"No ruse, no fooling," said Ullsaard. He looked again at Jutaar.
With a shout, Jutaar drew his sword and lunged at the officer next to him, cutting down Murian's First Captain. From behind Ullsaard, the Thirteenth bodyguard surged forward as Allon's men turned on Murian's with a crash of shields and spears. Murian tried to bolt, kicking his heels into his ailur's flanks but Ullsaard reacted quickly, leaping to snatch at the heavy reins.
Digging his heels into the dirt, Ullsaard wrenched back with all his strength, pulling the great cat off balance, bringing her sliding to her flank in a cloud of dirt. Murian was thrown clear as the ailur righted herself and leapt at Ullsaard, fangs and claws bared. Ullsaard dodged to his left, but a paw caught him in the shoulder, sending links of mail scattering in a shower of bloody droplets. The ailur thrashed her head, almost wrenching Ullsaard's arms from their sockets.
"Give me a behemodon any time," the general snarled as he hurled himself between the beast's outstretched forelegs.
His shoulder slammed into the ailur's armoured chest. With a grunt, Ullsaard straightened his legs as claws raked down the back of his armour. Linking his fingers through the ailur's mane, Ullsaard twisted to his right and swung his legs, putting all of his weight on to the animal. She buckled with a roar and fell forwards. In an instant, Ullsaard had his knee on the ailur's throat and his hands were wrapping the reins around her slashing forelegs. Once he was confident she was hobbled, Ullsaard jumped back out of harm's way. The ailur struggled to right herself, but fell down twice and gave up, lying panting in the flattened grass.
"There's a good girl," Ullsaard said.
He spied Murian trying to crawl away and went after him, grabbing the governor by the ankle, twisting until Murian rolled to his back. The vicious shouts and ringing metal of the fighting legionnaires was already growing quieter as those loyal to Murian were overwhelmed. Ullsaard hated wasting good fighting men in this way, but it was the only method to be sure the others would fall into line. Just like ailurs, legions needed to be shown who was in charge.
Ullsaard grabbed Murian by the front of his jerkin and hauled him to his feet.
"Do you surrender?" the general snarled. Blood trickled down his cheek from a claw scratch.
Horror filled Murian's expression as the screams of his men died down. He looked at Ullsaard with abject submission, shoulders slumped, legs trembling. The governor of Anrair nodded fitfully and swayed where he stood. Ullsaard thought the man was going to faint and reached out a hand to stop him. Murian shrieked as if attacked and fell to his knees.
"Fuck Nemtun," Murian whispered. "And fuck Lutaar."
"That's the spirit!" Ullsaard said as he pulled the broken governor back to his feet. "Don't worry. I'll look after you."
Magilnada
Spring, 209th Year of Askh
I
A rough shaking woke Anglhan. He prised open a weary eye and saw Furlthia beside the bed. For a moment the lord of Magilnada thought he was dreaming and rolled to his side, away from the apparition. A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. As his senses came to him, Anglhan could hear shouting from outside the hall.
"Is that you, Furlthia?" he asked.
"It is. Come on, get up and get dressed. We have to get you out of here."
Anglhan slapped away Furlthia's hand.
"What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere. And what's all that racket?"
"That's why I'm here. Come on, see for yourself."
Anglhan threw back the covers and slipped ponderously from the bed. His time as ruler of Magilnada had not been wasted and he had taken a good share of the food coming through the city, so that not only had he replaced all the weight he had lost in the mountains, he had added some more. Hands massaging his flabby gut, still sleepy, he crossed the room to the window, bare feet slapping on the tiled floor.
Throwing open the shutters, he looked out at his city. It was barely dawn, but in the haze he could see a group of armed men approaching up the steps to the lord's hall. They were garbed as Askhan legionnaires, and he recognised Jutiil at their head.
"What does he want?" Anglhan muttered. "And why is he in uniform?"
"They all are," Furlthia said as he busied himself around the room, pulling a chest from beneath Anglhan's bed and filling it with clothes. "All the Askhans are in full gear. I think Ullsaard has turned on you."
"No, there must be some mistake. I've done everything he wanted. Really, I have. There must be some other reason." Anglhan stopped and fixed his eye on Furlthia. "What are you doing here? I thought you had abandoned me."
"There's some of us didn't trust the Askhans, so we've been keeping an eye on them," Furlthia explained as he dumped an armful of shirts into the chest. "Not causing any trouble, but just watching what they've been about. There's been a lot of shipments coming into the city these last couple of weeks that seemed to disappear. Looks like Ullsaard was sending in weapons and armour for his men.
"Just before dawn, they came together and stormed the guardhouses and the homes of the chieftains we left alive last time. They've killed several hundred men already, some of them rebels we brought from the mountains."
There was a pounding on the hall doors and Jutiil's voice called out, demanding entry. Furlthia froze, apparently gripped with sudden fear.
"We can escape out the back," said Furlthia, slamming the chest shut. "Grab the other end of this."
Anglhan shook his head and stood with his hands on his hips.
"I'm not being driven out of my hall like vermin," he declared. "I'm going to find out what's going on."
"They'll kill you," snapped Furlthia.
"Nonsense! If Ullsaard wanted me dead, he's had plenty of opportunities before now."
Feeling a little more in control again, Anglhan dragged on his trousers, slipped a shirt over his head and sat on the end of the bed to pull on his boots, tucking his trouser legs into their tops. Furlthia hovered like a frustrated fly.
"Thank you for the warning," Anglhan said. He stood up, stomping his feet a couple of times to get his boots on fully. "Don't worry, friend, I'll take care of this."
"How?"
Anglhan shrugged.
"I'm sure something will come to me when we find out what's happening."
The thumping on the door had ceased and there was a clattering downstairs. Evidently one of Anglhan's men had succumbed to the demands, or else was in league with the Askhans. Anglhan shooed Furlthia towards the door.
"Go down and tell Jutiil I'll be with him shortly. Make sure nobody does anything stupid." Furlthia hesitated until Anglhan shoved him towards the doorway. "That includes you. Go on, make our Askhan allies welcome!"
Furlthia darted Anglhan a doubtful look, but complied. When he was gone, Anglhan busied himself at the dresser, pulling on rings and hanging a broad chain of gold around his neck. He picked up a polished bronze mirror and smoothed his hair as best he could.
Now he felt like the lord of Magilnada, and looked the part too. Cinching his belt a little tighter, he left the bedroom and marched down the stair to the main hall with a confident swagger. Jutiil stood with a hand on the hilt of his sword, a shield in the other, backed up by half a company of legionnaires. The shutters on the hall windows had been thrown open and the dawn light cut ruddy bands through the gloom.
"Good morning, First Captain," Anglhan said cheerily. "What can I do for you?"
"By right of conquest, General Ullsaard of the Greater Askhan Empire claims the city of Magilnada as his dominion," Jutiil intoned solemnly. He was about to continue when Anglhan interrupted.