by Gav Thorpe
"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."
"There's some of us didn't trust the Askhans, so we've been keeping an eye on them," Furlthia explained as he dumped an armful of shirts into the chest. "Not causing any trouble, but just watching what they've been about. There's been a lot of shipments coming into the city these last couple of weeks that seemed to disappear. Looks like Ullsaard was sending in weapons and armour for his men.
"Just before dawn, they came together and stormed the guardhouses and the homes of the chieftains we left alive last time. They've killed several hundred men already, some of them rebels we brought from the mountains."
There was a pounding on the hall doors and Jutiil's voice called out, demanding entry. Furlthia froze, apparently gripped with sudden fear.
"We can escape out the back," said Furlthia, slamming the chest shut. "Grab the other end of this."
Anglhan shook his head and stood with his hands on his hips.
"I'm not being driven out of my hall like vermin," he declared. "I'm going to find out what's going on."
"They'll kill you," snapped Furlthia.
"Nonsense! If Ullsaard wanted me dead, he's had plenty of opportunities before now."
Feeling a little more in control again, Anglhan dragged on his trousers, slipped a shirt over his head and sat on the end of the bed to pull on his boots, tucking his trouser legs into their tops. Furlthia hovered like a frustrated fly.
"Thank you for the warning," Anglhan said. He stood up, stomping his feet a couple of times to get his boots on fully. "Don't worry, friend, I'll take care of this."
"How?"
Anglhan shrugged.
"I'm sure something will come to me when we find out what's happening."
The thumping on the door had ceased and there was a clattering downstairs. Evidently one of Anglhan's men had succumbed to the demands, or else was in league with the Askhans. Anglhan shooed Furlthia towards the door.
"Go down and tell Jutiil I'll be with him shortly. Make sure nobody does anything stupid." Furlthia hesitated until Anglhan shoved him towards the doorway. "That includes you. Go on, make our Askhan allies welcome!"
Furlthia darted Anglhan a doubtful look, but complied. When he was gone, Anglhan busied himself at the dresser, pulling on rings and hanging a broad chain of gold around his neck. He picked up a polished bronze mirror and smoothed his hair as best he could.
Now he felt like the lord of Magilnada, and looked the part too. Cinching his belt a little tighter, he left the bedroom and marched down the stair to the main hall with a confident swagger. Jutiil stood with a hand on the hilt of his sword, a shield in the other, backed up by half a company of legionnaires. The shutters on the hall windows had been thrown open and the dawn light cut ruddy bands through the gloom.
"Good morning, First Captain," Anglhan said cheerily. "What can I do for you?"
"By right of conquest, General Ullsaard of the Greater Askhan Empire claims the city of Magilnada as his dominion," Jutiil intoned solemnly. He was about to continue when Anglhan interrupted.
"Save the official speech, Jutiil, and just tell me what Ullsaard is up to. Are you planning to kill me? And what's with the fighting in the city?"
For a moment it looked as if Jutiil was going to continue with his bombastic pronouncement, but he stopped, suddenly deflated.
"The general has decided to make his presence in Magilnada official," said the First Captain of the Twelfth. "There were a few objectors we had to deal with, nothing serious."
"And me?"
"Ullsaard wants you to be governor, with Magilnada as a province of Greater Askhor. If you agree, then we have no problem."
"And if I disagree, you'll cut me down like a dog?"
"That's pretty much it, yes." Jutiil smiled. "If it comes to that, the general will put Urikh in charge of the city."
"I'll be fucked by an abada before I let that happen!" Anglhan declared with a snort. "Of course I'll be Ullsaard's governor. What's the rush? What happened to the plan of slowly converting the city to the Askhan ideal?"
"General Ullsaard needs more men and equipment," explained Jutiil. "Your first job as governor will be to raise two more legions for him. We've got smiths and armourers who'll be teaching your lot how to make proper kit. You're also to open up the stores you've stockpiled. It's time to let trade flow again."
"Why now? What's brought all of this on?"
"Things are going well for the general," Jutiil said with a grin. "With Murian defecting to his side, Allon of Enair and Asuhas of Ersua have thrown in their lot as well. Nemtun's now the hunted one and has fled into Nalanor. To gain more support, General Ullsaard has bravely stormed the rebel city of Magilnada and will be sending the supplies he has captured for the relief of those poor folk who have been so deprived since the start of spring."
"So Ullsaard gets to masquerade as conquering hero and saviour," Anglhan said with a chuckle. "I admire his balls. For a dumb brute, he has thought about this a lot. Was this always his plan?"
"You can ask him yourself."
"What? Ullsaard's coming here?"
"He'll be in the city in a couple of days. As a governor of Greater Askhor, you have to be properly invested with your powers."
Anglhan thought about this as he wandered across the hall to the open doors. Daybreak spread across Magilnada and Anglhan could see the distinctive silhouettes of legionnaires already on the walls to dawnwards. Whatever he felt about the change, it was done and he could do nothing about it.
With all things considered, being an Askhan governor would be even bett
er than the city's chieftain. Backed by the power of Askh, and more importantly by its legions, Magilnada would consolidate its hold on the Free Country. Anglhan would rule not just a city but a whole province.
Despite Furlthia's panic, this was the best news he could have heard. However, a doubt crept into the mind of the governorto-be. Anglhan's future prosperity now depended upon a simple but important fact: Ullsaard had to succeed in his bid to become king. Posing as a rebel lord of Magilnada would have been preferable. If Ullsaard failed, Lutaar would not stand for allowing Anglhan to remain in power. Ullsaard's fate and that of Anglhan would be inseparable from this point on, and it was up to the former debt guardian to do everything he could to ensure the general's bid for power did not fail. Ullsaard was proving to be anything but a simple soldier and Anglhan knew he would have to watch his step even more carefully.
