The Crown of the Conqueror (The Crown of the Blood)

by Gav Thorpe

  "Never thought about it like that," admitted Gelthius. He thought of his wife and children, amongst the camp followers that were with the main force. "Don't suppose I'd ever see Carantathi as a farmer, neither. I like being in the Thirteenth, don't get me wrong, but I can't say as this is the life I would have chosen."

  There came a sigh from the king, almost wistful. He picked up a branch from the flames and prodded at the fire.

  "How much of our lives do we get to choose?" Ullsaard said. "Who we kill? Who we fall in love with? Who falls in love with us? Maybe life is just about getting on with the best that gets handed to us."

  "Easier said by the man who's just been handed another crown," said Loordin with a laugh.

  There was a moment of tense silence as the soldiers waited to see if Loordin had overstepped the mark. Ullsaard tossed the brand into the flames and stood. He looked down at Loordin.

  "What's your name, legionnaire?" the king asked.

  "Loordin, king," the soldier replied, getting to his feet. "Apologies, if my joke offended."

  "No offence taken, but your point is mistaken," said Ullsaard. "Aegenuis may hand his crown to me, but he gives it to all of Greater Askhor. The victory is everybody's. You think he'd surrender to me if I did not have you villains to back me up? The victory is Askh's, where even a bastard son of a court whore can become king. There's hope for all of you yet!"

  The king nodded and smiled, and walked away to the next fire. Loordin sat down again and the legionnaires sat in silence, contemplating Ullsaard's words.

  "Nice of him to say that," said Muuril.

  "Yeah," said Loordin. "I bet he still wouldn't give me that crown if I asked for it though."

  "Right enough," said Gelthius, settling onto the ground.

  He swiftly fell asleep, glad that he was not in one of the watch companies for that night. He was woken by Muuril shaking him, the ring of the watch bells still sounding through the army. Stiff and still tired, he hauled himself to his feet and poked the fire into more life while the sergeant roused the others.

  "The Salphors ain't moved," said Muuril, returning to Gelthius's side. He raised his voice. "Looks like we're going to have a fight today, after all. The king wants the Thirteenth at the front, so move your arses."

  Gelthius scratched his balls, yawned and stooped to pick up his helmet.

  "Stupid bastards," he muttered. He grabbed his spear and shield from the pile. "Let's not keep 'em waiting, eh?"

  III

  Glittering in the dawn light, the river meandered down from the forested hills and curved gently to dawnwards. It foamed over rocks, the banks lined with bushes and reeds. It was at least half a mile across at the ford, which stretched over a quarter of a mile, the vegetation trampled flat from the passing of the Salphors.

  The lead companies edged cautiously into the swirl, using their spear butts to test the depth and footing. Reining in Blackfang, Ullsaard dismounted and walked her down to the bank as the first companies waded through the water. He stopped at the river's edge, water lapping at his boots, and peered through the gloom to the far bank.

  Dozens of glimmers from the Salphorian fires danced in the darkness, perhaps no more than a mile from the crossing. Under the urging of their captains, the Thirteenth legion forged across as quickly as possible, the first companies now forming up on dry land to guard those still in the water.

  As Ullsaard took his first steps into the water, Blackfang skittish beside him, warning trumpets sounded from behind. The clatter of spears and shields sounded deafening in the early morning calm as thousands of legionnaires responded; those on the far bank halted their advance, those in the water pushing on as fast as possible to reach safer ground.

  The signal blasts could mean only one thing: attack.

  Ullsaard dragged his ailur back and threw himself into the saddle. With a flick of the reins and a shout, he urged Blackfang into a run, heading back up the column. Company by company, the legions were falling into position, the phalanxes arranging themselves back-to-back, unsure in which direction danger lay.

  Riding hard, Ullsaard came upon Donar and his staff half a mile along the column. The king pulled Blackfang to a halt beside the First Captain of the Fifth.

  "Report," snapped Ullsaard.

  "Scouts report Salphors coming down from the forests," said Donar, pointing to the wooded hills silhouetted against the rising sun.

  "You think the ones we are chasing have double-backed, perhaps across another part of the river?" asked the king.

  "I don't know," admitted Donar. "Where's Anasind?"

  "On the far bank, at the head of the army," said Ullsaard. "Don't worry about him, he can handle himself. Get your line in order, and send out more scouts, we need to know how many there are."

  Donar nodded and turned to his subordinates, rattling off orders. One-by-one the captains rode off on kolubrids, taking their orders to the companies spread along the line of advance.

  "Hold here," Ullsaard said, turning back towards the river. Blackfang broke into a run at his command, rushing across the ground with head low.

  Back at the river, the Thirteenth were divided. Those in the water had finished crossing, leaving two thirds of the companies on the far side and a third on the closest. As he rode passed, Ullsaard called to the captains to form a perimeter around the ford and to hold their ground until they received fresh orders.

  Running down to the river, Blackfang slowed as she reached the water.

  "Get in there!" shouted Ullsaard, slapping the reins against her shoulder.

  The ailur tensed and then sprang forwards, splashing up to her belly. Ears flat, tail twitching, she pushed further across the river, until the water was up to Ullsaard's knees. She baulked as she met a swirl around a cluster of rocks, but moved on at Ullsaard's command. He guided her around the worst obstacles, and set the reins to her again as the river ahead cleared. Feeling the water growing shallower, Blackfang broke into a run, erupting from the water in spume. Anasind was waiting a few dozen paces from the river as Ullsaard rode up the gentle slope. The king jumped to the ground, one hand keeping a firm grip of Blackfang's reins as she shook water from her fur.

  "What's the situation here?" asked the king.

  "Our friends are getting brave," said the general. "Seems they were waiting for us to cross. The camp was a decoy; they were waiting downstream in the vegetation. No more than half a mile away and coming straight for us. At least four thousand."

  Ullsaard made a quick assessment of the land. There was not enough time to get the companies back across the river before the Salphors arrived. He pointed to a rise in the ground about a quarter of a mile from the water.

  "Set up your line on those hills," he said, speaking quickly but calmly. "Keep five companies here to guard the ford, you'll have their flank protected, and send for the other companies to cross over and reinforce."

  "What's happening back there?" asked Anasind, looking across the river.

  "Not really sure yet," said Ullsaard, following the general's gaze. "More Salphors. No idea how many. I think two legions should be enough to hold them off."

  "You think this was their intent all along?" said Anasind. "Is this some trick of Aegenuis?"

  "Looks like it," said Ullsaard, tugging at Blackfang's reins to pull her closer. "No point worrying about that for now. You sort out things here; I'll lead the rest of the legion up to the hills."

  The king mounted again as Anasind signalled for his captains to gather. Ullsaard shouted out to the companies that were to follow and turned Blackfang duskwards. In the growing light, he could see the Salphors in the distance, approaching quickly. He reined in his ailur.

  "Anasind!" The general looked back at his king. "Forget that plan, we don't have time. Form up here and get those other companies across!"

  Anasind raised a fist in acknowledgement. Within moments, the spear companies were gathering in line, eight men deep, widening their frontage to counter the enemy's greater number.
Ullsaard sought out the legion icon with the first company and rode up beside them.

  "I hope these lying dog-fuckers have had breakfast," he called out to the legionnaires. "They're not going to survive to have lunch!"

  Laughs and cheers came back in reply. Ullsaard bellowed for an orderly and dismounted.

  "Think I'll fight with you lot today," he told the men of the first company. He pulled his spear and shield from the ailur's back. "I think you need the help."

  This statement was met with good-natured jeers as a youth took the reins from the king and led Blackfang away. Ullsaard took up his place in the front rank, next to the icon. He glanced at the captain holding the standard.

  "What's your name, captain?" said Ullsaard. "What happened to Venuid?"

  "I'm Kassil, king," said the man. "Promoted from seventh company. Venuid got shot in the eye by a Salphor."

  "That's a shame," said the king.

  "Yes, bad luck for him," said Kassil.

  "Good luck for you," said Ullsaard.

  "Dead man's sandals, isn't it? It's the legion way."

  "Works for kings too," said Ullsaard, bringing up his shield.

  In the glow of the rising sun, the Salphors were only a couple of hundred paces away. Several hundred moved ahead of the mass, bows in hand. The warning was shouted along the line and the phalanx shifted, raising their shields for the coming volleys. Ullsaard peered through a gap and saw the first cloud of arrows lifting into the air. The king ducked back his head. A few tense heartbeats passed and then the arrows fell, bronze heads rattling against shields like heavy hail. Here and there came a cry of pain, but the line held firm.

  IV

  There were a lot more than a few thousand Salphors pouring out of the woods into the early morning light. Donar sent a messenger running for First Captain Naathin of the Seventh, while he continued to watch the dark patch of men spreading from the forest.

  The Salphors advanced with purpose though not precision. Their tribal groups were gathered about cloth standards in clumps of warriors rather than proper lines. With them came small chariots pulled by large wolf-like beasts with spiked bronze collars and coats of mail armour, two warriors in the back of each waving spears and javelins as they trundled past their foot-bound comrades.

  They kept coming, horn blares signalling the arrival of three more tribes from duskwards. Donar guessed there were at least fifteen thousand of the barbarians, almost twice his own command. The general glanced toward the river, but was unable to see much at all past the glitter of the dawn light on the water. He could hear shouts and see clouds of arrows, but had not yet heard the clash of spear or sword on shield. The battle there was only just beginning.

  He could not expect help from the king any time soon.

  "What's the plan?"

  Donar turned at Naathin's voice. The Seventh's commander was of a similar age to Donar, his skin less weatherworn, thin strands of blonde hair trailing from under his helmet. Naathin was a stocky man with a bit of a gut, but his arms were as thick as many men's legs and his chest bulged under his breastplate. Donar was surprised to see that he was smiling.

  "What are you so happy about?" demanded Donar, jabbing a finger toward the Salphorian army. "Do you like unexpected visitors first thing?"

  "Better to fight in the morning, it's going to get hot later," replied the First Captain. Naathin's expression turned solemn as he saw the extent of the enemy force. "Oh. I wasn't expecting that many guests."

  "Let's thin out their numbers, perhaps then they'll think twice about spoiling our breakfast arrangements." Donar swept his hand from one end of the Salphaorian army to the other. "Form crescent line, left flank anchored to the river, right flank over by that bluff to dawnwards."

  "Do you want the river or the bluff?" asked Naathin.

  "Not fussed," replied Donar. "We'll combine our engines between the two legions and form a screen in front with a few companies. That'll stop the Salphors trying to press into the divide."

  The jingling of armour and shouts of the second captains increased in volume as the legionnaires were brought to line around the two First Captains. A gaggle of messengers was gathering behind the pair, waiting for orders. Donar acknowledged them with a raised hand and looked at his companion.

  "I'll take the bluff, if it's all the same to you," said Naathin. He looked down toward the river and patted his armoured belly. "Less of a walk, you see?"

  Donar couldn't stop a laugh.

  "If you're worried about getting out of breath, perhaps you should retire with the baggage? I think we're both going to get plenty of exercise today."

  "Like I said, morning fights are better. Means I'm not tired before we start. General orders to hold?"

  "Yes, just keep the line strong, let the spear throwers and catapults goad them onto our spears. Put four companies in reserve behind your front, ready to plug any gaps."

  "And you should put your veterans next to mine at the centre to protect the machines," said Naathin, looking around as he examined the ground. "I think we should fall back about a hundred and fifty paces though, the ground levels out more."

  "Good point," said Donar with a glance over his shoulder. He shrugged. "Anything we haven't thought of?"

  "Probably," replied Naathin. "Let's just make sure we hold them off until the king is done with that bunch over there."

  "Pass the word!" Donar called out to the waiting captains. "No retreat! Fight to the last man!"

  It was an indication of the legionnaires' mood, and general humour, that this announcement was greeted by a resounding cheer all around the two First Captains.

  The air was still chill when the Salphors first sallied forth. They had evidently decided the war machines were the easiest foe to overcome and bunched together at the centre, coming on quickly with shouts and waving axes and spears.

  Four salvoes of devastating spears and boulders was enough to dissuade them of this notion before they had crossed half the distance. The defiant shouts were soon quieted and the Salphor chieftains urged their men to withdraw, all swagger gone. Donar saw a huddle of garishly dressed nobles in gilded armour gather about the largest banner for some time. They evidently decided that a full attack would be too costly. Instead, the tribes broke apart, bringing out their bows and arrows.

  Naathis and Donar called out the order to prepare for the archery attack. With only their machines to hide behind, the engine crews were vulnerable. The central companies were tasked with closing about the machines, forming solid ranks in front while they reloaded, parting to enable them to loose their deadly fire.

  Undaunted by this manoeuvre, the Salphors continued to target the engines with their arrows, and from amongst the gaggles of warriors came forward their next ploy.

  The Salphor chariots raced back and forth along the line, the riders casting dozens of javelins into the Askhan companies while the warriors laughed and jeered from further away. With remarkable bravery and dexterity, the two-man teams would take it in turns to climb upon the yoke of the moving chariots to throw their weapons while the other steered. Though the additional height was not great, this tactic meant the showers of javelins came in from a steeper angle than usual, forcing the Akshans to form up into their shield walls. The lupus snarled and yowled, eager to hunt, but the Salphor charioteers were too clever to allow themselves to be drawn into a fight with the closed ranks of their foes.

  The slap and thud of the war engines was near constant, a barrage of spears and rocks hurtling into the Salphor tribes. At first they tried to hit the harassing chariots, but their targets were too small and nimble to hit at the close range, so Donar passed the order to concentrate on thinning out the enemy numbers.

  The Salphors had responded by breaking apart, widening the gaps between their men to present fewer opportunies. Despite this, several hundred of them had fallen to the war machine onslaught.

  Donar fidgeted with a loose scrap of leather from his sword's binding, but refused to look toward the
river. The loose formation of the enemy was ripe for counter-attack, but he knew that the Salphors could gather again quickly and press their numerical advantage. If the Askhans chanced their hand too soon, they would lose the benefit of a cohesive line and allow themselves to be drawn into a brawl in which their discipline and manoeuvring would be for nothing.

  There was more movement from the enemy after a little more than a half an hour. The lupus chariots drew together as one group and headed toward the flank of the Seventh. Meanwhile, the infantry gathered again under their standards and gonfalons and advanced to the call of hunting horns.

  "Seems they want to have another go," Donar said to the men around him, but he knew his bravado would seem thin compared to the bone-deep confidence of a man like Ullsaard. With a snarl of annoyance, he ripped the stray piece of leather from his sword hilt and settled his grip.