The Crown of the Conqueror (52 page)

The sky was darkening to dawnwards as the army marched into view of Magilnada. Cloud hung low above the peaks behind the city, the walls a bright white against the grey of the cliff against which it was built.

  Ullsaard had considered long and hard how he would conquer this place, spending sleepless nights during the last year working out the best way to counter its defences. Even when he had been plotting and conducting the campaign against the Mekhani, his thoughts had moved to this place and the means to exact his revenge on the man who claimed rulership there.

  "Shall we send a deputation to accept surrender?" asked Aalmunis, commander of the Fourth.

  Ullsaard resurfaced from his dreams of vengeance to consider the question. He marched alongside Aalmunis and Hemmin, his counterpart in the Eighteenth, at the heart of the column, one legion in front and the other behind. Second captains followed a short way behind with the staff baggage, ready to disseminate the orders of their superiors.

  "No," the king replied. "No offer of surrender."

  "We are to retake the city by force?" said Hemmin.

  "I don't make empty threats," said Ullsaard, remembering words he had spoken to Anglhan on the day of his investiture as governor. "And besides, this place has been a pain in the arse of Askh since it was built. Magilnada is to be destroyed. I want the city razed to the ground."

  "And the people?" Hemmin's question was calmly asked, giving no hint of the commander's opinion on the matter.

  "Kill them," said Ullsaard. "Any chieftains or persons of note are to be captured if possible. This place does not exist to me. Your legions are free to take what they want, goods and slaves, and then burn everything. Everybody else is to be slain. I want nothing but ash and dust by the time we are finished."

  "As you command," chorused the two First Captains, showing no signs of hesitation.

  The army continued its advance to within a mile of the city. Company by company the legions peeled away from the road to set up the siege. Wagons carrying the parts of catapults and spear-throwers gathered while crews and legionnaires crowded around to unload the war machines. Sawing and hammering and the swearing of labouring men cut across the evening air as the sun set and the barricades defending the legions' positions were erected.

  Ullsaard made his camp directly opposite the gatehouse. A log palisade was thrown up around a dozen pavilions of the senior officers, Ullsaard's tent at the centre. He had sent his family back to Askh under escort. Their grief over the news of Jutaar's death was too fresh and harsh to bear, and he needed clarity not distraction. The tears of his farewell with Allenya haunted his inner thoughts, but his mind was focussed on the task at hand. There was no reason for his wife to witness the destruction and carnage that was going to be wrought in her name; it was enough that she was safe and honour would be satisfied on her account.

  Feeling none of the rage he had experienced on hearing of Anglhan's betrayal, the king now viewed the razing of Magilnada as a necessary task to be performed. When he had Anglhan in custody was when he would let his true feelings be known.

  Just as the last ray of the sun were dimming, there came news that the gates had opened and a delegation could been seen moving along the road. Ullsaard heard the calls from within his pavilion and hurried out, wondering if Anglhan had shown some uncharacteristic shred of decency and surrendered himself to save the city. He was not shocked to see that Anglhan was absent from the group of four men who were carried up the road on a large covered wagon pulled by two abada. At least twenty armed men accompanied them on foot.

  "Let them enter the camp!" Ullsaard directed, heading towards the newly-constructed gate.

  It was not long before the wooden gates opened to permit the delegation to enter. The warriors looked nervous, spears in hand, shields raised protectively around their masters. Ullsaard beckoned to a nearby second captain.

  "Get me two hundred men with bellows-bows," he said. The officer nodded and set off at a run. Turning his attention to his visitors, Ullsaard strode in front of the wagon and stood with his hands on hips until they had clumsily disembarked over its high sides.

  The four chieftains, for their fur cloaks, gold jewellery and enamelled helms marked them as such, took their places in a single line facing the king. Each was armed, but all four were even older than Ullsaard, one of them so frail he looked as if he might expire on the spot. The tallest, a black-haired, wiry man with a patch over one eye, took a step towards Ullsaard, a hand raised in greeting.

  "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 storm 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.