The Crown of the Usurper (The Crown of the Blood)

by Gav Thorpe

  Ullsaard lowered his head and charged at the treacherous Salphor, but Anglhan was nimble for his size and dodged aside. Grabbing a spear from one of the nearby legionnaires, Anglhan swung its haft into Ullsaard's knee as he awkwardly tried to turn for another attack. Already off balance, the king tumbled to the floor. Two more blows, to his shoulder and the side of his head, dazed the king sufficiently for Anglhan to feel confident enough to approach.

  "Thought you had seen the last of me, didn't you?" the former governor asked with glee, slashing the end of the spear butt into Ullsaard's ribs. Ullsaard heard a shout and sounds of fighting, Out of the corner of his eye he spied Muuril being forcefully put down by his guards. Several others from the Thirteenth were also sent to the ground with clubbing blows. "You destroyed my fucking city, killed thousands of people who had done nothing wrong. I may have been a traitor, but you are a monster."

  "I'm going to kill you, and when I do I'm going to make sure it is drawn out and painful," replied Ullsaard, getting one leg underneath him. He was sent sprawling again as the spear shaft rapped against his knee, sending pain surging up the king's leg and spine.

  "You're not going to kill anybody," said Anglhan. "You're going on a journey, all the way to Askh. And when Asuhas and me present you to King Urikh, he will be pleased and he will see that we are men of value to him."

  "You bargain me to buy favour with my son?" Ullsaard twisted to glare at Asuhas. The little man nodded morosely and shrugged.

  "It is an unsafe world, Ullsaard. I need all of the allies I can get, especially the king."

  "I am your king!" roared Ullsaard, but in his heart he knew it was no longer true.

  "You are nothing," said Anglhan. The Salphor knelt down next to Ullsaard, lips not far from the king's ear. His next words were a whisper. "But I will make you great again, have no fear. You don't trust me, but I am your best hope of staying alive."

  Anglhan then spat in Ullsaard's face and rose up, his massive form dark against the cloud-filled skies. Anglhan kicked Ullsaard hard in the face, heel connecting with the king's jaw, and the sky spun into darkness.

  CARANTATH

  Winter, 213th year of Askh

  I

  It was bitterly cold and snow was falling again, but despite the weather Anasind made his daily rounds of the wall, checking on the new fortifications and the men on duty. He trudged along the frost-covered stones – the first job of each watch rotation was to clear the snowfall of the previous Watch – checking the mortar on the ramparts and to ensure that the stones weren't cracking. In such cold conditions, it was easy to overlook small flaws in the construction only for them to turn into much larger problems within a few years. It was the Askhan way to do a job properly and Anasind was not going to hand over a city that was unfit to defend or was a terrible drain on resources to maintain.

  He had no idea what had possessed the Salphorian kings of old to build their greatest city so far into the mountains, but the freezing conditions were certainly a discouragement to anybody who wanted to rule from here. He had a pair of gloves fashioned from sheep hide and stuffed with wool, and still his fingertips were numb. Like all of his men, he did not wear the traditional legion kilt; woollen Salphorian trousers kept the snow and biting wind from his legs. Some of the men grumbled, particular the Enairians who were no strangers to inclement weather, and Anasind had even caught a few wearing their kilts over their trousers in silent protest at the concession made to the climate. As the winds had strengthened and the snows had fallen more heavily, the sense of the Salphorian clothing was made clearer and the complaints had stopped.

  He received raised spears in salute from the men at their posts, and nods from those at the braziers in the timbered shelters every two hundred paces. There were only four proper towers, one at each corner of the walls, and the main gatehouse, so Anasind had quickly supervised the erection of palisades and wind breaks, which served as cover from both attack and frostbite.

  The city had gone into a kind of hibernation once the snows had started falling every day. Most of the people stayed in their homes, and the city was covered in a layer of smoke from their fires. The livestock that had been put out on the mountain pastures had been brought into the city, accompanied by the extended families that tended the animals, and so the halfempty streets had bustled with beasts and people for a short while, but now all but breeding stock had been slaughtered, the carcasses salted and put into the natural caves beneath the hill on which the long hall was built.

  Most of the legions had been despatched across Salphoria, to make winter camp overlooking the rivers and roads that would be the lifeblood of the new territory of Greater Askhor. The Askhans had done their fair share of burning and pillaging on the advance duskwards, and now they did their best to organise, ration and distribute the food stores that remained, supplemented by forage and game taken by the legions themselves. Anasind had impressed upon his first captains the need to be even-handed, and although the legions would not go without proper meals, where once the favour of chieftains had decided who would feed and who would starve, now the Askhans would show that all were to be treated equally.

  Only six companies of the Thirteenth remained in the city, about as many soldiers as the food stores could supply on top of the condensed populace, supplemented by a local militia overseen by Aegenuis. Some of the sergeants had, on their own initiative, started to take Salphorian recruits into their drill sessions, while the elders of Carantathi passed on what they knew about surviving the cold of the mountains, urged on by Aegenuis. The deposed king of Salphoria had been good to his word to Ullsaard and did his best to accommodate the needs of Anasind, and to tamp down any flames of resentment amongst his people. In all, the winter forced Salphor and Askhan to work together.

  Anasind was just completing his rounds, coming up to the guard tower on the right hand side of the gate, when he saw a figure approaching up the road. The snow drifts were high, and the man was swathed in furs, wading as much as he was walking. Perhaps the shutdown of the city had made Anasind doubt anybody ventured outside the walls, but he rubbed his eyes and looked again, fearing some kind of snow-blindness was affecting him. Despite this, the man was still forging his way through the whiteness.

  As he came closer, it was clear that the approaching man was dragging a bundle behind him on a small sled – easier than carrying it on his back, Anasind realised. Bundled up in furs, his head wrapped about with the same, it was impossible to tell the age or build of the man. However, there was something distinctive about him. On his sled were stowed a spear and a shield; the gear of a legionnaire.

  There were encouraging shouts echoing down the pass as some of the men on the walls saw the new arrival, but Anasind knew that a lone legionnaire braving the terrible winter mountains was not a good sign. He wondered which of the possibilities it represented: a legion camp attacked; a town starving; a column ambushed. Another thought occurred to the general as he signalled for some men to go down to the ground and open the small door within the main gate – the death of the king, perhaps?

  Worried by this sudden thought, Anasind followed the men despatched to the gate, and waited with them while the man hauled himself and his sled through the gateway. Ice crystals had formed around the brim of his fur-lined hood and his cheeks and chin were hidden by a bushy beard. Long straggles of hair escaped from the confines of his headgear; a man the opposite of a neatly presented legionnaire. Anasind was instantly suspicious and put a hand to the hilt of his sword. With a thud, the other men closed the gate door.

  "Whoa general, don't gut me yet," the stranger said, throwing back his hood. Black hair, tousled by the wind, flowed from the man's scalp, but as he swept it away from his face, Anasind recognised him. "It's me, Caaspir. The king sent me."

  II

  After relinquishing Caaspir of his sled and harness, Anasind had the man taken care of and then brought to his quarters in one of the old noble's houses on the mound by the long hall. The general's ne
ighbour was Aegenuis, and sometimes Anasind overhead the man when he was drunk, lamenting his demise or arguing with his family. Occasionally there was also noisy sex, but he had learned the warning signs that the former king was feeling amorous, and would find excuse to visit the long hall or one of his officers for the night.

  Having been given something hot to drink and some food, Caaspir arrived half an hour later, a small waterproofed packet under his arm and a grim look on his face. Anasind met him in one of the dining chambers, where the fireplace was largest. Timber was scarce, though there was coal in the mountains, and it was prudent to have the least number of fires burning at any time, so the dining room and the main bedroom were the only chambers in the house that were warmed.

  Caaspir's sudden arrival and pensive expression reminded Anasind that something was amiss so the general dismissed his attendants from the room.

  Caaspir looked grateful for the privacy. He still had his ragged beard and hair, but had swapped his smelly furs for some properly-made Salphorian trousers and jacket. He looked more like one of the barbarian chieftains than a member of the king's favoured legion.

  "The last I saw of you, you were heading to Askh," said Anasind. He poured mulled wine for the legionnaire, who took the drink in his free hand and stayed at attention. "You've come back a long way."

  "Yes, general, I have," said Caaspir. He proffered the package, which Anasind took. "Missives from King Ullsaard, general. I was to deliver them to you personally, nobody else."

  "What if I was dead?" said Anasind. He knew the way Ullsaard thought, and such an outcome would have been considered.

  "Then I was to burn them and, according to the king, we'd all be fucked worse than the cheapest whore visiting the barracks."

  Anasind wanted to laugh but it died on his lips; he sensed no humour in the messenger.

  "Do you know the contents of this?" He waved the packet in one hand. It was light, most of the weight from the tarred leather.

  "Letters, general, penned by the king. Nothing else."

  "So what could be so important, I wonder?" said Anasind.

  "The king said I were to answer any questions what you might have, general, and if you have a mind, I could tell you what's been happening. Before you read the letters, I mean."

  "Go ahead. Sit down, if this is going to take some time."

  Caaspir sat on the opposite side the table, the cup of mulled wine clasped in both hands. He fixed Anasind with a sincere look.

  "King Ullsaard's son, Urikh, has taken the Crown for himself. The king's holed up in his villa at Menesun, in Ersua. Well, he was when I left. Before that happened, he gave me the letters in that package and said you was to read the one with your name on first. The other is for the Salphorian, Aegenuis."

  "Why would he write to Aegenuis?" Anasind wondered aloud, unbuckling the strap that held the packet together. Two waxed parchment envelopes slipped out onto the table, one with his name on it, the other marked for the former Salphorian king.

  "I don't know, but King Ullsaard said it was important that you fulfil his wishes as outlined in his writing to you," answered Caaspir.

  The letter began:

  If you do not receive another message from me in five days' time, I am probably dead or a prisoner, so here is what you must do.

  III

  Aegenuis had to read the first lines again. His spoken Askhan was coming along well, but his people did not have a history of writing. It was unfamiliar, because in writing Ullsaard had a fluid, rounded script and his words were less functional than when he spoke. Some of them Aegenuis had to guess at the meaning, but the context made the message clear.

  I find myself short of friends. Oddly, of all the people I have known, there is only one I have taken a nation from and yet I hope to count you among my allies. I have no other choice but to trust you. If you are reading this letter, it means that General Anasind has received no message from me to rescind his orders.

  Urikh has tried to oust me from power and I have no legions to fight him. I have never been anything than forthright and honest with you, and though I have Salphor blood on my hands, a river of it, I have never held any malice towards you as a person or towards your people. Urikh will be a despot, and he will be corrupt. He is able to usurp me because he has unleashed the full power of the Brotherhood. The Brothers will be heartless. They will take what they need from your people and crush everything that remains of your culture and traditions. I grew up in its wake in Enair, so I know of what I speak. If you trust me and wish no extra woe upon come to Salphoria, please cooperate with General Anasind. He will tell you what I need you to do.

  Shocked, Aegenuis looked sharply at Anasind, who was standing by the fire, watching the former king carefully.

  "You know what this says?" asked the Salphor. The general shook his head. Aegenuis grunted and rubbed his bearded chin, thinking through the possibilities. He sat down at the end of the table and reached for a beer jug. Taking a mouthful direct from the ewer, Aegenuis reached a decision. "You know that Urikh has kicked out your friend?"

  "Yes, he told me that in his letter," said Anasind.

  "If word of that was to get out, it could spell the end of your occupation of Salphoria. News like that spreads quickly. Winter's a bad time to be in a hostile land."

  "Ullsaard likes you," Anasind said, half-turned towards the firepit, eyes reflecting the light of the lamps hung from the beams overhead. "That is why I have given you that letter, five days after receiving one myself. Because I like you, I'm going to tell you another of the things the king has instructed me to do today. I am to stay by your side, day and night, from this moment forward. If I think you are betraying Ullsaard, in any way at all, I am to put my sword in your gut or slit your throat. He leaves it entirely to my judgement. If you choose to make a veiled threat again, I will kill you. The situation is too serious for niceties."

  "Well then, looks like I don't have much choice," said Aegenuis. He raised the beer jug in toast to Anasind. "For better or worse, it seems I'm Ullsaard's friend. What does he want us to do?"

  ASKH

  Winter, 213th year of Askh

  I

  A look from Allenya parted the two black-crested soldiers standing at the main doors to her sister's apartments. One of them growled something and the door opened, swinging inwards to reveal a mosaic-floored entrance hall and a Maasrite serving maid with head bowed.

  Allenya strode through the door, paying no attention to the servants that were gathering like a flock of hungry starlings. She headed down the hall and then took an archway on her right, which brought her into a dining hall. Passing through this, the queen walked briskly into a lounge, where a stretch of coldwards-facing windows showed a view out across the capital city. It was mid-afternoon, the sun touching the peaks of the mountains to duskwards, leaving much of the city in shadow. Lights from windows and torches illuminating the streets were spreading out from the dawnwards gate, bringing light back to Askh as the darkness of winter's night crept from one side of the city to the other.

  "What is Urikh up to?" she demanded of her sister, Luia, who was sitting in one of the chairs by the window. Luia was staring thoughtfully out of the window, her long black hair obscuring one side of her face, reddened lips pursed. Slowly the king's mother turned, as if in a daze.

  "Whatever he wants to do, I'm sure," said Luia, not looking up at Allenya. "He is the king, after all."

  "There are legionnaires all over the palace, and he's ordered that Ullnaar be brought back from the colleges." Allenya stood over Luia, arms crossed, glowering at her sister. "It feels like I am being kept prisoner. What is he afraid of?"

  "Nothing," Luia said, sharpness returning to her voice and her eyes. "The palace has always had guards. Why does it concern you so much, sister? He just wants to make sure we are protected."

  "The task of guarding the royal palace is for the First, not the thugs of the Brotherhood. And it reminds me of Magilnada. You were not there sister, bu
t you would feel the same if you thought for a moment you were being held hostage. I wanted to visit Pretaa, but Urikh has informed me that I should not travel to Enair, or leave the city at all. He would not even see me, he sent me a letter!"

  "So it is your pride that has been bruised?" Luia swivelled in her chair to look at Allenya properly. The queen knew what her sister saw; the grey ash of mourning daubed on her cheeks and forehead still; dishevelled clothes and unkempt hair. Luia gave Allenya a look of pity and stood up, one hand reaching out. "It is the middle of winter, sister, now is not the time to head coldwards. In the spring, we will visit Ullsaard's mother and pay our respects. Meliu can come too. It will be just the three of us; Urikh can stay here with his musty Brotherhood friends and we will be able to forget about what has happened."

  Allenya saw empathy in her sister's face, though she was not convinced it was wholly genuine. As comforting as Luia's words were, they did not answer Allenya's question, so she spoke it again.