
Ullsaard moved his gaze from Murian to the captain just behind him: Jutaar. Ullsaard's son met his eye and nodded.
"Allon's men will not defend the walls," said Ullsaard. "They've had a better offer. That leaves you with just one legion."
"You seem very certain of that." Murian's nervousness was quickly becoming indignation. "I think this is just a ruse to get me to surrender. Do you think I am that easily fooled?"
"No ruse, no fooling," said Ullsaard. He looked again at Jutaar.
With a shout, Jutaar drew his sword and lunged at the officer next to him, cutting down Murian's First Captain. From behind Ullsaard, the Thirteenth bodyguard surged forward as Allon's men turned on Murian's with a crash of shields and spears. Murian tried to bolt, kicking his heels into his ailur's flanks but Ullsaard reacted quickly, leaping to snatch at the heavy reins.
Digging his heels into the dirt, Ullsaard wrenched back with all his strength, pulling the great cat off balance, bringing her sliding to her flank in a cloud of dirt. Murian was thrown clear as the ailur righted herself and leapt at Ullsaard, fangs and claws bared. Ullsaard dodged to his left, but a paw caught him in the shoulder, sending links of mail scattering in a shower of bloody droplets. The ailur thrashed her head, almost wrenching Ullsaard's arms from their sockets.
"Give me a behemodon any time," the general snarled as he hurled himself between the beast's outstretched forelegs.
His shoulder slammed into the ailur's armoured chest. With a grunt, Ullsaard straightened his legs as claws raked down the back of his armour. Linking his fingers through the ailur's mane, Ullsaard twisted to his right and swung his legs, putting all of his weight on to the animal. She buckled with a roar and fell forwards. In an instant, Ullsaard had his knee on the ailur's throat and his hands were wrapping the reins around her slashing forelegs. Once he was confident she was hobbled, Ullsaard jumped back out of harm's way. The ailur struggled to right herself, but fell down twice and gave up, lying panting in the flattened grass.
"There's a good girl," Ullsaard said.
He spied Murian trying to crawl away and went after him, grabbing the governor by the ankle, twisting until Murian rolled to his back. The vicious shouts and ringing metal of the fighting legionnaires was already growing quieter as those loyal to Murian were overwhelmed. Ullsaard hated wasting good fighting men in this way, but it was the only method to be sure the others would fall into line. Just like ailurs, legions needed to be shown who was in charge.
Ullsaard grabbed Murian by the front of his jerkin and hauled him to his feet.
"Do you surrender?" the general snarled. Blood trickled down his cheek from a claw scratch.
Horror filled Murian's expression as the screams of his men died down. He looked at Ullsaard with abject submission, shoulders slumped, legs trembling. The governor of Anrair nodded fitfully and swayed where he stood. Ullsaard thought the man was going to faint and reached out a hand to stop him. Murian shrieked as if attacked and fell to his knees.
"Fuck Nemtun," Murian whispered. "And fuck Lutaar."
"That's the spirit!" Ullsaard said as he pulled the broken governor back to his feet. "Don't worry. I'll look after you."
; Magilnada
Spring, 209th Year of Askh
I
A rough shaking woke Anglhan. He prised open a weary eye and saw Furlthia beside the bed. For a moment the lord of Magilnada thought he was dreaming and rolled to his side, away from the apparition. A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. As his senses came to him, Anglhan could hear shouting from outside the hall.
"Is that you, Furlthia?" he asked.
"It is. Come on, get up and get dressed. We have to get you out of here."
Anglhan slapped away Furlthia's hand.
"What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere. And what's all that racket?"
"That's why I'm here. Come on, see for yourself."
Anglhan threw back the covers and slipped ponderously from the bed. His time as ruler of Magilnada had not been wasted and he had taken a good share of the food coming through the city, so that not only had he replaced all the weight he had lost in the mountains, he had added some more. Hands massaging his flabby gut, still sleepy, he crossed the room to the window, bare feet slapping on the tiled floor.
Throwing open the shutters, he looked out at his city. It was barely dawn, but in the haze he could see a group of armed men approaching up the steps to the lord's hall. They were garbed as Askhan legionnaires, and he recognised Jutiil at their head.
"What does he want?" Anglhan muttered. "And why is he in uniform?"
"They all are," Furlthia said as he busied himself around the room, pulling a chest from beneath Anglhan's bed and filling it with clothes. "All the Askhans are in full gear. I think Ullsaard has turned on you."
"No, there must be some mistake. I've done everything he wanted. Really, I have. There must be some other reason." Anglhan stopped and fixed his eye on Furlthia. "What are you doing here? I thought you had abandoned me."
