The Crown of the Usurper (32 page)

  Until the present crisis, the Last Corpse had been largely inert, taking form only when infused with the spirit of one of the Eulanui. Now it was moving subtly, and seemed to Eriekh to be growing. The bones – a disturbing web of spines and limbs and vertebrae and jawbones – were parting and straightening. The changes were subtle; as with the disturbance of his chamber, Eriekh could see this only from centuries of familiarity and a sense that something was amiss.

  "We must speak with Lakhyri," said Asirkhyr. "We try everything we can to appease them, to ask for patience, but they do not listen."

  "I think this is beyond Lakhyri's reckoning also," said Eriekh, glancing at Asirkhyr and then Naasadir. He felt the slightest tremble of the Temple again.

  
COMING. SOON.

  The thought-message blared through Eriekh's thoughts, sending him to his knees, hands clamped to the sides of his head. The shock of his fall jarred him from the disorientation that threatened to overwhelm his thoughts.

  Eriekh looked around, eyes moving first to the Last Corpse, but there had been no manifestation. The thought-message had come direct from the Eulanui, on the other side of the veil that kept them from the mortal world.

  "I have a fear," he said, grabbing Naasadir's wrist to pull himself to his feet. "I fear we have been deceived for a very long time."

  "Deceived by whom?" asked Naasadir.

  "Our numbers are growing few," said Asirkhyr, deep in thought. "The masters manifest themselves more frequently even as our channelling of power to them grows weaker. They seek more sustenance."

  "No," said Eriekh. "The Temple has not been providing energy for the masters, but it has fuelled the barrier that keeps them from the world of men. The barrier is failing as the Temple fails. For all of this time, I think that Lakhyri has been seeking to keep the Eulanui at bay, not sustained."

  "If that is the case, we must warn him," said Asirkhyr. "He must be able to do something."

  "Why would we do that?" said Eriekh. "It seems as though Lakhyri has betrayed the masters in his attempts to keep them from seeking purchase in the mortal world. Is this not the goal for which we have strived these many centuries? The masters are almost here! You cannot be allowed to stop them."

  "We are not ready for them," said Naasadir. "They will consume everybody in their hunger. The web must be completed before they cross over."

  "A task too long to finish now," said Asirkhyr. He looked at Naasadir, his eyes flickering momentarily towards Eriekh. "The more they feed, the greater the strength of the masters and the fewer of us to keep them away. The Temple is doomed."

  "No!" Eriekh seized Asirkhyr by the throat, both hands wrapped tight. "You cannot interfere!"

  The two hierophants toppled to the slabs as Asirkhyr threw a clumsy punch at his attacker. Eriekh gritted his teeth as he forced every ounce of effort into strangling his foe, while Asirkhyr lashed weak blows against his opponent's shoulders and head.

  Something struck Eriekh hard in the back of the head. As he rolled to one side, his grip loosened, he realised it had been Naasadir's heel.

  "Not you too," gasped Eriekh. "Are you traitor also?"

  "All living things will be destroyed if we persist," said Asirkhyr. "They were meant to be enslaved to our will, not devoured. We have failed."

  Naasadir, naturally taller and stronger than Eriekh, seized the hierophant by the arms and hauled him to his feet. Asirkhyr shook his head and rubbed a hand across his reddened throat. Around the group the other worshippers continued their incantation, moving back and forth as they lowered their heads to the ground and regurgitated mantras that they did not understand. A couple of them looked up at the disturbance.

  "See sense, Eriekh. There can be no victory in oblivion," said the priest. "That was not our purpose."

  "It is victory for our masters; that is all the purpose we need," snarled Eriekh. Asirkhyr's treachery appalled him and he looked away.

  "What do you propose?" asked Naasadir.

  "I do not know what to do," said Asirkhyr. "Take him and bind him while I think."

  Eriekh opened his mouth to shout more accusations, but Naasadir's arm clamped around his neck, elbow under his jaw. Unable to speak and barely able to breath, Eriekh was dragged from the shrine room.

 

Frost encrusted the vine terraces but there was no snow, not this far to hotwards. Unlike Menesun, Ullsaard's villa at Apili was a working concern. A vast tract of grape-growing estate was attached to the cluster of buildings, from which wine was shipped out across the Askhan Empire and had even made its way as far as Carantathi. Originally the lands had been intended for Urikh as a gift on reaching his twenty-first birthday, at the insistence of Luia, but Ullsaard's eldest son had become more involved in commerce than wine-making and so the estate had been run for Ullsaard's benefit by a man called Houran. The income had been useful during the lean times of Ullsaard's Mekha campaign, and there was good hunting in the forests that lay further to dawnwards. There had been a time when Ullsaard had thought of retiring here. The weather was warm, but not as dry as Maasra, and Okhar was a well-established, peaceful province.

  All of that had changed when he had taken the Crown. The capital had been his home, albeit only briefly before his war against Salphoria, and thoughts of coming to Apili had faded. He had never expected that he would arrive here as a fugitive from his own son.

  He was convinced that they had given any pursuing forces the slip for the moment. Leaving Askh, they had turned dawnwards at Noran's suggestion and headed for the coast. Taking ship to hotwards, they had crossed through Maasra and come to Okhar from hotwards, ignoring the Greenwater altogether. This route had taken considerably more time than a ship on the river, but Ullsaard had put his faith in discretion rather than speed and it seemed to have worked; nobody paid much attention to a man and his wife and retainer – Noran had not been too happy at his part of the subterfuge – travelling hotwards to spend the winter in warmer lands.

  The manager, Houran, had been surprised by the arrival of the estate's owners. Seeing the sense of not asking too many questions, Houran had welcomed Ullsaard, Allenya and Noran into the main house and quit his chambers to take up residence in one of the guest apartments. That had been only an hour earlier.

  Ringed by hills, Apili was more of a traditional Askhan villa than Menesun. The complex comprised eight buildings, one of them the major residence with an outbuilding of stables and storage rooms, two guest apartments and the rest dedicated to the winery. Everything was built on a single storey, with high ceilings and wide windows framed with heavy wooden beams. There were no fireplaces or chimneys except in the kitchen. Warmth in these colder times was instead provided by heated water passing through pipes beneath the tiled floor. It was a pleasant, ambient heat and Ullsaard waited for Allenya with bare feet gently warmed by the clay floor.

  His armour was piled in one corner of the room, the king dressed only in his kilt. The cold breeze from the window was refreshing rather than bitter, and the darkening evening sky was calming to his nerves. The calls of birds roosting in the bare branches of the orchard that lay between the main villa and the winery added to the scene.

  It was almost possible to forget how desperate the situation had become, but Ullsaard could not quite leave behind his woes, not now. Urikh would be seeking him for certain. Apili was a distance from Askh, and the nearest Brotherhood precinct was at least eight miles, but it was also an obvious place to look. There were several dozen men and women on the estate but they were not fighters, and there was no wall to defend. And, besides, even with legionnaires and a more fortified position Ullsaard had not been able to hold out at Menesun. Any feeling of respite was temporary. While winter held, it would be safe enough, but spring came fast in these climes and Ullsaard knew that soon he and Allenya would have to move on.

  "You look pensive, my love."

  Ullsaard turned at the sound of Allenya's voice. She entered the bedroom, the fragrance of her bath oils drifting across to meet Ullsaard. She wore an open-fronted blue dress, bangles and anklets of silver flashing in the light of the lamp. Her hair was unruly, still damp, and hung in dark curls about her shoulders.

  "You are beautiful," said Ullsaard as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  "And you are… different," laughed Allenya. Ullsaard stroked fingers across his shaven chin and smiled.

  "A temporary change," said the king, sitting on the bed next to his wife. "I think it makes me look younger."

  Allenya regarded him with her head tilted to one side, a smile playing on her lips. The smiled faded and she looked away.

  "What is it?" asked Ullsaard. Allenya had been distant on their journey from Askh, but the king had thought it only the turmoil of their flight that had weighed on her thoughts. She had seemed distracted rather than angry or upset.

  "I see more of Jutaar in you, without the beard," she said, looking at the floor.

  "I am sorry," said Ullsaard. "I know that we did not have time to grieve together when he was killed."

  "I always knew that time for both of us would be precious when I married you," said Allenya. Her voice was quiet, and her hands trembled in her lap. "But I thought that we would be together when it was important. You managed to come back to Askh for the birth of your son. What was so important that you missed his death?"

  "I had a war to wage," said Ullsaard, reaching out to touch Allenya on the arm. She drew away from his fingers. Even as he said the words he knew they sounded empty. How could he explain the drive that was inside him; the frustration that he had felt at the setbacks inflicted upon him by Anglhan? "I avenged our son. Magilnada was razed."

  "I avenged him!" Allenya stood up and glared at Ullsaard. The king shrank back from her vehemence. "You destroyed a city but the man who was responsible still escaped. You thought only of Salphoria and your conquest. I needed you, Ullsaard. I needed you so much and you were not there."

  Words failed the king as he tried to think of some way to make amends, but all he could muster were excuses for his actions that were better left unsaid. He stood up and tried to embrace Allenya but she stepped away, tears falling to the tiles.

  "It has been so long since we have lain together," Allenya said, her voice becoming quiet again. "You left me in Magilnada, unfulfilled. What was I to think? Other soldiers take their wives on campaign, but not you, not the king."

  "It is dangerous…"

  "And yet families follow their fathers, whether they are legionnaires, captains or generals. You would not have me, and you left me to become a bargaining tool of that filthy pig."

  Ullsaard was helpless against the accusations. It had been the presence of Askhos in his thoughts which had forced him to leave Allenya behind. How could he explain that he would not share her with the shade of a dead king?

  "And then when we were reunited, our son dead, what did you do? You packed me away to Askh so that you could continue your war. And I waited for so long for you to return."

  Allenya was shaking, every limb quivering, her breath coming in gulped gasps. She paced back and forth for a few steps and then launched herself at Ullsaard, battering her small fists against his chest and shoulders.

  "You died! You died, you ungrateful bastard! You went away and were never coming back!"

  Trying not to hurt Allenya, Ullsaard caught her arms and pushed her away, but she wriggled free and slapped him across the face. Startled, he shoved her, throwing her onto the bed.

  "I'm sorry," he said, taking a step after her with a hand outstretched. Allenya rolled over, turning her back to him. "I am here now. I did not die. I am alive, and I'm here with you."

  "Not to me," Allenya sobbed. Her shoulders heaved as she cried, her hands rucking the blanket in her fierce grip. "I was told you were dead. I saw your body. All of those cuts."

  He sat on the bed behind her and placed a hand on her head, striking her hair. She glanced back at him, tears streaking her face.

  "I saw your corpse, Ullsaard and I knew that you were dead."

  There was nothing to say. Ullsaard could not change what had happened and words were meaningless. He pulled Allenya to his chest and cradled her in his thick arms, her face buried against him. She tried to pull away but he would not let her, his embrace firm but not tight. He bent his neck and kissed her hair.

  Her sobs continued for some time. Ullsaard did not speak, but simply held Allenya close, feeling the wetness of her tears on his skin. When finally her crying subsided, she looked up at him, eyes reddened, and she looked as beautiful to him as when she had entered the room.

  "I'm sorry," she said, and Ullsaard could not stop a laugh.

  "You have nothing to be sorry about, my love," he said, stroking a hand over her cheek. "I am sorry, for all of the misery that I've heaped on you these past few years."

  "But I would not have it any other way," said Allenya. "I should not blame you for the lies of others."

  "But I was not there with you, and you are right that I should have been," replied Ullsaard. His eyes began to fill with tears as he thought of what he had missed. "If I had been a father and husband first, Jutaar might not be dead. I should not have made him first captain. He wasn't ready. He would never have been ready, but I needed someone I could trust with Anglhan. I sent him to be betrayed. I should have known better."

  It was Allenya's turn to comfort Ullsaard, as the heartache of his son's death clenched tight in his chest.