The Crown of the Usurper (The Crown of the Blood)

  Praise for Gav Thorpe

  "The Crown of the Blood should really have a warning sticker on the front... it's one of those books that are almost impossible to put down."

  – Sfbook.com

  "Thorpe writes strong, uncluttered narrative, and his characters actually sound like real people."

  – SFX Magazine

  "The battle scenes are truly epic and Thorpe doesn't give anything away until the final sword stroke has fallen."

  – Graeme's Fantasy Book Review

  "I tore through The Crown of the Blood in one long sitting... This is a properly high fantasy world – rock people, dark sorcery, landships, riding panther and (of course) dinosaurs – but all of it is introduced naturally and casually... his book is hairy, gory, sweaty, shameless... and perhaps even a little bit thoughtful."

  – Pornokitsch

  "This is one of Thorpe's best novels. The setting and story are well thought out and are remarkably logical for a fantasy novel. If you enjoy military or historical fiction, you will enjoy The Crown of the Blood. Action, intrigue, conquest, and charismatic generals are waiting for you here!"

  – James Atlantic Speaks

  ALSO BY GAV THORPE

  The Crown of the Blood

  The Crown of the Conqueror

  The Last Chancers

  Angels of Darkness

  Grudge Bearer

  The Claws of Chaos

  The Blades of Chaos

  The Heart of Chaos

  Malekith

  Shadow King

  Path of the Warrior

  The Purging of the Kadillus

  GAV THORPE

  The Crown of

  the Usurper

  The Crown of the Blood

  Book Three

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  A Guide to the Lands and People of Mekha

  Glossary

  This book is dedicated to Gordon.

  Frankly, one was going to be sooner or later,

  so it might as well be this one.

  CARANTATHI

  Autumn, 213th Year of Askh

  I

  The sound of hammer on stone ringing outside the window matched the pounding of Ullsaard's head. He lay on the bed and looked at the dawn light creeping across the ceiling. He had not slept, not since he had suffered the strange vision of Urikh, his eldest son, placing the Crown of the Blood on his head.

  The King of Greater Askhor was left in no doubt that what he had seen was genuine. The experience had been so visceral, and so like the sensation he himself had felt when he had put on the Crown and the ancient king, Askhos, had attempted to possess him. For some reason – and Ullsaard suspected he knew which one – Urikh had travelled to Askh and delved into the vaults of the palaces to retrieve the Crown that Ullsaard had hidden there.

  Of this much Ullsaard was certain, but there questions too, that he could not answer; most pressing amongst these was why his son had taken it upon himself to wear the Crown. Had it been idle curiosity, trying it on for size like a child wearing his father's boots, or did Urikh really intend to take the Crown and the kingship for himself? This second possibility froze Ullsaard's heart. He and Urikh were not close, and his eldest son's ambition had never been in doubt. Yet for all that, he knew Urikh was a patient man, a thinker too. His mother, Ullsaard's middle wife Luia, was also a schemer, a seeker of prestige above all things, but would she risk destroying her family in a hasty lunge for power?

  Ullsaard also did not know whether Urikh had felt anything of the connective moment that had bound the king to the Crown. Did his son know that the Crown had properties beyond being a badge of office? And in this matter Ullsaard needed to know what had happened, if anything, to Askhos, whose essence or spirit had been passed down the generations of the Blood through the Crown. Was Askhos still trapped? Was he in Urikh's head as well as his own, or instead? Ullsaard's claiming of the Crown against the rightful succession had thrown Askhos' plans into turmoil, putting him to a limbo state between the Crown and Ullsaard's mind. What effect would his son's interference have?

  These questions and others had plagued Ullsaard since the early hours of the morning and driven away any chance of sleep. The shadows on the wall deepened and the light brightened. The sound of crowing cockerels and the increasing clamour of domestic life intruded upon Aegenuis' halls.

  He pulled himself out of bed, wearily splashing water from the bedside bowl onto his face. He dragged his fingers through his beard, which had become somewhat long and bedraggled over the last stage of the campaign to conquer Salphoria.

  Throwing on his shirt and kilt, leaving his armour and weapons on the floor where he had dropped them, Ullsaard opened his travelling chest and pulled out a pair of simple sandals. He put these on, his lower back protesting as he bent over to lace the thongs together, and shuffled to the door. Opening it a little, he saw the two legionnaires who had come to his assistance during his episode the night before.

  "I thought you two would have been relieved by now," he said, startling both of the soldiers.

  "We turned down our relief, king," said the legionary on the right hand side of the door. "We thought it best that we stay on hand, stop any rumours spreading."

  "Rumours?" Ullsaard remembered dismissing the two men with a tale that that he had been suffering from a vivid dream, but he could not recall anything else he had said beforehand.

  "You know, king, about Urikh and the Crown," said the other soldier. "Talk like that can set some men's tongues flapping."

  "Not us, though," the other legionary assured Ullsaard with a stern nod.

  "I appreciate your attention to duty," said Ullsaard. "What are your names?"

  "Codurin, king," said the first.

  "Nesthor Kabad, king," answered the other, placing his hand to his breastplate in salute.

  "I'll be sure to mention your names to General Anasind, to bear in mind when he is looking for some sergeants."

  Their words of thanks died out as Ullsaard's expression grew grimmer.

  "And I'll also know who to look for if it ever comes to my ears that someone has been gossiping about Urikh," said the king, looking meaningfully at each of the men. They nodded nervously. "Good, we understand each other. My armour and weapons need cleaning and polishing – see to it while I have breakfast."

  "Yes, king!" the legionaries said in unison, nodding their heads in deference.

  Ullsaard stepped out into the bare hallway. The floor was of grey slabs of stone and the walls covered with crumbling plaster painted a subdued red. He looked left and right, trying to remember the way back to the hall where he had feasted with Aegenuis. A cough behind him attracted his attention to Codurin. The legionary flicked his head to the right, not meeting his king's gaze. Ullsaard gave a wordless grunt of thanks and set off.

  II

  After startling the cooks by an unannounced and uninte
nded visit to the kitchens, Ullsaard eventually found his way back to the main hall. Thick ceiling beams held up a thatched roof, hung with shields and banners. A deer leg roasted over the firepit dug to one side of the hall, a chimney above it drawing off the worst of the smoke, and a table made from lacquered planks split from a single massive tree trunk ran for two-thirds of the hall's length.

  At the far end, seated in a throne made of the same deep red wood, was Aegenuis. Older than Ullsaard by several years, the former king of Salphoria was still an imposing figure, and must have been a feared and fearless warrior in his prime. He had dark red hair and a thick beard, now streaked with grey, and the swirling tattoos on his arm matched his hair in colour. A lionskin cloak hung across the back of his chair. He had on a shirt of fine, bronze mail links, and his hair and beard were braided with gilded beads, so that the Salphor leader glinted in the gloom.

  To Aegenuis' right the chair was empty. His son, Medorian, had been responsible for the attack on Ullsaard's army as the Askhan king had marched to make peace at Carantathi. Ullsaard did not know whether Medorian had been slain fighting, though many thousands of Salphors had, and Aegenuis had received no word. On the left of Aegenuis sat three of his advisors, most important of these the aged chieftain, Aghali. The senior counsellor was saying something to Aegenuis, his wiry frame swathed in a cloak far too big for him, wizened fingers tapping out his points on the tabletop.

  The smell that filled the hall both swelled Ullsaard's hunger and made his stomach turn; there had been much Askhan wine and Salphorian beer consumed the night before. The ache of emptiness and the fragrance of the deer leg roasting over the firepit won over the nausea.

  "It is not so bad to be a king that breakfasts on venison," Ullsaard called out, attracting the attention of the Salphors. Aegenuis grinned, though his counsellors seemed less pleased to see their new Askhan ruler. Ullsaard paid it no heed; conquered peoples were never happy to begin with.

  "Necessity, not luxury," replied Aegenuis. "It is winter. There are no farms here and all my grain stores are feeding your bloody army. We hunt when we cannot farm, and so we eat venison for breakfast."

  A maid brought a wooden platter of meat and small potatoes to Ullsaard, laying it at a seat a little down the table on Aegenuis' right. Ullsaard looked at the scene and grimaced.

  "You are in my seat, friend," said the Askhan king.

  Aegenuis frowned, confused for a moment. One of his advisors said something angrily in Salphorian, but Aghali hissed a reproach. Aegenuis stood up and bowed, before stepping aside to wave Ullsaard to the throne.

  "The king of Salphoria sits at the head of the long table, you are right," said the Salphorian lord.

  "It's not personal," said Ullsaard as he pushed past Aegenuis and flopped down into the large chair. The maid looked between the two kings, unsure what to do. Aegenuis walked around the table and slid Ullsaard's platter of food in front of him.

  "And where does a king without a kingdom sit?" asked Aegenuis. "By the firepit?"

  "Here," said Ullsaard, rapping his fist on the table in front of the chair to his right.

  Aghali said something else, and Aegenuis translated the old chieftain's protest.

  "That seat is for the king's heir. It should remain empty."

  Mention of his heir set Ullsaard's nerves on edge. He kept his demeanour calm on the outside, even as the questions that plagued him returned.

  "Sit," said Ullsaard, slapping a hand on the table. "My heir is all the way back in Okhar, running the province for me; seems a waste to let a chair go empty on his account."

  Aegenuis nodded and sat down. He reached across the table and pulled a goblet over the wooden planks. Wine spilled onto the table.

  "Drinking early?" said Ullsaard, plunging a knife into the thickly cut slice of venison on his plate. He sawed away, glancing at Aegenuis out of the corner of his eye. "Never had the stomach for drink before Noonwatch."

  "I have just lost a kingdom, I need a little comforting," said Aegenuis. He took a mouthful of wine and drank it ostentatiously, smacking his lips. Placing the goblet purposefully on the table, he fixed his stare on Ullsaard.

  "So, my king, what happens now?"

  "Lots of things," replied Ullsaard. "None of that matters for the moment. I am not staying in Carantathi. You will be left in charge."

  Aegenuis' surprise was apparent as he sat back in on the bench, eyes widening.

  "Don't get carried away, it is only for the time being," Ullsaard continued. "Salphoria is too big to be one province, but until I can find some governors and build some proper provincial capitals I need someone to be in charge, and that's you."

  "What makes you think I want to be?"

  "The fact that you murdered your own father to be king gives me an idea that you like being the top dog," Ullsaard said with a cold smile. "I killed my father too, you know. We have more than that in common. You know that there will be resistance, there always is. You know also how to persuade most of your people not to fight against me, but to accept their new future."

  "My reputation is worth less than a piss in a pot these days," said Aegenuis. "If I work for you, there are some that will think I am a traitor."

  "They can think what they fucking well like," snapped Ullsaard, quickly tiring of the Salphor's objections. To the Askhan king it made sense for all of the right reasons and was a done deal. Aegenuis knew this too and was being awkward for the sake of being awkward. "You'll be working with my general, Anasind. Believe me, we have a lot of practise at this sort of thing in Askh, and it will be painful at first but the people will settle down. Your son, and any other headstrong chieftains, need to be dealt with swiftly."

  "I know you think I must agree to this, but what if I refuse?"

  "You can get the fuck out of my hall, for a start," said Ullsaard. "You don't have a choice. If it's not you, I can't trust anyone else. My first captains will be a lot more brutal than your words. You may be an arsehole, Aegenuis, but I know you wouldn't wish that on your people."

  "And why such a speedy departure?" asked Aegenuis. "You have been in Carantathi less than a day."

  "Other things to do, better things," said Ullsaard. He needed to get back to Askh to find out what Urikh was up to, but he could not tell anybody that all might not be well in Askhor. If the Salphorians caught even the slightest whiff of weakness in the Askhans they would rise up. Aegenuis was no different. He knew he was being bought off and if he had the chance to play the part of glorious liberator he might just seize it, rather than drift through his final years in peace, safe but lonely and despised by his people.

  "Better things than establishing control of your new territories?" Aegenuis looked curious rather than suspicious, but it was impossible to tell if the Salphor suspected any deeper motivation behind Ullsaard's unwillingness to stay.

  "I'm a conqueror, not an administrator," Ullsaard replied with a smile and a shrug. "I've got places to go, people to kill; those bastard Mekhani, for a start. I've definitely got unfinished business with them."

  "So you'll be withdrawing some of your legions from Salphoria?" said Aegenuis. His expression was of innocent inquiry, but Ullsaard knew better.

  "Mother of a bitch, you are a sharp one, aren't you?" exclaimed the Askhan king. "Don't get any stupid ideas. The legions are here for a good while yet. When I need them for other duties, I'll let you know."

  Ullsaard dropped his knife and spoon onto the plate and stood up. He waited patiently, finger tapping lightly at his belt buckle, until Aegenuis realised his was meant to do the same, by way of obedience to his new king. With an apologetic nod, the Salphorian got to his feet and waved for his counsellors to do likewise.

  "Thank you," said Ullsaard. "I'll see you again before I leave. And expect a visit from Anasind too."

  The King of Greater Askhor left the hall by the main doors, squinting as he was met by bright sun, low on the horizon. Two ranks of legionnaires were standing guard along the steps outside. They raise
d their spears in salute to their king as he walked quickly down the wooden stairs to the rutted road that wound down the mountain through Carantathi.

  From the road Ullsaard could see the cause of the early morning banging. Legionnaires from his army were busy on the wall of the city, reinforcing the towers with blocks taken from several houses demolished near the gateway. They had been in Carantathi less than a day and already his Askhans were treating it like home. Wooden scaffolding encased the gatehouse and five massive tree trunks had been dragged into the square behind, where axemen, sawmen and carpenters were setting to work creating planks for an inner gate.

  Ullsaard turned to his left and looked hotwards, along the range of the mountains. He took a breath of cold air tinged with dung and smoke. The peaks stretched away into the distance, becoming paler and more insubstantial until they were swathed by mist and cloud altogether. It was a harsh land, but had some of the majesty of Askh. To dawnwards he could look down across the plains and forests and hills of Salphoria, his view extended by many miles by the altitude. All of these were his domains now – in name, at least.