by Gav Thorpe
With trembling fingers, he found the riveted straps holding the ailur's face mask in place. With a small knife, he prised off the rivets where they attached leather to bronze. He did this twice more, so only a single strap remained in place.
Retreating quickly, he put the lid back on the barrel of food and wiped his hands on a rag. Taking a deep breath, he sauntered out of the tent and headed back to his bed.
VIII
Dawn was still hours away as Aalun stepped sharply through the camp, a loop of reins in his hand. He nodded in return as legionnaires and officers saluted him. As he reached the ailur tent, he unhooked a lamp hanging on the pole inside the door and lit it from a nearby brazier. Ducking inside, he turned to his right, where the tack and grooming tools were hung on a wooden rack.
He heard a growl from behind him but thought nothing of it as he placed the lantern on top of a box. Uncoiling the reins, he turned towards Destiny, who was lying facing away from him. The ailur growled again, and he stopped, wondering what had agitated her. She was pawing at her face. Sitting up, the ailur turned towards him, and something glittered in the darkness.
At first Aalun took the light to be a reflection from the lantern. He stepped a couple of paces and stopped. The glimmers in the gloom were like two tiny fires; flickering horizontal ovals of red and orange. Perplexed, he took a closer look; the tiny flames hovered just in front of Destiny's face.
With a cry of realisation, he straightened. The flickering glow came from Destiny's unmasked eyes.
Aalun had taken no more than a quarter-turn towards the door when the ailur attacked.
Destiny leapt through the air, chain snaking behind her. The ailur's forepaw caught the prince on the side of his face, claws ripping through skin and tearing out an eye. With a scream he fell, clasping his ruined face. Destiny jumped onto his back, pushing Aalun to the ground as her long teeth sank into the muscle of his shoulder, biting through to the bone.
Blackfang and Thunderbolt rose to their feet, sniffing the air and snarling. They strained at their chains but could not reach the blood they could smell.
With another cry, Aalun tried to crawl to safety but the ailur was too heavy for him to throw off. Releasing her jaws, Destiny raked her claws down his back, shearing through tunic, shirt, skin, fat, muscle; right the way down to his ribs. She drew back and pounced again, clamping her teeth into the back of his neck. Tossing her head from side to side, Destiny snapped the prince's spine, leaving Aalun's limp corpse dangling like a doll.
With her prey killed, Destiny settled down beside the corpse. Soon the tent was filled with the crack of snapping bones and the wet sounds of flesh being torn.
IX
Aalun's cremation was a far grander affair than Neerita's. The officers and first companies of all five legions stood in attendance at the pyre, their spears lowered in tribute, five golden faces of Askhos reflecting the flames.
Beside the great pyre burned five smaller fires; the bodies of the first legionnaires who had investigated Aalun's dying screams. It had taken numerous arrows and spear thrusts to slay Destiny, who had attacked the soldiers with unearthly, almost feminine shrieks. The incident had unsettled the whole army, not least because it had happened so soon after the death of Neerita. That one of the Blood had been slain in their midst gave the men grave concerns, and the whisper around the camp was that the Brotherhood had cursed them.
Ullsaard and the First Captains had done what they could to quell the growing dissent, but Ullsaard could sense that he was in danger of losing control of his legions. It was with much trepidation that he addressed the funeral guard. He began by speaking at length on the qualities of Aalun, impressing upon the men that they should be proud to have served under one of the Blood. He reminded them of their duty to Askhor, and to their companions.
"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 need 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 a
dvancing 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.
