The Crown of the Usurper Read Free

brought about by fatigue and a deeper fear of his son's ambition?
      It could be foolishness to race back to Askh, preparing for a confrontation that existed only in his mind. The more Ullsaard thought about it, the more he considered the whole episode to be fantastical. Urikh was not stupid enough to make a bid for the Crown at the moment, no matter how much he disliked Ullsaard and how hungry he was for power. His son had no base for such a claim, in terms of legions or other resources.
      It was too quick to make sense. Urikh could not even know whether Salphoria had been secured or not. More than three thousand miles separated father from son, the only tenuous connection between them was the Crown itself. Urikh could put it on his head as much as he liked, it would not make him king in anything but his daydreams.
      Unless he has the support of the Brotherhood.
      Ullsaard felt his knees weaken and he stumbled back towards the steps, the voice of Askhos ringing loudly in his head. The dead king's presence felt stronger than before, his voice somehow closer. It took a little time to recover from the shock of feeling Askhos inside his mind after so long enjoying the silence.
      "How do you know?" Ullsaard hardly moved his lips as he spoke, his voice a whisper. He had never been able to just think his words to Askhos; with two voices in his head it became confusing. "Do you see anything? Are you in Urikh too?"
      Something struck Ullsaard, an unsettling feeling that rose up from the pit of his gut to make his chest clench tight with concern.
      "How is it that I can hear you, when we are so far from the Crown? What has Urikh done?"
      I know nothing more than you, Ullsaard, other than that where I was once in the Crown, now I am not.
      "What does that mean?" Ullsaard's legs felt weaker and weaker, and he sat down on the bottom step in front of the long hall. He was talking out loud, but did not care. "What do you mean you are no longer in the Crown?"
      It is as I say, Ullsaard. I was in the Crown, only dimly aware of you. When Urikh placed the Crown upon his head there was heat and pain, and then darkness. I woke – or think I woke, it is hard to explain – in your head; only in your head. I know nothing of what happened to the Crown. I cannot feel it any more.
      Ullsaard tried to absorb this despite the ache that was pulsing up and down from the base of his skull to the top of his head.
      "Is it possible that Urikh, somehow, learnt of the Crown's power, and managed to drive you from it?"
      There is only one man that I know of that can separate me from the Crown. He is the man that bound my essence to it in the first place.
      "Lakhyri," muttered Ullsaard, as if the word was the vilest curse ever devised by man.

ASKH
    Autumn, 213th Year of Askh
     
    With golden eyes, the high priest of the Eulanui looked at his latest puppet ruler sitting on the Askhan throne, the Crown of the Blood perched uncomfortably on Urikh's head. The Crown was unimportant now, just a symbol and nothing more. Lakhyri had reversed the rites that had placed the spirit of his brother Askhos into the iron and gold, rendering the Crown inert. It meant nothing to Lakhyri that he had set his brother's spirit adrift from its anchor; Askhos had not only failed to deliver the empire the Eulanui desired, Lakhyri was beginning to suspect that his brother had secretly reneged on the deal that had granted him virtual immortality.
      The rare blunders, the mistake with Cosuas that had allowed a pregnant court whore to give birth to Ullsaard, and the slowing of the empire's expansion pointed to either growing sloppiness on the part of Askhos, or a desire to forestall the inevitable day when he would have to hand over his dominions to his true masters.
      That day was now fast approaching and Lakhyri could not afford to suffer any more delays. He had laughed at how easy it had been to manoeuvre the other pieces into position.