The Crown of the Conqueror (54 page)

Ullsaard had razed farms, villages, even towns, but he had never destroyed a whole city. A bank of oily smoke obscured the peaks behind Magilnada, blotting out everything around the city. Most of the flames were pyres, upon which the thousands of dead were burned. It had taken four days to take Magilnada; already five days had been spent collecting and disposing of the bodies. It was a grim task made all the more laborious because of Ull saard's instructions to check every corpse to identify Anglhan's body. So far he had not been found, and Ullsaard was depressed at the realisation that in all likelihood the former governor had somehow eluded him.

  Those companies not detailed on the corpse-burning were at work with the engineers, levelling every building, pulling down the great curtain wall, shattering bricks and breaking up stone blocks. The sound of their labour rang far across the Magilnadan gap, and it would continue for many more days to come.

  Ullsaard sat in his pavilion and worked out what to do next. There was so much debris to search through, it could take dozens of days before Anglhan's remains might be found, if they existed at all. Practicality had to triumph over vengeance for the moment; supplies were already moving dawnwards to the Askhan legions and the offensive needed to start again. There was nothing Ullsaard could do to hasten the discovery of Anglhan or help with the utter destruction of Magilnada. His duty was to rejoin his army after long absence and lead the attack on Carantathi.

  "Happy with your handiwork?"

  Looking up, Ullsaard saw Noran stepping into the cloth-walled chamber. Some of the colour had returned to his face, but he still looked weak.

  "You should be resting," said the king, standing up to direct his friend to a chair.

  Noran sagged into the canvas seat with a long exhalation. He took a moment to regain his breath.

  "You have not answered my question," said Noran. "Are you happy now that Magilnada is destroyed?"

  "Happy? No," said Ullsaard, sitting down again. "You know that I do not enjoy senseless slaughter. Satisfied, perhaps, but not happy. I'll be happy when I see Anglhan's mutilated remains hanging from a pole."

  "A whole city killed for revenge against one man? That seems excessive, even by our standards."

  "This wasn't just about Anglhan, though he was the reason it began," said the king. "I've destroyed Magilnada. When word of that spreads, who will dare to oppose my legions? I will send a message that any who choose to fight me will suffer the same consequences. I was too soft in my last approach. Not this time. We will do this the true Askhan way. Any that submit will be helped; any that resist will be slain. Even Aegenuis cannot ignore that message."

  "Are you so sure that Aegenuis will receive the message?" said Noran. "Nobody is left alive to take it to him."

  "He will get the message," Ullsaard assured his friend with a wry smile. "If not from the living, then from the dead. But enough of that, why are you here? You really should not be out of bed; your recovery is just starting."

  "I am leaving," Noran said, meeting Ullsaard's gaze. "I cannot stay here."

  "Is that wise?" said the king. "You don't look fit to travel yet."

  "Yet travel I will," said Noran. "I will leave camp today. I would appreciate it if you could provide me with a small guard; I gather Askhans might not be too popular in these parts at the moment."

  "Of course," said Ullsaard. "I can provide an escort back to Askh without any trouble. Twenty men should suffice."

  At this, Noran looked away.

  "I am not going to Askh," he said.

  "Why not? Your family is there. So is Meliu, if you are still interested in her. Where else will you go?"

  "To the villa in Geria. I cannot think to see my family at the moment, and though she is wonderful, I can do without Meliu's fussing too."

  "Why leave at all? I know the campaign road is not comfortable, but I would be glad of your company on it."

  At this Noran's face was creased by a pained expression. Ullsaard was out of his chair in a moment, crossing to his friend's side. He placed a hand on Noran's shoulder but it was shrugged away. Noran pushed himself up and stepped towards the door.

  "I cannot stay," said the nobleman. "Not here. Not with you."

  "Why not?" said Ullsaard, following after him. "Have I done something wrong?"

  "Being near you is not good for me, Ullsaard!" Noran confessed, the words uttered through gritted teeth. "I love you like a brother, I suppose, but these last years, you have brought me pain and misery and little else."

  "I am sorry," said Ullsaard, flushed with regret. "I thought that perhaps I had restored the balance, by giving you the means to live again."

  "And that is the worst of all!" snapped Noran. "What do you think I see when I look at you? A friend? A king? No, I see the man whose own life diminishes by an hour for every hour that I live. I would end it now, if I was not such a coward, and if it would not make a mockery of the sacrifice you have made already. So, I have to leave. Seeing you is a torture to me. Thinking about what you have done, it torments me, more even than the death of Neerita and my son. Death follows you Ullsaard, and mine should have been counted amongst the toll, but you could not even allow me that."

  "I had no idea." Ullsaard sought for the right words, for an argument, for something that would give Noran comfort. His mind was too tumultuous for any such thing.

  "I do not know if I will ever be able to look at you again, as we both get older, knowing that I live only at your expense when I sought to save your life," said Noran. There were tears in his eyes as he reached the door and looked back, almost flinching at what he saw. "I do not blame you, Ullsaard. I do not hate you, though some would say I have reason to. You did not do this to me out of malice, but you ignored my wishes and we both have to live with the consequences."

  Then he slipped outside, leaving Ullsaard alone. The king was stunned. He had never contemplated such a thing happening. Immediately his thoughts went to Allenya, and he wished again that he had not sent her away. He sat down in his chair, hands on knees, and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

 

The water jug was empty. Aegenuis placed it back on the table and sighed. He questioned again the counsel that had brought him here, to the most arid part of Salphoria, at the height of summer. It had seemed a wise decision at the time, to scatter the tribes ahead of the renewed Askhan advance, hiding in the mountains and forests; the Askhans would be mad to send any force of size into the scrub of Apartis. If the Askhans could not find their foes, they could not defeat them, or so had been the wisdom of his advisors. So it was that he was sat in a dead chieftain's ramshackle hall in a half-ruined town, seven thousand of his men drinking the meagre wells dry.

  The Askhans' tenacity infuriated the Salphorian king. Half starved, assailed for three seasons by their foes, the Askhans had simply sat tight in their camps and waited. It was unnatural, the king had concluded. The Brotherhood must put something in their rations to make them so obedient. Thinking of the Brotherhood led Aegenuis's thoughts to Leraates, the Brother who had promised so much. Nothing had been seen of him since he had returned to the empire last winter. With the Askhan legions advancing dawnwards more quickly than last time, Aegenuis knew when he had lost an ally.

  In fact, his list of allies was rapidly dwindling to none. It was obvious that Anglhan had failed in his bid to cut off the Askhan legions. Of the three dozen tribal leaders who had sworn new oaths of allegiance last summer, perhaps twenty were still alive and loyal; the others had thrown in their lot with the Askhans or simply vanished. Even those who still professed to follow Aegenuis, he could number on one hand those that he actually trusted.

  He tipped jug to cup again, forgetting that there was no water. Frustrated, he hurled the ewer at the wall. Hearing the commotion, two servants hurried into the hall from the kitchens.

  "More water!" Aegenuis bellowed at them.

  "There is no more," one said while the other shrugged apologetically.

  "Find some!"

  The servants scurried away, darting anxious looks at their ruler before vanishing into the kitchens. Aegenuis's fists thumped onto the table as he leaned forward, bowing his head to his chest. Sweat dripped from his nose and brow, and matted his long hair and beard. He licked dry lips, trying to put aside his thirst so that he could think properly.

  The main doors creaked open. Sunlight streamed into the hall to overwhelm the guttering light of the candles in the windowless hall. Several men entered, the first of them Aegenuis's son, Medorian. The other four, chieftains from the tribes of Apartis, followed Medorian into the hall, two of them dragging sacks behind them.

  "What do you want?" said Aegenuis, lowering his head again, trying to ignore the ache inside it. "Close the door, it's too bright."

  "These were found in an abandoned cart on the road to Alassan," said Medorian.

  The two laden chieftains came forward with their burdens and placed the sacks before the empty fire pit. Another closed the doors, plunging the hall into gloom.

  Aegenuis roused himself from the chair and went to the sacks.

  "Look inside," said Medorian.

  Pulling the cord tie on the closest sack, Aegenuis heaved up the bag to spill the contents onto the dusty floor. Heads bounced and rolled over the flags, causing the king to drop the sack and take two steps back. He leaned closer and saw that each had been branded on the forehead with the face of Askhos. In the dim light, he recognised some of the rotting faces.

  "That's Serbicuis," he said, shocked by the sight. He looked at his son, who was nodding with a sour expression. "And Lassiun, and Ulghan. How many?"

  "Eighteen chieftains," said Medorian. "Seven from Magilnada, the others from Free Country and the Altes Hills. Executed by the Askhans."

  "I can see that!" snapped Aegenuis. "Do you know what this means?"

  "That the Askhans are a bunch of sword-happy arseholes?" suggested Medorian.

  "That Magilnada has fallen," replied the king. Medorian's smirk faded. "The new Askhan invasion, it's possible because they've taken Magilnada. Probably worse, judging by these poor bastards."

  "Why did they leave them on the road?" asked Aghali, one of the tribal leaders. The short, scrawny man prodded the unopened sack with his foot. "Seems an odd thing to drop off the back of a cart."

  "They were left for us to find, you idiot," said Medorian. "They're trying to intimidate us."

  "They're not trying, they're succeeding," said Aegenuis, sitting himself on the bench alongside the main table. "It's not just chance that they left them here. They know where I am."

  "Then why haven't they attacked?" This was from another chieftain, called Lastabruis. "These were found not more than a morning's walk away."

  "Why do they have to attack?" said Aegenuis. "The whole point of being in this shithole is so that the Askhans do not know where we are. I wonder how many of the other armies have been discovered. Fuck, for all I know, everybody else is dead. There's no reason to attack, they don't think us a threat."

  "That's where we prove them wrong," said Medorian, putting a foot up on the bench beside his father and leaning over him. "I've sent riders out to Caraghlin, Tanna, Gathluis, and a few others. With our warriors, that's nearly fifty thousand. They're going to meet us at the Hadric Mounds in twenty days."

  "Well, that's nice," said Aegenuis, pushing his son's foot from the bench. "At least we'll spare the Askhans the trouble of finding us before they kill us. The Hadrics are at the heart of their advance."

  "That's my plan!" said Medorian. "They won't expect us to be there. We'll hide in the wooded hills and wait for them to march on Carantathi and then attack from the rear."

  Aegenuis laughed, and once he had started it took a supreme effort to stop. Medorian looked at him with a frown while he recovered from the fit.

  "You think Ullsaard and his men are just going to walk past?" said the king. "They have scouts you know. Hiding fifty thousand warriors isn't like putting a coin in the bottom of your shoe. They tend to get noticed."

  "Which is why we'll give the Askhans something else to look at," said Medorian, crossing his arms and looking like he had already won the victory. "The Casabha and Kighans are going to lure the Askhans on, make it look like part of a larger force falling back towards the city. Ullsaard won't be able to resist it. He'll set off after them, thinking he has us on the run and wanting to catch us before we reach the safety of our walls. He'll be looking ahead to that, not worrying what's behind."

  Aegenuis tried hard to consider the plan on its merits, but it seemed pointless. It didn't make any difference. All of the tricks and ploys would not defeat the combined might of Askh. Even with Anglhan's duplicity and constant attacks from the tribes, the Askhans had not given a pace backwards. It was not a question of whether the Askhans would win, it was a question of when, and how many would die to delay that inevitable victory.

  "No," said the king. He stood up and paced in front of his son and the chieftains. "I have a better plan, one that will not throw away the lives of thousands. Son, I have failed you, and for that I am sorry. I will be the last king of Salphoria. You must put aside your pride and come to terms with what I have been forced to accept. The Askhans will win."

  "You cannot surrender," said Medorian. "Would you be remembered as a coward?"

  "The memory of my rule has already been determined," said the king. "Some Askhan chronicler will note that the line of the Salphorian kings ended, and the rule of Askhos's descendants began. Whether I fight, or seek peace, that cannot be changed."