The Crown of blood

III

A groom stood close by, holding Blackfang's reins. Dust swirled in the air in a cloud raised by the tramp of thousands of marching legionnaires. The last of the companies filed from the town, where smoke was already rising from dozens of fires. The rearmost legionnaires carried kegs of oil with them, which they splashed onto the bridge as they crossed. Jutiil came with a lit torch and handed it to Ullsaard. Normally the general would have been at the head of the column, but he had decided that he would perform this simple act.

It was nothing unusual in itself; Ullsaard had ordered the destruction of bridges before. It was common Askhan practice to deny such infrastructure to the tribes not yet under the sway of the empire. Today was different. Today Ullsaard knew that he was figuratively as well as physically burning a bridge. He and Aalun had set in motion a sequence of events that was about to become unstoppable. From this point on, there would literally be no way back.

"Would you like me to do that, General?" said Jutiil.

"No," replied Ullsaard.

He took a step and flung the torch out onto the bridge. The oil caught quickly and the flames spread along its length and lapped up the rails. As the wood caught, dark billows swirled within the roiling cloud of dust. Ullsaard watched for a short while, hoping that his ambitions, his career — his whole future — wasn't going up in smoke as well.

He mounted Blackfang and turned to Jutiil.

"I want a full march, no delays. No point wasting time."