by Gav Thorpe
"I have missed you," Allenya said as she drew the heavy curtain across the door. She pulled free two clasps and her long dress fell to the floor, revealing tanned skin. She lay sideways on the bed, pulling up one leg, stroking a hand down her thigh. "I hope being king has not tired you out."
Ullsaard looked down at his wife and grinned.
"Not a chance," he said.
He threw off his kilt and shirt and flopped on to the bed beside Allenya. Holding back his desire, Ullsaard ran his fingers across Allenya's breasts and down to her belly. He leaned forward to kiss her on the thigh, moving slowly down her leg towards her ankle. His hands moved beneath her, turning Allenya to her back as his lips moved on a return course up the inside of her leg.
A gentle but insistent tug pulled him alongside Allenya and she held his face in her hands, staring into his eyes. They shared a long kiss, tongues meeting tentatively at first. Ullsaard eased his leg over Allenya's, feeling the touch of the hair between her legs on his thigh. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, their kissing become fiercer.
Allenya broke away with a giggle, running clawed fingers through Ullsaard's chest hair, fingernails lightly scratching the skin.
"You are a great man," she said, barely breathing the words. "I loved you as a captain and I love you as a king."
"And as captain and king, I love you," said Ullsaard. "I would give up the empire for you."
"That will not be needed," Allenya said with a smile. "Though I must share you with Greater Askhor, there are some things which are mine alone. But you will never have to share me. This is for your eyes and no other."
Ullsaard straightened, allowing the evening sun to paint Allenya's body a golden brown. He looked at every part of her; her lips, her slender limbs, her firm breasts, her soft eyes. Ullsaard bent forwards to kiss her neck, but stopped as lips brushed skin.
Something Allenya had just said was percolating the fog of his desire.
"Is something the matter, my husband?" she asked, noticing his sudden hesitation.
Ullsaard could say nothing. What was he to tell her? That he had suddenly realised that perhaps they were not alone in the room? That the spirit of a dead king lived on in his mind, and perhaps was at that very moment ogling her naked body with Ullsaard's eyes?
Askhos had said he saw and heard everything that Ullsaard saw and heard. The Crown was more than a thousand miles away in Askh, but there was part of Ullsaard that was no longer him.
The thought revolted him. He imagined Askhos's face, twisted and leering as it shared Ullsaard's moment of intimacy. Did the dead king feel Allenya's nipples between his fingers, or smell the scent of the wetness between her legs? Would Askhos share the climax that was to come, experience the passion and release of that most personal of moments?
With a growl, Ullsaard flopped sideways onto the bed. His excitement had evaporated, his member flaccid at the thought of Askhos intruding upon this entirely personal situation.
Saying nothing, Allenya used her hands to work Ullsaard back to full manhood, but her attentions were in vain. The more Ullsaard looked at her, felt her grip on his shaft, the more the thought of the dead king lurking in his head sickened him. Even the lust that burned through Ullsaard was not enough to fight back the disgust welling up inside at the thought of sharing Allenya with another man, alive or dead.
"I am sorry," he told her. He pushed her hand away from his groin and held her close. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair.
"It does not matter," said Allenya. "We are together. That is enough."
Ullsaard tried to keep the rage and frustration in check as he hugged Allenya tightly, but could not prevent hot tears from spilling down his cheeks, just for a moment. With a free hand, Allenya drew the sheets over them, Ullsaard nestled closer, head on her breast, drained in mind and body.
Sharing a cocoon of warmth and love, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
VI
While a small band of legionnaires aggressively emptied the main hall of petitioners, Lenorin reappeared from the throng and told Furlthia to follow him. Furlthia found himself being led into a part of the palace he had not seen before; judging by the clean look of the stone blocks and the smell of fresh paint, the corridor he was walking along had not been built when he had last been in the city.
At the end, the corridor branched out into a circular vestibule, with steps leading around the wall to an open gallery above. Lenorin took the steps two at a time, his energy not diminished by his senior years. Furlthia was a little out of breath by the time he reached the top, having completed a full circuit of the domed chamber to access the gallery.
A small wooden door, almost hidden between two framed paintings of the city – from duskward and dawnward it appeared – opened at Lenorin's touch. The two of them had to duck a little to gain entry. Inside was a small room no bigger than a dozen paces across, filled with shelves holding stacks of clay tablets and piles of scrolls.
Anglhan sat behind a narrow desk, scribbling onto a wax tablet.
"Just making my notes for the day," the governor said without looking up.
Lenorin retrieved a canvas-seated stool from somewhere and invited Furlthia to sit down.
"I shall leave you two to your business," said the chancellor.
Furlthia watched him go. The room darkened measurably as the small door was shut; the only light was a candle lamp hanging from a chain in the centre of the ceiling. Furlthia cleared his throat but Anglhan held up a hand to quieten him before he could say anything.
"Just a couple more things…" Anglhan was so intent his brow was a deep frown, the governor regularly licking his lips with concentration.
Finally he placed his stylus onto the desktop and looked up.
"A while ago, you said that Aegenuis was calling a council of chieftains," said Anglhan. "Well, the Askhans are invading right now, so what's Aegenuis's plan?"
Furlthia dragged the stool closer to the desk and leaned forwards.
"To stop them," he said. "He knows that no single tribe is strong enough to hold against the Askhans. He wants to bring as many chieftains together as he can and form a single army."
Anglhan's shake of the head was doubtful. He scratched his nose, sorted through the pile of papers on his desk and brought one forth.
"Ullsaard has unleashed almost every legion in Greater Askhor," said the governor. "Nearly one hundred thousand soldiers by the last count. I'm in the process of raising a new legion at the moment. Aegenuis's only hope of survival is to accept the inevitable; he has to treat with the Askhans."
"Not a chance," said Furlthia. "You might be a spineless parasite, but true Salphors will fight the Askhans for every river, road and field."
"And they'll lose, and they'll die," said Anglhan.
"Ullsaard has made a mistake, and you know it." He jabbed a finger into the desktop to make his point. "Ullsaard is stretching the resources of the empire for this. He needs a decisive victory this summer, because when winter comes his people are going to starve without the grain trade from Salphoria. But his biggest mistake is to allow the nobles and army generals to claim what they can conquer. The legions will spend as much time in competition with each other as they will fighting us. If Aegenuis can meet this disorganised attack with stiff defence, Askhan hunger for the fight will drop."
The Magilnadan governor considered this, hand rubbing a flabby cheek. Furlthia was a little surprised, having expected Anglhan to dismiss Furlthia's arguments with his usual bluster. Instead, Anglhan leaned back, chair creaking loudly, and put his hands behind his head.
"Until the Askhans can establish themselves further duskwards, their position is fairly precarious," said the governor. "For now, all their supplies have to come through the Magilnadan Gap. Once they get their claws into the land further into Salphoria, you can kiss those farms and woods and fields goodbye. Whatever Aegenuis wants to do, he has to act quickly."
Studying Anglhan, Furlth
ia sensed that the governor's mind was working over some idea or other. He had a semi-vacant look that Furlthia associated with Anglhan's more outlandish schemes of the past. He decided to push the matter further.
"If I was able to get certain assurances from Aegenuis, would you be prepared to act against the Askhans?"
Still affecting an air of nonchalance, Anglhan regarded Furlthia with heavy-lidded eyes.
"What sort of assurances?" he asked, just failing to appear casual.
"What would you like?" said Furlthia. "What would you want out of a deal with the Salphorian king?"
Anglhan sat forward, suddenly brusque and focussed.
"Regained independence for Magilnada," he said, counting out the points with upraised fingers. "The lands that were called Free Country to become independent under the rule of Magilnada. Recognition of my position as ruler of Magilnada. Agreement to provide warriors for the defence of Magilnada against Askhan reprisals."
"Is that all?" said Furlthia with half a laugh. "Let me get this right. You want Magilnada and the Gap to be its own kingdom, with you as the king?"
"That would be the short version of it, yes," said Anglhan. "Look at it this way. At the moment, I am an Askhan governor, with tremendous powers and resources. Unless Aegenuis can offer me more than that, guarantee freedom for me to rule as I see fit, he has nothing to offer."
Taking a deep breath, Furlthia stood and paced back and forth across the small archive room. He weighed up Anglhan's proposal. It was not for Furlthia to decide, but he was not going to travel all the way to Carantathi with a deal that would earn him nothing but Aegenuis's anger.
"What are you offering in return?" he asked.
"If my considerations are met, and Aegenuis is willing to swear an oath to it, then I will do whatever I can to halt the Askhan advance before it starts. I will buy him the time he needs to be ready for the Askhans."
"How are you going to do that? You've seen how vulnerable Magilnada is, and you know that Ullsaard will crush you the moment he thinks you are betraying him."
"That's not Aegenuis's problem, is it? Or yours. If that happens, Aegenuis has lost nothing. I'm willing to stake my future, my life, on stopping the Askhans just as he is. The rewards have to match that risk."
"All right," said Furlthia, stepping towards the door. "I can't make promises for the king, but I will take your offer to him."
"That's all I ask, my friend," said Anglhan. He raised his stylus. "Are we finished here?"
Furlthia opened the door but stopped before stepping through. Once he left, he would be obliged to carry through his promise. When that happened, events would be set in motion that he knew he would not be able to control. Anglhan was a slippery creature, and no doubt there were plans and prizes in his mind beyond what he had asked for or offered. Could he be trusted? No. Could he inflict a lot of damage on the Askhans? Yes. For better or worse, and Furlthia really hoped it would be for the better, Anglhan would have a role to play in protecting Salphoria against the Askhan invasion.
"Was there anything else?" Anglhan asked, peering at Furlthia over the top of a parchment sheet.
Furlthia hated the smugness of the man. Every instinct was warning him that he had been lucky to escape his previous involvement with Anglhan and it was idiocy to get entangled with his schemes again. It wasn't just Furlthia's life that would be held in the balances, tens of thousands of Salphors would die in the coming war.
Furlthia ducked out onto the gallery and shut the door behind him. It was a huge risk, but one that he had to take.
SALPHORIA
Summer, 211th year of Askh
I
The Salphorian settlement was nothing more than forty or so round stone huts with straw roofs. A wooden palisade surrounded the village, but there were no towers or ramparts from which the wall could be defended. Several hundred warriors had drawn up outside the palisade, gathering in unruly groups each a few dozen strong. They wore patterned woollen trousers and jerkins, carried axes and spears and bore shields of stiffened leather painted with animal faces, crossed swords, lightning bolts and many other designs.
On the hillside meadows around the village cattle and sheep wandered untended, oblivious to the six thousand Askhan legionnaires poised at the top of the hill overlooking the scene.
Ullsaard flapped at the flies buzzing into his face as he looked down the river valley leading to the village. Blackfang twitched her ears and tail as the midges pestered her, but was otherwise placid enough.
Ullsaard felt good today. Atop his ailur, the Thirteenth behind him and an enemy in front, the world had become simple again. He had left Magilnada after only a few days. Not left, but fled. Fled from his family. The haunting presence of Askhos inside had driven Ullsaard to distraction, and it was clear that his reticence to spend time with his family was upsetting them, especially Allenya, Meliu and Ullnaar.
Thinking that he was doing more harm than good by staying, Ullsaard had quit the city, joined up with his favoured Thirteenth to march duskwards into Salphoria. He knew he was looking for a fight; he hoped some violence would expel the confusion and frustration that had dogged him since he had taken up the Crown.
The king glanced up at the morning sun, guessing that the time was roughly an hour before Noonwatch. His scouts had found the village during the night and at first light the legion had broken camp and marched downstream. A small group of men detached from the other fighters and started up the hill towards him, a small cloth banner held up by one of them.
"Here comes their leader," said Anasind, standing beside the king.
Ullsaard said nothing as he watched the deputation hurrying up the hill. The eldest looked younger than Ullsaard, perhaps forty years old at the most. He wore a wreath of red-veined leaves around a thick bush of greying black hair, and a drooping beard and moustaches covered most of his face. His eyes roamed along the lines of stern-faced legionnaires and fluttered around for a moment before they settled Ullsaard.
"We no fight," said the man, bending to one knee. His broken Askhan was hard to understand, guttural and slurred. "We no fight."
Ullsaard shrugged and dismounted, tossing Blackfang's reins to an orderly. He walked a few paces until he was within arm's reach of the Salphorian delegation.
"You have no choice," he said.
The Salphors gathered around their leader, all talking at the same time. Ullsaard understood very little of what was being said, and did not pay much attention.
"No fight, no burning, no kill," said the spokesman.
"Where are your elders?" said Anasind. "Who is your chieftain?"
"I chieftain," the man said.
"No, you're not," said Ullsaard. He grabbed the man's jerkin and hauled him to his chest. There was fear and confusion in the Salphor's eyes, and he looked to his companions for help.
"Give meat!" one of them cried out. He pointed to the livestock on the pasture. "No fight, give you meat."
"Women!" said another, looking at the legionnaires. "Nice women, yes? No fight."
"Did you just call my soldiers a bunch of women?" said Ullsaard.
"No, no, no!" The self-appointed leader vigorously waved his hands in answer to the accusation. "Take our women. Our women good. Fuck lots, cook good."
Anasind and Ullsaard looked at each other. The First Captain shrugged.
"Best offer I've had in a while," he said.
Ullsaard folded his arms and glowered down at the Salphors.
"I didn't come here for your women, or your meat," said the king. "I want your land. You are Askhans now. Swear loyalty to me."
The spokesman cringed at the suggestion and shrank back towards his companions.
"No, cannot do that," he said. "Not take our lands."
He stepped towards Ullsaard with a pleading hand outstretched, but the king slapped it away.
"Swear your oath to me!" Ullsaard snarled. "Where is your chieftain? Why is he not here?"
The group shook their heads and mutt
ered to each other, but said nothing to Ullsaard.
"It's the same as the last town," said Anasind. "He must have answered Aegenuis's summons as well."
"Too bad for him," said Ullsaard. "He'll not have a home to come back to."
The king turned his back on the Salphors and strode back to Blackfang. Swinging into the saddle, he unhooked his shield and pulled out his sword. Roused by the familiar noise, the ailur grew restless, swishing her tail and baring her teeth, ears flatted against the bronze of her masked chamfron. Ullsaard sat there staring at the Salphors.
Realisation that Ullsaard did not want their surrender dawned on the delegation. To their credit, they responded by standing straighter, puffing out their chests and matching his stare. As he watched the men stride stiffly back towards their village, Ullsaard wondered how much their fawning had been an act, or if the courage they were showing now was bravado. Everything he had heard before had put in his mind the idea that the Salphorian tribes were fierce and proud, and unlikely to surrender meekly.
