Mordraud, Book One (86 page)

Another roar
.

“
Our fathers!”

“
Our sons!”

The
soldiers cheered in unison each time Mordraud gave a verdict.

“
Of raping our land with the Long Winter, and of rejoicing while we perished in the snow and from hunger!”

“
For this, we sentence you to death. And after you, we will go for your families, your children, your women... And we shall do with them what you have done to us.”

Mordraud
approached one of the rope-bound Lances and, fuelled by the bedlam of cries and insults from the thousands of men to his rear, unsheathed his sword and beheaded the man, cleaving off both head and the post behind. As he moved away again, he raised an arm and the archers formed a row, loaded their arrows, and shot at the condemned until their quivers were empty. Many pleaded for mercy, others replied in kind to the verbal abuse, some sobbed, and a few lucky ones passed out. Adraman waited for that horrific spectacle to come to an end, and then gave Berg orders to recall the troops. He’d seen many a thing in his life as a soldier, but he’d never witnessed such an orgy of violence. If he hadn’t stepped in, his men wouldn’t have stopped at the Lances. They were ready to put to death every citizen of Cambria, from the first to the last.

“
Eldain, my old friend... without you, we’ve turned into savages...” murmured Adraman. The journey towards Cambria had just begun. And there would be many more nights like that one before its end – he was certain of it.

***

“Have the last ones been consigned, Parro?”

“
Yes, Loralon. I’ve had them locked up in the dungeons. There should be no more.”

The Emperor
finished sipping his warm cinnamon-flavoured wine, took a last mouthful of his roasted pork shank and wiped his mouth on an embroidered linen cloth. An excellent meal, spiced with even better news.

“
Did Asaeld say anything else? Have you managed to get out of him all the operations he manoeuvred behind my back?” he asked the chancellor, who sat down at the dining table and poured himself a taste of wine. When they were in public, during audiences and council meetings, they were always careful to be formal and observe court etiquette. But when not on ceremony, he and Parro were good friends, and avid conversers. A habit that had come out strengthened after the near disaster stirred up by Asaeld’s accusations. The chancellor had recovered, but still showed signs of the beatings inflicted in jail. Loralon never missed an opportunity to apologise to him for the lack of trust he had had in his person.

“
After what we did to him,” answered Parro, chuckling, “I don’t think he’ll have held back any secrets.”

“
Instead, what can you tell me about the front? Any news of Dunwich?”

“
Griserio did what he had to do, without any hiccups. Now Dunwich is alone, and no longer has Asaeld’s accomplices constantly around him. We haven’t had news from him for a few weeks, since the last Lance dispatch, but that doesn’t necessarily mean something’s wrong. We thinned down the Rampart to attack the Rinns – I don’t think Dunwich has launched raids on the rebels with the lean forces at his disposal.”

Loralon
nodded in satisfaction. “Better that way. I still don’t trust him enough to place the bulk of the army in his hands. Now that we’re fairly sure we’ve cleansed away the mess Asaeld made, I want to speak with the young man. Send someone to the front to summon him. Instead, what can you tell me about the Rinns? Have we recaptured the villages near Cambrinn and Hannrinn?”

“
Not yet, Loralon. They’ve been accursedly deft in their movements... Many of our citizens have willingly accepted their new masters.”

“
Well, when everything’s returned to normal, we’ll make them change their minds again. Give orders to push harder. I don’t want to reach the summer’s end without news of a success, now the front with the Alliance has cooled off.”

“
It’ll be done before evening,” Parro replied. “I’ll be getting back to my duties now. See you later, Loralon.”

The
chancellor left the hall and the Emperor called an attendant to clear the table. He didn’t like eating in his apartments, so he often had the dining things set up in the audience hall to enable him to enjoy the paintings, tapestries and frescoes depicting the history of his family. Every time this happened, he reminded himself he would make his own contribution with some work of art, perhaps a statue portraying him in his battle armour.

‘
When I get a quiet moment, I’ll have the marble cutter come and...’

The door flew open, ruining his restful vision.
It was two soldiers who didn’t belong to his personal guard – a somewhat bizarre occurrence. No one except the chancellor was allowed to disturb him during a meal.

“
What do you want?! How dare you burst in here without even...?”

“
Sir, the rebels are approaching the city!” barked one of the two, pale in the face. Loralon felt the pork shank, the wine and the marble statue surge up from his stomach.

“
WHAT... DID YOU SAY?!”

“
The rebels... They’ve been sighted in the east, near Chestnut Gorge! A huge army! Never seen anything of the kind at the front!”

“
But... the Rampart...?” Loralon stammered, unable to even imagine such an absurd vision.

“
Our men are on their way, they’re about to reach the city walls, but there aren’t many of them. A thousand, maybe fewer. Some are already at the gates. They’re fleeing, sir.”

Loralon
half-closed his eyes, took two deep breaths and reasoned with all the calm he could muster. There had to be almost fifteen thousand men at the front. He’d sent orders to move many of them north and south, but he was unaware of the exact figures. He’d said he nonetheless wanted to leave a big enough number to manage that stretch of the border. Eldain and his handful of threadbare rebels had never managed to poke their noses beyond the border, let alone penetrate Cambrian lands.

“
Why don’t they stop and attempt to drive them back?! How did they lose their positions?! ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!”

“
We don’t know, Your Majesty...” replied the other guard, who was even more ashen than the first. “The rebels must have broken through the border, and our troops will have retreated, endeavouring with all their means to slacken the advance... But they have hardly any horses left. Eldain’s cavalry must have intercepted all the messengers Dunwich certainly tried to send to warn us of the danger...”

“
CALL PARRO, AT ONCE! AND TELL HIM TO BRING ME ASAELD!” the Emperor bellowed.

“
But, sir... What are we to tell them at the city gates...? Should we open them, or...?”

“
AT ONCE!”

The
pair bowed low in all haste and rushed out. The chancellor arrived after what seemed an endless interval, accompanied by the deposed commander. Asaeld was shackled, as bony as death. One eye was missing, and he had several pits in his skin, where the rats had chewed away at his flesh. Yet, he was chuckling when Parro tossed him at the Emperor’s feet. He laughed as he’d laughed a thousand other times in his ruler’s presence, mocking and humiliating him.

“
The rebels are about to attack! Do you know anything about this?!” he asked, barely keeping the fear from cracking his voice. The chancellor turned white and swayed, on the verge of fainting.

“
Me?!” croaked Asaeld. “How could I know about it? You’ve killed all my instruments! I’m sorry,
Emperor
, I don’t know how to help you.”

“
It was you! There’s no point denying it! You want Cambria to lose this war, you rotten swine!” Loralon shouted, grabbing him by the collar of his filthy tunic stained with congealed blood. Asaeld didn’t drop his smile, empty as it was of a couple of teeth, knocked out by a few well-placed punches.

“
Oh,
Emperor
, how could you say such a thing?! I swear by the Gods, I’ve never wished to see the end of Cambria! It’s
your
end I wanted to see! There’s quite a difference! I WANTED NEW ORDER HERE!”

“
Cambria hasn’t been attacked for... for...” stuttered Loralon in terror.

“
For a few centuries, my lord. But to be more precise, it hasn’t lost for a far longer time... But there’s always the right time for everything...” Asaeld returned, crowing with joy.

“
And now what do we do, for love of the Gods?!”

“
Are you by any chance asking me for advice, Your Majesty? Well, I’m not in the best state to give good advice, but... first of all... let’s leave the Gods out of it. I don’t believe they can be of help to you. And then... if I were you, I’d start getting ready...”

“
FOR WHAT?!”

“
For him,” Asaeld answered, with a smile.

The doors were
flung open again, but with far more violence. Loralon rose, eyes wide, and saw Dunwich rushing towards the throne, crossing the empty chamber in huge strides. He was dirty, tattered and bedraggled. And visibly thinner. But above all, his eyes were those of a man who’d lost all reason a long time ago.

“
I knew you’d come back to me sooner or later...” Asaeld murmured.

“
LORALON!”

It was the voice of
one man, yet it boomed like that of an entire regiment. Parro tried to move between them, yet before he could even open his mouth, Dunwich unsheathed his sword and lunged it right through his chest. The chancellor tumbled to the floor with not even a cry.

“
Well done, my boy...”

Loralon
let go of Asaeld’s neck, stepped back and threw his arms wide, beaming. He’d watched his best friend die an instant earlier, but at that moment only his own life existed – nothing else.

“
Dunwich! Thank goodness you’re alive! You must help me, we have to prepare the city’s defences, and there’s so much I have to tell you...”

“
YOU’RE A VILE SODDING SWINE, LORALON!”

“
I understand you might be a little... upset... but right now we have to think about Cambria, my boy! And there’s much you should know... about Asaeld, about how he’s manipulated you, about what he was doing behind your back, behind our backs!” the Emperor shouted, taking a further step back, in dread.

But
Dunwich didn’t seem to have listened to a single word.

“
Asaeld, are you alright?! What have they done to you?”

“
Loralon put me in prison, because I was a danger for his plans...” the Lance cried, his voice brimming with sorrow. “He’s the one who took our men from the front, Dunwich! He alone is making us lose our war!”

“
No, you must listen to me! Asaeld is a cunning snake. He’s lying to you – he’s always lied to you...”

Dunwich
spanned the throne’s steps in swift strides. Loralon turned to flee, but the younger man was much quicker. He seized him by the neck, and squeezed with brutal force.

“
Dunwich, wait... I beg you, my boy. Listen to me...”

“
I’ve had enough of you, your plans and your frigging councillors!” Dunwich drove him to the ground, thrust a knee into his back and began tugging with all his might.

“
It’s your fault! You took away all my men! You took away the Lances! I’ve been fighting for weeks, every day and every night, without sleeping and without eating, just to stop the rebels! I’ve watched all my soldiers die! THEY WERE MY COMRADES! THEY WERE MY FRIENDS!”

“
Go on, Dunwich... Go on!” Asaeld yelled.

“
Wait... wait...” mumbled the Emperor “It’s not... the way... you think...”

“
Die, you repulsive bastard!”

He pulled a last time, and the bones in
Loralon’s back shattered. Asaeld wept for joy behind him. Dunwich swivelled round with the goggle-eyed gaze of a man who’d just woken from a long troubled sleep. Asaeld raised his arms, and nodded to the chancellor’s corpse.

“
He’s got the keys. Come on, set me free... Now we’ll settle everything!”

“
Asaeld, what have I done?” Dunwich asked, glancing around, dazed. All the wrath had seeped from his eyes. Just mortal exhaustion remained, and a gaping chasm where his oath as Imperial Lance had previously lain.

“
You did what had to be done, Dunwich. Or rather... my lord. You’re the new ruler of Cambria now. And I’m your first and most loyal servant!”

A low mingled cry began to creep up to the
hall windows. The city had spotted the foe at the gates. Cambria had awakened from its sweet dream, without time to catch its breath before plummeting into the nightmare.

“
Let’s go save our city, Dunwich!”