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

by Gav Thorpe

  "I thought it would be better to come unannounced," said Allenya. She stopped on the other side of the table and her eyes swept the room, brow wrinkling with distaste as she saw the remains of the banquet on the table. "I see I have interrupted your celebratory feast."

  "Celebration, Queen?" Anglhan felt nervous all of a sudden, the Queen's stare more intense than anything he had been subjected to by anyone else. He reached out for his wine but his fumbling fingers knocked over the goblet, spilling red across the table.

  "You eat game and fowl and drink unwatered wine while my dead husband lies on a bier in the Hall of Askhos. Ullsaard is dead; I would think you find that cause for celebration."

  "Not at all, my Queen, not at all," said Anglhan. He stepped to the end of the table, hands outstretched in a gesture of innocence. "Ullsaard's death would be very inconvenient for me, as well as a tragedy for the empire."

  "Save your lies!" Allenya snarled. She snatched up a small clay dish and threw it at Anglhan. It went over his head and smashed on the wall behind him, marking the ochre paint with splashes of red sauce and rags of chicken skin.

  "I swear, Allenya, you have me wrong," said Anglhan. Panic set in when the queen picked up a carving knife from the table and stalked towards him. "Wait a moment, let's not be stupid."

  "Murderer!"

  Allenya hurled herself at Anglhan, knife raised in her fist. He fended away her first swipe, earning himself a scratch across the back of his hand. She lunged again, and he stepped back awkwardly, crashing into his chair. Impeded, he could not dodge the next cut, which sliced across his left cheek just below the eye.

  "Stop, you're making a mistake!" Anglhan cried, backing into the table. The cut on his face stung all the more as tears rolled down his blubbery cheeks. "Stop!"

  "Bastard son of a whore's arse!" Allenya shrieked, stabbing down at Anglhan's chest. He slid along the table to his right, the blade in catching him in the shoulder. "Pig-fucking killer!"

  Again and again Allenya slashed and stabbed, some of her wild blows going wide, others grazing and slicing Anglhan's flailing arms as he sought to back away. In desperation he grabbed a platter and swung blindly, hoping to knock the knife from her hand. He really did not want to hurt the queen, not now, not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. Killing her would ruin everything he had worked so hard to bring about.

  The tray connected with the side of Allenya's head as she bent to slash at his groin. With a gut-shrivelling clang, it glanced from her skull and sent her down. Allenya hit the floor, head bouncing against the bare wood.

  "Oh shit, oh shit," gasped Anglhan. "Oh shit, I didn't mean…"

  Ignoring the blood streaming from his own wounds, Anglhan bent over Allenya. The side of her face was already swelling up into a bruise and the skin was broken just above her eye, a surprising amount of blood streaming down her face. There was a glazed look in her eyes.

  "Black knockholes of the spirits," Anglhan muttered as he grabbed the table with one hand and pulled himself back up. He looked over the crockery and utensils, looking for something he could wrap in cloth to make a compact bandage for the wound in the side of the queen's head. "Spirits can go fuck their mother's ears for all they've done for me. What have I done to deserve this?"

  Searing, hot pain lanced along his spine as he bent forward to reach for a half-full cheese bag. Roaring, he turned as quickly as he could, sending Allenya sprawling again, the knife ripped from the wound in Anglhan's back.

  "What have you…" The strength went from his legs and he stumbled to his knees, fingers gripping the tablecloth as he fell. Plates and dishes and trays crashed on the floor around him, flinging pieces of meat and fruit peelings across the floorboards.

  Allenya steadied herself and advanced with purpose, the right side of her face a mask of blood. There were spatters on her pale blue dress. The knife was daubed with crimson in her hand and Anglhan watched as a droplet of his blood fell from its tip to the floor. It landed in the spilt wine with a tiny splash.

  Fear robbed Anglhan of speech as Allenya plunged the knife into his chest. He felt metal on ribs, ripping through fat and muscle. With a moan, he collapsed sideways, crushing bowls underneath him. He knew he was going to die. Blood was pouring from the wound and his breathing was already becoming difficult; a lung had been punctured, he was sure.

  "Ullsaard's alive!" he managed to gasp. He pressed a hand to the hole in his chest and felt blood bubbling through his fingers. He looked down as best he could and saw red froth. It was definitely a lung.

  "What did you say?" Allenya stood over him, bloodied knife in hand, eyes wide in a smear of red.

  Anglhan choked and spat up blood. He was no soldier or surgeon but he knew he did not have long. Looking up at Allenya he had a choice to make. He could take his secret to the grave and Ullsaard would die anyway, or he could tell his killer the truth so that she could save her husband. Did it really matter, he asked himself? Ullsaard had been a butcher and a bastard and had killed thousands by his actions. What did Anglhan owe it to the man, or his wife, to save him now that all profit was lost? No revelation could not stop him dying.

  "What did you say about Ullsaard?" Allenya looked scared now. Anglhan tried to laugh but he could not. His chest felt tighter and tighter and knew that soon he would not have enough breath to speak. If he was to say anything he would have to say it now.

  "It's fake," he rasped, every word an agony. "Some drugs, superficial cuts and colourings. Ullsaard's alive. I crafted that. I was going to be… It doesn't matter."

  He coughed more blood and it felt thick in his throat. Allenya dropped the knife and knelt beside him. She leaned closer to hear his words.

  "He needs antidote, before… Before he stops breathing for real."

  "Where? Where is the antidote? Where is he?"

  It was too hard to speak. Anglhan managed to prop himself up on one elbow and pointed to the door that led to his bedchamber. Summoning up what strength and courage he had left, knowing that his last moments were going to be in agony, he drew in a ragged half-breath.

  "Money belt, secret lining. One pinch, hot water. "

  "Where can I find him? Where is he?" Allenya grabbed Anglhan's face in both hands as she demanded the answers. Her eyes were locked on his.

  "Still in the Hall of Askhos." He hoped to see gratitude in her face, to hear her say she was sorry for what she had done. Darkness was beckoning but Anglhan held on, waiting for the thanks or the apology. The room started to slowly spin but he focussed on Allenya's face, desperately searching for some hint of compassion or sorrow at his demise. He saw nothing but hardness and disgust. The knife was in her hand again and he looked at it despairingly, hoping she would read his desire that she ended his misery quickly.

  "There will be no swift death for you, you traitorous piece of shit. Perhaps you did not kill my husband, but you certainly held me hostage and ordered my son killed," Allenya whispered in his ear. She pressed a hand to the wound in his chest, the pressure causing a wave of agony to flood through him. With the last moments of sensation Anglhan felt the blade sliding up his thigh until it pierced a testicle. He could not feel the pain, but the shame bit harder than any physical sensation as she sliced away his genitals. "You are less than a man; you are a glutton, a thief and a coward. Die with the pain and humiliation that you have earned."

  It was too much. Her scorn was the last thing Anglhan knew as he reached the end of his strength and death took him.

  VII

  Noran was not sure where the pool of blood stopped and the puddle of wine began. One hand clasped over his mouth in horror, he walked cautiously around the dining table, fearing that he would find Allenya's bloodied body. He had been delayed by a chance encounter with Urikh, and had hurried to the rooms held by Anglhan fearing the worst. Though he could not see Allenya, seeing the fat man's corpse flopped on the floor the nobleman realised that the luxury of time had been robbed from them.

  "Allenya?" he called out,
trying to pitch his voice so that he would be heard but not so loud that it would carry into the corridor where a passing servant might hear the commotion. The nobleman looked at the floor and saw a trail of bloody footprints leaving by one of the doors. At least Allenya was still in the apartment.

  "We have to get this to Ullsaard." The queen emerged from the adjoining room with a wide leather belt. There was blood drying on her face and matting her hair, and her dress was drenched with red. The pouches of the money belt spilled gold askharins onto the floor but Allenya paid them no attention. She had a knife and was cutting open the woollen lining, throwing the belt to one side, she held up a small leather packet. She talked in a short, breathless way that betrayed excitement. "Ullsaard is not dead. Anglhan used drugs to induce a coma. This will bring him back."

  "I know," said Noran. "The marks on the body were shallow cuts made to look worse. That is why I was going to meet you here, to arrange our departure."

  "You knew? Why did you not mention in your message that Ullsaard was alive?"

  "Would you entrust that sort of knowledge to a palace courier?" Noran took the pouch from Allenya and looked at Anglhan's corpse. "Anglhan had told me what he had planned before Ullsaard was brought out for the viewing. Seems a pity for Anglhan that I was distrustful."

  "Pity would not have saved him," Allenya said grimly, stepping past Noran to head for the door.

  "Wait!" Noran cried out, grabbing Allenya by the wrist, stop ping her. "You cannot walk the palace like this. Let us see if we can find some cloak or coat to hide you."

  Noran noticed that Allenya was starting to grow paler. He also saw a bruise on the side of her head and realised that Anglhan had not fallen without striking back. Shock and the blow to the head were beginning to take their toll on the queen. Her expression became distant as he led her back into the bed chamber.

  "Sit there," he said, pushing her gently onto the end of the bed. There were several chests along one wall – evidently unpacking had not been one of Anglhan's priorities. A quick search produced a thick shirt that was large enough to be a coat for the queen. There was little to be done with the bloodied hem of her dress, but a green cloak with a cowl served to provide cover for her bloodstained face.

  "He said that we have to act soon," Allenya mumbled as Noran pulled her up and started to help her into the oversized garments. There was a distant look in her eye. "Ullsaard will stop breathing for real, he said."

  "All is in hand, Allenya, trust me," said Noran, throwing the cloak around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her gore-matted hair. She looked at him for a moment, focussed once more. "I will get you back to your apartments and you must get everybody ready to leave immediately."

  She nodded slowly and Noran felt relief. It was short-lived. The lie had convinced the queen that all was in hand, but the truth of the matter was that Noran had no idea how Anglhan had planned to restore Ullsaard or smuggle him out of the palaces. It was the middle of the day and Urikh would be busy, but there were many other people around the palace.

  He helped Allenya out of the bedroom and towards the door, but then the queen stopped.

  "What is the matter?" Noran asked, fearing that ordeal she had been through was taking too much of a toll.

  "I have a better plan," she said, smiling weakly at him. "It is too risky for me to walk the palace, so go to my apartments and send Meliu to me here. Have her bring fresh clothes. Nobody will disturb me while I wait."

  "Aye, that is a better plan," admitted Noran. He wondered whether to confess the lack of the same for Ullsaard but decided the queen's state was too fragile to risk news of setback. "When I have sent Meliu, I will attend to Ullsaard."

  "Very well," said Allenya. She undid the clasp of her cloak and threw it to the floor, before unbuttoning the shirt and tossing that over the corpse of Anglhan. Pulling a chair from under the table, she sat down, back straight, hands in her lap. "Go along now, Noran, let us not tarry."

  No, let us not tarry at all, he thought, heading for the door.

  "Stay safe," he said, looking back just as he was about to leave the dining room.

  Allenya nodded calmly in reply.

  "You as well. Bring my husband to me, Noran."

  The nobleman could not find it in his heart to make a promise that he might have to break. With a forced smile he left, and headed for the royal apartments, desperately wracking his brains for a plan.

  VIII

  Meliu sat watching Allenya closely. Washed and dressed, her sister had regained her air of grace, but Meliu could tell there was turmoil below the surface. It was hard for all of them to comprehend. Urikh's betrayal was bad enough, though Noran had babbled something about the king not being in total control of himself, but the back-and-forth of Ullsaard being alive then dead, dead then alive again was almost too much for the youngest of his wives to take in.

  Sitting next to her on the couch in the greeting room, Ullnaar squeezed his mother's hand, offering physical reassurance. Meliu smiled at her son, so proud of what he had become. Lean and handsome, with golden locks the girls were all queuing to run than fingers through, and a brain to match. Perhaps too much of a brain, she thought. Always with a smart word or sarcastic remark ready, Ullnaar had offended more than one noble family in the city by spurning their daughter's approaches.

  "So, is there any girl I should know about?" she asked, trying to take her mind off the current situation. Waiting had never been comfortable to her, and knowing that both Noran and Ullsaard were in danger made it an agony to simply sit in the royal apartments and wait for their return.

  "One or two," said Ullnaar, flashing a heart-melting smile. "None yet that warrant a mother's scrutiny."

  "They all warrant that, be sure," said Allenya. She smiled weakly and Meliu knew that she saw the likeness of Jutaar in Ullnaar's features, though the two could not have been more different in personality. A tear glimmered in Allenya's eye but did not grow enough to spill onto her cheek. "You never know when you might miss the girl that is best suited for you, simply because you look at her with a man's eye and not a woman's."

  "Yes, tell us. Who are these girls who are not yet important enough that you choose not to introduce them to your mother?" said Meliu.

  A knocking at the door saved Ullnaar the need to make excuses. Both Laasinia and Ariid were on hand, and the chief maid and steward arrived at the door simultaneously, jealously guarding the threshold of the apartment as much as an ailur protecting her cubs. Ariid stopped a step short and waved for Laasinia to open the door.

  "Good, you are all here then," said Noran breathlessly as he hurried through the door. He glanced back to the corridor. Meliu's mood improved dramatically at his arrival and she stood up, her stomach quivering. "Come on, no dawdling."

  Noran was followed into the chamber by four legionnaires, bearing on a litter between them the body of Ullsaard. Meliu turned her eyes to the ceiling as the mutilated body was brought past. Even though she knew, by word of Noran, that the king was not truly dead, she could not look at the wounds that had been cut upon his flesh.

  With Allenya and Ullnaar to either side of her, Meliu followed the legionnaires into the back of the apartments, to a sitting room overlooking the Maarmes circuit. The shutters had been pulled back from one window, letting cold air and weak winter sunshine into the room.

  Under Noran's instructions, the soldiers laid Ullsaard down upon the low table in front of the fireplace. Only now was Meliu able to look at Ullsaard, her gaze locked to his face. He seemed as white as a corpse, eyes sunken, lips cracked and skin peeling.

  "You can wait out by the door," said Noran waving away the legionnaires. When they had gone, his voice dropped to a whisper and he knelt beside Ullsaard. He produced a pouch of dried leaves. "I need hot water and a cup."

  With a shuddering gasp, Allenya knelt beside her husband and laid her head on his linen-shrouded body, her ear to his chest.

  "We are too late," she moaned quietly. "I hear no heartbeat
, no breath."

  Meliu wondered if the whole story was a cruel joke by the dreadful Anglhan; a spiteful raising of hopes to complete his victory over Ullsaard and his family. She did not voice such concern, but grabbed Ullnaar's hand in hers for reassurance. Her whole body was trembling with nerves and she felt faint. She forced herself to stand straight, not wishing to sit down and appear weak in front of the others.

  "It will be all right," said her son, though his expression was grim as he concentrated on Noran. There was tightness around the young man's eyes. "Life would have to be shallow enough not to be noticed by the Brothers that prepared the body. I trust he will be restored."

  Laasinia returned with a jug of hot water and a clay cup, while Ariid hovered by the door, attention split between Ullsaard and the legionnaires just beyond the door leading out of the adjoining chamber. Noran handed over the packet of leaves with a slight shrug. The handmaiden prepared a tincture with deliberate precision, measuring out a pinch of the drug between her fingers and then stirring it into the jug for some time. She looked apologetically at Allenya.