The Crown of the Blood

by Gav Thorpe

  "Tell me of Askh," said Lakhyri.

  The boy's eyes roved fro a while before focussing again.

  "The sun still shines, but the trees bend in the strong wind. I see the precincts of the Brotherhood, and the palace. There is a chariot race on the circuit. There is nothing to see here."

  "See what must be seen," said the high priest, leaning closer.

  "I fly towards the desert. There is flame and smoke."

  "A battle?" asked Lakhyri.

  "No battle. The soldiers have left. I see them now, a day's march coldwards of the fires. They are the legions of Askhor."

  "Who leads them?"

  "A large man rides a grey and black cat. He has a short beard and carries a spear of gold. I count five icons, five bearded faces of gold. They march at speed. Wagons follow them, with women and children on their boards and walking beside. Some are unhappy, others have smiles."

  The boy fell silent. At a gesture from Lakhyri, Eriekh removed the pins from the boy's skin, allowing him to blink. The acolyte looked at the three priests as if seeing them for the first time. He reached out towards Lakhyri.

  "So bright," he whispered. He met Lakhyri's cold gaze. "Such a web of colours."

  "You may go," said the high priest. "Send another acolyte to us." The youth nodded and left with a glazed look and a half-smile. "What does this mean, master?" asked Eriekh.

  "I do not know. Perhaps Udaan can give us some answers."

  ASKHOR

  Late Autumn, 209th Year of Askh

  I

  An Askhan column on the march was the epitome of efficiency. From Enair to Maasra, every legionnaire and officer was ruthlessly inculcated with the routine of war. Whether the army was a small patrol of five hundred men or, as Ullsaard now led, five full legions numbering more than thirty thousand, daily life was always the same.

  At the call of Dawnwatch the men would breakfast, feed the animals and begin to break down the camp. Every company would begin by dismantling their tents and stowing them with the baggage. Each was assigned a sector of the camp wall to dismantle. The guard companies, a tenth of the army, stood ready to respond to any threat while the rest of the force carried out its tasks. A legionnaire worked in his armour and was forbidden from ever being more than ten paces from his shield, helmet and spear. Infractions were always applied to the whole company – usually in the form of extra rotations on the most demeaning duties such as digging and filling the latrines, or extra stints on the guard duty just before dawn, known as Gravewatch. This meant that the legionnaires were always watching out for the discipline of their comrades, and any who brought the company into disrepute could expect a severe beating from his fellows.

  Breaking camp took two hours, half an Askhan watch, after which the whole force would be ready to move out. Like all other duties, the task of vanguard and rearguard was cycled through the legions and each would move out in its appointed place, their baggage gathered in a single train at the centre of the column. Kolubrid-riding scouts fanned out ahead and to either side of the advancing column, alert for danger.

  The army marched without pause, through the rest of Dawnwatch, Low Watch and Noonwatch, ten Askhan hours. At the prescribed pace the army would cover twenty-five Askhan miles over this time, a mile being one-tenth the distance a legion could cover in a full watch. Ullsaard pushed his troops hard each day, so that by the time High Watch came about in mid-afternoon they had instead covered forty miles. When High Watch was called the scouts reported suitable camping sites and the legion would erect their temporary town over the course of the next four hours, until Duskwatch was rung in. By this time, the tents would be erected, organised by company and legion; wooden walls were built, either from locally cut wood if available or timber brought with the baggage if lumber was sparse, with ditches around them. The cook fires would be burning, the transportable forge lit and the night duties detailed out to the companies.

  Families and other non-combatants that were often left behind by the pace of the march caught up with their soldiers in the evening and made their own rough camp outside the walls – no closer than a bowshot to ensure their tents and carts did not provide cover to an attacking foe.

  In the event of enemy action, the gates would not be opened for them, so these folk camped nearby woods if they could, which would allow them to flee if they were set upon during the night. Wives and children of legionnaires that had served for many years were no less disciplined than their husbands and fathers, and the life in the civilian camp was a strange mirror of the military routine, with families from the same companies and legions sticking together, organising their own food and sentries. Ullsaard had always marvelled at this spirit, a true demonstration of the discipline and organisation that bound the Askhan people with their empire.

  From Duskwatch to Howling the legionnaires were at their leisure, food being served company by company, repairs made to equipment, the animals foddered. Small amounts of beer were allowed, carefully rationed by the captains – drunkenness was punishable by death. Depending on the locale, companies would also be sent to forage in the surrounding area, and often the kolubrid companies would set out to hunt for fresh meat.

  Any infractions from the day would be dealt with by the officers, and the men would be sent to their blankets at Howling, save for those companies that were called for guard duty. These guards spent one watch patrolling the walls and garrisoning the gate towers while their companions slept. Midnight Watch and Gravewatch passed the night until Dawnwatch when the whole machine set to action again.

  Hour by hour, watch by watch, day by day, Ullsaard's legions marched coldwards towards Askh. Even when they had crossed into the more civilised lands of Okhar, the routine did not change. Though there was little threat of attack, the ritual of life on the march was adhered to. Under hot sun, through driving rains and gales, a legion would always be the same, the familiarity of the life bringing the men together in bonds surer than simple friendship.

  Ullsaard kept to himself for much of the time, either in the vanguard or at the head of the main column as his daily mood took him. Some mornings he woke up eager and he wanted to be at the forefront of the advance, every step bringing him closer to realising his ambition of a campaign against Salphoria. Other days he woke filled with nerves, worried by the prospect of dispute with King Lutaar. On those days he lost himself in the daily matters of his army and stayed with the bulk of the legions, discussing the running of the army with his First Captains. It was easy to drown out the doubts with endless questions about supply, punishments, promotions and the other distractions of a commander.

  It was a source of some pride for Ullsaard that none of his officers questioned his orders as they continued towards Askhor. It was another worry of his that something might happen to test that loyalty and he did his best to treat his First Captains well, gently reminding them individually and as a group that he had their best interests at heart.

  II

  Forty-seven days of hard marching brought Ullsaard back to the Askhor Gap and the Wall. He could have reached the border sooner, but had chosen to avoid the main road along the Greenwater, instead heading almost directly coldwards from Mekha before turning dawnwards to cross the Greenwater between Paalun and Narun. They had entered the foothills of the Askhor Mountains and marched coldwards again, coming upon the Askhor Gap across a wide ridge that extended out to duskwards from the foot of the mountains.

  Ullsaard's feelings on seeing the Wall were mixed, just as they had been in the summer. Beyond was Askh, which held the key to his future, for good or bad. From his vantage point he stared across the flat plain of the Askhor Gap and saw nothing amiss. Lines of carts moved along the road, meaning that the gate was open. If Lutaar had suspected anything, he would surely have closed the gate and stopped Ullsaard from approaching the city.

  Feeling a little more confident, Ullsaard summoned his First Captains. He tried hard to keep any sign of his nerves from his demeanour, hoping to exude confide
nce and make his subordinates believe that they were perfectly entitled to march into Askhor whenever they pleased.

  "I'm going to split the column once we are through the gate," he told them. "Donar, I want the Fifth to make their camp ten miles inside the gate. There's a large hill hotwards of the road that you should use. The rest of the legions are coming with me to Askh. We should be there in two days' time. We'll set up camp and I'll go to the city."

  "Wouldn't it be easier to keep the legions outside the Wall rather than marching them in and back out again?" asked Jutiil.

  "Winter's almost here," Ullsaard replied. "We'll not be going anywhere until spring, so we might as well enjoy the shelter of Askhor."

  There were nods of agreement. Ullsaard sent the commanders back to their legions and pulled himself up onto Blackfang's back. He sat there for some time while the order of march was barked out to the companies. He stared at the Wall, arms crossed, part of him dreading that the gates would be closed against him when he approached; part of him hoping for the same thing because that would mean it wasn't his fault if he turned around and headed back to Mekha.

  Ten abreast, the army wound down the side of the ridge towards the road. Seeing the approaching legions, bearing their polished icons, crests on their helms, shields gleaming, the people on the road made way, beating their abada to pull their carts out into the fields, shooing families from the legionnaires' path.

  Ullsaard smiled to himself, pleased with the conduct of his men. As he rode along their lines he saw that were all in step, spears held rigid, backs straight. They knew they marched into Askhor, many of them for the first time. He could feel pride emanating from rank after rank, their footfalls a thunderous beat as they headed for the gate.

  Ahead the gatehouse loomed across the road, still open to traffic. Ullsaard saw men gathering on the ramparts, their speartips shining against the overcast sky. For a moment he thought they were mustering to defend the gate and he reined Blackfang to a halt, suddenly terrified. He expected to hear the splashing of water and grinding of gears at any time; to see the square of light between the towers narrow and disappear.

  Anasind fell out from his company and approached, marching stiffly across the road.

  "I guess they want to see what real soldiers look like, eh?" he said, looking towards the Wall.

  "I think you guess right," replied Ullsaard, hiding his relief when the standards of the vanguard passed into the shadow of the gatehouse without incident. "Not since Nemtun's triumphs have these walls seen legions returning from battle."

  "Do you think we'll be receiving honours, General?" asked Anasind.

  "What's that?"

  "I know you've been quiet about why we've come here, but we think we know what you're up to, General."

  "You do?" Ullsaard studied Anasind's face for some sign of disapproval. There was none. "And what do you think that is?"

  "You've organised us city honours, we reckon. You know, like legions used to get after a conquest."

  Ullsaard remembered the tradition, though no city parade had been held in more than twenty years. Victorious legions were granted leave to enter the city, march along the Royal Way, circle the palace and leave. At the palace, the king would hang honours on the standards of the legions, which would be carried proudly for the rest of their existence.

  Honours were the last thing Ullsaard expected from Lutaar, though perhaps next year if they did well in Salphoria the king would recognise their efforts.

  "We'll see," Ullsaard told Anasind. The First Captain winked knowingly and headed back to his subordinates.

  With mixed hope and fear, Ullsaard urged Blackfang into a trot and headed towards the gate.

  III

  Ullsaard decided to walk into Askh, leaving his legions to make camp a few miles outside the city walls. Undoubtedly word would have already been taken to the king of the presence of so many soldiers, so Ullsaard hurried up the road with Luamid, Rondin and fifty legionnaires from the Thirteenth in tow.

  As with crossing the Wall, their entry into Askh was not barred in any way. Sentries at the gate stared incredulously at the general who a season earlier had been welcomed with a full parade, now hastening along the Royal Way with a relative handful of men. Ullsaard could imagine the rumours already spreading through the city; the camp was clearly visible from the road and walls, and such an appearance was sure to cause comment.

  Though there was no cheering crowd this time, Ullsaard felt he was the centre of attention as he marched up the mound toward the a palace, garbed in his campaign gear. Workers fixing walls and roofs downed their tools to stare, drovers allowed their herds to wander while they gazed at the imposing general and his entourage. Ullsaard could see the street vendors gossiping with their customers, shielding their mouths with their hands while their eyes fixed on him. Amongst them he saw the black robes of the Brotherhood, their eyes watchful in the shadows of their hoods. He did not glance behind, but fancied that a growing number of people were following, drawn by the spectacle.

  He wondered for a moment if he should stop and address the forming crowd. It occurred to him that the sympathy of the common people would be no bad thing in the dispute he knew was swiftly coming. He dismissed the thought. He wanted to present himself directly to the king, under the full right of the law, not arrive as some rabble-rouser.

  He had wondered how he would feel, this close to confronting Lutaar. He realised that he was enjoying the thrill of it; he felt the same way he did before a battle. Every step he took closer to the palace filled him with more confidence. The difficult part had been done: deciding on this course of action. Setting the scheme in motion had been the hard part, all he had to do now was hold his nerve and tell the king what he wanted.

  It was what he deserved, as Aalun had pointed out. More than that, it was his right by Askhan law. As they turned onto the road encircling the palace, Ullsaard conceded that while he had been a little underhanded in bringing his legions here, their presence should be no argument against his legal claim.

  His thoughts were broken by a shout from behind. He looked over his shoulder to see that several hundred people had gathered on the Royal Way no more than a spear's cast behind him. He sensed some hostility, and could see anger in the eyes of those at the front of the mob. Black hoods moved through the crowd, no doubt whispering words of encouragement.

  "I don't like this," said Luamid. The First Captain put his hand to the hilt of his sword, but Ullsaard grabbed his wrist to prevent him drawing his weapon.

  "Let us just get to the palace quickly," said the general, picking up the pace of his long strides.

  Around him the legionnaires looked confused, as people gathered under the trees lining the road, their arms crossed in disapproval, scowls on their faces.

  They reached the gate and found a company of palace guards barring their path. They stood with spears held to salute, shields lowered, but there was no doubt that they had been ordered to stop Ullsaard from entering. Though he had hoped that such a thing would not come to pass, he had been prepared for this eventuality.

  "Wait here," Ullsaard told his men as he pulled a roll of parchment from his belt.

  He strode up to the captain of the guard and thrust the scroll towards him.

  "These are my orders, directing me to report to Prince Aalun as soon as I reach the city," Ullsaard growled. "If you attempt to impede me or my men, you will be disobeying a command from one of the Blood. The penalty for such an offence is death by hanging."

  The captain did not spare a glance at the parchment. The officer looked away from Ullsaard's fierce stare and stepped back.

  "Let them pass," he muttered.

  Ullsaard strode straight towards the lines of legionnaires, who bumped into one another and trod on each other's feet as they parted before the general. Taking his lead, Rondin and Luamid waved the bodyguard onward and they plunged through the widening gap made by their leader. A few of Ullsaard's men jeered and snarled at the palace gu
ards until Rondin silenced them.

  Boots and sandals slapped on stone as they jogged up the stairs. The doors to the palace had been closed when they were at the bottom, but opened up as Ullsaard reached the upper steps. The widening doors revealed a worried-looking Noran. He raced across the hall and grabbed Ullsaard by the arm.

  "What by Askhos's hairy balls are you thinking?" Noran demanded.

  "I am here to claim my rights," said Ullsaard, shaking off his friend's grip. Noran followed him inside, like a dog at its master's side.

  "Your rights?" said the herald. "What right have you got to claim a change to the succession?"

  Ullsaard stopped on the spot, Rondin almost walking into him. The general rounded on Noran.

  "What did you say?"

  "I warned you not to get caught up in politics, but you wouldn't listen. You just had to back Aalun's claim, didn't you?"

  "I don't understand. Tell me what's happened!"