that. They wanted to be told how magnificent they had been; they wanted to be reassured that they were invincible; they wanted to hear how they would be rewarded for the triumph.
Urikh looked at them, their faces shining with sweat, and felt cold inside. The excitement of the battle was ebbing out of his body, leaving his stomach tied in knots, his throat tight, his mind numbed. He could think of nothing to say.
A small part of his brain prompted Urikh into action. He raised his arm into the air, fist clenched. A simple sign of approval. It was all the excuse the men needed. They answered his signal with a roar, the deck shaking as the sailors stamped their bare feet and the legionnaires hammered spear shafts of shields.
Urikh heard someone shout his name, and the call was taken up. He grinned, yet knowing inside that he had done nothing to earn such tribute. Hearing his name shouted from all around, Urikh headed aft, the crowd of his men parting in front of him, all the while their praise ringing in his ears.
A day ago he had been a troublesome governor, making people's lives miserable with his demands. Today, he was a hero. It did not make any difference that he had been near rigid with terror throughout the experience. This victory and his name would forever be entwined. There was no secret to being a ruler. No amount of money, influence and politics could replace the power of victory. Give the people an enemy to hate and then rid them of that enemy; that was all a ruler had to do.
One day, his father could be that enemy. The empire could be turned on him as they had been turned on Lutaar. All Urikh would have to do is point the finger; the weakness of everybody else would do the rest for him.
All too easy, he thought.
Carantathi
Late Winter, 211th year of Askh
I
There were voices coming from the fire pit. They were laughing, saying spiteful things. Aegenuis lifted his head from the table and stared at the flames with bleary eyes. He could not quite make out the words, but he felt their mockery. The only other sounds were the rain on the roof timbers and the crunch of the dogs gnawing at bones.
'Go away,' the king muttered, pushing upright.
He grabbed the nearest jug and tipped it to his mouth. It was empty. Casting aside the ewer, he grabbed another, but there was only a dribble of ale in the bottom. Aegenuis let the beer drip onto his lips and then licked them, his tongue feeling thick and furry.
A sad-faced hound nuzzled his leg. Aegenuis reached down and tickled it behind the ear, scrunching long grey hair between his fingers.
'Just us, eh?' said the king. The dog stared back at him with thoughtless devotion and said nothing. 'They deserve to die, all of them. Turn their backs on me, their king? They've made their choice. Ullsaard can fuck their grandmothers for all I care, and their grandfathers too, if that's what he wants.'
Aegenuis surged to his feet and swiped his arm across the tabletop, sending plates and cups clattering to the floor. He took a step and stumbled, falling against a wooden carving of his father — one of many former kings whose likenesses lined the long hall.
'Sons of pig-fuckers! Accuse me of trying to grab their lands? My own son!' Aegenuis rounded on the dog, eyes narrowed. 'What's that? Yes, I'll show them why I am their king. I'll have that bastard Ullsaard's head on a plate, and they can come grovelling back, begging me to help them. I'll wear that Askhan bitch-whoreson's balls around my neck and they'll come running.'
Feet dragging through the rotting straw, Aegenuis lurched to his ceremonial seat at the head of the table. With a lunge, he flung himself into the furs, dangling one arm over the back. His head pounded.
Or perhaps it was thunder.
The king looked up as light spilled through the door at the far end of the hall. Four men entered, their hair and fur cloaks soaked through, leaving trails of drips on the dirt floor. Aegenuis squinted against the sudden light.
'It's morning?' he said.
'Yes, king,' said the first man. Aegenuis did not recognise him. Looking at the others, he realised he did not know any of them.
'Who are you? Why do you come into my hall without permission?'
'We were knocking, king, but you gave us no answer,' said the man. 'My name is Furlthia. I am here to help you.'
Aegenuis laughed.
'Perhaps the four of you are from the spirits, eh? Men of the crow and the tree and the wind? You'll be stopping Ullsaard's armies on your own, then?'
Furlthia looked at his companions and then back at the king.
'We should come back later, when you are sober,' he said.
'No, no, stay,' said Aegenuis. He heaved himself from his throne and waved them to the benches alongside the great table. 'Be welcome in my hall. I've seen nobody but maids for many days. Do you want to be a chieftain, Furlthia? Is that it? It's not worth it. I'll make you one anyway, if you like. Why not? The Askhans can kill you as a chieftain just the same.'
'I don't want to be a chieftain, my king,' said Furlthia. While the other men sat down, he approached Aegenuis and laid a hand on his arm, guiding him back to his chair. 'I don't want to be an Askhan, either. That's why we're here.'
'The others all ran away, left me,' said Aegenuis.
'They were idiots, king,' said Furlthia. 'You are right. The peoples must unite if they are to turn back Ullsaard and his legions.'
'Can't be done,' said the king. 'Too late, even if it could. Half the tribes are dead, the rest are scattered.'
'That is true,' said Furlthia. He took two cups from the table and dipped them into a water butt set on the opposite side of the hall from the fire pit. He handed one to Aegenuis and drank from the other. 'But Ullsaard cannot beat the winter. He has only reached as far as the Daruin Hills and the weather turns on him. He will stop where he is and tighten his grip on the lands he holds already.'
'And we'll never take them back,' said Aegenuis with a shake of the head. 'Winter will be harsher on Salphors than Askhans. Our stores are gone; the tribes are foraging and hunting in the woods and hills. They will starve, and come the spring Ullsaard will sweep away those poor few that survive.'
'This is pointless,' snapped one of Furlthia's group, an aging man with soft features and hard eyes. 'He's drunk, and worse, he's given up!'
'Never!' roared Aegenuis, pushing himself from his chair, hurling the cup of water to the ground. The king stopped, swayed for a moment and then broke into laughter as he collapsed back into the throne. 'I'll just march off to see Ullsaard now. Maybe he'll stop if I ask him nicely.'
'Maybe he'll stop if you give him a reason to,' said Furlthia. He looked around the hall, seeing the mess on the floor, the dirt in the fire pit, the squalor. 'Go to your chambers, king. Sleep and don't drink. We will see you tonight, and you will hear things that will make you a lot happier.'
Aegenuis eyed the group dubiously and snorted.
'You? You miserable lot are going to give me something all the chieftains and all their armies can't?'
Furlthia nodded and waved for the group to leave. The king watched them file out of the door. The door closed, plunging the hall into the gloom of lamplight. Aegenuis looked around. He smelt the burning fat of the candles, the smoke of the fire, the shit of the dogs. He could smell himself as well, stinking of piss and vomit and
