The Crown of the Conqueror

II

The hotwards reaches of the Magilnadan Gap were dominated by heavily wooded hills, heaping upon each other until they became the shoulders and ridges of the Lidean Mountains. The dawnwards extent of the forests marked the edge of the Free Country, running along the Saol River. Ullsaard had no idea how closely Anglhan and his allies were watching the roads and rivers into Ersua, but had to assume the worst.

A long detour into the mountains would add at least twenty days to the journey, so at some point the king and his bodyguard would have to dare a crossing. The easiest way would be to find some boats or a ship rather than rely on one of the bridges. In this circumstance, the careful cartography of the Askhans would prove its worth. From studying the map he had brought with him, the king knew he was three days from the Soal, and if they cut straight to dawnwards through the forests, his group would avoid any settlement larger than a logging cabin or hunting lodge.

In double file, the legionnaires wound between the trees, heading towards the glimmer of the rising sun that could be glimpsed through breaks in the leaves above. The soldiers were armed and armoured, having abandoned the handcarts when they entered the forest. It was better that they were prepared for confrontation, in Ullsaard's opinion; so many men would arouse suspicion in these parts regardless of how they were dressed.

A summer shower had swept down from the mountains just before dawn and the trees were alive with the patter of water falling from the canopy. The ground was wet enough to leave tracks, but there was little Ullsaard could do about that; there was only so much secrecy available to a body of fifty men. Confident that the Magilnadans and Salphors were unaware of his presence, Ullsaard felt that it would only be blind chance for a hunting party or patrol to come across them now.

The going was not easy, as Sergeant Daesio led the way, pushing through brush and bush. The trees here were old and moss-covered; their huge roots a tangle waiting to trip the unwary. A thick layer of mulch clung to the king's boots as he followed the men in front, while rotted branches, hidden rocks and uneven ground threatened his footing every few steps. The chorus of birds that had welcomed sunrise had died down, but still the arboreal gloom echoed with shrieks and chirrups from all around.

They pressed on without stop until the sun was directly overhead, at which time Ullsaard called a brief stop. Sitting on a rock slick with lichen, the king pulled out the map stowed in the top of his pack and unfolded the stained parchment. As best as he could reckon it, they had covered fifteen or sixteen miles; slow going for a normal march but a good distance considering the terrain. Calculating this position on the map, Ullsaard figured they needed to turn more to coldwards in order to avoid a Salphorian village about twenty miles further dawnwards. He fixed his mind on the direction they would have to travel and put away the map, pulling out an apple in its stead.

Even as he took the first bite, the sound of a hissed warning cut the quiet, coming from the sentries off to the king's right. Ullsaard dropped the apple and pulled out his sword, rising to his feet. Others were standing and he whispered a command for them to stay low, the order passing quietly from man to man. Treading softly through the undergrowth, Ullsaard made his way to the three men that had issued the warning.

They were crouched behind the aging remnants of a fallen tree, looking to hotwards. Ullsaard came up to them in a stoop, eyes scanning the trees for a sign of what they had seen. He stopped beside the rotting trunk and lowered himself to one knee, leaning across the flaking wood of the dead tree.

"There," said one of the legionnaires.

Ullsaard's gaze followed the soldier's pointing finger and he immediately saw the glimmer of bronze through the trees, in a clearing about two hundred paces away. The midday sun was glinting from spear points but Ullsaard could see nothing more through the undergrowth and long grass.

"How many?" he asked.

The legionnaire answered with a shrug and a shake of the head.

Thinking that he had glimpsed the crest of a legionnaire for a moment, Ullsaard considered his options. Further investigation risked discovery. An attack would be foolish without knowing how many foes they faced. Either choice would likely lead to confrontation, and although the king was sure his men would overpower whoever was out there, they would probably be missed sooner rather than later.

He tapped the shoulders of the men with him and with a flick of the head sent them back to others. He remained at the fallen tree for a while longer, trying to catch another glimpse of the men ahead, but saw nothing more revealing than a few obscured figures moving back and forth.

Turning around, he saw that all eyes were on him; most of the legionnaires had gathered together a few dozen paces back and crouched with their shields and spears at the ready. Ullsaard sheathed his sword and raised a finger to his lips, before jabbing a finger to coldwards.

The sergeants quickly divided the group into parties of five, and each of these slipped away into the woods at short intervals. Ullsaard stayed until the last group was ready to head off. He noticed that Gelthius was amongst them, a strange smile on his face.

"What's so funny?" the king asked, hunkering down next to the captain.

Gelthius looked as if he was not going to answer for a moment, but then did so, his eyes innocently looking up at the trees, not meeting Ullsaard's annoyed gaze.

"Was just thinking that you can't have had this in mind when you wanted to be king," Gelthius said with a chuckle. "Sneaking through woods with wet boots and all."

Ullsaard glanced over his shoulder, back towards the strangers, now out of sight. He gave Gelthius's shoulder a comradely squeeze.

"No, it wasn't high on my list of ambitions."

He waved the group of men away and lingered as they stalked off into the trees. Gelthius was right. He hated having to skulk around like a thief. Part of him wanted to call back the legionnaires, march into the clearing and confront whoever was out there. He was king of the most powerful empire in the world, and it stuck in his throat to be so meek. He closed his eyes and pictured Allenya's face, calming himself.

"Patience," he muttered with gritted teeth. "One thing at a time."

Pride tempered with this thought, he turned and slinked away into the woods.