The Crown of blood tcob-1

by Gav Thorpe

  Anglhan saw Aroisius's stern demeanour flicker as he imagined the scene, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. It passed in a moment.

  "Start unloading," barked the rebel leader. He bent close to Anglhan as the rebels swarmed towards the landship. "I know that you are not doing this out of belief in my cause. What is it that you hope to gain? Where is your profit going to come from, slaver?"

  Anglhan quickly considered his alternatives and decided that a protestation of innocence would fall on deaf ears. The truth would be better at this stage. Or a half-truth.

  "You're right, Lord," he said conspiratorially. "My profit will come when you control Magilnada. You'll need someone to help run the city, taking care of the boring day-to-day affairs. A man in that position receives all sorts of attention; gifts from those who want his ear, business from those who want his favour. There's no reason for us to be at odds over this. I want you to rule the city; you want to rule the city. We both get what we want. I've already given you my ship, my debtors, and now a sizeable cargo of weapons. What more can I do to persuade you that I want you to succeed?"

  "If you remain loyal, and useful, I could include you in my council," replied Aroisius. "I know you think I am blinded by my lofty ambitions, but do not think that I see the world as a child. I know how power works. Just remember not to get greedy. That can get a man into trouble."

  "It certainly can," said Anglhan.

  VI

  There was a mood of celebration around the rebel camp that night. The fires were banked high and the rain passed in the early evening so that everyone was outside the tents and caves. Jugs of ale were passed round and those that had served on the landship told their tales to the rebels that had stayed in camp. Anglhan found himself beside the main fire, sitting between Barias and Lubrianati. The two chieftains stank of untreated hide and stale sweat as they talked across Anglhan.

  "The lord says that with these weapons, we're ready to go," said Lubrianati. "We'll be going at the half-moon."

  "That's about six days, isn't it?" said Barias, rubbing his hands cheerfully. "Seven nights from now, we'll be in Magilnada, drinking their beer and fucking their women."

  "You heard the boss," warned Lubrianati. "This isn't a raid. We'll be staying. That's hard to do when someone is after you for having your way with his sister."

  Barias's unconvinced expression was all the answer he needed to give. Anglhan spied Aroisius approaching through the camp. The self-appointed future lord of Magilnada stopped to speak with some of his men. They were joking and laughing, excited by the prospect of the coming attack. That didn't suit Anglhan well at all. He turned to Lubrianati.

  "So, it's your men that are going to be storming the gate, right?" Anglhan said. "I would bet they're pleased they've got some decent weapons and armour."

  "Most of the new stuff is going to Griglhan's men," said Barias, which Anglhan already knew to be true. "They'll be climbing down the cliff."

  "Oh," said Anglhan. He furrowed his brow. "Hmm."

  "What?" asked Barias. "Why the frown?"

  "Oh, it's nothing. Just ignore me."

  "You think that my men should get more of the weapons?" asked Lubrianati, pulling Anglhan towards him.

  "It doesn't matter what I think," replied the landship captain. "I'm just a trader. Aroisius is your leader. I'm sure he knows best."

  "If you have something to say, slave-man, just say it," said Barias. "What's wrong with the boss's plan?"

  Anglhan snatched his jerkin from Lubrianati's grasp and stood up haughtily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aroisius getting closer, just at the edge of the light on the far side of the fire.

  "Nothing," Anglhan snapped. "I would have thought the best gear would go to the men doing the most dangerous job, which as I see it is those making the assault on the gate."

  Anglhan stalked away before they could ask any questions. He slipped past the closest tent and stopped in the shadows to watch what happened. Aroisius waved a greeting to the two chieftains and sat down close to them.

  "I've been thinking about who gets the new weapons," Lubrianati said gruffly. "We should have another think about the plan," added Barias.

  With a smug grin, Anglhan turned away and headed across the camp.

  VII

  The next day, news circulated around the camp that Aroisius had decided to split the weapons between Barias and Griglhan. Anglhan wondered what hold the rebel leader had over his subordinates that he could get them to agree swiftly with his commands. Was the promise of Magilnada enough to get these rebels, brigands and hillmen to put aside their rivalries? He decided to find out how much control Aroisius really had over his army.

  An idea came to him as he wandered into the main storage cave. Inside he saw Cannillan, second-in-command of Urias's gang. The shaven-headed lieutenant's back and upper arms were criss-crossed by whip scars, and his wrists and ankles bore the telltale marks of long-time bondage.

  "I bet you don't have much time for the likes of me, do you?" Anglhan said solemnly as he joined Cannillan. "I know it's worthless, really, but I hope my gift goes just a little way to atoning for my past greed."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You know, my gift? The weapons and armour? I hear that Aroisius is sharing them out amongst the groups to make sure everything is fair. Now that he's decided not to give them all to one group, I'm sure he's stopped any hard feelings."

  "He's splitting them between Griglhan's and Barias's mobs, that's all."

  "Oh, I must have misheard. I thought he said he was going to give them to those that needed them most. You know, the most important leaders, the best warriors. I thought that sounded like a sensible plan. I mean, no point giving a nice sword to some pig-fucking hillman who doesn't know one end from the other. And after all, my gift really is for those who have shared the burden of debt that I have helped spread, not for a bunch of opportunists who've just come down from the mountains for a bit of fighting and looting." Cannillan's eyes narrowed and his brow creased.

  "Sorry, you look busy," said Anglhan as he backtracked towards the cave mouth. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

  VIII

  The wrangling over who got the new weapons took another three days for Aroisius to settle. The rebel leader was forced to split the cache amongst the chieftains, in proportion to the number of men each led. The chieftains were free to distribute the weapons amongst their own bands as they chose. With just two days before the rebels would break camp and move towards Magilnada, Anglhan knew he had to find some way to stall the attack quickly.

  Sweating despite the chilling wind, Anglhan hauled himself up the cliff path to the tented camp. Most of the rebels had left on their daily forage and hunt, leaving Griglhan and his warriors to practise their climbing on the cliffs above the campsite. Anglhan found the bandit leader at the base of the rock face coiling rope while his men laboured up the cliff.

  "I feel the spirits' blessings today," Anglhan said cheerfully. He picked up the end of a length of rope and began idly knotting it.

  "What are you so happy about?" asked Griglhan, not looking up from his task.

  "No reason," Anglhan replied airily. "Good to see that rope I got you is strong stuff. Wouldn't want any of you falling down that cliff. I'm just glad the rain's still holding off. Let us hope the spirits see fit to give us a dry sky when we attack. I'm sure you and Aroisius will make the proper sacrifices and such, just to be sure."

  "I hadn't thought of that," said Griglhan. "We should get a boar or something."

  "That would be wise. You and your lads have got the most dangerous job, it's only right that you have the spirits on your side."

  "What's that?" Griglhan pointed at the double-loop of rope in Anglhan's hands.

  "This?" Anglhan replied distractedly. He acted as if he wasn't even sure for a moment. "It's a sling knot. We use it for hauling cargo aboard."

  Griglhan took the rope and inspected the knot, tugging at it roughly.


  "A man could slip his arms through those loops," the bandit muttered. He looked at Anglhan. "Would that be safer than having it tied around your waist?"

  Anglhan looked for a moment as if he didn't understand the question and peered up at the men clambering across the rocks.

  "When it's windy, the men at the mast top use that knot for their safety lines. If you fall with that around you, you might dislocate a shoulder, but if you fall with it around your waist, you could snap your back. I think that's it, but I might be confused. I'm not a terribly practical man."

  Griglhan leaned towards Anglhan, staring at the knot.

  "Teach us how to tie these," he demanded.

  "I'll have Furlthia and some of my old crew show you," Anglhan replied. "They'll do it better than me, be sure of it."

  "Thank you."

  "No problem. I figure you'll need every help you can get. You boys certainly don't lack courage, do you? Climbing down in the dark, on wet rocks? I've got men that don't think twice about hanging from a sail boom that wouldn't do that."

  "It won't be that dark," Griglhan said with a shake of his head. "That's why we've picked the night of the half-moon."

  "Ah, yes, very clever. Although…"

  "Although, what?"

  Anglhan had to hide his delight. Why, he wondered, did such a simple trick work so often?

  "It seems to me that the lighter it is, the more chance you'll be seen from the wall and tower."

  "We have to have some light so that we can see where we're climbing."

  "Good job you've got the best armour, that's what I say. I mean, if your men don't get on to the wall, the whole attack is going to fail. It's good to know that Aroisius is putting you first in his priorities."

  "Lord Aroisius made it clear that nobody is to argue about the new weapons," Griglhan said. "He said that we have to stop squabbling like children with a piece of sweetcake."

  "Very right he is too," said Anglhan, rocking back on his heels. "He's the one in charge, after all. We can trust him to have considered everything."

  Griglhan nodded.

  "It's the small things that he's so good at, isn't it?" Anglhan continued. "It's smart to have everything prepared, like what to do if it's cloudy, or rainy, or if it isn't cloudy."

  "You're not making sense."

  "Well, if it's cloudy, it might be too dark for you to climb. And the cloudier it is, the more chance of rain making your job more difficult."

  "So? I'll tell Aroisius that we aren't doing it unless we get a clear night."

  "That's for you and our fearless leader to sort out, nothing to do with me." Anglhan smiled and clapped Griglhan on the arm. "We can't fail with men like you!"

  IX

  Later that day, Anglhan found Lubrianati and his men returning from their forage. Using the same sort of arguments that had worked on Griglhan, he convinced the chieftain that it would be absolute suicide to attack the gatehouse of Magilnada with anything less than total darkness. As he flopped down onto his cot in the landship's main cabin, he wondered how long it would take Aroisius to sort out this dispute, with the lives of both men at stake.

  The rebel leader's solution was both swift, sensible and exactly what Anglhan wanted. Aroisius announced that the attack would be delayed until the night of no moon, so that there would be total darkness to cover their approach. The fires would be set in the mill before the climbers started down the cliff. If the rain was too heavy for the flames to catch, the attack would be called off.

  Six days after this pronouncement, after the attack would have taken place if the original plan had been followed, autumn storms hit the mountains. Wind and rain almost destroyed half the camp on the plateau and the rebels had to take shelter in the caves. New rivers poured through cracks and crevasses in the rocks, soaking many of the supplies that had been carefully hoarded over the summer. The hillmen amongst the army wagged their chins and warned that the seasons had turned. The spirits of summer had lost their annual battle, and now the spirits of winter were in the ascendancy.

  As gloom fell like a shadow over the camp, Aroisius was forced to make a reluctant announcement: there could be no attack until spring. Anglhan remembered just in time to look suitably disappointed.

  Mekha

  Autumn, 209th Year of Askh

  I

  The bridge shivered with the tread of abada as Ullsaard rode across the Nakuus River, his servants on the wagon a short distance behind. A little way upstream work was underway building the stone crossing, though the legionnaires broke from their labours to wave and cheer for their returning general. The camp had changed dramatically, many of the tents replaced with low wooden buildings with steeply sloped roofs of dried grass. Smoke billowed from chimneys, drifting across the midday sky.

  The guard companies formed up by the coldwards gate to welcome Ullsaard, clattering spears on shields and shouting praise. As he rode between the two lines of soldiers, he saw that many bore bandages and other signs of recent wounds. Cosuas waited for him inside the camp, his face heavily tanned and wrinkled. Ullsaard dismounted and they greeted one another wrist to wrist.

  "Decided to come back, did you?" said Cosuas. "I thought you'd stay in Askh."

  "You have no idea," Ullsaard replied with a rueful shake of the head. "I wondered if I'd ever get to leave."

  The two walked side by side towards the centre of the camptown. Ullsaard noticed a number of women and children; families of legionnaires that would be the first settlers of Mekha. A large barn had been erected behind the duskwards wall and Ullsaard remembered the growing problems with the grain markets.

  "How are we for supplies?" he asked.

  "Steady, but that's about it," said Cosuas. "I've been trying to stockpile as best as I can, but we're running low on fodder. There's barely a blade of grass for the abada, and getting meat for the kolubrids is proving difficult. I've sent a few companies duskwards along the river to see what they can find."

  They continued to discuss the logistics of the growing settlement as they walked along the streets, some of them now fixed with cobbles bedded into the dirt. Water cisterns rose on stilts above the remaining tents and the earth embankment beneath the wall had been replaced with brick foundations.

  They reached Ullsaard's pavilion by early evening. He strode inside, thankful to be in the shade after several days' riding from the Greenwater. Everything was as he left it, even the sand trails across the rugs in the main chamber.

  "Looks like you've seen some action," he remarked as he slumped into his chair.

  "Two Mekhani attacks in the last three weeks," Cosuas told him as he took a seat to Ullsaard's left. "Night attacks, both of them. Last one was three days ago; shame you weren't back just a little earlier."

  Ullsaard wasn't sure if this was a genuine regret on Cosuas' part or a veiled accusation. He decided it was the former; Cosuas' threats and accusations were rarely veiled.

  "What's the current head count?" Ullsaard asked.

  "Not too bad. We've lost just over a thousand to infected wounds, disease, food poisoning and other attrition. About twoand-a-half thousand dead from fighting. Kulrua, Haarin, Lokirna and Menuan have died. I've promoted Jutiil to camp captain, and Nemenis to First Captain of the Eleventh."

  Ullsaard nodded as he absorbed the information. Two of the mute Maasrites entered carrying a chest between them.

  "Open it," Ullsaard called out, pushing out of his chair. He crossed the tent as they set the bronze-bound box down on the rugs. Amongst the clutter inside, Ullsaard found the orders Aalun had written. He waved the servants away and returned to his campaign throne.

  "Prince Kalmud is unfit to continue in command of the Greenwater campaign," he told Cosuas, tossing the rolled parchment to his fellow general. "Aalun has put you in charge."

  Cosuas's eye widened with surprise.

  "He's picked me to take over?" A smile spread across Cosuas's face, a rare sight in Ullsaard's experience. Cosuas looked at Ullsaard and the smile faded. "I
'm sorry. I know you've had your eye on this command for some time."

  Ullsaard waved away the apology.

  "Don't feel too bad; Aalun thinks it's your last chance for some real glory." Ullsaard winked at Cosuas. "I'll still be around when your ashes are drifting on the breeze."

  "That's true," said Cosuas. He unrolled the parchment and read the contents, one finger following the characters slowly. The finger travelled back a few lines and traced them again. Cosuas looked over at Ullsaard with confusion. "I'm taking the Eleventh and Fifteenth with me?"

  "That's right. That'll still leave me with more than thirty thousand legionnaires; more than enough to defend our new town."

  "Unless the Mekhani unite again," said Cosuas.

  "It'll make the supply situation easier as well," added Ullsaard, ignoring Cosuas' warning. "Just for the winter, I think. Aalun's been talking about raising some new legions from Ersua and Anrair."

  "It says here that I'm to tell Kalmud's men not to expect his return. Is it that bad?"

  "He'll probably live a good while yet, but he can barely breathe or stand. Unless the Brotherhood have something up their black sleeves we've never seen before, I wouldn't expect to see the prince in armour again."

  "And I'm to leave straight away…"

  "No point waiting around for winter. You should take a couple of days just to get everything straightened out. Take what you need in terms of equipment and food; I made sure more are on their way right now."

  Cosuas was not known for being easily vexed, but he took a few paces back and forth, obviously nonplussed.