The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (14 page)

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The exercising that afternoon had been exceptionally strenuous,

and Arranulf, Obyann, and Rahendo were looking forward to a lie

down on their soft beds before the evening meal was served in the

mess barrack. The training fields were near the forest and they still

had a while to go before they got back.

Obyann walked in front of the other two, looking around with

growing wonder.

“It’s almost unbelievable. Just a few weeks ago, on this road you

could see over the fields as far as the eye would reach. Now it looks as

if dozens of little villages are sprouting daily. Hm... those ugly buggers

must be of the Amirathan Militia. Yes, no doubt about it, they all look

a little bit like Ruldo, the walking dick. Man, I can’t wait till Bortram

teaches me how to break his arms. Maybe it’ll work on his legs as well.”

Happy thoughts like this always put Obyann in a good mood, and

he turned around to his friends. They seemed to be bustling with

merriment too. They were speaking softly but excitedly, interspersed

with bursts of laughter, which immediately made him suspicious

and instantly dispelled his own joyful spirit. He realized that they

were still in their training outfit, and without his uniform and mantle

he felt suddenly that some of his body parts were too exposed for

comfort. Too exposed especially to two morons who were giggling

behind his back. Well, he would at once put an end to that little party.

“Landemere,” he barked. “What’s so funny? Were you by any

chance gawking at my ass again?”

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“What?” Arranulf said, still laughing at something Rahendo had

whispered to him.

“I warn you, Landemere, don’t shit in my turnips, as we say in

Ramaldah.”

“I assure you that it was never my intention to relieve myself

in your root vegetables. And may I compliment you on the colorful

expressions you have in Ramaldah?”

Rahendo made a sound, resembling a pony with a mild cold.

“Just quit gawking at my ass, Landemere,” Obyann snarled, and

walked on.

“Nobody is interested in your bony ass, Ramaldah,” Arranulf

shouted after him. “Nobody at all.”

“Then quit leering at it.”

The chattering and eruptions of laughter behind his back didn’t

stop and after a few minutes he’d had enough. He stopped beside the

road and put his hands on his sides.

“All right, ladies. Change of plans. You walk in front.”

Without paying him much attention the two pages simply walked

on, and when they had passed him, Obyann followed.

“Nulfie,” Rahendo asked with large, round eyes, “why does Obie

want us to walk in front of him?”

Arranulf gave him a big brother smile.

“I am not certain, Rahendo, but I suppose he wants to stare at our

asses.”

Rahendo tittered. Obyann, who had heard every word, just as

Arranulf had meant him to, snorted.

“That must be it,” Rahendo said. “He wants to feast his eyes on

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our perky, fleshy, luscious asses. And then he will dream of them.”

They both erupted with laughter.

“Cut it out guys,” Obyann said, clearly annoyed. “You’re not funny.

Nobody’s laughing.”

“He wants to touch them as well,” Arranulf said in as serious a

voice as he could muster.

“Oh, yes, he wants to caress our soft, voluptuous asses...” Rahendo

agreed.

“...and fondle them...” Arranulf added.

“... fondle them fondly, a hand on each curvy, juicy ass,” Rahendo

managed to say between fits of laughter and demonstrating with his

many ringed hand just what gesture he had in mind.

“Are you done already, you retarded, sex obsessed freaks,” Obyann

snarled.

“The merest brush against our alluring, meaty posteriors will

drive him mad with a hitherto unknown hankering,” Arranulf said

gravely.

“He might lose what little restraint he has and tear the pants from

our beguiling, bewitching, sweet, sweet, succulent asses,” Rahendo

managed to utter, whilst almost suffocating with mirth.

“The sight of our glorious, silken buttocks might inspire him to

endow them with tender, needy, enraptured, hot, hot kisses,” Arranulf

bellowed.

“He may not be able to resist licking our tasty, crunchy, yet

smooth butts.”

“He might be tempted to use more than his hands alone,” Arranulf

howled.

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“Our innocent, tender asses might never be safe again from his

lustful, groping claws. We are doomed... doomed, I say.”

Arranulf and Rahendo had to support each other or they would

have fallen over. Obyann meanwhile had adopted a dark blueish

color.

“When I get my hands on you, it will not only be your asses that

will suffer,” he yelled. “Forget my hands, you dirty, stinking pukes.

I will bring my feet into contact with your scrawny butts, and not

exactly to caress them either. You will not be able to sit on them

for a week when I’m done with the both of you, you hear me, you

demented, cheeky, perverted, inbred, creepy shrimp. And the same

goes for you, you conceited, vainglorious, puffed up, degenerate,

deviant, debauched, depraved, lecherous, ducal sodomite. My feet

will stick so far into your asses that my toes will be tickling your

tonsils.”

He crouched down, looking for some stones to throw at his

tormentors.

“He’s really angry, I think,” Rahendo said, suddenly back to his

usual worrying state.

“He knows a lot of fancy words,” Arranulf said rather pointlessly,

getting a little worried himself.

“He can write none of them though,” Rahendo mused, shaking

his head.

A triumphant “Aha” made them look backwards, and when they

saw that Obyann had found some dangerous looking projectiles,

they started running away.

“Stay put, you measly cowards. Take your punishment as men...

Ha, who am I kidding?”

He ran after them. Long before he could catch up with them

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Arranulf and Rahendo came to a fork in the road.

“You take that one,” Arranulf panted. “I’ll take the other. He can’t

run after both of us. You’ll be safer between all those new barracks.

Many places to hide.”

“Idiots,” Obyann muttered under his breath. That they might be,

but they were fast idiots, and by the time he came to the bifurcation

he had lost sight of them. He realized that they most likely had split

up and there was no chance he would get them.

“Oh well, it’ll keep. As soon as I can write I’m starting a list. Ruldo,

Arranulf, Rahendo. Under their names I’ll write their crimes. Under

that their punishments. I’d better get me a large piece of parchment.

Better still, three pieces. And I’ll learn to write in really small letters.

Tiny letters. Yes.”

This blissful prospect, and more resolutions in the same vein,

improved his mood. He had taken the way that led to an allotment

of new barracks. After a few minutes he began to regret his choice.

“By the Gods, have they emptied the sewers into the Amirathan

Militia? Look at them. Thugs and crooks, the lot of them. They look as

if they’d gut you for a few sarths. I’d better look for a fast way out of

here.”

He looked around. It was then that he saw Rahendo, standing in

a small alley, engaged in some kind of conversation with three militia

men.

“Has the little bugger gone crazy? Each one of them could kill him

with one blow. What in the name of all that is holy is that weird half-

wit thinking?”

He was about to call out to him, when he saw that the three men

had driven the young page against the wall of a barrack. He couldn’t

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understand what they were saying, but the expression on their faces

told him all he had to know.

He ran into the alley.

“Ha, here you are,” he said when he had reached the little group.

“Come, say goodbye to the nice gentlemen. We have to go. We can’t

be late for our evening shift.”

He took Rahendo, who looked even more depressed than usual,

by the hand and started to pull him along. One of the men had

something else in mind. He blocked the two boys by putting his hand

against the wall. Tall, unshaven, and with a rancid smell, he appeared

to be the leader of the little group.

“How cute. Look guys how he takes care of his little boyfriend,”

he smirked at his companions.

He grinned maliciously at Obyann.

“Is he? Is he your little sweetheart?” he asked, making lewd

kissing gestures.

“None of your business,” Obyann said, fastening his grip on

Rahendo’s hand.

“Well, the more the merrier, I say. There are three of us, and now

there are two of you. We had just invited your little friend here for

a fun filled evening, and now you’re invited too. I’m sure that after

messing around with this little one you will appreciate some real

men fucking you. Don’t worry, your little sweetheart can watch while

he too is being nailed.”

The three men laughed out loud.

“Isn’t it exciting, my little alley cat?” he said to Rahendo. “Imagine,

soon you will have your first taste of a real man’s dick. Three, in fact.

I hope you practiced on your boyfriend’s little tool. But don’t worry,

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we’ll teach you everything you need to know. Over and over again.

After tonight you’ll be an expert in receiving cock in every orifice of

your sweet little body. You’ll even be able to make a profession out

of it.”

Again the three men bellowed. Rahendo was on the verge of

bursting out in tears. Obyann held on to his sweaty hand.

“I can see how you would think that, you scum,” he said with

forced lightness. “But there are so many things wrong with your

charming little plan that it boggles the mind to imagine someone

could be as stupid as you. Not to mention butt ugly.”

The leader stopped laughing.

“What are you going to do, you little fart? There’s three of us

against about half a man. That is, if I count you both and your little

fuck buddy doesn’t faint while soiling his pants.”

“Yeah, see, that’s what you would think if you were a stupid ox.

Let me guess, you’re Amirathan militia men, yes? Do you even realize

that the Militia has the same regulations as the regular army? Ha, ha.

They just copied it.”

The men looked as if Obyann had lost his mind.

“Let me explain. You see, there has to be discipline in every army.

So they’re rather liberal with the whip. And you poor guys have been

so unfortunate as to mess with nobility.” He smiled radiantly. “May I

present my friend Radya-something-something, future viscount of

Eldorn. I, myself, am one day to be lord of Ramaldah, a dainty little

demesne bordering the duchy of Landemere. In fact we’re good

friends with the duke himself. See, that is where you started getting

into trouble. Do you know how many lashes with the cat o’nine tails

you’ll get, just for breach of discipline? No? At least ten. You’ll spend

as many weeks on your belly as well. Not a sensible thing to do with

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more guys like yourself around, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re bluffing,” the big man said.

“You wish. In fact, your problems are just beginning. See, a dumb

ass moron like you might ask himself what young nobles are doing

here at the camp at Lorseth. Well, I’ll tell you. We’re pages of the lord

governor, also known as his highness, the prince.”

He smiled at them.

“Yes, yes, it’s a small world. Maybe you would like to call his

highness ‘butt boy’ and ‘sweetheart’ too? He has a reputation, you

know. Then again, you can’t always go by people’s gossip. He also has

a reputation for being a sensible, calm, and kind guy. Let me tell you,

it’s all an act. In private he is a grumpy, unreasonable, quick to anger,

vicious brute who slaps you in the face for the most trivial mistake.

Even if it was he who made the mistake.”

The men had taken a step back, but kept listening.

“Now. Let me see. It will go something like this. This evening my

little friend and I will be serving him his evening meal. He is a sparing

eater at best. His evil temperament plays havoc with his appetite.

When his pages are not there to serve him his food on time, or if

they look all bloody and black eyed, his highness will lose what little

appetite he had. That means he will stay hungry. Being hungry makes

him extra mean. He will want to know what happened. That’s only

reasonable, isn’t it? So, he will call Commander General Tarngord

and kick him in the balls. The old boy doesn’t like being kicked in