Gav Thorpe - The Crown of the Conqueror

"See now?" said Meliu with a laugh. "At least you look like a queen in a commoner's dress, and nothing worse."

Allenya smiled and patted Meliu's hand in thanks. Feeling a little more herself, she looked again at the camp, trying to judge its size. It was not quite as big as the one she had been in before, but certainly larger than a single legion. She moved to the front of the wagon to talk to the driver.

"How large is my husband's army?" she asked the man.

"Three legions, queen," he said.

It was then she saw the flag of Askhos flying from the pole of a nearby tent. She was on her feet even as the driver brought the abada to a halt; and over the side without waiting for help. She ran through the mud, dress flapping at her legs, and dashed past the startled sentries at the door to the pavilion.

They lunged after her, but were too slow.

Inside, she saw Ullsaard standing at a map table, two men in the finery of first captains with him. There was a shout from the guards that alerted all three, who turned just as Allenya reached them. The king's eyes widened in shock a moment before Allenya launched at him, throwing her arms around his neck, her lips seeking his as sure as any hunter's arrow.

For a heartbeat, Ullsaard was stunned; hot tears washed down Allenya's face again. Then his arms encircled her and she felt her heart would burst at his embrace. He returned the kiss, beard tickling her face, strong arms pulling her so tight for a moment he might crush her. Her hands gripped his hair, not letting him move a fraction as the taste and smell of him washed over her. Her legs buckled and only then did she relinquish her grip, her cheek falling to his chest, hands clasped behind his neck.

"Hello, wife," he said.

The sound of his voice started Allenya crying again and she could not speak. She dimly sensed the other men moving away, but her every sense was focussed on the two of them, reunited.

Suddenly she felt guilty at causing such a scene. She wriggled from his arms, hands stroking the back of his as they parted. Wiping away her tears, she tried to restore some semblance of decency, hands held to her waist.

"It is good to see you again, husband," she managed to say.

Confused by her change, Ullsaard blinked rapidly, his eyes moist.

"And it is good to see you too," he replied uncertainly.

He took a step, hesitated, and then engulfed her again with his arms, kissing her on the neck and through her hair, over and over. All thought of propriety and appearance washed away and Allenya gripped his shirt in her fists, moving her face so that his kisses fell upon her lips.

She had no idea how long they spent in this way, and wished for it to last forever. Her hands and eyes explored every part of his face, and she felt a flutter of fear as they encountered bandages across his chest and shoulder, and saw a fresh scar above his right eye.

"You have been fighting," she said in a scolding tone. His expression of hurt dignity caused her to laugh out loud.

"I may have been in a few battles," Ullsaard said with a smile. The smile faded and he looked away. "I am so sorry for leaving you. I have been such a poor husband too you."

"Never say that!" The thought that Ullsaard blamed himself for what Anglhan had done fired her anger. "Never! I would never wish to be married to another man."

His eyes strayed and widened. Looking around, Allenya saw Meliu poking her head through the door of the tent.

"I would like to greet my husband, if he would welcome me," she said.

Ullsaard looked conflicted, happiness and confusion battling in his eyes. After the passing of two heartbeats he grinned and waved for her to enter.

"Why would I not welcome you?" he said, but Allenya felt the jollity a little forced.

It made no difference to Meliu. She hurried across the rugs and under Ullsaard's arm, wrapping herself about his waist. With his free hand, the king pulled Allenya into the embrace.

After a time, they parted. Recovered from the surge of emotion that had enthralled her, Allenya's mind filled with questions. Her thoughts turned to another whom she had missed dearly.

"What of Jutaar?" she asked. "Is he with your army?"

The look of pain that crossed her husband's face was like nothing she had seen in him before; she immediately knew the answer to her question and emptiness swallowed her from within.

"What has happened?" she said before Ullsaard could speak.

The agony in Ullsaard's face was replaced by the deepest of scowls.

"Killed," he said between gritted teeth. "Killed by that traitor, Anglhan."

Though Ullsaard's reaction had told Allenya everything, hearing the words made the realisation sink into her heart. The emptiness engulfed her, robbing her limbs of all strength. She felt herself sway a moment before she hit the rugs, overwhelmed. She heard Ullsaard and Meliu calling out in concern, felt their hands upon her, but as if from a distance.

The world was unreal, a swirl of movement and colours; herself a vapour on the breeze. It was a dream, Allenya told herself. A nightmare visited upon her out of loneliness and desperation. She was in her bed, in that hollow house in Magilnada, and her dreams taunted her with joy and misery, giving life to the hopes and fears that had plagued her for so long. She could not feel her body, or the bed beneath her. It had to be a dream.

It was a terrible dream and she wanted to wake up.

Something cold and wet touched her lips and she swallowed out of instinct. Revived by the sensation, her eyes cleared and she found herself sat on the rugs, Ullsaard knelt behind her while Meliu held a cup to her mouth.

"Still a dream," she murmured. She looked at her husband and sister, not really recognising either. "Just a bad dream."

Ullsaard shifted and cradled her head in his lap, hands stroking her hair, face grim. Meliu was crying, the hand holding the cup shaking like a branch in a storm, water spilling to the rug.

The thought that this was real emerged from the fog of Allenya's thoughts. The touch of Ullsaard's fingers, the tears dropping on to her leg from Meliu, both were real. And if that was real…

She gave a groan of deep pain as the truth bit into her thoughts. Jutaar, her son, her wonderful son, was dead. The joy she had felt, the light that had filled her from Ullsaard, turned to grief, and to darkness, and she cried again, burying her face in her hands.

"Can I help, governor?"

Anglhan looked over his shoulder at Lenorin and smiled before returning his attention to the canvas map of Magilnada hanging on the wall of the aide's office. He prodded a pudgy finger at the lower coldwards quarter.

"It seems to me that we should clear space for a second marketplace," said Anglhan. "We could diverge the two to better cater for the differing needs of our city; jewellery, gems, clothes, debtors and such in the upper market, food and household goods in the lower. Much of the latter comes from out of the city and in transporting it to the Hill of Chiefs the streets get too busy. Better to steer that trade to this area and allow easier access to and from the city for the highest people of the populace."

"I see that you have been hearing the petitions of Callsuin, Lassean and Elghiad, governor," said the aide. "I have already considered their proposition and while it sounds good I am not sure what the expense of such changes would gain in return."

"The better flow of commerce, Lenorin!" Anglhan exclaimed, turning with arms thrown wide. "We clear these old hovels, build some new houses for the people, and help keep the streets a little clearer for everybody. You cannot simply weigh up such expense with the amount of gold that comes back. The people will be happier, and a happier city is good for trade."