The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (35 page)

“So, what did you learn?”

“About you? That you can look out for yourself, and that you look out for your friends. I like that in a man.”

Lorcko blushed and looked from under his eyelashes at the Mukthar who was studying him unabashedly.

When he stood up Timishi walked over to him, put his arms around him and slid his hands in the backside of his pants and underpants. Lorcko shivered as he felt the Mukthar's hands caressing his buttocks.

“Timishi,” Lorcko said shivering, “I've not been very lucky lately in—”

“Just tell me to stop and I will, Lorsho” the Mukthar said.

The hands r

“I didn't tell you to stop,” the young page whispered, pressing himself closer.

“You smell nice,” Timishi said.

“Lilacs. My hair,” Lorcko mumbled softly. “You smell wild. Of forests.”

Timishi smiled.

“Maybe that is because I lived in one for a long time.”

“Yeah, right,” Lorcko replied, smiling back in unbelief. “Listen, Timishi, I don't want—”

At that moment the door opened and Rodomesh came in. Timishi let go of Lorcko and his friend feigned to not have noticed anything amiss.

“There's some high strung guy here who wants to speak to Lorsho,” he said.

Obyann entered the room.

“Iramid, his highness — good morning, your highness, you too Iramid — his highness, his other highness, well,
our
highness wants to speak to you. You're to come with me immediately. The Gods may know why he wants to speak to you, but he does.”

“Ha, Lorcko,” Anaxantis said when the page had entered the war room. “The head pages have told me of your little arrangement with our Mukthar friends.”

Lorcko was about to say something, but the prince raised his hand.

“It's all right, Lorcko. I don't mind. In fact it's useful. I have very good reasons to think that the Mukthars, the ones that are not our friends, have entered the Plains. Consequently the army will march on Dermolhea this afternoon. We're taking the prince and his friends with us as far as the base camp there. I want you to act as liaison and in general see to their needs and well being. Am I correct in supposing that you have formed some bond with them?”

Anaxantis looked explicitly at his dagger.

“We seem to get along fine, my lord,” Lorcko said, only slightly flushing as he remembered Timishi's embrace. “The enemy has really invaded the Renuvian Plains?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“That's it then.”

It seemed to Anaxantis Lorcko had become a bit paler.

“You pages will be far behind the lines, though,” he said. “Listen, I know the locals have sort of adopted these Mukthars, but once they learn that war is imminent that might change from one moment to the other.

They're to stay inside until we leave, and they — and you — will ride between my Clansmen. Please, explain to them it's for their own protection. As soon as possible I will have a word with Timishi myself. Think you're up to it?”

“Of course, my lord,” Lorcko said. “And thank you. I didn't think that after how my father behaved at the banquet you would trust an Iramid for such a delicate task.”

Anaxantis shrugged.

“Sons are not their fathers. Believe me, I know.” he said, and he have Lorcko a lopsided smile.

The Great Hall was buzzing with the noise of officers, standing in groups, talking amongst themselves when Anaxantis entered it. Several pages lined the walls.

wallsjust tDemrac Tarngord, his aide de camp, and his generals formed by far the largest group. The old commander nervously checked if the parchment was still safely in place under his tunic.

“
In half an hour it will be over. I don't particularly like doing this to you, boy, but I'm under strict orders
from your father.”

“Are the men in place?” he asked.

“Yes commander,” Nurri, his aide de camp answered. “three hundred men are waiting, just outside the castle gates. Out of view. They can be here in minutes.”

The commander nodded.

“
Just comply, boy. Give in. Spare me the embarrassment of having to arrest you.”

At about the same time three hundred Clansmen entered the castle. The captain commanding Tarngord's soldiers let them pass. He had received no instructions for this particular contingency.

Fifty of them entered the Great Hall and took up positions against the walls between the pages who looked surprised at their sudden arrival. The attendant officers saw them entering with a mixture of amazement and worry on their faces.

The old commander looked at his aide de camp, who shrugged. Then they heard a noise outside.

“Go look, Nurri,” the commander ordered. “That sounded as if the gates were being closed.”

The aide camp returned within minutes.

“You were right, commander,” he said, alarmed. “They have closed the gates. The inner court is teeming with the prince's personal troops.”

Demrac Tarngord cursed under his breath.

Anaxantis went over to the head of a large table that had been set up in the middle of the hall. There were no chairs. His closest collaborators stood to the left and right. On his sign the attendant officers thronged around the table, as near to where the prince stood as they could. As the senior officer, Demrac Tarngord, commander of the Army of the North, stood to the right of the head of the table.

The prince unfolded a map.

“Gentlemen, welcome. I'll keep this short. We have reason to believe that the Mukthars are on the move. I think they have as yet to cross the river Mirax. However, we can't afford to lose time. Consequently, we will depart today from Lorseth with all available forces. We will head for the base camp in Dermolhea, where we will join the rest of the army.

“Last time the Mukthars attacked they numbered an estimated ten thousand men, give or take a few thousand.

We can't be too sure. The Amirathan Militia is not yet at full strength, but some six thousand men are battle ready. Add to that the Landemere Contingent of about three thousand men, the Ximerionian Army of the North of nearly four thousand men and another thousand men of the Mirkadesh Guard and my personal soldiers and we should be in fair condition to face the enemy with at least some degree of confidence.

“We won't wait for them on our own territory. We will advance the army into the Renuvian Plains. We will take up a position, roughly in front of the city of Dermolhea, where I hope to stop and repulse them.”

He indicated a red rectangle on the map.

“Two units of about thousand men will serve as vanguard at the indicated positions. Wherever the Mukthars cross the Mirax, the main force can rever thce nd ach in a short time, while the vanguard wards them off.”

He looked up.

“No,” Demrac Tarngord said. “The army will draw back in the hills on the second line of defense. We can hold out there forever. A battle is too risky.”

“You would leave half of the Northern Marches open to the barbarian hordes? Mirkadesh, Dermolhea, Ghiasht... All those people? You realize what happened last time?”

“I do, your highness,” Tarngord replied, “but it's just sound strategy. We sacrifice a little part to safeguard the whole of the country. Besides we know they won't stay—”

“Go to Murokthil, Tarngord,” Anaxantis said harshly, looking him straight in the eyes. “We're marching this afternoon.”

The old commander seemed to grow a few inches as he took a parchment out of his tunic and held it high in the air.

“I have here a charter,” he intoned, “issued, signed and sealed by his Glorious Majesty, Tenaxos I, the high king himself — your father — that gives me supreme command over the army.”

He looked around the table.

“We are not moving into the Plains,” he shouted.

Anaxantis leaned with his left fist on the table, head hung down, so that his long, golden hair covered his face. He extended his right arm in the direction of the commander, his hand open, fingers spread.

“Let me read that document.”

Tarngord hesitated.

“I assure your highness that—”

“Give me the damn charter,” Anaxantis roared, his head still down.

The commander tendered it in his direction, and the prince snatched it out of his hands. He scanned the parchment and gave it back.

“You're right. This charter gives you supreme command, superseding my authority, over the army. Leave my Council and keep yourself at my disposition. You're to stay within the castle walls.”

The commander stood for a moment, confused and speechless, with the parchment held fast in his hands.

“What do you mean, leave your Council? This Council is over. Over and done with. This charter makes me the head of the army instead of the lord governor. This charter—”

“This charter gives you authority over the army,” Anaxantis interrupted the commander. “The Ximerionian army. I will face the Mukthars with the Amirathan Militia and the Landemere Contingent. Your authority may supersede that of the lord governor. It doesn't supersede that of the warlord of Amiratha and Mirkadesh.

Leave this hall.”

“
What?”

“You heard me. Your presence here is neither necessary nor welcome. Leave.”

With a look as if he had just been hit by a wet towel in the face, the commander turned around to his officers who weren't too sure what to do. He turned back to the prince.

“Oh, commander,” Anaxantis said slowly. “Make no mistake who will be arresting who here. Look around.

These are my men. A few hundred more are on the inner court. The gates are closed.”

Tarngord knew he had lost control over the situation, but he wasn't about to give uptrol oo g"8p just yet.

“You're going against the wishes of your father, the high king. You're going against the spirit of this charter,”

he bit angrily at the prince.

“What are you talking about,” Anaxantis said calmly, raising his eyebrows. “Surely, the high king — my father — would have made his lord governor, his son, part of his plans... if he had any particular plans. Don't you think so? As for the charter. It has no so called spirit. It has only words. The words give you supreme command over a limited number of men.”

“You're not taking the Landemere Contingent,” the commander spurted petulantly. “You have no authority over them. You're not warlord of Landemere as far as I—”

“Yes, he is,” a voice from behind him said.

The commander turned around, as if bitten by a snake.

“Who are you, boy?” he snarled irritated.

Arranulf took a few steps forward, his head fiery red.

“I am Arranulf, fourteenth of that name, duke of Landemere. Since I am in no position to defend my duchy myself, and the enemy will be standing at our borders within days, and the Ximerionian army is about to desert us and renege on its duty, I have no other choice than to ask the regent to take the defense of my duchy upon himself.”

He had to take a deep breath. His right eye glimmered for just a few seconds.

“If he accepts,” Arranulf continued, “I hereby appoint his highness warlord of Landemere.”

“Oh, come on,” Tarngord's exclaimed, exasperated.

“I accept, your grace,” Anaxantis said, smiling thinly. “It seems I will be taking the Landemere Contingent after all,” he added, turning to the commander.

“
Tenax, what do I do now? You didn't prepare me for this, old friend. You didn't prepare me for that
slippery, poisonous adder, that son of yours,”
the old commander thought in despair.

“Now. For the last time. Leave,” Anaxantis said.

“You don't know what you're doing. Men far more wiser and more experienced than you have decided upon a prudent strategy. You will bring ruin to the kingdom,” the commander pleaded in a peevish tone.

Before anyone could prevent him from doing so, Anaxantis had shoved Hemarchidas aside and rounded the corner of the table. Grabbing the commander's tunic with both his hands, he shook the older man back and forth.

“I've had about enough of you. I am bringing the kingdom to ruin, am I?” he roared, out of control. “What about you, you old, cowardly fool? Men wiser and more experienced than me have decided that tens of thousands of men, women and children should be maimed, murdered and raped, have they? That Dermolhea and Ghiasht should go up in flames? That crops will be ruined so that the survivors will face a hunger winter? I won't stand for it. Who do you think you have before you? The count of Whingomar?”

“Your highness forgets himself,” Tarngord protested weakly.

“I? I forget myself? I put it to you commander, that it is you who forget yourself. Yourself and your honor.

From the first day we arrived here you have put a damper on all efforts to bring the Northern Marches up to par to defend themselves. You never meant to fight. You will leave my Council of war this instant, ofight.nsternr I'll have you dragged out by your feet and incarcerated for gross insubordination.”

Hemarchidas took his friend by the shoulder.

“Anaxantis,” he whispered in his ear, “calm down, please.”

Panting the prince let go of the general's tunic.

“I think it would be best if you left now, general,” Hemarchidas said, on a tone dry as dust.