The general stopped and looked back. Cosuas was striding down the road after him, mud splashing up his bare legs, caking his sandals. Ullsaard continued to walk away.
'You have to kill me, Ullsaard! It's either now, or your men do it on that hill!'
That stopped him. He looked at Cosuas, saw desperation and hurt in his eyes. Cosuas knew he couldn't stop Ullsaard, but he couldn't bear the shame of failing in his duty. It would be a worse fate for Cosuas to see his army routed and survive with that knowledge.
'All right,' said Ullsaard, turning back, hefting his spear into a fighting grip. 'I'll make it quick.'
'You fucking wish you could!' shouted Cosuas, breaking into a run.
IV
Ullsaard set himself to receive the attack, legs braced apart, shield to the front, spear jutting beside it. Half- a-dozen paces away, Cosuas slid to a stop and stooped, bringing his foot up to fling mud into Ullsaard's face. Spluttering and partially blinded, Ullsaard reacted on instinct, bringing his shield across his body to block the blow he knew was coming from his right.
Cosuas' mace crashed against the shield, driving it down, its lower edge scraping painfully along Ullsaard's shin. Ullsaard stepped back, trying to wipe the mud from his eyes. He caught a shadow of movement to his left and twisted, ducking to his right as he brought up his shield. Another blow crashed down, numbing Ullsaard's arm.
'By fucking Askhos, you're stronger than you look!' spat Ullsaard, clearing his eyes in time to see the head of Cosuas's mace swinging towards his ankles. He sprang back and the mace splashed into the mud.
Ullsaard acted on instinct. He lunged, right arm stretched out. The spear caught Cosuas in the hip, just below his breastplate. Ullsaard pulled the spear free.
'Shit,' he said, stepping close to Cosuas. Blood leaked from the wound as Cosuas tripped and fell to his rump. Red flowed into the puddles of the road. The veteran general tried to push himself up but fell to his right side in a splash of mud.
'Finish it!' Cosuas hissed. 'You said you'd make it quick.'
Ullsaard threw aside his spear and dragged his sword free. He drew his arm back for the killing blow, looming over Cosuas.
The old man's mace crashed into Ullsaard's body and the general felt ribs crack, breath exploding from his body. Staggering back, he stumbled to one knee as Cosuas pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and limped closer, mace in hand.
'Fucking idiot,' said Cosuas. 'You think I'd make it that easy?'
Two crashing blows rained down on Ullsaard's upraised shield before he forced himself upright. He raised his sword to block the next, but Cosuas's mace smashed into his hand, shattering fingers. The sword tumbled from Ullsaard's mangled fingers. He looked at Cosuas and saw a sneer curling the old general's lips.
'Have it your way,' Ullsaard growled as the two circled each other.
Ullsaard fended off a few tentative strikes from his opponent, his gaze flicking to the stream of red pouring down Cosuas's left leg. For all his grit and stubbornness, the old man was already dying. It was just a matter of time.
Cosuas knew it too and swung his mace at Ullsaard's head. Ullsaard angled his shield to deflect the blow and swung back, smashing the rim into Cosuas's brow. Skin ruptured and bone split from the blow. Cosuas fell backwards, eyes glazed, blood pouring from his nostrils.
Panting, his ribs sending stabs of pain through him, Ullsaard cast aside his shield and snatched his sword from the mud with his left hand. Shaking his head woozily, Cosuas weakly raised his shield, but Ullsaard kicked the other man's arm aside and stepped on his wrist, pinning it to the muddy road.
'You tried,' Ullsaard said quietly, driving the point of his sword into Cosuas's throat.
The old man spasmed for a moment, back arching as blood erupted from the wound and foamed from his lips. Then he fell still, eyes staring into the blue skies.
Ullsaard let the sword fall from his fingers and dropped to his knees. He bent over Cosuas and laid a hand on his mentor's chest. He kissed Cosuas on each cheek and rocked back, slumping to one side.
The tears came quickly, washing away the grime in Ullsaard's eyes. His ribs made every breath a torture and he could feel nothing of his right hand. He gazed numbly at his fingers and saw his middle and index finger splayed at awkward angles. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the fingers back into place with sharp cracks and bent his brow to Cosuas's chest, wracked by sobs.
Taking a deep breath, Ullsaard got to his feet, good hand holding his damaged ribs.
'You old bastard,' he sighed between painful gasps of air. 'Can't leave you here.'
He bent down and tugged Cosuas's shield from his arm and pried his mace from his dead grip. Awkwardly, hissing in pain from every movement, Ullsaard hauled Cosuas over his left shoulder. He seemed even smaller now, almost no weight at all.
With slow, painful steps, Ullsaard walked back to his army.
V
Ullsaard growled as he tried to flex his splinted knuckles. Luuarit stepped back to admire his handiwork, stroking his fingers down his moustaches.
'I've set the bones in your hand as best I can,' said the surgeon. 'Give it a few weeks before you try anything strenuous. There's not a lot I can do about your ribs more than the bandages. If you start pissing or shitting blood, or you feel water in your breath, come to me immediately. There's no telling if there's any damage inside you.'
Ullsaard nodded absently and sat back in his campaign throne. It had been brought to the ridge by Anasind, so that the general could watch the coming battle in a little more comfort. Looking to the left and right, Ullsaard saw his legions spreading out around the hill occupied by the opposing army. Heavy bellowsarrows flew between the two forces as kolubrids skirmished for position on the lower parts of the slope. From higher up, spear throwers hurled their shafts down the hill, cutting wounds into the neat formations of the advancing phalanxes.
Cosuas had been right; it was a good defensive position.
Ullsaard's army did not attack from all sides. He had left an opening in his line to duskwards, allowing the enemy room to flee if they chose. Had they been surrounded he had no doubt the proud legionnaires, veterans of the Greenwater campaign, would fight to the death; by offering them a route out, Ullsaard hoped that the bloody toll would be less on both sides.
After bringing Cosuas's body back, Ullsaard had sent messengers to the First Captains now facing him, but to a man they had refused his terms. In a way, Ullsaard was pleased; their general slain, outnumbered and certain to lose, still the legions would not surrender. He knew he expected every man that followed him to act the same and had told his officers to fight this battle with pride and honour.
Not that he wanted a battle, not any more. He glanced at the body of Cosuas laying on a bier to his left. Ullsaard had no qualms about shedding blood if necessary, but enough was enough. After today he hoped no legionnaire would kill another.
As he watched the blocks of bronze and black and red converging on the hill, he wondered how many more lives would be lost today. He felt no regret at his actions thus far, but Cosuas's words troubled him. He thought back to his conversations with Noran — how he missed Noran right at that moment and Allenya too — and wondered if he had unleashed something he could not control.
His mind wandered back to the discussions with Aalun, and the chaotic time of the empire's founding. That time would come again under Ullsaard's rule. The empire would grow larger than ever and generals would be granted the rewards of their success. The hungry, living creature that was Greater Askhor would be filled with new vigour, and Ullsaard would steer it teeth and claws to new heights of power.
Looking at the armies about to clash, thinking of the blood that had been spilt and the dubious acts he had committed and allowed, Ullsaard felt no guilt.
He was doing Askhos's work.
