The Crown of the Conqueror cob-2

by Gav Thorpe

  He was confronted by a wall of disbelieving faces. The nobles exchanged glances with each other, some of them whispering to their neighbours. It was not the response Ullsaard had hoped for. Perhaps he had not made his offer clear enough?

  "I am reinstating the rights of the noble families to raise and lead their own legions again. This summer, any of you can march to Salphoria and take what rightfully belongs to you." He rounded on the crowd. "Whoever here that marches with me will get their fair share as well. As it was in the time of Askhos, so it is again. Too long the power has been hoarded by the Brotherhood and the governors. I am setting free the shackles that have chained the beast that is Greater Askhor. This is a new time of glory. It is yours to seize!"

  "These are different times." Ullsaard looked back at the nobles to see who had spoken. Laadir Irrin, head of one of the oldest and most powerful families, stood up. "Our forefathers were warlords and chieftains. What do we know of war?"

  Ullsaard smiled, for he had expected this argument and already had a counter for it.

  "There are many fine officers in the legions, and many that have retired who would consider again the opportunity to conquer for Askh. If you have not the stomach for the battle yourself, appoint another to lead in your place."

  This provoked the reaction that Ullsaard had hoped for. There were shouts of protest and prideful boasts. No matter the pampered existence of many on the noble seats, they nevertheless shared the notion that they were brave and great leaders like their ancestors.

  Surprisingly, it was Etor Astaan that stood next.

  "I will raise a legion," he declared. "Though it has been generations since the Astaan's led an army in battle, I would not spurn the challenge."

  This prompted more conspiratorial whispering. The nobles were finally realising the import of what Ullsaard was doing. If one amongst them raised a legion, not only would that shame the others, it would put them at a distinct commercial disadvantage. Ullsaard was right about the riches of Salphoria, and if he was forcing them to take their own share, they would have to act.

  Others stood up and raised their fists, declaring their intent to lead a legion. Even a few of the merchants added their voices, earning themselves scornful laughter from the nobles. Ullsaard strode toward the mass of citizens spread across the field.

  "Do not let these noble bastards have all the fun!" he roared. "Who here has the mettle to be a legionnaire? Which of you could be a First Captain?"

  Claims and counter-claims were shouted up to Ullsaard. He unsheathed his sword again, rammed it into the planks of the stage and knelt beside it, looking at the crowd with wide eyes.

  "Which of you wants a vine terrace in the Altes Hills? Who would like a mill on the Geinan River? How about running one of those salt mines?" He waved away his own suggestions. "Forget that! Who here would like a house in Carantathi? Perhaps you could live in the palaces of Aegenuis himself, with his hundreds of servants to attend you! Or perhaps the hot-blooded amongst you want to find out if those Salphorian girls are as feisty as some claim?"

  He stood up and stretched his arms wide, fists clenched.

  "It is in our blood to rule! Askhos decreed it, and we shall make it happen. Join me! Fight with me!"

  The legionnaires led the cheers, all thought of watching the crowd forgotten. There was no more fear, there was no uncertainty. Every man and woman cheered, imagining the riches and comfort this campaign would bring.

  Ullsaard ripped his sword from the stage and held it aloft.

  "Askhor!" he bellowed. "Fight for Askhor!"

  III

  It was past midnight when Ullsaard finally slouched back to his chambers. He was surprised to find his chief servant waiting for him. With Ariid were two young, shaven-headed Maasrites, who Ullsaard assumed were also part of his household though he did not recall seeing them before.

  "I believe all of the servants of the Blood left the palace, master," said Ariid. "If you still wish it, I will continue in your service."

  Ullsaard slapped a hand to Ariid's arm.

  "Why would I not want you? And who are these pair?"

  "These are Keaila and Aminea, master," said Ariid. "The rest of the staff are on their way to Magilnada to attend to your family."

  "Yes, of course they are," said Ullsaard, though it was news to him. Domestic arrangements had been the last thing on his mind since coming to Askh four days ago. "I am ready for bed."

  "Everything is prepared, master. I was not sure whether you would stay here or in the king's chambers and so have made arrangements in both. Before you retire, there is someone who has been waiting to see you."

  "I am too tired, Ariid. Tell him to come back tomorrow."

  Ullsaard started towards the door to his bedroom but was stopped by a voice from the archway leading to the feasting rooms.

  "That is an uncivil welcome for your son." Ullsaard span around to see his youngest, Ullnaar, leaning against the archway, a halfeaten apple in his hand. "And after I waited up for you…"

  The king shook his son's hand, studying him intently. Ullnaar had changed so much since he had last seen him. There were patches of bristle on his chin and cheeks, and his face was harderedged, no sign of the chubbiness that had filled his cheeks. His hair was close-cropped, the same golden blonde as his mother's.

  The eyes showed the greatest difference. There were rings of fatigue under them.

  "You look like you've had less sleep than me," said Ullsaard.

  Ullnaar shrugged.

  "When you came through the Wall, Lutaar tried to break the sanctuary of the colleges. I think he intended to take me hostage as last resort. Meemis and the other teachers hid me away until the soldiers had to leave to fight you. I was afraid, I admit. It was not until you came into the city yesterday that I realised I was safe."

  "You are safe," said Ullsaard. "And tonight you will sleep here."

  Ullnaar nodded and smiled. Beneath the cheery expression, Ullsaard detected the traces of the fear that had haunted his son. He had never thought Lutaar would breach the sanctity of the college grounds; sanctity laid down by Askhos himself.

  Knowing what he now did, Ullsaard realised that Lutaar was Askhos, in some confusing fashion, and Askhos would have no qualms breaking his own rules if he needed to. It worried Ullsaard that he had heard nothing from the dead king all day; not a single insult, warning or unwanted piece of advice.

  "Is something the matter, father?"

  Ullsaard snapped out of his thoughts, realising he had been staring at Ullnaar. He returned his son's smile.

  "I'm more tired than a whore after a legion's marched into town. I'm sorry, but we will have to talk properly in the morning. I'm in no fit state at the moment."

  Ullnaar nodded and shook his father's hand again.

  "Congratulations, King Ullsaard," he said. Ullsaard laughed, hung an arm over Ullnaar's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace, much to his son's embarrassment.

  "Thank you, Prince Ullnaar."

  Ullsaard let go and stepped away. He turned for the bedroom and almost stumbled through the door. He threw off his armour and clothes, while Ariid followed him around the room, picking them up. With a sigh, Ullsaard threw himself onto the bed.

  Within moments he was snoring soundly. Almost as quickly, Ullsaard dreamt.

  He imagined himself waking up in a cave. As he looked around he realised it was not so much a natural cave; the walls were smooth and hand-worked and a lintel of black granite topped the square door.

  It was a mausoleum of some kind. At the far end of the long, low chamber sat a stone casket. A bearded man a little shorter than himself sat on the top of the stone box. He was middleaged, with weatherworn features, dressed in a simple white kilt and a leather breastplate.

  He looked very familiar.

  "I've seen your face before," said Ullsaard

  He approached the man, head stooped beneath a ceiling carved with spirals and shallow runes. He realised the floor and walls were d
ecorated the same. The only light came through the door, a cold twilight that hid more in shadow than it revealed. The man gestured for Ullsaard to sit in front of him. Ullsaard stayed standing. He realised where he had seen the face before: on the golden icons of the legions.

  "So this is what you really look like, Askhos? The banners bear a very good likeness."

  Askhos smiled, but his eyes showed no mirth.

  "They were fashioned from my death mask," said the first king of Askh. "I always thought they made me look fatter than I was."

  Ullsaard looked around at the crypt and a thought occurred to him.

  "This is where you are buried, isn't it?"

  "Yes, this is my tomb," said Askhos.

  "Nobody knows where it is."

  "I do, and that is what is important."

  Ullsaard walked towards to the open entrance, looking over his shoulder at Askhos.

  "I can easily find out," he said. "I'm sure it's in Askhor somewhere, and I'll recognise a landmark or something."

  "You are welcome to try," said Askhos, waving a hand towards the gleam of cold light.

  Through the door, Ullsaard could see nothing but starry sky. Guessing that they were atop a hill, he ducked beneath the lintel stone and stepped out for a better view.

  Ullsaard's panicked yelp echoed from the stones and he fell back into the tomb. Askhos's laughter rang around him. Ullsaard twisted to his hands and knees, eyes wide with horror.

  "There was nothing," he said quietly, looking at Askhos. "Nothing but dust and the stars."

  Askhos's laughter died away and he beckoned Ullsaard to come closer. The first king slapped a hand against the lid of the stone coffin.

  "My bones are safer here than anywhere in the world," he said. "You see, I am a careful man and it would not do to let my remains fall into the hands of another."

  Ullsaard's first thought was that if he could destroy Askhos's remains, he might rid himself of the dead king. He kept the revelation from his expression.

  "I am in your head, Ullsaard. And in your dreams. Do you think you can keep your thoughts from me? Give up this idea. You do not know where this place is, no man does. Even if you were to find out where my body lies, you have not the means to reach it. There is no escape for you in that way."

  Ullsaard growled, annoyed with himself, feeling betrayed by his own thoughts.

  "So why have you brought me here? Why have you said nothing to me while I was awake?"

  Askhos's face was marred by consternation.

  "I did not bring you to this place. I have been speaking to you all day, have you not heard me?"

  "Not a word, for which I am thankful," said Ullsaard. He walked up to Askhos and bent until his face was level with the first king's. "You don't have any more idea what's happening than I do."

  Askhos did not flinch or lean away, but met Ullsaard's stare with his own.

  "I do not know exactly what is happening, but I can make a far more informed guess than you. Tell me, back in the world where you sleep, where is the Crown?"

  "I locked it in a vault," said Ullsaard. "I have no desire to wear it for the moment, but it needs to be kept safe."

  Askhos said nothing, but there was a hint of a nod, as if he had an inkling of what was affecting him. Ullsaard spoke his reasoning aloud.

  "You were in the Crown. I put on the Crown. Some of you passed into me, but some of you stayed in the Crown." He smiled triumphantly. "The further I am from the Crown, the weaker that part of you that is in my head."

  "Not just your head, Ullsaard. I am in every part of you. I am you as much as you are. When you scratch your arse, I feel it. When you are hungry, I am hungry too. I see what you see, I hear what you hear."

  "I am still in the palace. That is not so far away. Let us see what you hear and feel when I am scratching my arse in Salphoria, two thousand miles away."

  "No!" Genuine horror clouded Askhos's face. "Do not leave the Crown behind!"

  "Afraid of being lonely, old king?"

  Askhos opened his mouth to protest, but closed it, utterly helpless. His shoulders sagged and he pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. When Askhos looked at Ullsaard again there was an imploring look in his eyes.

  "Do not destroy the empire, Ullsaard. It is too valuable to risk."

  "I have no intention of doing anything but make the empire stronger," Ullsaard replied, stepping back. He crossed his arms, annoyed by the accusation. "It is your plan that we rule all the lands between the seas. I will make that dream a reality."

  "But you are going too fast, Ullsaard! It is not yet the time to take on Salphoria. And without the Brotherhood… Without the Brotherhood, you will fail. And when you fail, Greater Askhor will fail with you. You have Magilnada. That is a start. Cosuas has explored the Greenwater. Go hotwards and consolidate what he has taken, and push the Mekhani from their desert. There is no need to start a war with the Salphors yet."

  "It is too late," said Ullsaard. "Not that I would change my course on your counsel. Already the nobles are raiding their treasuries to see how many legions they can raise."

  "What have you done?" Askhos pushed himself from the casket and stalked towards Ullsaard. "What have you done?"

  Ullsaard stood his ground.

  "I thought you knew everything I did? Did you not hear my speech today?"

  Askhos frowned and thrust an accusing finger at Ullsaard.

  "Tell me what you have done? Why are the nobles paying for legions?"

  "I am simply doing what you did, mighty Askhos. Rights of conquest have been given back to the noble families."

  Askhos threw his hands up to his head and snarled.

  "That is madness! They will fight you and each other, scrabbling over the spoils. There are reasons I withdrew those rights, curbed the power of the nobles and the legions. The empire does not need them now."

  Ullsaard shrugged.

  "By the end of the summer, it will be irrelevant. Salphoria will be part of Greater Askhor and the nobles will be so busy counting their new riches and measuring their new lands they won't even have a second thought to my taking of the Crown."

  "A bribe? That's all this is? A bribe to the nobles to stop them arguing your claim to rule?"

  Ullsaard shrugged.

  "I was quite pleased with the idea. I came up with it myself. I will be going to Salphoria as well, to make sure things do not get out of hand."

  Askhos shook his head and slumped back against the coffin.

  "Take the Crown with you. Leave it in Magilnada if you have to, but do not be so far from it that I cannot see what is happening. You will need my help, Ullsaard. I have ruled this empire for more than two hundred years. What better advisor could you have?"

  Ullsaard considered this proposal for a moment.

  "One that isn't dead? One that doesn't want me dead so that he can reclaim his throne? Those would be a good start. I'm through with you. If I never hear from you again, it would be for the best."

  "Don't…"

  The whole scene shimmered and faded. Ullsaard felt his body disintegrating, flowing back into greyness.

  And then he slept again, and had no more dreams.

  Magilnada

  Spring, 210th year of Askh

  I

  The stink of beer and sweat was strong in the drinking cellar, tinged with urine from the piss hole behind a curtain in the corner. Gelthius was leaning against the uneven stone wall, his chair rocked back on two legs, feet up on the stained wood of the table. A half-full cup rested on his chestplate, kept in place by his clasped fingers. His helmet was tipped forward over his eyes, but he wasn't asleep.

  On the other side of the table, Loordin and Sergeant Muuril were indulging in some drunken finger-wrestling, hands entwined as each tried to twist the other man's wrist far enough to make him submit. Further down the table, Juruun was picking over the plates for scraps of food; he was always a hungry drunk.

  Next to Gelthius, Gebriun was slumped in a pud
dle of red wine, one arm used as a pillow, the other dangling uselessly. Gelthius's first thought was how much of a pain it was going to be to get the stain out of Gebriun's tunic. They'd all have to help; otherwise the whole company would be punished.

  But that was not an immediate issue; they had another day of leave before they had to head back to camp outside Magilnada. For the last three days, the Thirteenth had whored, drank and eaten their way through everything the city had to offer. It was a last gasp of freedom before they marched on Salphoria proper.

  Gelthius had mixed feelings about that. The advance duskwards would bring him closer to his family, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of Askhan legions tearing across Salphoria. There was no telling where they might end up and who they might kill.

  "Smells even more like shit than normal."

  Gelthius peered out from under the lip of his helm at a group of legionnaires staggering down the steps into the cellar. They had armfuls of cups and jugs with them, splashing wine and beer into the thin layer of straw covering the floor. He recognised them as members of the Fifteenth, survivors of the Greenwater campaign and the defence of Askh. As the twenty-or-so legionnaires fell along the benches and tables just across the cellar, one of them met Gelthius's gaze.

  "And here's the reason it stinks," said the soldier. He nudged a few of his companions and pointed at Gelthius. "They let in fucking Salphor pigs."

  There were sneers and jeers, but Gelthius ignored them. Muuril wasn't so forgiving. The sergeant pulled his hand free from the finger-wrestling and stood up. Loordin woke up Gebriun, who rose from his puddle with a snort.

  "Didn't we just kick the shit out of you cunts already?" said Muuril.

  There were scrapes of chairs as some of the other legionnaires in the drinking den turned to watch the inevitable fight. Most of them were from the Fifth, Donar's legion. If things got out of hand, they would weigh in with the Thirteenth, Gelthius hoped. After all, the two legions had fought side-by-side for two years during Ullsaard's grab for the throne.