Gav Thorpe: The Crown of the Conqueror

"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.

Summer, 212th year of Askh

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.