The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (40 page)

In doing so I'm just sparing her pain and embarrassment.”

He closed the lid of the box and put it on the table.

“You, however, are in perfect health, with possibly many good years ahead of you. There is no… immediate necessity. I don't know if I can be part of this.”

Sir Threnn just stood there with a blank expression.

“Excuse me for a few moments, Sir Threnn,” Anaxantis said. “I just remembered something, and I must give instructions to the page before I forget again.”

He left the room. When he returned a few minutes later, Sir Threnn was still standing at the exact same spot.

“No. I'm sorry, Sir Threnn. I can't help you,” the prince said.

“I understand, My Lord,” the old man said. He bowed slightly. “I won't bother you any longer. Thank you… for your time.”

After he had gone Anaxantis took the little silver box from where he had left it on the table and opened it.

“Three pills left. I'd better order a new batch. I'm such a
hypocrite.”

33
The last guests who had stayed, left on the second of January. New

Year's Eve had been a modest affair, compared to the Midwinter Revels, more informal, almost friendly and cozy.

The warlord and his party were one of the very last to leave, and Parrimar Weckstall could almost feel a palpable quiet descend upon Landemere Castle when he saw the dragons disappear into the dense woods. The young duke and some of his friends remained. Since he was the duke, Parrimar reckoned he could make allowances. The lords were gone, but the steward calculated he would need at least two weeks to repair the damages and replenish the depleted supplies.

There was also a lot of cleaning and washing to be done.

The important thing was that he felt master of his castle again.

34
It was the evening of the day they had come back to Lorseth.

When Ehandar entered their apartments, he thought he was the first to arrive. Then he noticed the draft coming from the door to the balcony. It stood slightly ajar. Through the gap he could see Anaxantis looking southwards over the sea, the waning sun making his golden hair, softly waving in the wind, radiate with a subdued fire. He didn't look exactly worried, but rather concerned and absorbed in thoughts.

Ehandar didn't make a noise. He drank in the vision of his brother, who was wrapping himself loosely in his long mantle, leaving only vague contours of the soft, yet tough body. He couldn't help admiring the strong-featured, handsome face.

“He looks so alone, so lost. He has all these friends and still he is
lonely. Is there so much he can't, he dare not share?”

He closed the door, before opening it again, making sure it made a noise, so as not to startle him.

Anaxantis looked around.

“Oh, it's you," he said, and he smiled as his gray-blue eyes came to rest upon his brother.

For Ehandar, those few, simple words, the smile, and the caressing look contained a world of habitual nearness, familiarity, and intimacy.

They meant ‘I'm glad you're back.’ They meant ‘I've missed you.’ They meant ‘I love you.’ They made his heart sing.

He went over to him and wrapped Anaxantis's mantle tighter around him, then kissed him lightly on the lips.

“It's cold. If you insist on standing in the wind on the balcony, you should at least be dressed for it.”

“Oh, Ehandar love, don't fuss.”

34
It sounded dismissive in a routine way, but it was accompanied by

a contented grin.

Ehandar embraced him from behind and laid his chin upon his brother's shoulder, his hands resting upon Anaxantis's chest.

“Just so the wind doesn't blow you away,” he whispered.

“You're worried sick, aren't you? You'd never show it, but you're
afraid. Afraid for us and what the future may bring. You would like
to build a high, impregnable wall around us, around me, around
your friends, to keep us safe. You can't, and it worries you. What can
I do to help you? What can I do to make this easier for you? I wish I
knew. I wish you told me what you want me to do. I wish you told me
who you want me to be.”

“You seem preoccupied,” Ehandar said out loud, not really expecting an answer.

Anaxantis laid a hand over one of his.

“It's just that I can already hear the trumpets, calling us. I can already see the dragons dancing.”

“The dragons dancing?”

Anaxantis smiled.

“The dancing dragons. It must have started sometime during the campaign against the Bear Mukthars. Somebody, somewhere, noticed that it seemed as if the dragons were dancing when my standards fluttered in the wind. The image took hold and several wandering minstrels used it in their ballads. Silly, isn't it?”

“No, it isn't. It's rather beautiful.”

Anaxantis shivered.

34
“That's it,” Ehandar said softly, but in a voice that brooked no contradiction. ”We're going inside. We'll sit by the hearth and drink something warm.”

With a last apprehensive look at the sea, Anaxantis let himself be guided back inside.

Ehandar hadn't seen the four small dots that now disappeared completely beyond the horizon.

“I heard you broke up a fight between some pages,” Anaxantis said.

They were nursing a warm drink of wine mixed with rosebud herbal tea, sweetened with honey. Anaxantis sat in the big chair. Ehandar, on the rug before the fire, looked up at him.

“That? It was nothing. Hardly a fight. Just a hot-blooded disagreement between young guys.”

“What you call just a hot-blooded disagreement could easily have gotten out of hand, they tell me, and you prevented that from happening. More, such boyish trifles can lead to an ugly rivalry and even lifelong hate. They don't realize it, but it's only thanks to you that they're still friends.”

“It was nothing, I tell you.”

“On the contrary, you did them a great service, love, and one day they will see that.”

Ehandar smiled, almost timidly, and looked back into the fire.

“I wonder how I would have handled that situation when we first
came here. You have changed me. I don't know just how you did it,
but you did. Was it the harsh way you reacted to my cruelty that
made me realize how vulnerable we all are? How we should value
friendship and love, and how we should never trivialize it or take it
for granted? Or was it my love for you, your love for me? Maybe it is
34
because it is just us, here, far away from our family, far away from
the struggle for the Devil's Crown. Whatever it is, it feels as if you've
set me free from myself.”

Anaxantis looked down at his brother who was leaning on one hand, his legs pulled up.

“How is it that I could never see this when we first arrived here?

How kind you are, how vulnerable. And how naive and brave. What
have they done to us, my love, and what are we to do now? I have de-prived you of all your sturdy, heavy defenses, and frankly, they never
sat easy upon you. How can I restore you, without endangering
you?”

As usual Ehandar was the first to lie down on the soft mattress, while Anaxantis was still in the bathroom. When he came out of it, he walked over to the side of the large bed, dropped his mantle and fell naked into his lover's arms.

Ehandar felt, rather than saw, that Anaxantis's member was growing, and that his brother's hands were all over his body, finally coming to rest on his chest.

Anaxantis looked up, both naughtily and shyly, from under his blond hair in disarray and started playing with his brother's nipples.

Ehandar breathed heavily, and when he felt the fingers relent for a while, he started turning on his belly.

Anaxantis sat upright, on his knees, between his lover's legs, admiring Ehandar's smooth hairless back and the invitingly half-parted bottom.

“Open up for me, love,” he said, gulping, his voice moist, his head bowed down.

34
Ehandar knew what his lover wanted and slowly brought his arms

down behind him. With his strong fingers he parted his buttocks, burying his blushing face in the pillow.

“More,” Anaxantis whispered, his voice cracking.

Ehandar's long fingers made white imprints in his flesh as he parted his buttocks even further, not only baring his entrance, but forcing it open, gaping, with it's soft, shining flesh exposed.

Anaxantis watched, breathless.

“He still shaves there,”
he thought, feeling his lust climb, making him almost drunk with desire.

He leaned over and caressed his lover's long hair. Ehandar turned his head sideways, his eyes closed, his fingers cramping, feeling embarrassed to the core of his being.

“For you, little brother. Because I know you need this. Anybody
else, and…”

He didn't finish the thought, as Anaxantis leaned over him. It wasn't long before Ehandar felt the gland of his lover's member enter him. Leaning on one hand, his brother brushed against his arm with the other, indicating wordlessly that he wanted him to release his buttocks. Ehandar obeyed the unspoken command and brought his arms upwards, his hands balled into fists beside his head.

Anaxantis pressed his knees against the outside of his lover's legs, gently nudging them to close. Ehandar obediently put his legs together, and only then his brother lowered himself further. He felt the familiar, sharp pain as Anaxantis's member entered him, deeper and deeper. He held his breath, and when he thought he was enclosing as much of his lover's shaft as was possible, he let out a long sigh.

He felt Anaxantis shift position. The instep of his feet pressed on Ehandar's sole, forcing them into the mattress, while he put his hands 34
on his brother's wrists, as if violently but needlessly restraining him.

He laid himself completely on his lover, no part of his body touching the bed anymore. He became almost wild with passion as he saw Ehandar open his fists and spread out his elegant fingers, in complete submission, one hand beside the handsome face.

An unstoppable urge overtook him. The need to make this beautiful body completely his, to possess it, to master and subdue it. To make it writhe helplessly and then submit in absolute abandon. He started moving up and down, sweating and breathing heavily, keeping Ehandar's wrists in place, and exulting even in the feeling of his feet dominating his brother's. He rammed himself inside, in an effort to reach always deeper and deeper. His pelvis made slapping sounds against his lover's buttocks, and both the sound of the punishing noise and the sight of the patiently enduring, twisting body beneath him drove him over the edge. He noticed the slight curl on Ehandar's lips, indicating he was in discomfort. But he wasn't complaining, and anyhow, it was too late. He couldn't stop himself anymore and he kept thrusting, harder and harder, until finally release came, jubilantly and triumphantly.

Exhausted, he withdrew and lowered himself upon Ehandar's back, hot, wet, and heavily panting.

Immediately remorse engulfed him.

“Oh, love, I'm sorry. I hurt you. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, so sorry…”

It ended in a miserable whimper.

Ehandar turned around under him and took him in his arms.

“No, no. It wasn't pain you saw. It was just the price I have to pay for what I want: to feel you inside me. I love you. You couldn't hurt me if you wanted to.”

“And I swore I would feed your monsters.”