by Gav Thorpe
"King Ullsaard, I am J–"
"I would fuck a sow before I care for your name," snarled Ullsaard. "Wait there."
He turned his back on the delegation and stalked back to his tent, where he snatched up his spear from its rack and waited at the door. When he saw the bow-armed legionnaires arriving, he walked into view again.
"I'll give you each one chance," Ullsaard called out as he paced quickly towards the cluster of chieftains. He hefted his spear meaningfully. "Kill me man-to-man and save your city, or die like dogs, shot through with arrows."
The king stopped ten paces from the men, swapped his spear to his left hand and drew his sword.
"I'll give you a chance, I won't even use a shield," he told them. "Come on, one of you must be up for it!"
There was laughter from the legionnaires, who had circled around the group and formed a wall of shields behind which others stood with bellows-bows hefted to their shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, Ullsaard saw some of the officers whispering and coin changing hands.
"It's a rich man that takes a bet against me," he called out.
"We're wagering which of these dogs has the balls to fight you," a third captain shouted back. "My money's on the ancient one."
There was more laughter, much to the fury of the chieftains.
"I have five Askharin that none of them have the guts for it!" Ullsaard glanced to his right and saw Aalmunis shouldering through a knot of his officers.
"Ten! That one of them is stupid enough to try!" Hemmin countered from the left.
It was the one who had spoken that broke first, snatching his sword from his belt.
"I'll cut your fucking head off, you son of a whore," he shouted, taking three quick steps.
Ullsaard judged the man carefully. He was still quick and supple, despite his age, but having one eye could only be a disadvantage. The king took a couple of steps to his right and saw that the man had to turn his head to keep him in view.
"My mother was indeed a whore," Ullsaard called back. He raised his spear high and looked at his warriors. "But my father was a king!"
There were roars of approval and clapping. The legionnaires started a beat, thumping the butts of their spears on the ground and uttering a wordless chant.
The chieftain edged closer by another two steps. Ullsaard held his ground, slightly crouched, spear held to the front, sword held back ready to be swung. He sidestepped again, forcing the other man to turn on his heel.
He looked at his opponent's face, seeing the tension in the tightness around his eyes and the clench of his jaw. Ullsaard stood up straight and looked at his men.
"I can't be bothered with this," he declared sheathing his sword. "These piss-drinking dog-fuckers are not worth a drop of our sweat. Shoot them!"
He turned his back and walked away as the slap of bow strings sounded around him. There were screams from the Salphors mixed with the thud of arrows into wood and flesh. Ullsaard stopped after a dozen paces and looked at Hemmin.
"Save the heads of those four," he said, pointing his spear at the bodies of the chieftains, each pierced by a dozen bolts. Around the cart, the other warriors lay in heaps, some of them still alive, moaning and crawling. "Finish off the rest. Send everything else back to the city."
Confident that his First Captains had matters well in hand, Ullsaard retired to his pavilion.
At first, sleep did not come. He fretted over his decision to send Allenya away so quickly. He had been away from her for years at a time before, but it seemed different now. She was vulnerable, a target for his enemies in a way that she had never been before.
Ullsaard tossed restlessly and wondered if he would have been happier if Aalun had not entangled him in the succession of the Crown; he had never set out to become king. His mother would argue that the Blood had its own demands, and after meeting Lakhyri and the abomination that was now Erlaan, Ullsaard was tempted to think it a curse more than a blessing.
Despite being unsettled by these thoughts, Ullsaard relaxed, realising that there was no point thinking about such things. He was king, he did have the Blood and he was waging a war to become the ruler of all the lands from sea to sea. Most importantly, Allenya was safe. Nothing mattered more. If her security caused him unhappiness, he would willingly pay the price.
Such thoughts focussed his mind on the immediate future. It was a simple plan, when he thought about it. Once Salphoria was conquered, he could return to Askh and leave the problems of the empire to the Brotherhood. He smiled as he fell asleep, wondering what he would do with his time when he no longer had to wield a sword.
When he awoke, Ullsaard was unsurprised to find that preparations for the attack were well underway. Engineers had worked through the night assembling the war engines, constructing revetments to protect them and distributing ladders amongst the companies chosen for the assault. Two huge wheeled rams had been fashioned from felled trees and wagons, pulled by teams of abada. Armourers were fitting the fuel casks to the lava-throwers and preparing braziers for the war machine crews.
Up before Dawnwatch, Ullsaard wandered from his camp to the lines, a mile or so away. By the time he arrived, some of the legionnaires were already being woken by their third captains and sergeants. Expectant muttering greeted the dawn, and the soldiers joked with each other and their king as he made a round of the temporary fortifications.
His inspection took several hours, during which the army was roused, fed and set to work reinforcing the embankments and clearing the road of any debris so that the rams could move freely. A second line of earth-and-wood walls was rising from the fields a quarter of a mile ahead, from which the war engines would be in range. Unfortunately, this also put them in range of the catapults Anglhan had mounted on the walls of the city.
As he left the safety of the siege line to survey the forward work, he saw bodies strewn along either side of the road. There were several hundred as far as he could tell, some in scattered groups, most in a swathe of corpses about half a mile from the city. Men, women and children lay dead together.
"What's this?" he asked the second captain of a company digging a ditch alongside the road. The captain glanced at the piles of bodies.
"A bunch of 'em tried to flee the city after midnight," said the officer. "Orders was to let nobody escape."
"They'll be rotten within days, we can't just leave them here," said the king.
"That's why we're digging," the captain said with a cruel laugh. "Can't waste fuel on burning 'em, so the First Captain said to bury 'em."
"Very wise," said Ullsaard. "Hope you're getting double beer for your troubles."
"From Captain Hemmin?" The captain laughed again. "Even you'd be parched of thirst before he offered a drop of wine or beer."
"I'll have a word," said Ullsaard with a grin. "We'll see if we can loosen his fingers on the barrel tap."
Whoever was in charge of the city's defenders – Ullsaard doubted even Anglhan was so conceited he would consider himself a keen military man – knew a little about sieges. Magilnada's catapults began bombarding the closer siegeworks as Low Watch began. Rocks rained down from eight machines on the walls, sending up fountains of earth, turning braces and wooden walkways into storms of deadly splinters. The barrage was not quick, but it was steady and accurate.
Teams dashed forwards to drag the dead and wounded back to the main line while fresh companies were sent in to continue the labouring. Ullsaard knew this would be a tough time for the men, dying at the hands of the enemy before they could strike back. Most of them already knew where their duties in the assault would put them; those carrying ammunition or manning the machines knowing they took their chances early on while those in the attack companies would face even greater danger when they stormed the walls.
Ullsaard walked slowly back to his camp. Sieges were drawnout affairs, even if an early assault was planned. It was one thing to smash into a wooden-walled Salphorian village or fort; it was an entirely different prospect to stor
m a city like Magilnada. Ullsaard contented himself with the thought that it was all good practice for when they reached Carantathi, which if rumour and legend were to be believed would present even more of an obstacle than Magilnada. It was claimed the capital of Salphoria, though not large, sat atop a mountain and could only be reached by a single causeway. Rather than dreading such a task, Ullsaard was looking forward to overcoming the challenge.
On arriving at his tent, the king summoned his First Captains, reviewed their orders and the dispositions of the legions and then dismissed them to concentrate on other matters. Ullsaard had avoided some of the more onerous duties of his position whilst chasing the Mekhani, but his responsibilities had caught up with him in Ersua and there was a chest full of documents, letters and petitions to read through.
He applied himself to the task as he would any other campaign, dividing the work by type. Trade proposals went in one pile, with reports from the governors in another. Marriage, death and birth announcements he set aside for the time being. Invitations to galas, openings, fairs, ship launches, feasts and celebrations were tossed on to a growing heap under the map table.
With everything ordered as he wished, Ullsaard drank a little wine, ate some lunch and took a nap. At the ring of High Watch, he woke up, realising that he had slept longer than he had planned. He looked at the piles of documents and wax tablets and sighed. Filling another goblet of watered wine, he left the pavilion in search of some distraction.
Just as he stepped out into the camp, a great cheer was raised to his left. The gate towers were crowded with legionnaires, some of them pointing at Magilnada. Ullsaard hurried across the camp and pulled himself up the ladder of the right tower. Pushing to the front, there were a few grumbles from the soldiers until they realised their king had joined them. One hand on the parapet, the other raising the goblet to his lips, Ullsaard saw what provided so much entertainment.
The battery of catapults had been moved into range and commenced their bombardment. This initial barrage consisted of bronze globes filled with lava. As one, the engines launched their ammunition, the fire bombs arcing over the walls to explode onto the buildings within. Smoke was rising from several fires already; towards the dawnwards wall the flames of a growing inferno flickered above the curtain wall.
"When do we get to go in, king?" asked a leather-faced sergeant to Ullsaard's left.
"Three days," he replied, "unless something comes up sooner."
"Three days of this and there'll be nobody left to fight," the sergeant said with a hint of complaint.
"That's the idea," replied Ullsaard. "But I wouldn't be so sure about that."
He pointed to the city wall, where distant figures could be seen gathering opposite the engine battery. On the towers, trebuchets continued their counter-bombardment, launching rocks into the midst of the Askhan machines. The shattered bodies of men were hurled through the air by a direct hit, the catapult flying apart into a shower of timbers and rope. The soldiers in the gate tower groaned at the setback.
A horn sounded somewhere to the left, the warning note taken up by other musicians in the legion. Ullsaard's eyes immediately went to the gates, which were opening to release a stream of men. The Magilnadan warriors advanced towards the closest engines, their intent obvious.
Guard companies from the legion mobilised quickly, departing their camp to intercept the raiders. Such was the speed of the Magilnadan attack, they were upon the closest catapult while the Askhan reinforcements were still several hundred paces away. Fighting erupted along the revetment and the Magilnadans broke through in places, hacking at the ropes of the war machine and smashing canisters of oil. As the legionnaires closed in on them, the raiders set a fire in the fortification and scrambled away. They dashed back towards the gate, the more heavily armoured Askhans unable to catch them.
With the Magilnadans no more than a hundred paces from safety, a squadron of kolubrids closed quickly, unleashing a storm of bellows bolts. The running men were defenceless against the torrent and several dozen fell before a cloud of shafts lifted up from the walls and descended upon the Askhan cavalry. Driven back, the kolubrids turned away and the raiders escaped into the city.
"We should have some companies watching the gate," said a legionnaire behind Ullsaard. "They've got too much time for this sort of thing."
"Do you want to stand out there in range of their engines, just waiting for them to come out?" another replied. "Not me, for sure."
There were murmurs of agreement and muted laughs.
"When there're enough fires burning, we'll sort out the towers and the catapults," Ullsaard told his men. "It's just a matter of being patient. Unless you want to have a go now?"
Nervous denials greeted the offer and Ullsaard grinned.
"What if I said I was going to be first in?" the king suggested. "Would you follow me?"
This time the legionnaires were more enthusiastic, though there were several who did not seem to relish the prospect of the forthcoming assault. Ullsaard smiled, patted a few shoulders in encouragement and clambered down from the tower.
A second captain awaited the king when he reached the ground.
"First Captain Aalmunis requests that you see him in his pavilion, king," said the officer. "Scouts have arrived from hotwards."
"Thank you," Ullsaard said with a nod.
He followed the captain through the camp to Aalmunis's tent. The guard outside stood to attention and presented their spears at his approach. With a nod to return the salute, Ullsaard stepped inside.
Aalmunis had several maps spread out on the rugs. Three men in leathers stood with him, one of them pointing at something on a map of the border between Ersua and Free Country. All looked up as Ullsaard entered.
"News?" said the king.
"The Magilnadan legions have left their stations on the border," said Aalmunis. He crouched and drew a finger along a serpentine line of blue paint. "They're moving along the Neegha River."
Ullsaard studied the map. The traitors' route took them to duskwards, at least fifty miles behind the siege lines. If they meant to lift the siege, there were much easier roads to take.
"They're trying to get away," said Ullsaard.
"That was my conclusion," said Aalmunis. "We can't spare enough men to block their retreat, unless you want to forego an assault and starve out the Magilnadans."
Scratching at his beard, Ullsaard sifted through the maps until he found one on which were marked the camps of the legions further to duskwards. He made a quick assessment of the situation and who was best positioned to act.
"Send messages to the Eleventh, Fourteenth and Nineteenth," he said. Aalmunis took up a wax slate and stylus from a table and started making notations. "They'll have to move quickly. Have them break camp and march to Eaghrus and Lennina. They should be able to catch the Magilnadans as they try to cross the bridges."
"What if they turn further coldwards, through these forests here?" asked one of the scouts, pointing to a huge swathe of green that spread into the foothills of the Ersuan Mountains.
"We'll have to let them get away," Ullsaard replied with a sigh. "If that end of the line is moved further coldwards, the legions will be too isolated and vulnerable to a Salphor attack."
"I'll have orders written up by the next bells," Aalmunis told the scouts. "Get yourselves something to eat and fresh mounts, you'll be leaving as soon as possible."
The scouts acknowledged their orders with quick bows and left. Ullsaard fixed Aalmunis with a stare.
"I want those Magilnadan scum slaughtered to a man," said the king. "Those legions killed my son, a prince of the Blood. Do you understand?"
"Yes, king," said Aalmunis. "We'll make sure those treacherous bastards wish they'd never crawled out of the bitches that spawned them."
IX
Smoke hung over the city in a thick pall, coating every surface with soot. Blackened bodies lay sprawled in fuming ruins, and the streets were choked with the crushed and bloodied.
At first the people had tried to move the bodies into the lower city, but now there were just too many and everybody was too tired.
Groups of people wandered the streets with vacant looks, some of them clutching children whose grimy faces were streaked with lines of tears. Others sat in the rubble and wept, or simply stood unmoving at street corners while the desperate and the traumatised shuffled past.
The gate towers had fallen shortly after the bombardment had recommenced at dawn. The parapet of the wall was like a row of broken teeth, and in places the wall itself was crumbling, slopes of stone tumbled into the streets behind.
Anglhan picked his way through the destruction, swathed in a hooded cloak, a handcart dragged behind carrying a small chest of coins and gems. His head throbbed from lack of sleep; for the whole of the previous night the Askhans had beaten drums, a slow, terrifying tempo that presaged the assault to come. For just three days they had battered Magilnada, but in three days they had brought Anglhan's city to ruins.