Beside the great pyre burned five smaller fires; the bodies of the first legionnaires who had investigated Aalun's dying screams. It had taken numerous arrows and spear thrusts to slay Destiny, who had attacked the soldiers with unearthly, almost feminine shrieks. The incident had unsettled the whole army, not least because it had happened so soon after the death of Neerita. That one of the Blood had been slain in their midst gave the men grave concerns, and the whisper around the camp was that the Brotherhood had cursed them.
Ullsaard and the First Captains had done what they could to quell the growing dissent, but Ullsaard could sense that he was in danger of losing control of his legions. It was with much trepidation that he addressed the funeral guard. He began by speaking at length on the qualities of Aalun, impressing upon the men that they should be proud to have served under one of the Blood. He reminded them of their duty to Askhor, and to their companions.
'Though one of our champions has fallen, our call for what is ours cannot fall silent,' Ullsaard said, arms folded across his broad chest, rain pattering from his ceremonial armour, wind tugging at crest and cloak. He looked at the rows of expectant faces, and knew that what he was about to say would make or break his ambitions.
'When one of our own has died, we say we have a lost a brother, for the legion is family. It raises us, nurtures us, teaches us discipline and respect, feeds us and gives us purpose. For me, the loss is greater than that, for I have truly lost a brother. Aalun was my prince, my mentor, my friend; but we also shared a father.'
The announcement was first greeted by astonished silence, but soon ripples of chatter spread through the ranks, while the First Captains looked at each other in disbelief. Ullsaard held up his hands for quiet, but the disturbance continued. There were some who laughed, thinking Ullsaard's proclamation was a joke.
'Listen to me!' he bellowed. 'I only tell you this now so that you may know that the Blood has not abandoned you. Our cause, for justice, has not changed. Though the Blood runs through my veins, though but for circumstance I might be called prince, you need know only one thing: I am still your general. The legion is still my family, and you are still my brothers. Today we take the next step on the path to glory and riches!'
Ullsaard snatched up his spear from where it had been driven into the mud. He strode along the line to stand in front of the Thirteenth's first company and lifted the weapon above his head.
'If I command, will the Thirteenth follow?'
The legionnaires replied with an approving roar, lifting their spears in salute. Ullsaard turned to his right.
'If I command, will the Sixteenth follow?'
The company cheered, adding their voices to the Thirteenth.
'If I command, will the Twelfth follow?'
Ullsaard marched along the line repeating the same call, until all five companies were shouting. He looked at his First Captains and they had their spears raised, joining in with the roars of their men.
The crackling of the pyre intruded into Ullsaard's thoughts and he spared a glance towards Aalun's burning body. He felt a flicker of guilt, but it was soon washed away by thoughts of what he could achieve without the prince to hold him back.
He was one of the Blood too, and power was his birthright.
Free Country
Midwinter, 209th Year of Askh
I
The cold permeated the caves, a leeching chill that constantly numbed the toes and fingers. Gelthius blew on his hands and rubbed them together to get the blood flowing as he attempted to splice two lengths of cord. He sat cross-legged on the main deck of the landship, back against the larboard rail, while a steady cold breeze wafted over him from the cave entrance. Next to him, Lepiris filled lamps with oil, cursing occasionally as his shaking hands dribbled the flammable liquid onto his clothes.
'I'll have t-' Lepiris stopped as a muffled shout echoed into the cavern from outside.
Gelthius and the other remaining crew put down their work and took up the rough cudgels they had been given — metalringed clubs no more useful in a fight than a belaying pin. Others stirred in the cave and groups of rebels drifted towards the entrance, called by the cry. Gelthius slipped down the rope ladder and dropped to the cave floor, Lepiris close behind him.
There was a commotion to the right as Anglhan pushed his way through the gathering crowd, Furlthia just behind him. The snow had stopped outside, but the valley floor was covered in a thick layer of white. As he reached the cave entrance, he saw Lord Aroisius and a handful of his chieftains coming down the valley from the right. In the mid-afternoon light, two figures approached from the valley mouth, walking calmly between the cliffs as the cries of the sentries followed their progress.
Gelthius wondered what was happening; Aroisius and his men had their hands on the hilts of their swords, but had not drawn their weapons. The rest of the rebels crowded in behind their leaders, restless and bemused. The two strangers marched through the snow without pause and stopped a dozen paces away from Aroisius. Gelthius shouldered his way to the front of the mob for a better view.
His eye was drawn first to a big man in Askhan armour. He was larger than even the biggest chieftain, and carried a round shield and golden spear. His breastplate and helm glimmered with water droplets as he planted his spear butt-first in the snow and took a couple of steps closer to Aroisius. Beside him walked a much younger, slimmer man, though as tall as his companion. He held up a hand in greeting, and directed his words towards Lord Aroisius.
'There is no call for alarm,' the man announced. 'Are we not friends, Aroisius?'
Gelthius glanced at the rebel leader, who eyed the new arrivals with suspicion. The ex-debtor caught sight of Anglhan close by, watching the meeting with interest, his gaze alternating between Aroisius and the strangers. Gelthius watched his master closely; instinct told him that Anglhan's attention was more than casual.
'What are you doing here, Urikh?' said Aroisius. 'How did you find this place?'
There it was: a flicker of worry on Anglhan's face before he masked it. Gelthius sidled closer to his captain, cudgel in hand.
'We have quite a lot of maps, Aroisius,' Urikh, the younger man, replied. 'It was not too difficult to work out possible hiding places for so many men.'
'Who is this with you? Why are you here?'
Urikh looked at his burly companion with a smile.
'This is General Ullsaard, of Greater Askhor,' Urikh said. 'He and I have a favour to ask of you.'
Aroisius was already shaking his head, perturbed by the arrival of the two men. Gelthius could feel tension; the sudden disturbance of an existence that had been routine for many days. The hillmen in particular were unnerved by the presence of an Askhan officer; for generations their tribes had raided into Ersua and Anrair, lands that had belonged to Askhor for most of the hillmen's lives.
'We want to share your lodgings,' Urikh said. 'It looks as though you have plenty of room here, and our men do not take up too much space.'
'Your men?' Aroisius's eyes narrowed as he looked around the valley, empty save for his own people. 'What men?'
'They will be with us shortly,' said Urikh. 'We thought it better to come ahead and make sure they had a suitable welcome.'
'How many?' demanded Aroisius.
Urikh looked towards the towering general beside him. The man was full of confidence.
'I'd say about thirty-two thousand,' said Ullsaard. 'Plus camp followers.'
Aroisius gawped at this news while there were laughs from some of his chieftains. A disturbed muttering rose up from the crowding rebels. Still watching Anglhan, Gelthius saw the landship captain whisper to Furlthia, who shook his head in reply, frowning.
