The Crown of the Usurper (The Crown of the Blood)

by Gav Thorpe

  There is no battle here. Do what you must to survive and restore your army. Take them with you or they will scatter to the winds.

  Askhos' words sunk into Ullsaard's whirling thoughts. He had to turn rout into orderly retreat or all would be lost. The creatures that had emerged moved awkwardly on spindly limbs, and had yet to reach the wall of the city. There was yet time to restore order.

  "Rally to me!" he bellowed, lifting his sword high. Ullsaard glared at the city for a heartbeat longer and then turned from it, running to catch up with Donar. "Rally to me and withdraw to the Wall! Rally to me!"

  Hearing his king, Donar stopped and turned, aghast at what had happened. Grabbing a nearby musician by the collar of his breastplate, the first captain snarled something at the man. The legionnaire raised his horn to his lips and sounded the signal for rally and retreat, repeating the notes again and again. The order was taken up by others across the Fifth and spread through the legion and then to the others.

  Horn calls reverberated all across the hills of Askhor, as Ullsaard reached Donar. Whether they would be heeded, the king did not know, but he had to trust that a lifetime of training and discipline would overcome blind fear.

  This was not a battle he could win, but Ullsaard was certain he would have an army to fight another, when the time and place were right.

  PARMIA, NALANOR

  Early summer, 213th year of Askh

  I

  It was difficult for Ullsaard to remember how it was to be ignorant of the true nature of the world. For some years had he suffered the intrusions of Askhos into his thoughts and through veiled hints and threats from the dead king Ullsaard had gained some measure of understanding of the otherworld, or so he thought. Even prepared as he had been to the darker truth of the empire's existence, it was hard to reconcile a lifetime's surety against the unnatural events of Askh.

  For his subjects, who had for generations been taught the very opposite of the truth, the realisation that there existed things beyond mortal comprehension bordered on cataclysm. A full third of his army had been unaccounted for when finally the legions had mustered again at Narun. There were those who had fled in unreasoning panic, and those who had deserted during the march duskwards to seek out family and perhaps to hide from the horror of what they had witnessed. It was only Ullsaard's uncompromising attitude and constant attention that stopped the army from fracturing altogether.

  Even so, it was hard to offer encouragement to Anasind and the other officers in the face of what they had witnessed. Some coped better than others, but all were shaken by the experience. Faced with admitting the truth that the whole history of Greater Askhor was a lie and that he had misled his followers since taking the throne – an admission that would tear apart his fragile command – Ullsaard instead feigned ignorance when questioned.

  Rumour had travelled even faster than the army, with deserters fleeing into the empire with outlandish tales. Narun had been in uproar, and stories were rife of the king's defeat at the capital, though details were few. Ships bearing these wild accounts had already fled hotwards along the Greenwater; each telling of the story magnifying the claims and the terrors that would be unleashed.

  It had been wise to put more distance between his shocked soldiers and the site of their horror. Parmia offered some measure of sanctuary, being far enough away from Askh to allow order to be restored, yet close enough for the army to strike again if possible.

  The king hoped that the routine of the daily march would reinforce the discipline of the legions, but as the twenty thousand men that had retreated from Askh made their camps around Parmia there was still an air of panic in the companies.

  "It is too much for them to understand," Noran told Ullsaard in the evening after reaching the town. As on campaigns before, the king dwelt in a great pavilion at the heart of the Thirteenth's encampment, and the two of them discussed the situation over a sparse dinner.

  "If I tell them the truth, do you think they would understand more?" replied Ullsaard, his tone making it clear that he did not think this was the case.

  "It is an opportunity," said Noran. "Unless you can act quickly, this setback will become an utter defeat. You must speak out and spread the news as you wish it to be known. To leave this to the panicked chatter of others will serve no purpose. In a way, this is the best thing that could have happened."

  "Really?" Ullsaard plucked a chicken leg from his plate and waved it like a baton as he spoke. "Creatures from a world we have been in ignorance of have invaded the empire and the king has been sent scurrying from his capital. That is good news?"

  "At least the real foe is revealed," said Noran. "By speaking the truth you can rally the legions and the people against Lakhyri and Urikh. This is a war you have already been waging for years, and with the right telling it becomes a tale of a brave general who tried to rescue the empire from these inhuman foes."

  "And admit that I have lied to everybody that trusted me along the way." Ullsaard took a bite from the chicken and continued with his mouth half-full. "Who would believe me now?"

  "People do not believe what is true," Noran said. He took a mouthful of wine, studying the king. "You must make sure that they hear what you want them to hear. Your overthrow of Lutaar was for the good of the empire, because you suspected that he was betraying the people he was meant to rule. You are not an usurper – you are a liberator. Those who doubted your motives for becoming king now can be given good reason to back you."

  Ullsaard considered these words as he finished his meal. Pushing away his plate, he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table.

  "It is not enough to talk about the past," said the king. "Terror, real terror at something the people have never seen before, is going to engulf the empire. That will bring division, not unity. I must show that there is another way; that this is an enemy that can be defeated. Actions speak louder than any story I can tell."

  "You put yourself in an impossible place, Ullsaard." Noran refilled his cup and offered wine to the king, who declined with a shake of his head. "Until you have wider support, what victory can you offer the people? Where will you fight?"

  "Not Askh, that's for sure," said Ullsaard. He rubbed his chin. "I can't confront this enemy directly, not yet. I've no idea if we can even fight these creatures, from what you've told me and Askhos' hints."

  "No word from the dead bastard on this?"

  "Nothing since Askh. Anyway, we have to curb their power somehow, and the only way I can see for us to do that is through the Brotherhood. The precincts are linked to this somehow. The one here at Parmia was deserted before we arrived, so plainly the Brotherhood know something of what is happening. There must be those amongst their ranks that will join with me now that their true purpose is revealed."

  "Make the Brotherhood the enemy?" Noran thought for a moment, lips pursed. "I like that idea. Talk of evil shadow creatures from another place will just feed the terror, but the Brotherhood is something tangible, something people can understand. Yes, I can see that working. Easier to turn against the black-robed bastard that has taxed you all of your life and made you labour for the empire than fight against some distant, unknowable threat."

  "It is a fine thought, but I don't have the first idea how to make it happen," admitted Ullsaard. He had spent the last days working hard just to keep his army together, with no time or energy to spare for planning his next move.

  "You can leave that to me," said Noran. The herald stood up, seeming purposeful. "A war against the Brotherhood is something I can foster. All you have to do is set the example."

  "Oorandia," said the king. "The city has fallen in favour and power these last decades, but it still has the largest precinct outside of Askh. If the capital is beyond us, Oorandia will do. I'll have Anasind start the preparations for the march tomorrow. It's fine to have the general populace in uproar against the Brotherhood, but the first hearts I have to win are in my own army."

  Noran left the king to his thoughts. I
t was not just his men Ullsaard had to motivate; he needed a focus for himself. It was perhaps a delusion to think that a strike against the Brotherhood would make any real difference in the war that was about to be waged, but it was something to concentrate on. Ullsaard knew himself well enough to admit he was better with something physical, something achievable to work towards. Seizing Oorandia would give him that purpose.

  II

  Though there could be no such thing as normality in light of the recent events, but the news that the king was preparing to move against the enemies of the empire brought some measure of stability to the army. The withdrawal from Askh had seen much baggage lost and so legionnaires and officers were kept busy foraging and commandeering what supplies they could for Ullsaard's fresh offensive. Noran spread the word that the Brotherhood were being held responsible for the nightmares unleashed at the capital, playing on old prejudices and rivalries that existed between the legions and the Brothers.

  Two days after arriving at Parmia, Ullsaard was visited in his pavilion by Anasind. The general was uneasy and wasted no time in explaining the source of his distress.

  "Our hotwards scouts report a column moving up the Greenwater road," said Anasind. "I am awaiting a confirmed report, but it has to be Harrakil and the legions that intended to ambush us. We are in no state for another battle."

  "Given everything that's happened, I don't think we could get the men to fight another legion anyway," Ullsaard replied. He pulled his helm from where it had been hooked on the back of his chair and continued talking as he walked towards the entrance of the pavilion. "It would shatter any faith the men have in me if I ask them to raise their spears against a legion when it is plain there is a more pressing foe to face."

  "What do you intend?" asked Anasind, falling in beside his king as Ullsaard stepped into the open. "We must head hotwards if we are to reach Oorandia. We cannot avoid a confrontation."

  "We can't avoid the legions under Harrakil, but we can avoid a fight," Ullsaard said. "Have a guard assembled. I'll be heading out to meet him."

  "He is Urikh's man," warned Anasind. "Remember what happened at Menesun."

  "I can be very persuasive, when I try. Continue with the preparations for the march on Oorandia. I will be back before nightfall."

  Seeing that the king would countenance no argument, Anasind selected a guard company from the Thirteenth and accompanied Ullsaard to the hotwards gate of the fortified camp. Despite Ullsaard's confidence, the general felt it necessary to issue one further warning as the contingent formed up outside the palisade.

  "I may be the general, but this is your army, not mine," Anasind said, keeping his voice low so that the men could not hear his concern. "If you do not return, I cannot continue the campaign in your place. I am not you, Ullsaard."

  "No, and that's to your credit," replied the king. He gripped Anasind's arm in a gesture of reassurance. "I'm coming back. Just have the army ready to march as soon as you can."

  The weather was fair and the journey hotwards not unpleasant. Ullsaard enjoyed being away from the camp, though he was careful to guard his tongue as he chatted with his bodyguards. It was a little past the start of Noonwatch when they encountered kolubrid outriders. The patrol turned back towards the advancing column as soon as they set eyes upon the companies marching down the road, giving Ullsaard no chance to announce his presence or send word to Harrakil of his intent.

  So it was that a force several thousand strong arrayed itself across the road ahead, spreading out where the highway crested a rise. Ullsaard counted the icons of three legions spread across the line and knew that he had made the right choice. Even if Harrakil could not be turned from Urikh, the other first captains might listen to the true king's demands.

  No delegation came down the road, so Ullsaard was forced to march into the middle of the waiting legionnaires, as was no doubt Harrakil's intent. There was much activity when Ullsaard ordered his guard to hold their ground and walked the last two hundred paces alone; kolubrid messengers raced back and forth along the line and the king saw the first captains coming together under the icon of the Seventeenth.

  "I seek words with Captain Harrakil," Ullsaard called out, stopping twenty paces from the front rank of the army. "You know me by my voice, so come out and talk to me like a man."

  Three men emerged from the company and Ullsaard recognised them all: Harrakil, Naadlin and Canaasin. This gave him hope for he had fought alongside the latter two. He raised his hand in greeting, looking at each of the three men in turn.

  "Fuck me, you really are still alive," said Naadlin, who was of the same generation as the king.

  "You're an idiot for doubting it," replied Ullsaard, and his words were not delivered as a jest.

  "I am General Harrakil," said the man at the centre of the trio. He was middle-aged, with a square jaw and dark eyes. "I take it from Captain Naadlin that you really are Ullsaard."

  "You can keep your posturing, Harrakil, it isn't impressing me. If you want to keep that rank of general, which Urikh doesn't have the authority to give you, I would listen more than you speak right now."

  "I am willing to hear your entreaty," said Harrakil, but his words lacked confidence. Unconsciously, the other two officers moved apart, leaving the general standing on his own.

  "I am the king. I don't entreat, I fucking command. And you're a captain, so you fucking obey." Ullsaard waited until Harrakil reluctantly bowed his head. The king had some sympathy with the other man. Like many he had tied his fate to a lie and had been forced to follow it through to its conclusion. Ullsaard was reminded of his own actions when he had unwittingly been drawn into the scheme of Prince Aalun, which had pitched him onto the road leading all the way to this point. Even so, there had to be consequences.

  "I am hoping that you've heard word of my muster at Parmia and are seeking to add your forces to my army, general," Ullsaard continued. "Is that the case?"

  Harrakil glanced at Canaasin, who shrugged, and then at Naadlin, who had a lopsided smile on his face. The would-be general nodded once, acknowledging his circumstance, and raised a fist to his breastplate.

  "If it pleases my king," said Harrakil, with a look of relief and gratitude. Ullsaard's opinion of the officer improved considerably at that moment; lesser men would have tried to negotiate or salve their wounded pride. "We have heard some disturbing tales on the road. We were not sure what course of action to take."

  "The stories are probably true," said Ullsaard, earning looks of shock form the three men. "Urikh has got himself up to his neck in shit, and it's going to spill into the whole empire. I can't be looking over my shoulder at you three while I dig him out, so tell me plainly whether you want to follow me or not. I'm not in the mood for sanctions and finger-pointing right now, so if you aren't prepared to swear your oaths to me again, leave. I will think worse of you, but that's all the punishment you'll suffer. If you want to stay, then I'll take you at your word. Either way, you're all good captains and I need your men."

  All three men nodded their agreement, overwhelmed by Ullsaard's forceful honesty.

  "What do you wish us to do?" asked Canaasin.

  Ullsaard was not sure of an answer immediately. It crossed his mind that three more legions might give him the strength to take the war directly to Askh, after all. He dismissed the thought. There were sound reasons for taking Oorandia first, both for the future strategy and as a boost to the shattered morale of his men.

  "Have your legions make camp here," the king told them. "My army will be along in a day or two."

  "You're heading hotwards?" Naadlin was clearly surprised. "I thought you'd be heading to Askh."

  "Already tried that. It didn't work out too well," said the king. "This time I'm going to try something else."

  From their expressions, Ullsaard could tell that the captains were not satisfied by this answer, but they were sensible enough not to push the point.

  "You strike me as a sensible man, Harrakil," Ullsaard said. "And
though my son is a vain, ambitious shit, he is not stupid. You can keep the title of general. For now. Don't give me reason to regret it."

  "I will repay the honour, my king," said the commander of the Seventeenth, though Ullsaard sensed some disapproval from Naadlin and Canaasin.

  "You were happy to accept his command when Urikh was in charge," the king said, glaring at the other two first captains, who looked away from his hard gaze. "You were willing to turn against the other legions, and I don't care what your reasons were. Don't think for a moment I'll forget that any time soon. I expect all three of you to work fucking hard to make that memory fade."

  Ullsaard allowed his words to sink in before he turned away. Out of sight, the king grinned to himself. Three more legions gave him a fighting chance, he was sure. His buoyant mood evaporated quickly as he walked back towards his bodyguard.