The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (67 page)

eyes never leaving the baron.

Damydas was a formidable swordsman, but against eight

assailants his prowess was to no avail. When two swords

simultaneously landed on his, near the hilt, he had to let go of his

weapon. In a fraction of seconds, Clansmen grabbed both his arms

and held him immobilized.

Damydas looked shiftily around and tried to pull himself free,

but he soon gave up.

“You don’t understand, your highness,” he said. “We must talk.

Yes, yes. We must have a long heart to heart. You and I. I’ve, for some

while now, admired how you rallied the Northern Marshes. Very

impressive. Your father has become weak. Indecisive. Your older half

brothers... they’re of no account. But you, you... Listen, I know all the

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ins and outs of this kingdom. You need me. I’ve been a captain of the

Black Shields for more years than you’ve been alive. You’re in danger.

Yes, yes. That’s it. Believe me. Great danger. Your father knows that

you can supplant him. Will supplant him. Don’t you see? That’s why

he sent me. He sent me to kill you. Your own father. Because he fears

you.”

He paused to see what impression his improvised speech had

made upon the prince. He could read nothing from Anaxantis’s face

that looked as if it was hewn out of marble, but the baron thought he

was listening.

“I know that you are far better for the kingdom than he ever was,”

he continued desperately. “And I can help you. I have contacts. You

wouldn’t believe how far my nets are cast. I can help you solve the

Mukthar problem, and then we’ll march upon Ormidon. The whole

kingdom will flock to your standard. I promise. The old nobility is of

no account. I have something on almost all of them. You’ll see. Within

four months you’ll mount the throne. Unopposed.”

He knew he had played his trump card and know waited for it’s

effects. He righted himself.

“All hail his Glorious Majesty, Anaxantis I, High King of Ximerion,

Arch Duke of Tanahkos, Overlord of the Ronicerian Isles,” he shouted,

hoping the men would take over the cry.

It sounded pathetic, and all remained dead silent.

“I have no desire to succeed my father. Yet. Besides, do you think

I’m soft in the head? You’re a traitor. You can’t be trusted. You’ve

betrayed your country. You’re prepared to betray your king. Your

friend. And you want me to trust you?” He turned to one of the

Clansmen. “Fetch some rope to hang that swine.”

The baron understood that it had been no use. Suddenly he saw

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that there had been no advisors. It had all been him. Landemere, his

half brother, the army. It had all been this... this boy. This boy who

now, so casually, so self assured, so certain of his authority had given

the order to hang him. The baron had tried to convince Tenaxos that

his son was dangerous, all the while thinking that he was merely

surrounded by good counselors and able generals. A mistake. A fatal

mistake.

“No,” the baron said. All authority had vanished from his voice.

“No, don’t do this. You don’t understand. There is another danger, a

far greater danger than your father or your brothers. And only I can

help you.”

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They had found the path only because they knew it had to be

there. It was just broad enough for Emelasuntha and her men to ride

in a single file. When they reached the other end she stopped.

“You stay here with the men,” she said to Sobrathi. “I will go an

check out the place.”

“Oh, did you see that cow flying by?” the baroness asked.

“Huh?”

“No? Well, neither did I. You’ll sooner see that happening than

me letting you go on your own. What’s more, we’ll take at least two

men with us.”

“I want to be inconspicuous, you... you...”

“Easy on the swear words, dear.”

“Oh, all right. You’re lucky we haven’t got the time—”

“Yes, lucky is my middle name. Now, let’s go.”

The baroness turned to the men, chose two, and ordered the rest

to stay put until they returned.

After they had passed the most eastern of the little hills, they

heard the noise of fighting going on in a patch of wood at the foot of

the main one. Crouching low they crossed the open terrain. As soon

as they had reached the trees they fell down on the ground. Nothing

moved and after a few minutes Emelasuntha began cautiously

crawling forward, followed by the baroness and the two Tribesmen.

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When she stopped, the baroness crept beside her.

“Here?” she whispered. “You had to stop here? In the muddiest

place?”

“Shh,” the queen hissed back. “Look there, it’s Anaxantis and

his men. They’ve got Damydas. Oh, Great Goddess, look how he has

grown. And his hair. He used to wear it short. Just look at him... Look

how magnificent my son looks. Come, we’re going to him and—”

She was just trying to get up, when she felt a heavy weight upon

her back and a forceful hand pushing her face in the mud.

“We’re doing no such thing, dear,” the baroness whispered in her

ear. “Are you going to remain quiet if I let your head go?”

Emelasuntha murmured something affirmative. Sobrathi

removed her hand from the queen’s head.

“Have you gone crazy, woman?” Emelasuntha whispered

furiously, her face covered in mud. “What’s the meaning of this. And

get of my back, you fa—”

“Easy, easy on the swear words, dear,” the baroness whispered

quietly back. “Just remember I’m sitting on your spine. You need that

thing.”

“What’s gotten into you? I just want to go to my son. Help him.

Damn you, I haven’t seen him for almost a year. I just want—”

“I know what you want, dear, and I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you

to turn my godson into a second Kurtigaill.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Anaxantis has to do this himself. All by himself.

All of it. You can’t be near him now. You would just take over. Take

everything out of his hands. I know you. And maybe, just maybe he

would let you. I can’t take that risk.”

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“That’s ridiculous. I would not. And what do you mean ‘a second

Kurtigaill’?”

“I was there, dear, remember? I saw what happened. You didn’t

even let him decide what socks to wear. You never let him make one

decision on his own.”

“He had no experience.”

“And you never gave him a chance to gain any. You did it for him.

You treated him as a messenger. As your mouthpiece. Your front.

Then you dumped a crown upon his head and left him to his own

devices. You even expected it to turn out well, I suppose.”

Emelasuntha remained silent for a while.

“I didn’t,” she said. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course, you didn’t mean to, dear. Even so...”

“Al right, all right, we’ll stay here. Just get off of me.”

“I don’t think so, dear. I’m sitting quite comfortable as it is, thank

you very much.”

The queen didn’t resist anymore. With one finger she smeared

mud over two vertical stripes, where tears had run, on her face and

looked at her son. She knew that for the time being, this was the

nearest she would get to him.

Xirull and his men had reached the crossing. Instead of taking

the road to Garstang he rode on northwards. After several miles the

woods to his left turned to more open land. He left the road. There was

only a narrow moat to cross at this point of the Northern Highway.

He ordered his men to take cover, while he himself proceeded on

foot, back southwards, keeping to the side of the trees.

He reached the back of the biggest hill unseen and cautiously

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climbed it. He was a bit wary that enemies might be hiding in the

ruins, but his suspicions proved unwarranted.

When he heard fighting going on between the trees at the foot of

the other side of the hill, he took the enormous risk of descending

it. His luck held out. Once he had reached the trees he slowed down.

Moving from tree to tree he proceeded as silently as he could. When

he heard voices, he crouched down and scurried from bush to bush

until he could see the massive back of the baron. His arms were

stretched out, held fast by two men on either side. He saw the Black

Shields lying dead on the ground and the prince with dozens of men.

“What has happened? Our scouts said there were only some twenty

men with him. Have more arrived in the meantime? And where is that

witch with her warriors?”

There was of course nothing he could do to save his captain. Not

that he had ever intended to.

The baron spoke fast. He knew there wasn’t much time left.

“Hear me out, your highness, there is a great danger you are

unaware of...”

He momentarily stopped when he saw a Clansman throw a rope

over a low hanging branch of a nearby tree. The men that were

holding him pushed him under it. A noose was pulled roughly over

his head.

“Stop, stop, you don’t know what you’re doing,” he yelled, panic

now clearly dominant in his voice. “Listen to me. The Mukthars have

this thing, this understanding, called the Oath of Sherashty. Even if

you manage to defeat them, the danger won’t be over. On the contrary,

it will only have grown worse. There’s more than one tribe. Defeat

one, and the others will fall upon you in numbers undreamed of. A

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hundred thousand. At least... They’ve sworn it. All the tribes. I can

prevent that. I can help.”

“I don’t want your help, traitor. I don’t need your help,” Anaxantis

said unperturbed. “Let them come with two hundred thousand. I

don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”

At that moment, Timishi and Rodomesh, who had been hidden

from the baron’s view by the Clansmen, came forward.

“Damydash, Damydash,” Timishi grinned, “what are you doing?

From what I’ve heard about you, I would have thought you were a

smarter man. Why are you trying to scare my good friend Anashantish

with this old wives’s tale?”

He paused.

“Everybody knows that the Oath of Sherashty is just a myth.”