The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (60 page)

“So, you’re the fourth in line for the succession?”

“I think I can safely say that by now I’m the third,”
Anaxantis

thought with mixed feelings.

“Yes, but in our family nothing is certain about the succession,”

he said.

“Meaning?”

“The head position goes usually to the one who manages to be,

eh, stronger. Or smarter.”

He looked definitely unhappy now. Timishi looked at him with

open mouth.

“You mean you have to fight your brothers for the crown?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as that, but, well, it’s better for everyone

that the best becomes—”

“That is so, so right, Anashantish. What a glorious way of deciding

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who gets to lead the Màhai.”

“Màhai?”

“The people. The Whole of the People. You would call it the

Commonwealth, the State maybe. So your chances to mount the

throne are as good as that of your older brothers? Better in fact,

provided you prove to be the stronger?”

“Oh, I suppose so, yes,” Anaxantis said uneasily.

“I had really, really no idea. You’re so much more evolved than I

realized.”

“And you?”

“Me? I would be the ninth in line for the succession, under normal

conditions. Mind you, once my half brothers begin breeding, that

would become twenty-sixth or so in no time.”

Timishi grin-shrugged.

“Normal conditions?”

“It’s complicated,” the Mukthar prince said, suddenly guarded.

“I’ll explain another time.”

They remained silent for a while, each wrapped in his own

thoughts.

“So, what are we doing here, Anashantish?” Timishi broke the

silence.

Anaxantis looked at him, thinking hard. Then he decided to tell

the truth. The Mukthar prince had a right to know in what he was

involving himself.

“The king feels that it would be better if we were to let your

people sack and plunder a few border cities. He reckons you will go

away after that, like you have always done. I happen to disagree with

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him and plan to fight your army with whatever forces I can gather.”

He looked up to see how Timishi was digesting this information

so far.

“That’s the only honorable way open to you,” the Mukthar prince

said, calm, but in a resolute tone.

“Well, father doesn’t think so and is sending someone to stop me.

Kill me, if necessary.”

“Kill you? How noble. How admirable. He’s prepared to sacrifice

his son for what he perceives to be the greater good for the Màhai.

By Shardosh and all his devils, you’re certain you don’t have Mukthar

blood running in your family?”

“Unlikely. I’m afraid the ways of the House of Tanahkos are all its

own.”

Timishi whistled.

“What are you going to do?”

“Meet him head on. Try to make him see reason.”

“Make him bow to your will, you mean?”

“I wouldn’t call it that...”

“What if he resists?”

“Kill him. Kill him, before he kills me.”

Timishi grinned.

“Spoken like a true Mukthar, frishiu.”

“What? What did you call me?”

“A true Mukthar?”

“Ah... no the other thing.”

“Frishiu. Prince in Muktaresh. I thought you deserved it. Both.”

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“I’m honored, I’m sure. But, Timishi, don’t you see the problem?”

“Problem?”

“Yes. In helping me overcome my enemies, you make sure that

your people will meet resistance. Without me the Northern Marches

would lie wide open.”

“I know. It’s what worried Rodomesh as well. But I accepted your

hospitality. We’ve eaten your food and we’ve enjoyed your shelter.

You’ve taken us into your protection. We owe you. Mukthar honor

demands we protect you against all who threaten you, and that takes

precedence above all other considerations.”

“Above loyalty to your people? Thousands of Mukthars may die

as a result of that decision.”

“Worried about my conscience, are you, Anashantish?” Timishi

grinned. “Well, don’t be. I have my reasons.”

“Also, what I am about to undertake is not without danger. It’s far

from assured that I will prevail. The odds—”

“The odds in your favor rose sharply the moment I decided to

come with you. Actually, that’s not true. They rose the moment you

decided to spare me the humiliation of being captured. Let’s face

it, all fine words that were spoken aside, that’s what would have

happened. I always repay in kind, Anashantish. Always.”

Anaxantis studied the face of the Mukthar prince. There was

nothing there to contradict what he just had heard.

“Thank you. You’ll find I very much agree with you on that.”

Timishi smiled reassuringly.

“I believe you, Ximerionian. You are a man of honor. Under that

soft exterior is a hard kernel of steel. Oh, it will be so interesting to

meet you in the mravinshinohr.”

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“What did Rodomesh want you to ask me?”

“If you would still treat us as guests, once we helped you

overcome whatever troubles you. Once we’re in your stronghold of

Lorseth. Once you’re surrounded by all those people who see us as

nothing but wild animals. Will you be able to resist their pressure?”

“I gave you my word,” Anaxantis said indignantly. “I have but one

word.”

“I know, Anashantish, and I told him as much. I never doubted

you. On behalf of my beddurouwin I ask your pardon. He doesn’t trust

Ximerionians.” He paused. “I can’t keep secrets from him. Believe me,

he will trust you from now on.”

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Early in the afternoon Sobrathi made a sign to Emelasuntha to

stop. The forty or so Tribesmen came to a halt. One of them rode to

the front of the group and, shading his eyes with one hand, gazed in

the distance.

“At least fifty, my lady,” he said after only a few moments, “but

probably more like sixty.”

“That must be him,” Sobrathi said. “Good man, to me they’re only

a vague blob. How far?”

“We should be able to overtake them in half an hour, I guess,” the

Tribesman answered.

Emelasuntha gave her horse the spurs, and the whole group set

in motion again.

In a short while it became evident that they were noticed, as the

group before them stopped, turned around and fanned out to block

the Highway.

Emelasuntha made her men stop at shouting distance.

“Your majesty,” a voice boomed, “there is a Royal Writ, bearing

your name and calling for your arrest, that I, as captain of the Black

Shields am sworn to execute. Lay down your weapons, call off your

men, and surrender quietly.”

“You’re even a bigger fool than I already thought you were,

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Damydas, if you think you can intimidate me with a worthless piece

of parchment.”

“Ha, my lady, but I also have the necessary swords to carry out

my duty. You’re outnumbered three to two.”

“I have your grandsons, Damydas. Little Gerrubald and little

Warrubald. Where do I send the detailed account of their final hours,

Damydas? I seem to remember you revel in blood and gore, and I

assure you there will be plenty of that. It’ll take days for them to

die, Damydas, and I’ll make sure you’ll be able to read about every

single sob, every anguished cry, every scream. I’ll tear them apart

limb by limb, Damydas. You know I am as good as my word. Think

about it. About them. About little Gerri and little Warri. Picture them,

Damydas. Then picture them without ears, without fingers, without

balls.”

Damydas was hidden from view by his men. His mind was racing.

He knew the queen was indeed capable of all she threatened to inflict

upon his grandsons. With his mind’s eyes he saw his two grandsons.

Warri, sweet, cute, little Warri. That would hurt the most. They had

this special grandfather-grandson thing going. Even with his sons he

never had such a connection. Warri was too young to understand.

Gerrubald on the other hand knew that being a Damydas had

consequences. He had read it in his eyes. Not so little Warri. And yet,

young as he was, he too was a Damydas.

Already the Devil’s Crown, still so far out of reach, was exacting

a price. A heavy price.

His mind raced on. Then he shook his head.

“My sons are young, Emelasuntha. There’ll be other grandchildren.

Another Gerrubald. Another Warrubald. But you are old, my queen.

Beyond the child bearing age. You’re barren. There will be no other

Anaxantis after I have strangled this one. Shall I send you a detailed

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account of how he screamed when I fucked him? How he moaned

when I penetrated his princely ass. How he groaned when my

soldiers, one after the other, enjoyed his hole? How he begged me to

kill him? Shall I send you his ears, his fingers, his balls?”

Emelasuntha’s stony face betrayed nothing. It was Sobrathi who

gave the order to attack, raging mad. She was the first to storm onto

the Black Shields, followed by Emelasuntha and the rest of the Tribe.

With the first swing of her battle ax Sobrathi split the head of the

horse of a Black Shield. The animal fell down, instantly dead, taking

its rider with it and crushing his left leg under its body. The hoof of

the nervously shifting steed of the Black Shield beside him dented

his helmet and cracked his skull. Emelasuntha swung her sword, and

with a surprised look on his face a Black Shield’s head fell sideways,

only stopped from falling off completely by a strand of flesh.

Once the initial thrust of the sudden attack was absorbed by the

well trained Black Shields, they formed a solid wall, and although

Emelasuntha’s Tribesmen attacked again and again it proved

impossible to break their formation.

The baron smiled. His Black Shields would be able to tie up the

queen’s men, he reckoned, for an indefinite period of time. Time was

the last commodity he wanted to squander.

“Xirull,” he shouted to his sergeant, “you keep that murderous

bitch and her hounds at bay. I’ll leave you forty men. That should be

quite sufficient. Meanwhile I’m off to Elmshill with the rest. Take no

risks. Just keep her from following us.”

He pointed at several men, one after the other.

“You, you, you, with me. And you...”

He turned his horse around, and he left the scene of the skirmish

at full gallop, followed by some twenty Black Shields.

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In the heat of the fight it took a while before Sobrathi noticed

that a some had left the main group.

“There,” she shouted at Emelasuntha, “The coward is running

away.”

“He’s not running
away
,” the queen shouted back, fending off a

sword blow, “he’s running
towards
Elmshill.”

“Jerruth,”
it shot through Sobrathi’s head.
“We must break

through.”

Half an hour later, the baron made his group leave the Highway.

He had seen what seemed to be a barn, some distance from the road.

The noise of so many horses had made two farmhands come

running outside, pitchforks in their hands. They looked at the Black

Shields, alarmed.

“Don’t be afraid. We are Black Shields on the king’s business.

We need your barn for a few hours. Nothing will happen to you,” the

baron called out to them.

Although not completely put at ease, the farmhands lowered

their pitchforks, looking indecisively at each other.

The baron and his men dismounted.

“Kill them and bury them. We can’t have all kinds of stories going

around.”

Before they realized what the baron had ordered, before they

had a chance to raise their pitchforks again and defend themselves,

several swords landed in their bellies. Almost without a sound they

fell down.

The Black Shields led the horses, except four, into the barn.

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