The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (61 page)

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“We’re but a few miles from Elmshill,” the baron said to four of his

men. “Ride up until the road to Garstang, then turn left. From then on

stay as much as possible undercover. If Emelasuntha’s brood is there

he will have posted guards. Be very careful and don’t let them see

you. I just want to know if they’re there, how many there are of them

approximately and if there is a blond young man with them.”

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Grunwell had posted guards all around the main hill and near the

road to Garstang. To the north were fields that offered no cover, and to

the east, in the direction of where the Highway ran were woodlands

that were difficult to cross on foot and as good as impossible to

manage on horseback.

Grunwell had done his best, but it was a mistake of course. He

had too few men for such an extensive operation, and with that many

sentry posts he fragmented what little forces he had over a far too

large terrain.

“Grunwell,” Eymar said, returning from a survey of the eastern

side of the terrain, “there’s something I think you should see with

your own eyes.”

“Very well,” Grunwell answered, standing up from his place near

a smokeless fire on the inner court. “Your highness, you’d probably

better accompany us, if you please.”

Jerruth stood up as well and grabbed his sword. Although there

seemed to be little or no tension left between the two men, he felt

jittery nonetheless. Eymar didn’t look at him.

They descended the hill.

“There, at our right is the most eastward of the three little hills,”

Eymar said. “The terrain is fairly even from here up to the road. On

our right are woodlands that seem impenetrable. They are for the

most part. It’s mostly brushwood, thicket and undergrowth, but look

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closely there.”

Both Grunwell and Jerruth looked in the direction he pointed

out. They saw nothing out of the ordinary, except what seemed to

them like a solid wall of trees and underbrush.

“Come,” Eymar said, walking up to the woodlands.

He stepped behind a man high bush, made a turn around another

one and suddenly they saw a path, broad enough for a man on

horseback.

“It’s invisible from the outside. How did you find it?” Grunwell

asked.

“I’d like to say by being thorough, but actually it was sheer

coincidence. I had to relieve myself.”

“All the same, excellent work, Eymar,” Grunwell said. “Do you

know where it leads to?”

“I followed it all the way. It leads to the Garstang road, not a

hundred yards from the crossroad with the Highway. On that end it

is inconspicuous as well.”

Grunwell stood motionless for a few minutes, thinking.

“This could work both ways,” he said after while. “If the Black

Shields should somehow know about this road they could have

surprised us, if not for you. On the other hand, if they don’t, it can be

an escape route. In ideal circumstances we should post men at both

ends, but I can’t spare them. I’ll give you one man. Can he keep an eye

on the road without being seen from the other end?”

“Yes. Another thing. A few yards further down the path is an open

space. We could keep a few horses there in case we have to retreat

unexpectedly. At least a few men could make their escape and warn

her majesty.”

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“Very good, Eymar.” Grunwell smiled, “I like your way of thinking.

See to it. I’ll send Brunnac over with three of the horses to hide here.

Then try to keep an eye on the road from the other end.”

Eymar nodded, still ignoring the boy.

Jerruth and Grunwell went back up the main hill.

“Your highness, by the least sign of something happening that

seems as if we can’t manage it, I want you to run down the hill, grab a

horse and escape by the hidden path,” Grunwell said, just when they

were passing a patch of trees. “Ride in the direction of Garstang. It’s

not a big town, but I’m sure you’ll find a good hiding place there. Wait

at least several days before you make your next move. I promised the

baroness I would look out for you, and I’m sure your mother would

want you to be safe as well.”

“Oh, you know, I don’t think mother cares that much about what

happens to me, as long as I’m not in the way of whatever her plans

are,” Jerruth replied, thinking Grunwell was talking about his real

mother.

The muscular Tribesman noticed that he had been misunderstood,

but let it pass.

“You’re sure?” Damydas asked for the second time. “A blond boy,

about seventeen?”

“Yes, captain,” one of the scouts said. “He looked a bit younger

though.”

“That could very well be because he’s Emelasuntha’s son,”
the

baron thought.
“The Mekthonas seem to have the secret of eternal

youth.”

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“Repeat what he said.”

“He said, ‘I don’t think mother cares that much about what

happens to me, as long as I’m not in the way of whatever her plans

are.’ That were his exact words.”

“That could fit as well. The boy is obviously a realist. He knows his

mother is ruthless.”

“It could be him,” Damydas said to his sergeant.

“Maybe,” Xirull said, not entirely convinced. “We should be very,

very careful. It could still be a trap.”

“Yes, that could very well be the case. But so what? As long as

our men can keep Emelasuntha at bay, I don’t see a problem. There’s

only about twenty of them our scouts said, and they’re under

inexperienced leadership. The little cocksucker has tried to secure a

much too large perimeter. He has spread out his men in little groups

of two and three in all directions.”

He rubbed his hands and grinned.

“We’ll take them out one by one,” he continued. “And then, your

highness, you and I are going to have some fun together.”

“I don’t know, Gerrubald. Does this sound as the lord governor

who created an army out of nothing?” Xirull sounded worried.

“It only means he was smart enough to surround himself with

good advisors. He wouldn’t be the first talentless royal brat who put

someone else’s feathers in his cap.”

“That’s true. Yet...”

“Oh, Xirull, you’re such a pessimist. What can happen? At the very

most we will have made a mistake. And again I ask: so what? We’re

in spitting distance from the province of Amiratha, where I gain my

full authority as autarch. Only a few hours on horseback from the

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marquessate of Brynmark. We can easily fall back on our old plan.”

“Also true...”

“You see?” Damydas laughed. “We’ve got all the trump cards.”

“Let me see that arm,” Emelasuntha said.

“It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound. Seems worse than it is really.”

They were sitting on the side of the road. The two groups had

disengaged spontaneously. Eyeballing each other they took care of

their wounded and dead. The Tribe had a slight advantage, having

managed to kill, or mortally wound, eleven of the Black Shields. They

themselves had lost eight men, but a lot of them had minor injuries.

Still, the remaining thirty or so Black Shields refused to give quarter.

Emelasuntha made a tear in her tunic with her knife and tore off

a long strip of cloth from it.

“Give me that arm,” she said.

“We’re getting old, dear. Damydas was not totally wrong.” She

pointed at her ax. “I could swear that thing has grown heavier.”

“You can still swing it like the best, though,” the queen grinned. “I

love it when I see the stupefied look on their faces when they realize

that it was not them, but their horse you were aiming at, you know,

just before they go down.”

The baroness laughed.

“Or the indignant faces of those strapping men, when they see it

was you, a woman, who gutted them. ‘Not fair’, they seem to say.”

The queen tied the bandage around Sobrathi’s arm with a knot.

“No too tight, dear?”

“Perfect, thank you. But we can’t be sitting around here and keep

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gossiping the whole day. We must break through. Poor Jerruth...”

“Jerruth has twenty men to protect him, among which Grunwell.

I’ve seen him look at Jerruth. Believe me, he will give his life for him.

They should be able to at least hold out until we arrive to weigh upon

the scales. A few minutes more rest and then we’ll go at it again. This

time we’ll break through.”

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“You seem worried, Anaxantis,” Lethoras, riding beside him, said.

“Why? Everything is going fine. We passed Fior-Dryff. We’ve asked

and asked, but nobody saw the caravan pass or had any news about

it. Another hour or two and we’ll be at the border. We’ll intercept it

outside Amiratha, just like you wanted.”

“I know,” Anaxantis said. “I don’t know why, but I keep wanting

to ride faster.”

“We could, but it would exhaust the animals. The weather is fine,

the Highway is well maintained, and riding at a rapid walk, but not

quite a trot, doesn’t tire the horses too much. We’ll arrive in time and

in good condition.”

“You’re right, of course,” Anaxantis replied.

“Really? I had no idea,” Rodomesh said.

“Neither did I,” Timishi replied. “But there you are. He didn’t

want to go into details, but I’m almost certain, once the quedash is

dead, Anashantish will find himself involved in a struggle upon life

or death for the throne. I wouldn’t be surprised if he or one of his

brothers doesn’t even wait for the quedash to die.”

Rodomesh looked with open mouth at his prince.

“You mean... That is so... so impressive. It’s right out of the legends,

that’s what it is.”

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Timishi laughed.

“I thought so as well. Think, rouwin. It could very well be that

we are taking part in his first move to secure the succession. If he

manages to capture or kill whoever his father sent against him, that

will be a clear message to the quedash. ‘The north is mine, and woe

the man who dares touch it.’ What is more, if I remember correctly

what my teacher said, the Ximerionians are threatened at their

southern border by a mighty nation. In that case, chances are the

quedash won’t have the means to dislodge Anashantish from this

province. Which is exactly what we want.”

“No, rouwin, what we want is for him to take it a step further.”

“Yes, that is correct. But let’s try to solve one problem at a time,

shall we? First let’s make sure that he stays alive. Then we can try to

persuade him and maybe come to an understanding.”

They remained silent for a while, taking in the strange landscape

that no Mukthar before them had ever laid eyes upon.

“We’re betting an awful lot on him,” Rodomesh said.

“Yes, Rodo, we are. We are indeed.”

“OK, people, gather around,” Damydas called to his men.

Twenty Black Shields stood in a large half-circle, facing a rough

plan one of the scouts had drawn in the sand.