The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (39 page)

Bonds of Fear

305

“My lord, believe me, I would like to accommodate you, but it

is late and I have but the one room left. It was vacated only this

afternoon, and it hasn’t been cleaned yet. I suppose I could ask young

Durio to do it, but frankly, his good mother will be expecting him

home soon.”

Rullio looked unsure what to do next. Should he offer the landlord

more money, or should he just tell him he didn’t care the room wasn’t

cleaned.

He had ridden too long, he realized. He had hoped to cross the

Amirathan border into the Northern Marches before nightfall, but he

had obviously miscalculated. The Roaming Bear was the last Guild

Station before the border.

“I don’t mind, Twar, and mother is used to me coming home

late. I often visit friends before I go home. So, I’ll get some clean

bedding and get right on to it.” He looked at Rullio. “You needn’t wait

downstairs, my lord”, he added.

Rullio looked with relief at the young servant who had spoken

and thanked him with a broad smile. Eyes dark as the darkest night,

an olive colored skin, and raven black hair with a dark blue sheen.

Rullio approved heartily.

“Well, that seems to be all right then.” He beamed at the landlord.

“If you could just prepare me some food. Whatever you have left will

do just fine and I doesn’t need to be warm either. Oh, and a jug of

wine. I’ll dine in my room.”

306

Andrew Ashling

Twar opened his mouth as if to protest. He didn’t like it at all

that guests ate in their room. However, the expectant smile and the

gleaming eyes of the young noble stopped whatever objections he

had wanted to proffer.

Moments later, a basket laden with food and drink in one hand,

and his saddle bags over his shoulder, Rullio went upstairs.

He was sure Durio could use an extra hand. Or two hands.

Before going to bed Sumista, the landlord’s wife, made a last tour

through the hallways. Everything was quiet, except in one room.

But that was to be expected. After all, they had a group of traveling

actors staying overnight. Two of them were obviously rehearsing.

Very loudly.

Sumista shivered with delight. She loved tragedies, and this most

certainly was one she surmised hearing them rehearse.

“Oh, no, no, my lord, my lord, have mercy. No, don’t, not there, I

can’t take it any more...”

“Yep, definitely a tragedy,”
she thought as she turned a corner.

The Trade Caravan to the North was still some hundred and

fifty miles from the Amirathan border when they stopped to make

camp for the night. Two miles from the road there was a small town,

Dillesley, and the richer travelers preferred to take a room for the

night there.

The last two nights they had made camp far from any inn or guest

house, and even the most well off amongst them had been forced to

sleep in tents. Most of them welcomed the opportunity to spend the

night in a soft bed and maybe even take a warm bath.

Bonds of Fear

307

A seasoned traveler had recommended a large establishment,

which could provide all those comforts they so longed for and

excellent food. They followed his advice, two Avadesquan warrior

women included.

Later that night, a nondescript man asked the landlord for

directions to a certain tavern in the more seedier part of the town. Of

course he gave his guest what he wanted, although he never would

have guessed the man would have been interested in that kind of

entertainment. Or been so open about it, at any rate. It seemed

contrary to his kind and shy nature. It went to show that you couldn’t

go by appearances.

The directions had been easy to follow and barely ten minutes

later the man entered a tavern with closed windows. He looked

around the scarcely lit room. At the back, in a cubicle, he found who

he was looking for.

“Shigurtish, you old goat fucker,” he greeted the man, while taking

a seat opposite him, “I was passing this festering ass sore of a town

and I could smell your unwashed cock from miles away.”

The man he had addressed grinned.

“Damydash. Sherrubald of Damydash. Still as delicate and refined

as ever. Welcome, old friend.”

308

Andrew Ashling

Chapter 9:

Treason, Bloody Treason

After a servant had brought two pitchers of the best wine the

establishment had to offer, the man the baron had called Shigurtish

looked expectantly at him.

“So, Sherrubald, you had important news your message said.”

“Indeed, my friend, but it’s all good tidings.” The baron smiled.

“From where I’m standing, there is not much good about the

current situation. Disturbing news has reached us about what the

governor of your Northern Marches is preparing for us.”

“I know, but your worries are over Shigurtish.”

The Mukthar raised his eyebrows.

“The quedash is recalling him?”

“No, the king is not. He has done something far better. He has

appointed me, of all people me, autarch of the Northern Marches.” He

let out a raucous laugh. “Can you believe it? Of course that changes

everything. He could as well have handed me over the Devil’s Crown.

To begin with, I won’t be needing your assistance anymore.”

“We had an agreement, Sherru—”

“And that agreement stands,” Damydas said quickly. “You get a

Bonds of Fear

309

free rein in the Northern Marches. Just like we agreed. The best part

is that you won’t have to do anything for it. Well, not much anyway.

I don’t care what you do, or how much plunder you drag out of the

place, provided you take care of a few annoyances of mine. In the city

of Ghiasht I want the mayor and the whole city council dead. Their

position at the far end of the kingdom and so near the independent

city states has given them ideas above their station. Then, the ruling

families of Dermolhea, the so called Forty. I want them exterminated

to the last member. Fathers, sons, grandsons, great-grandsons,

bastards and pregnant wives. Nobody must remain. Last but not

least, the Duchy of Landemere. The young duke seems to be a page

in the the entourage of prince Anaxantis and I will take care of both

of them myself…”

He smirked, and his eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“In your usual manner, Sherrubald?” Shigurtish mocked.

“Oh yes. I foresee two thoroughly enjoyable, happy days.”

They both laughed.

“I want you to take care of that old cunt, Athildis. I would suggest

that if you have men who need disciplining you give them the choice:

twenty lashes or publicly raping the old cow in the ass. She has a

far too big idea of herself and besides, the House of Landemere is

the only one who could claim the throne after the Tanahkoses have

landed on the dung heap of history. Besides, I never could stand the

strung-up bitch. I want you to humiliate her so completely that she

literally begs you to kill her. I want her brought down so low that

the mere thought of her having regal ambitions would meet with

derision and contempt. I’ll send you the head of her grandson, so you

can show it to her, and so she will know that the House of Landemere

has ceased to exist.”

“Seems simple enough. We won’t meet any resistance?”

310

Andrew Ashling

“Not one arrow will be shot at you. Not by the army, at least.

There could be some local resistance, I suppose, but I trust some

fifteen thousand Mukthars can handle that.”

Shigurtish grinned.

“Believe me, after word gets around what we did to the first

who dared resist us, I doubt there will be much enthusiasm for any

further shows of heroism. As long as we can be sure that the army

won’t intervene.”

“You can. After I kill that little Tanahkos ass whore, I’ll concentrate

all the troops in the most south-western corner of the Marches.

You’ve got three weeks. Then I begin marching north, sweeping the

whole breadth of the territory. Slowly. You simply retreat with your

pillage. When I reach the Northern border I’ll stop, let it be known

that all Mukthars are chased out of the Marches and declare victory.

Simple. By then you should be halfway through the Queneq Pass.”

“And then you turn around?”

“And then I turn around and march on the capital.”

“You’re sure you won’t need us?”

“Very sure. It’s also better this way. No need for me to invade the

heartland of Ximerion at the head of a foreign host. As autarch, I’ll

just take over the troops that are waiting for me in the Marches.

Damydas let out a gleeful howl.

“Isn’t it wonderful? That pretentious little bitch boy has assembled

an army, an army which I will use to chase his cursed race from the

throne. The stupid cocksucker has made it almost too easy for me.

He has eliminated one of his older brothers, and then he gives me the

instrument with which to kill the others and his senile father.”

“The quedash is not that old, surely.”

Bonds of Fear

311

“No. No, he’s just tired, and the situation on the southern border

prevents him from getting much rest, that’s all.”

“You’re sure you’ll succeed? They say Tenashosh is a strong

quedash.”

“Oh yes, they say that. Did you know he wouldn’t be king if it

weren’t for me? His father was going mad and was about to have him

strangled out of fear and jealousy. Instead we, or rather I, declawed

the lion and kept him drugged for the last years of his life, while

Tenaxos took the affairs of the kingdom in hand. Since that day

there’s nobody in the world he trusts more than me.”

“And you’re going to repay that trust by stealing his throne from

under him?”

Damydas’s face showed a mixture of contempt and hate, a hate

that must have been growing for a long time.

“Why not? He’s the king. He knows damn well he cannot trust

anybody. Besides I will be a far better king than he is and certainly a

far better monarch than that bunch of misfits he produced could ever

hope to be. It was I who made him king. It is my right to unmake him.

He should have been a little bit more grateful for all I’ve done for him.

A duchy, even a grand-duchy wouldn’t have been overcompensation

for my services. He didn’t even see fit to make me a peer of the realm.

The twat guzzler made me a baron, can you believe it? A bloody

baron. Well, I became eactly that, so much is sure.”

“Ah, yes, never count on the gratitude of quedashang. Better

become one yourself. That’s what I plan to do as well.”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult, my friend. You are the third son of the

first queen after all. Only two persons stand between you and the

throne. Before long I will be in a position to give you all the assistance

you might require.”

312

Andrew Ashling

“You’re very certain of yourself,” the Mukthar said in a dry tone.

“With reason, Shigurtish, with reason. Look, I’ve been the head