The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (11 page)

His highness didn't want to be recognized, so Deodall didn't make the mistake to call him by his rightful title, but kept addressing him as he had before.

“You are most generous, sir. We have a deal,” he answered evenly. “I will execute your wishes to the letter.

You or the people you send to inspect my arrangements can come at any time of the day or the night. they will find everything as you ordered, I'm sure.”

Without a word the hooded man lay three gold pieces upon the table.

“Then those are yours, I believe,” he said. “And, thank you, master Deodall.”

“I should thank you, my lord. This deal will make me a rich man. Iou, mych ��< don't need the money myself, but my daughter might.”

“Yes, I think so as well. You are very wise to prepare for the future.”

“So are you, my lord.”

“Oh, my lord, no, no more, please stop, please, argh...”

Rullio of Brenx smiled — no mean feat, considering he had a cock in his mouth — and ignored the plaintive voice of Cariam who was squirming helplessly under his oral ministrations.

“Oh, Gods, stop, in heaven's name stop, I can't take it anymore,” the hapless boy moaned.

Rullio decided to show him some mercy, let go of his dick and hoisted himself up to lie his head on the cushion beside his lover, a smug smile on his lips.

The full-figured boy beside him, just on the good side of plump, sighed remorsefully.

“I've been bad, haven't I, my lord? There you were doing your best to pleasure me, and I rudely interrupted you with my childish complaints.”

“Don't worry about it, sweetheart,” the young lord of Brenx said, curling a sweaty strand of dark brown hair on his lover's head around his index finger.

“Oh, but I do, my lord. I assure you, I do. In fact I think you should spank me. Just to teach me a lesson.”

“Eh... what?”

“Spank me. On my naughty, thankless, naked butt.”

He got out of the bed and walked over to the other side, where he bent over, his fleshy behind invitingly pointed at Rullio.

Used as he was to taking things as they came, Rullio shrugged, sat upright and swung his legs out of the bed.

“Come here and lay down over my knees, you unappreciative wretch and receive your just punishment,” he said, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, my lord,” came the subdued answer as the boy did as he was ordered.

Rullio set to work and his slaps produced a satisfying ringing sound on the well-padded posterior. His efforts also made it turn fiery red.

“Harder, harder,” Cariam insisted.

“I knew all those long, boring hours exercising with a broadsword would come in handy one day,” Rullio thought as he doubled his efforts.

He had never spanked anyone before and hadn't even considered it as a part of his extended sexual repertoire, but, to his surprise, he had to admit that he was excited. So was Cariam as he could clearly feel by the pressure of a swollen member on his leg.

He felt his lover writhe gently back and forth on his leg.

“Harder, harder,” Cariam groaned once more.

Rullio went all out and let his hand come down with a resounding whack.

“Aw,” the boy yelled out loud.

Fearing he had gone too far, Rullio halted his hand in midair, just in time before the next slap.

“Don't stop,” Cariam complained indignantly.

Totally nonplussed Rullio resumed his task, though his hand began to hurt by now. Itis tasy n8pt didn't take much longer before he felt the boy shudder under him and some warm, sticky goo began dripping down his calf.

With tears in his eyes Cariam turned around.

“You were great, my lord,” he said. Seeing Rullio's erection, he immediately kneeled down and began sucking it.

Rullio almost felt it was his turn to beg for mercy, but he kept his groans as muted as he could. When he came he surprised himself with the force of his eruption.

Cariam lay down beside him, on his belly, and Rullio softly caressed his red, warm butt.

Around two weeks ago he had arrived at Lorseth with the prince, who hadn't deigned to invite him to stay in the castle. He had found lodgings in nearby Lorseth Market. The first thing he had done was compose an elaborate report for the high king. He told nearly everything he knew. Nearly.

He was still considering his options when, the second night, he caught the eyes of the handsome, albeit it somewhat sturdy, Cariam. After the first night he had accepted the young man's invitation to stay with him and his elderly grandparents. His grandfather had been a very successful merchant and had sold his business at a high profit some fifteen years ago, a few years after Cariam had been born. When his parents had died while he was still an infant, they had taken him in and spoiled him rotten. At the moment Cariam was still seeking his way in life. Or so he had told his grandparents who assured him that as far as they were concerned he had all the time in the world.

Rullio had been, not exactly insulted, but more or less disgruntled that he hadn't been invited to the banquet the Lord Governor had given in honor of what he pleased to call his Mukthar guests. The local yokels, the mayor of this place that couldn't decide if it was an overgrown village or a diminutive town, and his Counsel had been invited. He was a noble, for crying out loud. And a friend of the governor's brother. But maybe that was the problem. In all appearance, his highness seemed to prefer to forget he had a brother. He also seemed to want to keep Rullio away from Lorseth Castle, which, of course, told that same Rullio that he would have to find a way into that same castle to investigate whatever secrets it might conceal.

It was clear to Rullio that his highness had been less than honest where it concerned his brother. To put it bluntly: he thought the whole story about the secret, delicate mission was a piece of crock. Stinking lie would be an even better name for it.

As luck would have it, Cariam liked looking for his way in life around the market place, strolling between the stands, but mostly hanging out in some tavern. Rullio was happy to accompany him and after some days of discreetly asking around he had pieced most of it together.

It seemed his friend hadn't made himself very popular. He was universally regarded as a haughty brute, and a bungler to boot. Nobody knew exactly why he had renounced his name and lineage and neither did many people seem to care. The few who did all had a theory not dissimilar to the explanation the prince had given him. No doubt because he was the originator of those rumors, Rullio thought. All in all, Ehandar seemed to have disappeared. But chances were, he reckoned, that he was still at Lorseth Castle.

Another choice morsel of information did the rounds of the taverns at Lorseth Market. The prince-governor had bedded the Mukthar chieftain, it transpired. Not on his own initiative, but as a result of some weird barbaric custom called the mravinshinohr. A full explanation was calleati on easy to get and cost only about eight tankers of brown ale. The good looking young Mukthar he had accosted was only too happy to explain to him the finer points of the ritual, as long as Rullio kept the beer coming.

Later he learned he could have spared himself the trouble, as both the story — the few details that were known, anyway — and the ritual, its implications included, were by now common knowledge among the good people of Lorseth Market. Rullio had not been the first to offer a Mukthar drinks to get some answers, it seemed.

His lordship of Brenx, still ignorant of his recent elevation, was, his newly gained knowledge notwithstanding, left with a huge problem. The powers that be, the lord governor himself first among them, clearly didn't want him anywhere near the castle and there was no way of telling what the consequences would be were he to disregard the princely wishes. However, he had time on his side. He still had about half of the money the high king had given him, and though he had offered to pay for his lodging and board at Cariam's, he had been indignantly refused. He was an honored guest and the pleasure of his company was more than payment enough, the elderly caretakers of his lover had protested.

Rullio calculated he had a few months before his money would run out and he would be forced to go home.

Anaxantis was standing on the part of the battlements that jutted out above the castle gates. Above him fluttered his personal standard, the dragon banner. He looked at the skies with disquieting feelings of foreboding. The weather was far too good for the time of the year.

It was a few hours after midday and he had called all and sundry of his friends to come to the war room in half an hour's time to discuss his new orders. It was somewhat after the facts, because his decisions were taken, but still he liked to hear their opinion.

As far as he could see the landscape was littered with barracks and tents. Recruitment was still going on.

New units arrived daily and were given basic training. Men who were deemed officer material or who displayed special talents were spotted and given the opportunity for advancement. After a few weeks the units departed for the base camp near Dermolhea for further, more intense exercising.

His army was far from complete, but he reckoned he could take the field if need be. There still remained the questions what the Army of the North, under it's Commander Demrac Tarngord would do and if the general would use the secret charter. By now he must have realized that the only reason the high king had wanted to avoid a major conflict with the barbarians was the threat of severe repercussions. Since the Oath of Sherashty had proven to be a myth, such menace didn't exist. However, Tarngord was a friend of his father and chances were he would execute his orders to the letter. Anaxantis could simply have asked the old commander what his plans were, but he felt it would have weakened his authority. After having rebuked him so many times, he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of even giving the impression that he might be worried about the Army of the North and its commander.

When he entered the hallway on his way to the war room he saw that Radyamirodyahendo of Eldorn was on duty. He nodded in greeting and was rewarded with a beaming smile. Which was odd, because only weeks ago the only reaction he would have got out of the little guy would have been a morose nod back. Something must have changed for the better in the weird kid's life.

Al/p>

After some joyful banter and idle talk, Anaxantis called the room to attention.

“OK, guys, we're here because time is running out on us. It is the end of March and, with this exceptional mild weather, the war season is upon us. The barbarians could enter the Renuvian Plains one of the next weeks. Tomar, how are we doing as far as the recruitment is concerned?”

Tomar rifled through some parchments he had brought to the meeting.

“We're ahead of schedule, that's for sure, but we're not at full strength as yet. Mainly because Ghiasht keeps delaying full payment of their part of the tribute. However, the Landemere Contingent is complete, thanks to the competence of general Adomalch. A man to keep an eye on. The Mirkadesh Guard... the less said the better, but at least they are at full strength. Which leaves the Amirathan Militia. By my calculations — and provided Ghiasht pays its dues — it will take at least another month to reach the projected seven thousand soldiers. The cavalry is almost there and well trained as well. Three regiments could take the field tomorrow.

The fourth lacks about a thousand men.”

“And the training?”

Tomar looked some more in his parchments.

“Going as well as could be expected, I suppose. Of course, you insist on keeping fifteen hundred men at Lorseth at all times.”

“Yes. Tarngord has three thousand eight hundred an fifty men here, though I doubt they would all follow him were he to move against me. Still, I like the feeling of having some men of my own around. So, roughly speaking, with the Clan included we have about ten thousand men. Nearly fourteen thousand if the Army of the North marches with us.”

“Shouldn't we start patrolling the banks of the river Mirax?” Bortram asked.

“Oh, I had something else in mind,” Anaxantis said. “They must come through one of the two passes. If you would care to take a look at the map. I will send two sentry units, one to the Urtdam-Dek Pass and one to the Queneq Pass, equipped with carrier pigeons.”

“I didn't know we had pigeons trained to fly on Lorseth,” Hemarchidas said, surprised.

“We haven't,” Anaxantis smiled. “I've been keeping back pigeons that came from forth Nira. We send only about two thirds back to my father. I'm afraid I've been robbing the Royal Courier Service blind—”

“Of course,” Marak shouted excitedly. “Now I remember... How could I forget. Lee-Lack Scarminckle.”

Everybody fell silent and looked with astonishment at him.

“That's him,” he said. “Lee-Lack Scarminckle. That's what it took. Tomar mentioning Mirkadesh and you talking about robbing your father blind. I visited my father, and he was in a sentimental mood the last evening I was there. He started reminiscing about the time when I was young and how he took me everywhere. One day he took me along when he went negotiating with the robber gang that roams the Renuvian Plains. I must have beeg that haOnen all of fourteen years old and I was scared shitless. It was evening, almost midnight, and we were somewhere on the plains, I don't know where exactly, under the light of the moon. Father had ordered me to stay in the back, between our men, but nevertheless I got a good look at him. And I noticed his limp. Their leader. Lee-lack Scarminckle.”