The Crown of the Conqueror

I

The shuffling of feet along corridors, the quiet breaths sighing from the stone of the Grand Precincts reminded Lakhyri of the Temple. If one looked at things in a certain way, it was the Temple, of course, but the high priest did not allow himself to be drawn into such metaphysical contemplation, as tempting as it was. As he sat in his sparse chamber, fingers steepled on the table, he felt calm. After years of his brother's timidity-disguised-as-consolidation and the setbacks of Ullsaard's coup, Lakhyri finally believed that the situation was again developing as he wished.

The best result of his plans would be the rise of Erlaan to take the Crown, the combined forces of Mekha and Askh extinguishing all resistance in Salphoria to bring about the time of the eulanui. At worst, the Brotherhood had been re-established and Ullsaard's dependence upon it would grow stronger and proper leverage could be applied.

All things considered, Lakhyri was pleased with the turn of events.

A fierce knocking at the main doors echoed down the passageways, disturbing the high priest from his thoughts. He straightened and stood as feet pattered past the archway towards the front hall. With measured paces, he left his chamber and passed silently along the corridors as the pounding at the door continued.

"What shall we do?" asked a Brother as Lakhyri entered the vestibule. "Who could it be?"

By the urgency of the knocking, Lakhyri guessed that it was a messenger bearing important news; he smiled thinly at the idea that perhaps such news was the death of Ullsaard.

"Open the door," he declared.

The Brothers worked the mechanism and the two doors noiselessly swung in, bathing the hall with moonlight. Lakhyri had not realised it was night; it was so easy to lose track of time.

The opening doors revealed ten legionnaires, one of them a second captain who still had the pommel of his sword raised to beat upon the wood. He sheathed the weapon and stepped inside.

"Where is the High Brother?" the officer demanded, glowering at the closest priest.

"I am here," said Lakhyri, taking three steps towards the man. "What brings you here to disturb our work?"

"I have a message to deliver to you," said the captain, waving to his men. A wagon was pulled into view, the back covered by a thick awning.

"A message from whom?" said Lakhyri as two of the legionnaires unfastened the ties of the awning and pulled down a hinged tailgate. "What is this?"

Something large was pushed out onto the flags in front of the doorway. It took a moment for Lakhyri to realise what it was: the huge form of Erlaan-Orlassai bound in chains and manacles. The runes carved into his skin were obscured with scabs and dried blood and he writhed weakly against his bounds. It was then Lakhyri noticed his protege's lips had been sewn up with wire.

"Recognise this?"

Lakhyri's eyes snapped up to the back of the wagon, where King Ullsaard stood in the shadow, arms folded across his chest.

"Close the doors!" snapped Lakhyri, but the legionnaires acted first, grabbing the nearby Brothers and throwing them to the ground.

Ullsaard jumped down from the wagon and approached, directing a kick at the helpless Erlaan-Orlassai as he passed. Behind him, more legionnaires mounted the steps up to the Grand Precincts.

Lakhyri said nothing, noticing the sword at Ullsaard's hip. The king stopped a pace away from him, his face an expressionless mask.

"Do you recognise this creature?" the king said quietly.

Lakhyri quickly considered his options. Denial was impossible; it was clear Ullsaard already suspected Lakhyri's involvement with the resurgence of Mekhani, or at least with the transformation of Erlaan-Orlassai. The question was, just how much did the king really know?

"That is Erlaan, former prince of the Blood," the high priest said calmly. "Why have you brought him here?"

"These… changes, are you responsible?" the king continued in the same measured tone.

"You have proof that I am involved with this?" Lakhyri said.

Like a striking serpent, Ullsaard grabbed the front of Lakhyri's silver mask and wrenched it from his head, throwing back the high priest's hood as he did so. Lakhyri sneered as his sigilcarved features were revealed; the snarl turned to a choked cry as Ullsaard grabbed him by the throat.

"There is my proof, traitor!" said the king. "Your eyes betray you, Lakhyri, as do the strange marks upon both of your bodies."

"Traitor?" gasped Lakhyri, weakly pulling at Ullsaard's tight grip. "What treachery?"

"You are behind the Mekhani attacks," said the king. "You raised up Erlaan to be their leader in an attempt to overthrow me. Do not waste your last breaths denying it!"

The high priest gave up his forlorn struggles and fell limp in Ullsaard's grasp. Though he feigned defeat, his mind was whirling, seeking a means to exonerate himself, to deny the accusation; to save his life. He could think of nothing, and chose defiance instead.

"What if I did?" he croaked. "Perhaps you are jealous of our young prince? Should I have offered my gifts to you instead?"

Lakhyri felt the fingers around his throat relax a fraction.

"Turn me into a monster?" said Ullsaard, seemingly amused by the thought. "I am scarred and ugly enough already."

Lakhyri met the king's hard stare with golden eyes and smiled.

"What I did with Erlaan was necessary, but extreme," said the high priest. "You are of much stronger basic stock. There are lesser gifts that I could give you."

The grip tightened again, sending pain through Lakhyri's jaw and back, the sudden pressure dizzying him for a moment.

"I do not desire your gifts, you cur," said Ullsaard. He stalked forwards, pushing Lakhyri ahead of him, the priest back-stepping quickly so as not to fall. "You would promise me anything to save your life."

They stopped when Lakhyri was backed up against the hewn stone of the archway leading into the depths of the building. His bony fingers scrabbled at the rough surface, seeking purchase as Ullsaard lifted the high priest to his toes.

"Yes, I would!" he managed to say between gritted teeth. "Name your price!"

The king was taken aback, dropping Lakhyri down though not releasing his hold. Ullsaard's brow furrowed in thought, eyes never leaving the high priest's. As Lakhyri had noticed in his last encounter with the king, Ullsaard paused for a moment, distracted.

"There are many things that I might do for you, Ullsaard," Lakhyri said, in the most soothing tone he could manage. "Strange and many are my powers, as you have seen."

"Leave us!" growled the king, still not turning his eyes away. The legionnaires and Brothers looked at each other before retreating through the main doors. Those Brothers that had been skulking at the other door to watch the scene disappeared back down the corridor.

Ullsaard pulled back his hand and Lakhyri flopped back against the wall, rubbing his throat. The king paced back and forth for a few steps, his lips moving as if in whispered conversation. As before, Lakhyri detected a strange double-presence around the king. With the threat of immediate violence withdrawn, the high priest's mind worked more smoothly. He wondered why Erlaan still lived; his corpse would be as much proof as his living body. Lakhyri wracked his mind for an answer but Ullsaard spoke before he came to any conclusions.

"There may be something you can do for me if I let you live," said the king, his voice quiet. "A problem I have that you might be able to deal with."

Lakhyri suppressed a smile of satisfaction.

"I shall serve in any way I can," he said, with a bow of the head.

"Stop that!" snapped Ullsaard, hand moving to the hilt of his sword. "No mock servitude, no false praise. Last time we spoke, you said that there was no reason our goals could not be joined. You lied to me then. Tell me now, truthfully, if you could ever accept me as king."

"I seek for the empire to cover all of the lands between the seas, and nothing else," said Lakhyri. "I only used Erlaan against you because I thought you were too weak. I was wrong. It matters not who wears the Crown."

Ullsaard flinched, as if in pain. He grinned at Lakhyri when the moment had passed.

"I am told that your words are worth less than abada shit," said the king.

"Told by whom?" said Lakhyri. "Who dares say such things?"

Resting one hand to the wall, Ullsaard loomed over Lakhyri, eyes wide, tiny reflections of the high priest's shocked face in his pupils. He tapped the side of his head with his other hand.

"Your brother," whispered the king. He nodded to himself. "I know everything about you, Lakhyri. Everything!"

The high priest looked at Ullsaard with narrowed eyes, searching for a hint of deception. What he said could only mean one thing.

"Askhos." Lakhyri barely breathed the word. "He lives."

"He continues," said Ullsaard, straightening. "That is the closest he'll get to living again if there's anything I can do about it."

Instinctively, Lakhyri's eyes drifted over Ullsaard's shoulder at the mound of humanity still lying sprawled beyond the open doors. The king noticed his gaze and grabbed his chin, forcing Lakhyri to look at him.

"I considered it," said Ullsaard. "Neither I, nor Askhos, nor you really know what will happen if Erlaan dies now. Perhaps it is too late for your brother. Perhaps he is trapped between me and the Crown forever. All you need to know is that should Erlaan die, however it happens, and I remain myself, I will kill you. It is not only my future and your brother's that would hang on such a decision, it is also your own. Your grand plans for empire, you can forget all of them if anything bad happens to our young prince."

"What would you have me do?" Lakhyri asked, conceding defeat for the time being. "Protect Erlaan?"

Ullsaard nodded and laid a thick arm across the high priest's shoulders, dragging him away from the wall.

"And there is still the promise you made me; to help me with my problem."

"The campaign in Salphoria?" guessed the high priest, rewarded by the look of surprise from the king. "Come now, it is clear that something occurs to dawnwards that has held you in check. If I can remove any obstacle for you, I shall do so."

And so came the story from the king, of Anglhan's treachery and the hostages the governor held. The tale was told with a mixture of anger, regret and embarrassment, and when he was done, Ullsaard was trembling with the indignity of it.

"You see my dilemma?" finished the king. "I cannot prosecute the war while that venomous serpent lies coiled behind me."

"And you value your family too highly to risk any overt attack," added Lakhyri. His next words were directed at the spirit he now knew lurked inside Ullsaard. "Perhaps a weakness, but one I might once have shared. We sometimes make concessions for family that more ruthless men would discard."

"When I fought against Lutaar, or Askhos, or whoever, you visited woes upon my army to thin our numbers and sap our morale," said Ullsaard, ignoring the high priest's last comment. "From afar, could you strike down Anglhan?"

"The fact that you still live proves that it is not possible," said Lakhyri with a solemn shake of the head. "Do you think that if I could end a life in such a way, you would have lived past the moment I learned of your plans to become king? No, my powers cannot be so specifically directed, not against the living."

Ullsaard slumped, shoulders sagging.

"There is nothing you can do to aid me?"

Lakhyri examined his options. Perhaps it was time to do more than appear as Ullsaard's ally. If Askhos dwelt within him, he knew the secrets of the Brotherhood, perhaps of the Temple and the eulanui. Such knowledge had not weakened his desire for conquest.

"Your friend, the one that fell protecting you against my puppets, he still lives?" asked the high priest.

"Noran? Yes, last I heard he still lives. But he cannot help me; he is in a sleep that will never end."

"That is perfect," said Lakhyri, clasping his hands together at his chest. "That will be all I need."

"Really?" The hope on Ullsaard's face was almost pitiful. Not half an hour since coming here to slay Lakhyri, now he was desperate for his aid.

"There are some preparations we will both need to undertake," said Lakhyri. "Ready your men for an assault on Magilnada. Not too obvious, but be ready to act swiftly. We too must go to the Free Country."

"And what then?" said Ullsaard. "What will you do and how is Noran involved?"

"That is best demonstrated than explained," said Lakhyri. He hesitated before asking a question. "Do you trust me, Ullsaard?"

"No."

"You will have to learn, because if I do what you wish, you will have to place your life, your whole existence, into my hands."

"And why would you not simply extinguish it when you have the chance?" asked the king.

Lakhyri took a deep breath and smiled.

"The empire of Greater Askhor has taken longer than you can imagine to create, far beyond the two hundred years of its written history. For the first time, it is on the brink of succeeding in uniting the whole land under one banner. You are the man that can achieve that, Ullsaard. Erlaan has proven too weak and inexperienced. Askhos let himself get killed. If I kill you, Ullsaard, I will have to start again as your death would herald the fracturing of the empire. It has barely stood the strain of your usurpation, it cannot take any more. In short, you are my best chance to achieve my goals. Believe that and trust me, or do not, and slay me now."

The king drew his sword, but Lakhyri masked his shock as the point swung towards his chest. He faced down Ullsaard, meeting his gaze, unflinching.

"Only I can help return your family to you," said the high priest.

The sword tip lowered and Ullsaard stepped back.

"Magilnada, then," said the king. "We leave at dawn."