The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (52 page)

I heard things in Dermolhea. After how you brought the mighty

House of Landemere to its knees, and taking into account how you

intimidated the Amirathan nobility into submission, he might see

you as too great a threat. It’s a kind of compliment, actually.”

Anaxantis smiled wryly.

“The man wants his rope back,” he said.

For minutes he remained silent.

“Well, I always thought sooner or later father might do something

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like this. Mother says she is keeping an eye on the Black Shields. She’s

a formidable opponent, but so is Damydas. And once he crosses the

border, I’m finished. Where is mother? More importantly: where is

Damydas?”

“Do you know where Damydas is?”

“No, I do not. But I left the same day the soldiers said the baron

would take the road for the Marches. I made good time, but he can’t

be very far behind. Unless...”

“Unless?”

“Well, my fellow prisoner said that last time he disguised himself

as a merchant, so as not to raise suspicion. And he likes appearing

somewhere as if out of thin air. The element of surprise, you see.

Thirteen years ago he traveled leisurely with the Northern Merchant

Caravan. If he has chosen to follow the same course you might still

have a few days.”

He looked, not without compassion, at the stony face of the

prince.

“It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, I suppose,” he added.

“At least, there still is some time.”

“But to do what?”
Anaxantis thought, quietly despairing.

He showed no outward signs that he was unduly worried, but he

felt panic rising slowly but unstoppable.

“If you would be so good as to return to the group, my lord,” he

said after a while. “I need some time to collect my thoughts.”

“Of course, your highness,” Rullio replied, but he seemed to

hesitate.

“Come on, little prince. You must see by now what you can do to

stop him. What you have to do.”

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“Prince Ehandar?” he asked instead.

“Ah yes. I can’t tell you much, but my brother is on a highly

sensitive and secret mission. He thought it best to disappear from

the public eye for a while, so we invented a... a story.”

“I heard people say he renounced his name an lineage. That can’t

be—”

“In a sense it isn’t. Like I said, he wanted to disappear from the

public eye. I can’t elaborate. The safety of the Marches, and thus the

entire realm, is at stake.”

“Will I be able to see him? To speak with him? If only for a few

minutes?”

“I’m afraid not. It would be too dangerous and might compromise

his mission. Besides, he comes and goes at irregular and unpredictable

times. Of course I will tell him that I met you and that you are alive

and free. He will be very happy. One day, when all this is behind us...”

“I see.”

“Please, if you could give me some privacy?”

“Certainly, your highness,” Rullio said and turned around to go

back to the roadside.

He had but made a few steps, when he heard Anaxantis ask softly

“My lord of Brenx?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“What was the name of your fellow prisoner?”

Rullio froze for a moment, but soon regained his wits.

“Lambert, your highness. Lambert of Yonnick.”

“That is a lie and neither is it your first one,” Anaxantis thought

as he saw Rullio disappear around the corner of the little patch of

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trees. “There never was a fellow prisoner. They would never put a

renegade Black Shield they were questioning under torture in a cell

with somebody else. Yet, the information you gave me rings true. So,

my lord of Brenx, whose herald are you?”

Deep in thought Rullio walked slowly back to the group by the

road.

“Well, my little prince, not only have you grown more handsome,

but it seems you’ve grown more devious as well. I suppose it comes

with the territory. If it didn’t come already with the name of Tanahkos.

But your father couldn’t fool me and neither can you. Secret mission,

my balls. Something stinks. He is alive though, or I would be very much

mistaken. And if he is alive, I will find him.”

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A few servants stood talking in the hallway of the second floor

of the hostelry where the caravan had stopped for the night. Their

master, a rich merchant, occupied two rooms down the corridor.

Nobody could get near them without the servants noticing.

Just a few moments ago they had let a grave looking man pass

and now they heard some unintelligible noises come from one of the

rooms.

“You’re absolutely sure, Xirull?” Gerrubald, baron of Damydas

asked.

“Oh yes. Actually I asked him the same questions several times.

At first it seemed to me he caved in too easily. Then again, maybe we

overestimate the training methods of the Tribe of Mekthona. You can

rest assured he was a living letter. A dead letter now of course.”

Damydas smirked.

“I’m missing all the fun, it seems. So, you had it written down,

and three times it was the same?”

“Word for word. He even paused at the same places. That could

only happen if—”

“If he was repeating a memorized message. Yes. You’re also certain

the message said ‘As previously agreed we will meet you where the

Northern Highway crosses the road to Garstang at the place called

Elmshill.’ The word ‘previously’ being the most important here.”

“Positive.”

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The baron seemed to think for a while.

“It’s a trap,” he said, looking up. “It smells of one of Emelasuntha’s

double dealings.”

“That means she’s in the neighborhood.”

“Of course she’s in the neighborhood. She’s traveling with us,

Xirull.”

“What?”

“Don’t act so shocked. What did you think? That we were

invisible? The Tribe has spies everywhere. They must have smelled

something. I knew it from the moment that rumor began circulating

about an important messenger being sent out by a party or parties

unknown. If I were to hazard a guess, I would put my money on those

Avadesquan warrior women. It’s the perfect disguise for her.”

“The evil cunt.”

“Don’t speak about her like that, Xirull. She’s one of the very,

very few people I respect. She would make an invaluable ally if

circumstances didn’t prevent it. Now...”

He shrugged.

“So, that’s that,” Xirull said. “She dangled her lure in front of us,

but we aren’t biting.”

The baron looked at him and laughed.

“O yes, we are. We definitely are biting.”

“We are? Why?”

“Because this trap we know. If we don’t seem to be falling for

it, she’ll grow more and more impatient. The Amirathan border is,

what... five, six days away. That is for the caravan. On a fast horse it is

more like two, three days. She’s running out of time, Xirull, and that

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will make her desperate. Zardok may know what she will do next.”

“What
can
she do?”

“She’s not alone, you can count on that. So what if she decides

that it is necessary for the whole caravan to perish.”

“What, kill everybody?”

“Why not? It is one way of making sure that I won’t reach the

border. Don’t underestimate the woman. In her place, I would give it

serious consideration. The problem is that there are so many ways of

accomplishing that relatively modest goal, that it is difficult to guard

against it. This plan, on the other hand, we know. She thinks the lure

of her little cocksucker being out of his territory with a small retinue

will be irresistible to me. She’s right. It is.”

“Gerrubald, it’s a trap. You said so yourself.”

“Yes, but is it all a trap? Maybe, just maybe the part where she says

‘as previously agreed’ is true. Maybe they have planned a meeting.

Maybe she just used this meeting to try to ensnare me.”

Xirull looked skeptical and unhappy.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, ”but unlikely. Highly unlikely.”

“Granted. But staying with the caravan has become too dangerous.

We’re so close to the Marches that we might as well make a run for

it. Right over the border lies the marquesate of Brynmark where I

should be able to requisition a guard of about a hundred soldiers.

Two, three day later we’ll be in Lorseth where I’ll commandeer

the Army of the North, led by my good and somewhat simple, but

obedient friend Demrac. And that, Xirull, is in the worst case.”

The baron’s eyes glowed and he smiled broadly.

“Just imagine, if the little ass-fucker is really in Elmshill with,

oh let’s say, thirty men. I could eliminate him immediately. I don’t

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think he will have publicized his movements outside his territory, so

after his demise I could be on my merry way to Lorseth. Imagine my

surprise when it transpires the lord-governor who I came to assist is

nowhere to be found. Happily in my capacity as autarch I will be able

to prevent a lapse of royal authority.”

He laughed out loud.

“You could be right there,” Xirull mused. “There is bound to be

some kind of unrest, protest even, when it becomes known that we

have executed him. No matter what precautions we take or what

reasons we give. Nothing we couldn’t handle, but it would be so much

better if he were simply to disappear without us being implicated.”

The baron wasn’t listening anymore.

“Actually it’s a shame that he has to die. I would have liked to

sit with him, drinking a good glass of wine, and hear from his own

mouth what he has done with his older brother. See for myself what

the mixture of Tanahkos and Mekthona blood has produced. And then

fuck him blind of course. Oh well, there won’t be time for a cozy get-

together. I’ll have to content myself with screwing him before I break

his dainty little neck.”

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Once he had been certain Rullio was out of earshot, Anaxantis

had groaned and sunk down against a tree.

“It is all coming down around me. I’m lost. It just is too much. A

hundred thousand Mukthars... the Bloody Baron as autarch...”

Silently he counted his troops. Three thousand eight hundred and

fifty soldiers of the Ximerionian Army of the North. The Landemere

Contingent, if at full strength in time, would deliver three thousand

men. The mainstay of his forces were the Amirathan militia with its

projected seven thousand five hundred soldiers. He smiled bitterly

when he added the six hundred men of the Mirkadesh Guard. At last

there was his personal fast intervention force of about two hundred

and fifty Clansmen on horseback. Just shy of fifteen thousand men.

It had seemed so much. Compared to the small army he had

started out with. Compared to the ten thousand barbarians he had