by Gav Thorpe
"Well, I won't tell them we're marching into exile, will I?" Ullsaard replied. "I'll tell them we're going to Enair to raise another legion ready for the Salphorian campaign."
"You would lie to your men like that?" said Aalun. "What will happen when they find out the truth?"
"Winter is a long time, Prince," Ullsaard replied as he stood up. "A lot can happen. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. For the moment we have two things to plan for. First, getting past the Wall. Secondly, the march to Enair. I suggest that we spend tomorrow preparing for the first. Then set out the day after. The quicker we can be on our way, the less chance of running into trouble with Nemtun."
"I'm sure I can leave it in your capable hands," said Aalun, also standing. He shook Ullsaard's hand, and Noran's. "I think it is time we all got some sleep."
VII
As Noran and Ullsaard walked back across the camp, the herald was agitated.
"What's bothering you?" asked Ullsaard.
"Apart from the obvious? What are you going to do if the Wall is held against you? Will your men attack?"
Ullsaard smiled.
"You didn't see them with that mob earlier today. Soldiers love fighting. They don't care if it's some Mekhani red-faces, Salphor mud-eaters or other legionnaires. They spend their lives marching around, making camps and eating shitty food. Any opportunity for a fight is a relief from the boredom. Don't worry about that. They'll be more than happy to deal with anyone that tried to get in our way, including Nemtun's legions."
The sentry at Ullsaard's tent informed them that Noran's wives had gone to Jutiil's pavilion. Ullsaard and Noran parted company without another word spoken and Ullsaard entered with a long yawn and a stretch. Only a single lamp lit the inside of the tent, and he cracked his knee against a chair as he headed towards the sleeping quarters that had been erected at the back.
A curtain ruffled and Meliu's pretty face appeared in the candlelight.
"I am afraid," she said softly. "And lonely."
Ullsaard allowed her to take his hand and pull him into her bed area. She disrobed him quickly and threw off her dress. Her hands found his stiffening member and massaged him to a full erection. The tiredness he had felt disappeared as he cupped an ample breast in one hand and plunged the fingers of his other between her legs. She continued to work her hand along his shaft, nipping the hairs on his chest with her teeth.
Though he longed to extend the anticipation, her moistness on his fingertips unleashed his full lust. He pushed her back onto the bed, she giving a girlish shriek as she landed amongst the blankets, legs splayed. He fell on top of her and grabbed an ankle, opening her legs even wider.
"Fuck me," she whispered, and he did as he was told, pushing himself down on top of her, one hand around her throat.
Ullsaard watched her face reddening as he pounded inside her. She gasped between gritted teeth and he placed a hand on her cheek. She pursed her lips for a kiss, but he pushed her face sideways into the pillow so that she was not looking at him.
Adjusting his grip on Meliu's leg, he pushed himself into her as far as he could, his climax exploding through his body. Her nails dragged down his chest as she bit the pillow, muffling a whimper, whether of pain or delight he did not care. Ullsaard pulled himself out and squeezed out the last few drops of his seed onto her belly.
Meliu reached an arm around his neck but Ullsaard pulled away, pushing her back to the bed. He looked down at her heaving chest and the glistening between her thighs. He saw desperation in her eyes and suddenly he felt sickened by what he had done. He turned away.
Meliu scrambled across the bed and grabbed his wrist.
"Get some sleep," he said, wrenching from her grip.
He pushed out of the curtain and turned into the next compartment. Allenya lay in bed pretending to sleep; he had watched and listened to her enough times to know when she was truly asleep. He mentally thanked Allenya for the kindness of her silence and slipped under the covers beside her.
He rolled over towards Allenya, ignoring the soft whimpers coming through the canvas screen from Meliu.
VIII
"What do you reckon?" asked Noran.
The former herald sat on his ailur with Aalun and Ullsaard beside him – the prince's followers had smuggled the war beasts out of the city the previous night, along with several chests containing Aalun's belongings, including a large amount of gold askharins. The three of them looked at the distant Askhor Wall trying to discern if the gates were closed. It was impossible to tell in the morning haze.
"I think we have to assume the worst," said Aalun.
"I agree," said Ullsaard. "I cannot see Lutaar going to the trouble of giving Nemtun his generalship back and hiring mercenaries if we could just walk out."
"We need to detail companies to the forests to collect timber for machines and ladders," said Noran. "That is going to take some time."
Both Aalun and Ullsaard laughed.
"What is so funny?" demanded Noran.
"You," said Ullsaard. "Trying to think like a military commander."
"You'd be right about the siege engines and ladders except for one small thing," said Aalun.
Noran thought for a moment, wondering what he was missing. He had read enough about the sieges of Parmia, Leruin, Geehd and other towns to consider himself fairly knowledgeable on the subject.
"I do not know," he admitted. "What do your keen military minds know that I do not?"
Aalun and Ullsaard exchanged a glance and smiles.
"Shall I tell him?" asked Ullsaard. Aalun nodded. "We're inside the Wall, Noran. There are steps on this side."
Noran covered his face with a hand and shook his head in shame, feeling like an idiot. He looked up and gave a pragmatic shrug.
"Perhaps I should leave the generalling to you two," Noran said.
"That would be for the best," said Aalun.
"But there is something you can do for us," said Ullsaard.
"Yes?" Noran was eager to be useful. He had a feeling that the coming days would take him far out of his element.
"You see that caravan there?" said Ullsaard, pointing to a ring of wagons camped beside the road roughly a mile away. "Ride down there and find out what you can from the merchants. I want to know if they've heard anything about Nemtun or the Nemurians, what's happening outside the Wall, and when they came in."
"Not a problem, General," Noran said, banging his fist against his chest in salute.
"Good for you," Ullsaard said with a smile. "You could make second captain with an attitude like that."
"By Askhos's balls, I hope not," Noran said with a grimace. "I decided at a young age that I was not cut from military material."
"You can stay on as special advisor," laughed Aalun. "How does 'First Gossip-gatherer' sound?"
"I think 'Chief of Intelligence' will suffice," Noran replied stiffly. He steered his ailur down the road and urged her into a trot.
As he rode towards the merchant encampment, Noran considered his options. It was all well and good for Ullsaard and Aalun to make fun of his military inexperience, but Noran refused to be patronised. If it had not been for him, they would have known nothing about the Nemurians or Nemtun.
The prospect of spending a winter stuck in Enair with an army did not fill him with hope. He wondered if it would be better taking Anriit and Neerita and heading for the coast. He had enough money with him to book passage hotwards to Maasra and from there it would be easy to travel to his villa in Okhar. He could keep his head down, wait for this political storm to blow over, and when it was settled they could return to Askh. He could easily put his case as an unwitting servant of the prince and beg to be returned to his former position. If it came to the worst, living out his days amongst his vineyards would not be such a bad fate.
That certainly seemed like the more prudent route, and Noran had no illusions about his own strong feelings regarding selfpreservation. But even as he considered fleeing for the countryside, he knew he could not do it.
Though an able commander and a strong man, Ullsaard would be powerless against Aalun's manipulation without Noran to guide him.
If things got as bad as Noran suspected they would, he was sure that most of the blame would fall on Ullsaard if Aalun had his way. For better or worse, Noran realised he could not bear the guilt of letting that happen without trying to help.
And if the situation got really bad, he could always flee with his wives later.
IX
Ullsaard and Aalun had gathered the First Captains in the main pavilion and were discussing how to assault the Wall when Noran returned. The nobleman's serious expression told Ullsaard all he needed to know about the situation at the Wall.
"The gate was closed two nights ago," Noran said, helping himself to a cup of water that had been holding down one corner of the map. "The merchants bribed the gate captain to let them in at dusk yesterday, but all other traffic was sent back to Narun."
"Are we really going to attack?" asked Anasind. "Up to now, all we've done is kill a few peasants. Some would say this was treason."
There were discontented mutterings from the other First Captains.
"Leave us," Ullsaard said sharply, flicking a hand at his subordinates. "Don't go far though."
The First Captains withdrew and as soon as they were gone, Aalun spoke up.
"They have a point," said the prince. "Perhaps there is no need for this to become a physical confrontation. If we attack the Wall, we are attacking the legionnaires of the Crown; we will be waging war against our rightful king. I am not sure that is a step I want to take."
"And the alternative?" asked Ullsaard.
"We relinquish command of the legions, send word to my father that we accept exile and bide our time. In a few years' time, sooner probably, my father's death will create a new platform to challenge Kalmud's suitability for the Crown."
"And if Kalmud recovers?" asked Noran.
Aalun spread his hands on the table and his tone was earnest.
"I know that you think this is my personal ambition, but I assure you it is not. I genuinely worry for the future of Greater Askhor should my brother become an infirm ruler; worse still if Kalmud dies and the Crown passes to Erlaan, who is far too inexperienced."
"He has a point," said Ullsaard, looking at Noran.
"For himself, maybe," Noran replied. He directed his attention towards the prince. "I have no doubt what you say is true. I agree with you for the most part, even if your methods up to now have been faulty."
Aalun opened his mouth to speak but Noran raised hand.
"Let me finish, Prince, if I may. I think that if you were to dissolve the army and retreat for a while, you would be all right. The king exiled you personally." Noran turned again to Ullsaard. "But you, my friend… You have been declared a traitor to the empire by the Brotherhood. Seizure of all your lands, your family, and a gruesome death come with that. Aalun may walk away from this intact, but you will not. Lutaar will want your head on a platter for what he thinks you have done."
Noran began to pace, but kept his eyes on Ullsaard.
"No comfortable exile for you, General." Noran jabbed a pointed finger towards Ullsaard. "You would have to leave not only Askhor, but flee the empire entirely. Your reputation is already in tatters; your sons will be ruined and made paupers. People will spit in the dirt when your name is mentioned, and should you ever be caught, your flayed remains will be paraded around the empire as a warning to anyone who thinks they can defy the king of Askhor."
Ullsaard's expression grew grimmer as he listened to Noran, until a deep scowl creased his brow.
"I'll not let that happen," said the general. His hard stare moved between Noran and Aalun. "You can both leave now if you want no part of this, but I will be ordering my men to break through the Wall, and they will obey my order."
"I'm with you, friend," Noran said immediately. Aalun did not answer for some time, and when he did it was with a heartfelt sigh.
"If this is the way it must be, then so be it," the prince said eventually. "We must force this issue to a conclusion."
"Good," said Ullsaard. "Noran, I have another favour to ask of you."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Ride down to the Wall with a message for the gate captain. Warn him that if he refuses to open the gate for me, I will have no choice but to attack. He can avoid the deaths of his men if he does not interfere with our leaving Askhor."
"Is it wise to forewarn them?" Noran asked.
"I have thirty thousand men camped five miles away from the Wall. I think the gate captain already has a good idea of what we intend to do. Let's give him a chance to do the sensible thing."
Noran headed for the tent flap.
"And could you send my captains in again?" Ullsaard called after him. Noran raised a hand in acknowledgement without turning around and left the pavilion.
The First Captains stood around a fire not far away, deep in conversation. Noran passed on Ullsaard's message and stood looking into the flames when the legion commanders were gone.
This is it, he thought. A few days ago he would never have imagined he'd be in a legion camp, about to start a war with his own king.
"Bollocks," he muttered. "Shit and bollocks."
X
Outnumbered by three to one, the commander of the Wall had chosen not to meet Ullsaard's army on the hills around the Wall, but had drawn in his entire garrison to the rampart and towers around that massive gatehouse. Though the majority of the war engines defending the Askhor Gap were pointed outwards, a few of the spear throwers had been dismounted from their positions and turned around to face inward. Kolubrid scouts had returned to report that only skeleton garrisons had been left to defend a few towers to coldwards and hotwards, no more than a thousand men out of the Wall captain's force.
Armed with this information, Ullsaard sent Donar coldwards with his Fifth Legion. They were to take possession of the Wall three miles coldwards and march along the rampart to the gatehouse. From the back of Blackfang, Ullsaard watched carefully as the Fifth's trumpets rang out signalling the advance and Donar's companies wheeled off to the right.
There was no movement in the gatehouse. Clearly Ullsaard's opponent was not willing to weaken his defence of the gate. Ullsaard wondered what he would do if he had been in his enemy's boots. It was not an enviable position. I'd probably have opened the gates and waved goodbye and good riddance, Ullsaard decided.
The air was filled with a fine drizzle of rain, the clouds low over the hills. Droplets dappled Ullsaard's armour and the bronze mask of his ailur. The wind was low, the company standards of his army hanging lank on their poles. With each passing hour, the footing was getting muddier, but the road was too narrow for all of the legions to attack along. All things considered, it was a miserable day for a battle, but things would get worse if they waited. Noran had reported no sightings of Nemtun or the Nemurians, but the lack of news did not comfort Ullsaard.
He despatched kolubrid messengers to his First Captains, telling them to prepare for the advance. Companies trotted into position around the general, their armour clinking dully in the rain, the shouts of the third captains distant and muffled.
The left wing was held by Jutiil and his Twelfth. Their orders were to swing left and draw some of the defenders towards the closest hotwards guard tower. To their right Ullsaard had positioned the Tenth under Rondin, their companies organised into broad phalanxes six men deep. On the far right of the line, now that Donar had departed on his mission, the Sixteenth held the flank. Ullsaard had saved the prestigious centre position for his own Thirteenth, standing in tight, square formations beside their general.
Ahead of them, a little under a mile away, stood the Wall. Ullsaard knew that it had not been designed to withstand attacks from the Askhor side, and the advantage of numbers was his, but nonetheless it would not be an easy task. The enemy had the advantage of their elevated positions and doubtlessly would have barricaded the tower stairs with w
hatever they could find to hold back Ullsaard's assault while they poured arrows and spears into their foes. Ullsaard had neither the equipment nor the inclination to force the gate itself. He had to take control of the gate mechanism and open the gate, and all his attention was focussed on that goal.
When he estimated that the Tenth would be close to beginning their assault, Ullsaard turned to his signalmen and raised a hand. They brought up their drumsticks as the rain pattered on the skins of their instruments.
Ullsaard dropped his hand and a long rolling drumbeat sounded across the army. Advance!
Ullsaard felt a growing dismay as not a single legionnaire stepped up. He twisted in his saddle and snapped at the musicians to signal the advance again. They did so, with equal effect.
