The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (55 page)

could tell into what kind of monster that little girl would turn, twenty

years ago. With them, we can.”

“So, they must die?”

“Only if it’s necessary. I know it would be for the best, but unless

there is a very good, compelling and immediate reason... well, I

suppose I’m too sentimental as well.”

Sobrathi looked quizzically at her friend.

“What?” Emelasuntha asked.

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“I... I’m trying to picture you as sentimental,” Sobrathi said.

Both women erupted in a suppressed chortle.

She had slept maybe an hour when again the queen was woken

by someone grating at her door. Once she had opened it, she saw

immediately that this time it was not good news.

“My lady, it’s Mellar. It’s Mellar.”

“What is it with Mellar. Speak up, man,” she ordered in voice as

hard as she could muster.

“We found him dead on his post. Throat...”

The man made a colorful gesture.

Sobrathi who had entered the room, was just in time to hear the

last of the conversation.

“Where was his post?” she asked.

“At the back wall of the Station, my lady.”

She looked at Emelasuntha.

“We surveyed that terrain. It’s a swamp. There are trees. You

can’t get safely through that way with a horse. That’s why we posted

only one guard.”

“There is only one explanation,” Emelasuntha said. “He must

have escaped on foot. It’s dangerous, but it can be done. Remember

how I said that the Black Shields couldn’t patrol every little country

road? Well, guess what, neither can we.” She turned to the Tribesman.

“How long ago?”

“Judging by the body it must have happened shortly after his

shift began.”

“What?” Emelasuntha thundered. “Almost four hours ago? Why

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did nobody check up on him?”

“I have no idea, my lady. Maybe they did.”

At that moment a second Tribesman knocked on the door.

“Grimmuldy has disappeared, my lady.”

“But Grimmuldy was—” the first Tribesman began.

“Let me guess,” Emelasuntha interrupted him. “Grimmuldy was

the one who checked up on the sentry posts.”

Sobrathi didn’t wait for the men to confirm the queen’s theory.

“Did anybody speak with him?”

“No. We were told to stay as quiet as we could. We communicated

with hand signs. He knew them, my lady, he knew them.”

“The Tribe’s hand signs?” the queen asked.

“Yes, I swear on the head of my children. He knew them. He had

his standard dark brown mantle with cap on. We had no reason to

suspect anything was wrong.”

“They probably killed him before they got to Mellar and then let

someone do his rounds in his clothes. Of course he disappeared... I’ll

bet when we find Grimmuldy’s body it will prove he has been dead

for several hours as well.”

“They knew our signs.” the queen said pensively.

“And we’ll find out how that was possible. But later. Now we have

a bigger problem. Damydas has a lead of four hours on us.”

Emelasuntha looked at her as if waking from a deep slumber.

“You’re right, you’re right... no, not altogether. Traversing the

swamp on foot must have taken some time. Something between half

an hour and a full hour. They’re making a detour and they have to

return to the Highway. You can ride faster on it, and it’s where their

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other units are. Let’s say another half hour, probably more. And we

don’t have to make a detour. We can take the Highway at once and

ride at full speed. We can overtake them. We have more than a day

and a night to do it in.”

“So, what are we waiting for?” the baroness said.

“For you to get dressed properly, dear, to name but one thing.”

While Sobrathi ran to her room, she herself put on a heavy tunic,

then girded on her sword.

“You stay here,” she said to one of the two men, while grabbing

her mantle. “Take care of the bodies. Bury them provisionally. We’ll

collect them on the way back.”

The man seemed to hesitate. Emelasuntha was used to being

obeyed promptly and didn’t look too happy.

“With your permission, my lady, but I’m a grand master

swordsman,” he said demurely.

“He is, my lady,” his colleague concurred, “while I am merely

good. Maybe we should—”

“All right,
you
stay then. You’re right. We will need every last

ounce of strength and ability.”

The unlucky Tribesman seemed to regret his candor.

“Nobody will think the worse of you for having to stay behind.

I’ll make sure of that. I admire a man who can put the common good

before his personal pride. Besides, you’ll be alone here with the

servants for some time and that is not without danger.”

She entered the hallway yelling, “Sobrathi, damn it, make haste

woman, you’re not preparing for the ball at the Royal Court of Zyntrea

and being late is definitely not fashionable in this case.”

“You’re waking the whole Station, dear,” the baroness replied,

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exiting her room fully clad and armed.

“Who cares? It’s not as if we’re undercover anymore. To the

horses.”

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Anaxantis rode at a neck-breaking speed, as fast as he dared,

considering it was the middle of the night, there was only a pale

moon, and the road was in none too good a condition. Luckily for

him Myrmos, being a well trained Cheridonian Fourblood, was

surefooted and seemed to easily avoid potholes, branches and other

hindrances on the way.

The only one who dared match his speed was Timishi. Lying low

over his horse, he seemed to guide it more by his left hand resting

against its massive head than by the reins and bridle in his right

hand. A fierce grin indicated that he was enjoying himself.

While the Ximerionian prince was exemplary prepared by

Hemarchidas, sat in the right posture, and moved with his horse

as he had been taught, the prince of the Mukthars seemed to have

grown into one being with his. Though his steed, a standard army war

horse, was of fine breeding and excellently trained, it was nowhere

near the quality of the Cheridonian fourblood. Yet he kept up easily.

At a short distance followed the seven Mukthars, to the alarm

of the Ximerionian soldiers who couldn’t overtake them. The prince

was effectively cut off from them.

Rullio of Brenx tried to keep up, but found it hard to do so. He

had never been much of a horseman, and weeks in the saddle hadn’t

changed that. Though he had kept a good pace during his travels from

Fort Nira to Dermolhea, he had never ridden at such neck breaking

speed as the prince now imposed.

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The princes barely slowed down as they stormed into the

Mirkadesh head village, early in the morning. Although he knew it

was dangerous for the horse, Anaxantis maintained his speed until

just before the County House, then made it stop with a sharp yank

at the reins. He dismounted laboriously, every muscle in his legs and

back aching. Timishi jumped off his horse as if he had just returned

from a stroll through the country. He looked curiously around the

village square and gazed up at the strangely imposing building,

which seemed out of place for such a small village.

The guard had recognized the lord governor at first sight, but

looked suspiciously at his guest and downright terrified when seven

more wild young men appeared on the square. He calmed down a bit

when he saw the next group consisted of Ximerionian cavalrymen.

“They’re with me,” was all the explanation he got from Anaxantis,

who took the stairs two steps at a time and entered the hall.

“Where is General Demaxos?” he asked, still finding his breath,

from an as yet not fully awake servant who had come to see what

caused all this noise so early in the morning.

Not waiting for an answer he ran to the staircase, yelling

“Lethoras, Lethoras, wake up, I need to speak to you.”

Lethoras appeared at the top of the stairs in his underwear,

sword in hand.

“What’s going on here... oh, it’s you.”

“Yes, I need—”

“Are those who I think they are?” Lethoras said, pointing with his

sword at the Mukthars downstairs.

“Yes. They’re Mukthars. They’re not in chains. They’re my guests.

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Get over it. I need to speak to you at once.”

Again he was climbing the stairs two steps at once. Halfway

he stopped, turned around and shouted at the Mukthars who

had followed him inside, but now were standing in the great hall

indecisively, “You lot, this way...”

“This gentleman in reduced uniform with sword is my friend

General Lethoras Demaxos. He will take care of your comfort in a

moment. For now, please wait in this room,” Anaxantis said as soon

as the Mukthars had reached the landing.

He opened the great doors of the Council Room where he had

arrested the Elders. The Mukthars filed in looking around.

“Nice,” Timishi said, taking the seat at the head of the table.

“We’ll arrange for something to drink and eat, won’t we?”

Anaxantis said, looking at a still slightly confused Lethoras.

“Eh... yes... yes, of course... I’ll take care of it immediately.”

After having told a servant to wake the staff and giving him

several instructions for them, Lethoras led Anaxantis to his room.

“Now shoot,” he said, while putting on his pants.

Anaxantis told him about Baron Damydas. What Rullio had

related about the oath of Sherashty he kept to himself.

“What are you going to do?” Lethoras asked when he was done.

Anaxantis shrugged.

“Stop him. What else can I do? I’m going to meet him outside

Amiratha, before he can invoke his autarchy and try to negotiate

with him.”

“The man is as slippery as a pissed-off, poisonous snake and

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about as trustworthy. And what if he refuses to be, eh, reasonable?”

“Then I’ll kill him. There’s too much at stake. He’s in father’s

employ, so he’ll undo all we have done to defend the Marches. Just

like he did in 1440.”

“Ah... so it was him?”

“Yes. Now, I want about fifty Clansmen, all volunteers, because

what I plan to do is not exactly legal.”

“You don’t say, warlord of Mirkadesh.”

Anaxantis smiled.

“This is even far, far less legal. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll

be killing a royal representative, a captain of the Black Shields, and an

appointed autarch. All in one go. I plan to mutilate his body beyond

recognition and to hide it. If there is no other option he simply has

to disappear without leaving the slightest trace of what happened to

him.”

“I see. I think about forty Clansmen are here, but they will come

to a man. Search me, but for some reason or other they seem to

adore you. They’ll love going on a dangerous mission with you. It

will give them endless bragging rights, even if they won’t be able to

say anything about the particulars. And, since they’re all handpicked,

they’re dependable to a fault.”

“Too many men,”
Anaxantis worried silently.
“Too many who will

know what we have done, what I have ordered to be done. Well, it can’t

be helped.”

“That is it then. I want to leave as soon as you can rally them.

Meanwhile I want you to take care of my Mukthar guests. I promised

their prince—”

“What, one of them is a prince? He must know a lot that we could

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put to good use.”

“Lethoras, I gave him my word, my word, that he would be treated

honorably as a guest.”

“Figures. Is that your plan to defeat the Mukthars? Invite them

all to dinner? Really, Anaxantis, you should, from time to time, treat

your enemies as enemies.”