Gav Thorpe: The Crown of the Conqueror

"If you don't keep up the pace, we'll never catch the bastards, and then you'll have even more marching to do," replied Muuril.

They walked on in silence for a few hundred paces. The still was broken by murmuring from the companies in front, growing in volume as news spread back along the column. Second Captain Naasta emerged from the darkness.

"Campfire sighted, about two miles ahead," he said. "Looks like a river crossing."

The captain moved on, his voice dwindling as he passed on this information to the other officers.

"Reckon we'll wait 'til dawn," said Muuril. "If them Salphors are on the other side of a river, it'll be a nightmare crossing and attacking in the dark."

The sergeant's prediction was borne out. Orders came along the line to make rough camp in half a mile. Double guards would be set and the legions were to muster an hour before Dawnwatch. The soldiers plodded on.

"What time is it now?" asked Loordin.

"Just past Gravewatch, didn't you hear the call?" replied Gelthius.

"Three hours kip," said Loordin. "Better than nothing, I suppose. I hope we don't spook the Salphors and set them off again; the king will want to press on if they do."

The army spread out as it reached the staging area. Abada carts rumbled up from the rear, bringing the legionnaires their blankets, while fires were set and rations and water distributed.

"No beer before battle," said Muuril as the company hunkered down around their fires. "That's an odd regulation, ain't it? If ever there was a time for a cup of beer, it's the night before a fight."

Gelthius nodded in agreement and tore a chunk of salted pork with his teeth. He chewed the tough meat rigorously, washing down the mouthful with a swig of water from his skin. Hunger staved off, he took off his helmet and bunched his blanket into a pillow. He lay down on one side, head propped on his hand, and looked into the fire.

"All the Salphors will be Askhans soon enough," he said to nobody in particular. "I suppose I should've seen that coming ages ago."

"Nobody gives up without a fight," said Muuril. "It's the way, isn't it? Don't matter how sensible something might be, nobody likes things to change."

"Except them Maasrite cowards," said Loordin. "They didn't put up no fight, did they?"

"They were clever, not cowardly," said a deep voice from the darkness

The legionnaires looked up and saw King Ullsaard walking into the light of the fire. He waved them to stay where they were as they moved to stand. Muuril offered his blanket for the king to sit, but Ullsaard waved it away and settled into the grass, adjusting his scabbard as he leaned back on one arm. The king looked at Gelthius, who felt uncomfortable under that gaze, the firelight flickering in Ullsaard's eyes.

"You can't ever guess what's going to happen," said the king. "I bet you cursed the day you were taken as a debtor, right?"

"Right enough," said Gelthius, surprised the king remembered such a thing. "Worst day of my life that was."

"Taken from your family, enslaved to another man," said Ullsaard, nodding. "But if you think about it, that might have been the luckiest day of your life."

"How do you figure that, king?" said the Salphor.

"The joy of unforeseen consequences," replied Ullsaard. "If you hadn't been on Anglhan's landship, you would have never become part of Aroisius's rebels. If you hadn't been a rebel, you'd have never joined the Thirteenth. And if you hadn't been in the Thirteenth, you and your family would have been killed with the rest of your tribe."

"Never thought about it like that," admitted Gelthius. He thought of his wife and children, amongst the camp followers that were with the main force. "Don't suppose I'd ever see Carantathi as a farmer, neither. I like being in the Thirteenth, don't get me wrong, but I can't say as this is the life I would have chosen."

There came a sigh from the king, almost wistful. He picked up a branch from the flames and prodded at the fire.

"How much of our lives do we get to choose?" Ullsaard said. "Who we kill? Who we fall in love with? Who falls in love with us? Maybe life is just about getting on with the best that gets handed to us."

"Easier said by the man who's just been handed another crown," said Loordin with a laugh.

There was a moment of tense silence as the soldiers waited to see if Loordin had overstepped the mark. Ullsaard tossed the brand into the flames and stood. He looked down at Loordin.

"What's your name, legionnaire?" the king asked.

"Loordin, king," the soldier replied, getting to his feet. "Apologies, if my joke offended."

"No offence taken, but your point is mistaken," said Ullsaard. "Aegenuis may hand his crown to me, but he gives it to all of Greater Askhor. The victory is everybody's. You think he'd surrender to me if I did not have you villains to back me up? The victory is Askh's, where even a bastard son of a court whore can become king. There's hope for all of you yet!"

The king nodded and smiled, and walked away to the next fire. Loordin sat down again and the legionnaires sat in silence, contemplating Ullsaard's words.

"Nice of him to say that," said Muuril.

"Yeah," said Loordin. "I bet he still wouldn't give me that crown if I asked for it though."

"Right enough," said Gelthius, settling onto the ground.

He swiftly fell asleep, glad that he was not in one of the watch companies for that night. He was woken by Muuril shaking him, the ring of the watch bells still sounding through the army. Stiff and still tired, he hauled himself to his feet and poked the fire into more life while the sergeant roused the others.

"The Salphors ain't moved," said Muuril, returning to Gelthius's side. He raised his voice. "Looks like we're going to have a fight today, after all. The king wants the Thirteenth at the front, so move your arses."

Gelthius scratched his balls, yawned and stooped to pick up his helmet.

"Stupid bastards," he muttered. He grabbed his spear and shield from the pile. "Let's not keep 'em waiting, eh?"

Glittering in the dawn light, the river meandered down from the forested hills and curved gently to dawnwards. It foamed over rocks, the banks lined with bushes and reeds. It was at least half a mile across at the ford, which stretched over a quarter of a mile, the vegetation trampled flat from the passing of the Salphors.

The lead companies edged cautiously into the swirl, using their spear butts to test the depth and footing. Reining in Blackfang, Ullsaard dismounted and walked her down to the bank as the first companies waded through the water. He stopped at the river's edge, water lapping at his boots, and peered through the gloom to the far bank.

Dozens of glimmers from the Salphorian fires danced in the darkness, perhaps no more than a mile from the crossing. Under the urging of their captains, the Thirteenth legion forged across as quickly as possible, the first companies now forming up on dry land to guard those still in the water.

As Ullsaard took his first steps into the water, Blackfang skittish beside him, warning trumpets sounded from behind. The clatter of spears and shields sounded deafening in the early morning calm as thousands of legionnaires responded; those on the far bank halted their advance, those in the water pushing on as fast as possible to reach safer ground.

The signal blasts could mean only one thing: attack.

Ullsaard dragged his ailur back and threw himself into the saddle. With a flick of the reins and a shout, he urged Blackfang into a run, heading back up the column. Company by company, the legions were falling into position, the phalanxes arranging themselves back-to-back, unsure in which direction danger lay.

Riding hard, Ullsaard came upon Donar and his staff half a mile along the column. The king pulled Blackfang to a halt beside the First Captain of the Fifth.