The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (23 page)

“You could have drowned. What would have become of all your

grandiose plans to stop the Mukthars? Don’t you realize that without

you everything falls to pieces? You risked the lives of thousands of

people for one little boy.”

“I’m sorry.” Anaxantis coughed. “I seem to lose my ability to count

when I see a little boy drowning.”

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“Damn you. Look at the state of you. You’re drenched. Didn’t you

know that the water was freezing? And wet? What are we to do? We

must get you out of these sopping clothes. You’ll catch something—”

“Is the boy all right?”

“He’s fine. They’re both fine, him and his loser dog.”

A woman could be heard calling.

“Morry, Morry, where are you? Time to come home. Morry.

Morry.”

“Here, mom,” the boy shouted in a shrill voice.

Moments later a women in her mid to late twenties appeared.

She took in the scene.

“Ruff got in the water, mom, and then he couldn’t get out, and

then I thought he was going to drown and then I wanted to get him

out and then the water knocked me over and then I couldn’t get up

and then I thought I was going to drown and then he came and got

me out and then Ruff was already out of the river and then… don’t be

mad, mom…” he rattled, before the woman could ask anything.

The woman knelt down beside him and took him in her arms,

feeling him all over as if to check that all of him was really there.

“Come, you must get out of these wet things before you catch

something,” she said, almost choking.

“So does my friend,” Hemarchidas said.

“Yes, of course. Can he walk? Oh, and I haven’t even thanked him

for saving my boy. Come. It’s not far. I’ve got a good fire going and

some hot chicken soup. That will put some life back in you boys.”

After a walk of not more than five minutes they reached a small,

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well kept farm.

“Come, my boy,” she said to Anaxantis, “you can get out of these

wet things in our bedroom. I know how shy boys of your age are.

I’ll give you a sheet you can wrap yourself in, while I try to dry your

clothes by the fire.”

As an afterthought, she turned to her son and said. “And you, you

can get out of your clothes in the room and go stand by the fire. I’ll

bring something to cover yourself with when I return. That is, if I feel

like it.”

“Aww, mom,” Morry protested. “There’s people here.” He indicated

Hemarchidas with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, well, tell it to someone who cares,” his mother said.

“Oh, he needn’t worry about me,” Hemarchidas said. “It’ll take

ages for these to dry. Give me your key, Anaxantis. We’re not that far

from home. I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

“I only keep my training uniforms downstairs,” Anaxantis said

hesitantly. “but they’re being cleaned at the moment. And some

formal things.”

“So, what? They’re dry, aren’t they? Just tell me I can leave you

here for an hour without you trying to jump into a well or running

into a house that is on fire to save a kitten.”

Anaxantis grinned and produced a key out of his pouch. Morry’s

mother had looked on with amusement.

“He would, you know,” Hemarchidas said to her. “Believe me, he

would.”

“Yeah, all right. Leave the barking to Ruff already.” Anaxantis

laughed.

After Hemarchidas left, he was shown into the bedroom and

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the woman gave him what was evidently her best sheet. She took a

second, smaller one for Morry.

“I’ll leave you to it then. When you’re decent, come sit by the fire

and I’ll give you some good, hot soup.”

“Thank you, eh—”

“You can call me Corvina. And you are?”

“Anaxantis, but you can call me Anack.”

The woman looked at him as if there was something she ought

to remember, but just couldn’t. After she left, Anaxantis got out of

his wet things and draped the blanket around him. He came out of

the bedroom, feeling a bit self conscious. Morry already sat by the

fire, and an empty stool was waiting for him. The boy patted it and

motioned him to come sit.

“Your friend called you Anaxantis,” Morry said. “You have the

same name as the warlord.”

“Ah, yes,” Corvina said, while she handed him a bowl with piping

hot soup and a wooden spoon, “I thought there was something

familiar about your name, and it’s not that common a name.”

“He has the same name, but he looks nothing like him, mom,”

Morry stated.

“I don’t?” Anaxantis asked.

“No, silly. The warlord is a big, strong man who can kill five men

with one blow of his sword.”

“He can?”

Morry nodded.

“One of my friend’s dad has seen him, and the warlord couldn’t

stand upright in this room. He’s that big, he is. You couldn’t even lift

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his sword, it’s that heavy.”

“I couldn’t?”

“No. It’s much too heavy for you. Too big, as well. He’s going to

kill all the Mukatha—, all the Mukanta—”

“Mukthars.”

Morry nodded.

“All of them. He and his army. And they’ll never dare come back.”

“No, not if they’re all dead, they won’t.”

“Pitrull’s dad says that it won’t go like it did twelve years ago. I

wasn’t even born then, but he says there were so many of them you

couldn’t count them.”

“You couldn’t?”

“No, there aren’t enough numbers to count them. And they’re

very strong. And ugly.” He paused. Then he whispered “And they

stink. Of dead things.”

“They seem very frightening,” Anaxantis said, blowing in his

soup.

“But you don’t need to be afraid anymore. The Warlord will get

them. Get them good. He has this enormous, gigantic horse, like

bigger than…”

Morry didn’t seem to find anything to compare the animal to.

“It’s big. Really big. He’ll ride up to them long before they get here

and chop off the heads of all the Muratha—, Maruka—”

“Mukthars.”

“Right. Them. Chop, chop, chop.”

“Stop killing barbarians under my roof, Morry. Eat your soup and

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let Anack eat his in peace. Some good chickens gave their life to make

that soup.”

Corvina pulled up a chair and sat down. She smiled when she

saw them spooning up her chicken soup.

“Nothing like growing boys to appreciate your cooking, I always

say. There’s more where that came from, Anack. Just say the word.

Oh, and I still haven’t properly thanked you for saving that stupid

son of mine. And neither has he, I bet. Have you, Morry? Have you

thanked Anack for getting you out of the water and for not letting

you drown, as he should have?”

Morry shrank a few inches and suddenly found something very

interesting at the bottom of his bowl.

“Thank you, Anack,” he intoned softly and morosely, “for getting

me out of the water and for not letting me drown as you should

have.”

Anaxantis laughed out loud.

“You’re welcome, Morry. I’m sure you would have done the same

for me.”

“I swear you boys are born without a brain,” Corvina said. “You

only grow one later in life, and not a big one at that. Why that boy of

mine jumped into the cold water, I will never understand.”

“To be fair, he only wanted to save his friend,” Anaxantis said in

a conciliatory tone. “He thought his dog was drowning. I thought

that was very brave of him. Friends don’t let each other drown, do

they?”

“No, they don’t,” Morry, who had grown back the inches he had

lost a few moments ago, said. “And if Anack was drowning I would

jump in the river again, because he is my friend and friends don’t let

each other drown.”

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He looked defiantly at his mother. Corvina burst into laughter.

“All right, I see that I am overruled by male stubbornness.”

She tousled her son’s hair. Morry pulled a face as if he was being

tortured.

“Mo-om,” he complained whiningly.

“I agree with Anack, darling. It was very brave of you. Stupid, but

brave. I’m just glad Anack was there.”

“Do you know any stories, Anack?” Morry asked. “I’m bored.”

“Let me think… I know some. With witches in them.”

“Do they die at the end?”

“Oh, yes. Very painfully.”

“Nice.” Morry shivered in anticipation.

“If you’re going to tell horrible stories, I’m gone,” Corvina said

good-naturedly. “Dinner isn’t going to prepare itself.”

“And she was never heard of again. But deep in the forest is a

clearing where nothing grows. Not even grass or moss. No animal

ever comes near it, and birds that fly over it fall as a stone out of the

air. Dead. People say that is where the knight buried her after killing

her. But nobody knows for sure, and the knight, well, he went to a far

off country without saying anything to anybody.”

“Close your mouth, Morry. Nobody wants to see the content of

your stomach. And as for you: if he wakes screaming this night, you’ll

have to answer to me for it.”

Corvina smiled, which as good as negated her stern tone.

“I’m sorry,” Anaxantis said, “I got caught up in the story. My

mother used to tell it to me when I was his age.”

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“Don’t worry about it,” Corvina said. “In fact, I wish he had an

older brother like you.”

She showed a wooden comb.

“Your hair is almost dry. I’ll comb it before it sets like that. You

positively look like a Munakhata—”

“Mukthar.”

Morry jeered and pointed at his mother.

“Don’t mock your mother. You can’t pronounce it either. And you,

sit still. I can’t help it that it hurts a bit now and again. Your hair is far

too long for a boy.”

At that moment the door opened, and a man in his early thirties

entered. He looked at the little group by the fire, became whiter than

the sheet Anaxantis had draped around himself, and took off his cap.

“Hush, woman, keep your trap shut. Don’t you know… I’m sorry,

my lord, she’s but a silly woman and she doesn’t know who you are.

She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Who are you calling a silly woman, Morrthoc, and it’d better not

be me or it will be a long time before… well, you know. And who are

you calling my—”

Anaxantis looked shyly up to her, the comb stuck in his hair.

“No,” Corvina said, “you can’t be, can you?”

“I’m afraid so,” Anaxantis said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to deceive

you, but I was having a good time, and I didn’t want to disappoint

Morry. He seems to think I am some giant.”

Morrthoc had left the door open and Hemarchidas entered

through it.

“Before you start complaining: this is all I could find and you’ll

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wear it, damn it. Or you can return home in your bare ass. The choice

is yours.”

Corvina and Morrthoc stared at Hemarchidas, stupefied. Morry

looked pensively at Anaxantis.

“Are you really, Anack? Are you the warlord?”

“I’m afraid so, Morry. You see, no giant, no enormous sword, and

no gigantic horse, I’m afraid.”

“But how will you protect us from the Mukna—”

“Mukthars. By being smarter than them. There’s also the army

we are training.”

He smiled at Morrthoc, who had cringed all the while his son was

talking so impertinently to the Lord Governor.

When he exited the bedroom, dressed in his formal yellow tunic

with the dragon crest, Morry looked at him, still only half believing

what he saw. Hemarchidas and Corvina had explained to Morrthoc

how the warlord of Amiratha came to be in his little farm, dressed in

one of his bedsheets.

Morry tugged at Anaxantis’s tunic.

“Morry, don’t touch his highness. Haven’t you caused enough

trouble for one day? Forgive him, my lord, he’s a good boy and he

doesn’t—”

“It’s all right dad,” Morry said, “Anack is my friend.” He looked up

at Anaxantis. “You’re really sure you can stop the Mu— them?”

Anaxantis winked at him.

“You never can be sure, can you? But I promise you I will try as

hard as I can. And I got you out of the water, didn’t I, my friend?”

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Morry frowned and thought for a moment. Then his face lit up.

“Yes. Yes, you did.”