The Crown of the Blood

by Gav Thorpe

  VII

  With Furlthia in tow, Anglhan walked through the gate of Magilnada, feeling very much like the conquering lord though he had not had to strike a single blow himself. Once he was through the gate, he entered one of the towers and skipped up the steps as quickly as his heavy build would allow, and was panting by the time he pulled himself up onto the stones of the wall. Noran was there with a few others that had opened the gate; he seemed surprised by Anglhan's arrival.

  "Where is Ullsaard?" said the Askhan.

  "Down there somewhere," Anglhan replied, waving a hand towards the city, "having some fun with his troops."

  "It looks like utter chaos," said Noran.

  Anglhan could see all the way across Magilnada, now illuminated by several fires, the largest being the one started in the tanneries. Groups of Ullsaard's men roamed the streets with spears and flaming torches, herding the inhabitants this way and that. The greater part of the attacking army had pushed through the streets to the Hill of Chiefs and was busy battering at doors and throwing brands onto thatched roofs. Atop the wall to either side, other companies had fanned out, taking prisoner or killing any guards they encountered. In the square behind the gate, several companies guarded the streets to make sure nobody in the city could leave.

  "It's a great deception," Anglhan told Noran. He pointed to their right, where a cluster of men were standing around a number of sizeable buildings not far from the marketplace. "It looks like a bunch of rebels running amok, but it's all been carefully worked out. That's the grain stores secured. Others have taken the armouries, the treasuries. See how none of them have entered the shrine gardens? That's all part of the plan too. And the chieftains are being rounded up. Ullsaard's got a list of names of those that are likely to cause the most trouble; they'll be killed in the fighting. Those that will be helpful, they'll be taken captive if possible."

  It was a remarkable sight. The Askhans were everything Anglhan had hoped they would be, and in many ways much more. Two hundred years of expansion had honed their conquering skills to the sharpest edge; two hundred years of the legions had turned bands of individual warriors into a something far more dangerous, capable of overwhelming anything and everything they had been sent against. Even now, masquerading as incompetent rebels and with poor equipment, the legionnaires were unstoppable. Dawn was still several hours away, and yet the city was already in their hands.

  And that power was something he had helped guide. He had never known such a thrill, and he envied those Askhan generals and nobles who had such resources at their call every day. The swift taking of Magilnada was proof to Anglhan that the future was with the Askhans, and that it was far better to be on their side than against them.

  "What are you thinking?" asked Furlthia. "You've got that look in your eye that I don't like. It's the same one you get when you've lined up a deal with a healthy profit, or when you've picked up a dozen debt tokens for half their value."

  "Today Magilnada falls," replied Anglhan, "who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

  "Funerals," Furlthia said. "Tomorrow there will be a lot of funerals."

  "I mean all of the tomorrows to come, not just the day after this one."

  "I know," Furlthia said, his mood grim. "And they will bring a lot of funerals too. The Askhans were never going to be a problem for us, not in our lifetimes, but now you've let them in you know they'll never be gone. It's what they do; take what they want, kill those that fight to protect what is theirs, and send the survivors from their homes to build new towns and cities."

  "Ask the Ersuans, or the Enairians, or the Nalanorians what they think," said Anglhan. "I'd bet a herd against a calf there's not one of them that wouldn't want to send a message back to their forefathers, telling them not to fight, telling them that things would be better if they just accept the Askhan way. The Maasrites, now, they were the clever ones. Look at them now. But nobody learns, do they?"

  Furlthia's expression was one of disgust as he tore his eyes from the city and looked at Anglhan.

  "The only voice you're hearing is the sweet songs sung by gold. I hope that whatever you get is worth the price those people are paying. I'm done with this, and I'm done with you."

  The former mate stalked off back into the tower, leaving Anglhan alone with Noran.

  "Progress can be a harsh mistress," said Noran. "Many more people before yours have learnt that lesson, but now benefit from her sweet attentions. Ignore your man; he has a narrow, selfish view."

  "You're right," said Anglhan. He rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "It's fools like him that have been holding me back for many years. Idealists like Aroisius; petty-minded merchants with no ambition; thuggish chieftains and bullies. It is time they woke up and realised the world is changing. Well, this old captain can smell which way the wind blows and I've never tried to move against it."

  "What are you going to do now?" asked Noran.

  Anglhan looked at the city and did not see the fires and the screaming mobs. He saw streets and markets not ankle-deep in shit; gleaming palaces of stone and gold; lines of merchants and farmers passing through the city. And through and under and above it all he saw taxes, his taxes as lord of Magilnada – chest upon chest of gold and silver, naked and lithe serving boys, fruits from Maasra, exquisite Askhan murals, hot baths and all the other delights of Askhan life he had heard about from the men in the mountains.

  That was his future.

  VIII

  They had arranged to meet in a small house in the middle of the crafts quarter, seemingly stuck at random between a kiln and a forge. Dawn was just creeping over the city wall and Magilnada was quiet, cowed by the aggression of the disguised legionnaires. Ullsaard sat in the main room beside a dimly glowing firepit and waited for the others to arrive. He felt uncomfortable, and not just in mood. He was wearing the trousers that Salphors preferred and they chafed at his legs. He also wore a heavily embroidered shirt, the heavy red material patterned with blues and white. It was too fancy for his liking; Ullsaard preferred the clean cut and plain colour of his own wardrobe. He wanted to be in his armour, as befitted his new status as ruler of Magilnada, but he knew it could not be known that he was an Askhan general.

  And that was why he was here, waiting for Anglhan and Noran. In the next room, watched over by several men, the previous ruler of Magilnada, Gerlhan, waited to learn his fate. The lord of the city had surrendered to Ullsaard's troops the moment they had come to Gerlhan's hall. Gerlhan had been smuggled through the city to this place so that the future of Magilnada could be discussed, but first Ullsaard wanted to straighten his own thoughts on the matter.

  The door creaked open and Noran and Anglhan arrived together, behind them an escort of a half-company of legionnaires wearing a mishmash of clothes and carrying an assortment of weapons. Noran whispered something to their captain and the soldiers assumed a more mob-like appearance, breaking the lines they had naturally formed in the street,

  "I bet you wish you had never trained them so hard," said Noran, crossing the room to slump into a chair behind the table. He looked even more haggard than when he had entered the city. There was water and beer, and he helped himself to the latter. "Good habits are as hard to break as bad ones."

  "I think they're enjoying themselves," said Anglhan. "It isn't often they get to lounge around, drink and behave badly."

  "As long as they don't lounge, drink and behave badly too much," said Ullsaard. "We're only here for the winter."

  Anglhan stood at the firepit and warmed his hands, though the room was quite warm. He looked at the flames as he spoke.

  "So that's still your plan, is it?" he asked, trying to appear nonchalant, but Ullsaard detected the slightest edge of expectation in the man's voice.

  "It's never been my intention to stay here," said the general. He leaned to one side and grabbed hold of a low stool onto which he swung his feet. Ullsaard pushed his chair back on its rear legs and put his hands behind his head. "Somewhere nice to wait out th
e winter before we tackle Nemtun and Allon."

  Ullsaard stopped as he heard raised voices outside. He recognised one as Urikh's.

  "Let him in!" the general bellowed, half-turning towards the door. He hadn't invited his son to the meeting, but he had expected him to learn of it.

  Urikh hurried inside, wearing a hooded cloak which concealed his face.

  "What do you look like?" said Noran.

  "An arse," said Ullsaard. He glared at Urikh and pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the fire. "Sit down and don't interrupt."

  Urikh was about to argue, saw the look in Ullsaard's eye and thought better of it. With a curled lip, he settled into the chair and glared back at his father.

  "As I was saying," the general continued, "the campaign begins again in the spring. As soon as the weather turns for the better, I'll be marching into Anrair with the legions. Murian is a coward; hopefully Nemtun hasn't got to him first. Anrair has the Third and the Fourth stationed along the border with the Free Country. I can find a much better use for them."

  "So what happens here?" said Urikh, earning himself a frown from Ullsaard, which he ignored. "You don't plan on giving the city back, surely."

  "Of course not," said Ullsaard. "When I have things sorted back in Askh, it will make a wonderful base to launch a campaign into Salphoria. Taking the city now saves us time later."

  "Which means that you'll need to leave somebody in charge whilst you are leading the army," said Anglhan.

  "And you think that should be you?" laughed Urikh. "Out of the question!"

  "I nominate Noran," said Ullsaard. Both Anglhan and Urikh looked at the general in amazement. Noran said something, too quiet to be heard.

  "What was that?" said Ullsaard.

  "I do not want it," Noran said. "I am not staying here amongst these oafish barbarians while you run around doing whatever it is you want to do. Whoever is left in control will have to have eyes in the back of his head, and I am not one for looking over my shoulder like that."

  "Noran doesn't want it," said Anglhan. "And for all your son's credit in starting this whole thing with Aroisius, he clearly isn't old and experienced enough to run a city."

  "And you are qualified?" scoffed Urikh. "A half-literate slaver with pretensions to grandeur?"

  "I was a debt guardian, not a slaver," Anglhan replied softly. "And I am fully literate and numerate, thank you. I even speak a little Nemurian. Do you?"

  Urikh seemed about to protest further when Ullsaard lifted up his legs and let his chair thud to the floor.

  "I need you for other things, Urikh," he said. "You'll be coming with me. If Noran doesn't want the job, why don't I just keep Gerlhan in his position? It would certainly stop some of the problems we might have."

  "What 'things' have you in mind for me?" said Urikh, straightening haughtily. "I am not one of your captains to be ordered around as you please."

  "No, you're my son, which means your duty to me is even deeper. You will do what I tell you to do or I will disown you and cast you out, and that bitch of a mother you have. I no longer have to worry about what Aalun and the nobles think of me, I have no reputation to protect, so I'll do as I bloody well please. If you have a problem with that, you can leave now."

  Urikh became the centre of attention as he squirmed in his chair, caught between his dislike of his father and his dependence on him.

  "For my mother's sake, I shall remain," he said, folding his arms angrily.

  "You can't leave Gerlhan in charge," said Anglhan. "He has too many connections with other chieftains across Salphoria. He could cause a lot of trouble."

  "Your greed clouds your reason," said Noran. Anglhan whirled towards him.

  "I have never lied about my ambition to rule the city. Well, not to you. It was my intent to betray Aroisius and take control, but that is no longer needed. I understand this city better than any outsider, and I know how the Salphor mind works."

  Anglhan paced across the room as he set out his vision for the city.

  "This place can become a tribute to the ideals of Askhos under me. We will make Magilnada an icon of civilisation again, lost these past two hundred years since the decline of its founders. Salphor and Askhan will be welcome together and the peoples that live duskward of here will see that there is nothing to be lost by accepting Askhan values into their lives. We can show them the benefits of being part of Greater Askhor, and when I am done the people in the city, the people who trade here and travel through Magilnada will be your best spokesmen."

  Noran and Ullsaard looked at each other. The noble seemed impressed and gave a slight nod. Urikh was still sulking.

  "Words are all well and good, but can I trust you?" Ullsaard asked.

  "I have no reason to turn on you, Ullsaard." Anglhan sat on the stool in front of the general, his face earnest. "I am a man who has enjoyed meagre fortune and made the most of it through my life. You think I am greedy, but I am not. I will take my share of the city's dues, and I will rule it in my name for your cause."

  Anglhan placed a hand on Ullsaard's knee.

  "I have everything to lose by betraying you, and nothing to gain. Leave a thousand of your men here, under one of your best captains. They are loyal to you and you alone. They would be your guarantee of my good behaviour."

  Ullsaard considered this for a while, rocking his chair back and forth.

  "Very well," he said. "I agree to your terms. You will increase Askhan influence in the city until it can be brought into the empire willingly."

  The general stood up and bent over Anglhan, dwarfing him with his massive frame.

  "And remember that if you fuck around with me, I will come back and not only kill you, I'll burn this whole place to the ground. Is that understood?"

  Anglhan kept his composure well and simply nodded.

  "Good," said Ullsaard, straightening up. "What should we do with Gerlhan? Do you need him?"

  Anglhan shrugged.

  "No point keeping him in the city, he'll do everything he can to undermine me."

  Ullsaard nodded and strode to the door leading to the adjacent room. He opened it and signalled to the legionnaires standing guard over the former chieftain. As Ullsaard turned back to the others there was the sound of a brief struggle, ended by a gurgling cry and the thud of something heavy hitting the floor.

  "Well, that is all sorted," said Urikh. He looked at his father with raised eyebrows. "Just what are you going to do come the spring to convince the king to call off Nemtun and allow you to lead your legions into Salphoria?"

  "I'm not going to convince the king of anything," said Ullsaard walking to the door that led onto the street. "It's gone too far for any negotiation."

  "What do you mean?" Noran called out as Ullsaard opened the door. "What are you going to do? What is the plan?"

  Ullsaard turned around to face them, one hand on the door frame. He looked at Anglhan, Urikh and his gaze settled on Noran. His next words were spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, the same way he would tell an officer to prepare a provisions list or name the men on punishment duty.

  "I am going to be the next king."

  ANRAIR

  Early Spring, 209th Year of Askh

  I

  "What if they put up a fight?" asked Rondin.

  "We kill them," said Ullsaard.

  The general looked down the road winding through the foothills. The first caravan of the season headed towards Talladmun; more than thirty wagons laden with timber and ore, smelted bronze and quarried stone. There were probably three hundred people, perhaps more. Some of them pulled handcarts; others walked next to the wagons or rode on them. Ullsaard could see the covered carriages of the richest merchants, and the bodyguards that protected them. Most would be ex-legionnaires, drawn back to a violent life for any number of reasons. Here and there a Nemurian towered over the humans; no more than half a dozen, for which Ullsaard was thankful. His army, hidden just below the ridge behind him, numbered twenty thousand of his men and wa
s more than a match for anything the mercenaries could offer, but Nemurians fought to the death if paid and would take a toll in Ullsaard's soldiers doing so.

  He looked further dawnwards, towards the Nalanor border. He could see the rising sun glinting from the weapons and armour of Luamid's men, a detachment of five hundred that would close in on the rear of the caravan to stop any fleeing back towards Askh.

  "Let's show ourselves," said Ullsaard, raising a hand.

  The hills came alive with the rustle of men moving, the jangle of armour, the thump of sandaled feet. As the first ranks of the legions came into view, hurried shouts from the lead wagons warned the rest of the caravan. Drivers pulled their abada to a stop and pointed towards the hills, at line after line of armed soldiers spread along the road.