The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (18 page)

Read The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood Online

Authors: Andrew Ashling

Tags: #Fantasy

BOOK: The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood
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“Ah, so what you're saying is to just keep trying,” Ryhunzo said pensively. “I'm surprised, Obe, old boy, that you're so, eh, forthcoming about—”

“What's there to be surprised about? That I admit that in the beginning I couldn't take him? It doesn't come naturally, you know. But, well, after a while I could take two of them at the same time.”

“Really?” Ryhunzo gasped, with big, round eyes.

Obyann smiled smugly.

“Oh yes. I may not be the tallest guy around and I am not shaped like an ox, but I can hold my ground.

Believe you me.”

Ryhunzo looked at him, eyes overflowing with admiration.

“Let me tell you,” Obyann continued, enjoying the obvious adulation of the younger page, “after a while they knew I could take them. One day, while I was taking two of them at the same time, as usual, a third one came on the scene. Never show you're afraid, I always say. So I shouted at him ‘Why don't you join us? I'll gladly take the three of you.’ You should have seen the look on his face.”

“Three? At the same time?” Ryhunzo asked unbelievingly.

“And why not? There's always room for one more, as we say in Ramaldah.”

“Obe, my man,” the youngster gasped.

“Mind you, there's always room for improvement as well. Even for me. I still can't take Bortram, although we practice nearly every day.”“Every day?”

Ryhunzo exclaimed.

“Oh yes, and each time he takes me. But there will come a day when I will get to take him. It's just a question of time.”

“He takes you? Every day?”

“Well, it's Bortram after all, so I'm not ashamed to admit it. Tell you what. I'll show you how it's done. In easy stages. You'll see. There's nothing to it. All it requires is some suppleness and dexterity. When your little buddy returns I'll take him. You can watch while I do it. I'll do it slowly so you can follow my every move. What do you say?”

“That you are the most cruel guy I ever met in my whole life,” Ryhunzo said, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Just saying things like that. Right to my face too...”

A mass of curls shook indignantly. Ryhunzo stood up, took his mantle and opened the front door. He turned a last time around.

“I never want to see you or speak to you again, you heartless brute.”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving a nonplussed Obyann and a grinning Arranulf behind.

“What have I done?” Obyann asked, consternated, looking at Arranulf. “I was just trying to help him out.”

“Ah, yes, Ramaldah, I'm sure you thought that. The moment you came in the room and butted into our little private conversation, I knew you were heading for disaster with all the elegance of a drunken bull. Let me ask you, what do you think we were talking about?”

“Isn't it obvious? Wrestling. The little guy can't take his buddy in a wrestling match and it irks him. As it should. At their age it should go up even. Then one wins, then the other.”

“Yes, you would be thinking something along those lines I suppose. Hm. Maybe you noticed that our little friend, Rahendo, may not be very big of stature, but that he is well endowed in some parts of his anatomy.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Let's say he wasn't exactly standing at the end of the line when they were distributing dicks.”

Obyann colored a sickly purple with dark-yellow patches.

“Listen Landemere, I absolutely didn't know that, and what's more I never had any opportunity to know that.”

“Oh come on, Ramaldah, he slept in your bed. Naked. He spooned you. I saw. You must have seen or felt something.”

“I most certainly did not, you pervert, and I have a good mind to flatten you flatter than a flat sarth, just for suggesting that I have. And what has all this to do with wrestling anyway?”

“Nothing, my good but impetuous friend. Absolutely nothing. We weren't talking about wrestling.”

“You were not?”

“No.”

“So, what were you talking about?”

“Hm... how to make this clear without disrupting your delicate feelings too much? Let's say that Ryhunzo hasn't been able, due to the enormous proportions of his beloved's, eh, instrument, to take said instrument up into, ah, himself.”

Obyann turned instantly from purple into sheetify">Ontoup -white.

“No,” he stammered.

“Oh, yes,” Arranulf chuckled. “So, we were discussing his embarrassing predicament, when you came barging in, giving us the benefit of your vast expertise in these matters.”

“No.”

“Yes. Let me summarize. First you asserted one has to have the right attitude and be prepared to take anything that comes. Good advice, Ramaldah, albeit a tad general.”

“No.”

“Yes. Then you stressed the importance — correct me if I'm wrong — of perseverance, illustrating this attitude with some choice incidents that happened in your younger years, culminating in the proud statement that eventually you managed to take two insolent peasants up the ass. At the same time, no less.”

“No.”

“Yes. As if that wasn't enough, you also confirmed, equally proudly, I might add, not to say boastfully, you would have gladly,
gladly
Ramaldah, taken a third one up the ass, again simultaneously.”

“No.”

“Yes. Moreover, then you expounded on the fact that you were still exercising, and that Bortram takes
you
up the ass on a daily basis. Although you expressed the fond hope and ardent desire of one day, one day soon, taking
him
up your ass.”

“No.”

“Yes. You even assured us you weren't ashamed admitting it. Your own words, Ramaldah. You then proposed to take Rahendo up the ass, once he returned from duty, and invited his little lover magnanimously to watch the proceedings. You promised to do it slowly, so he could savor in detail how you let yourself be fucked by the object of his adoration. I seem to remember you were quite looking forward to it.”

“No.”

Obyann had shrunk into a miserable heap on his chair and buried his face in his hands. Arranulf was looking pensively at the ceiling.

“I believe — no, I'm almost certain — that this was the exact moment that he called you the single most cruel guy he had ever met. I'm not sure, but I believe he shed a tear. Maybe two.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Gods... Arranulf, my good, my
best
friend, my brother in arms. Where did he go to? I must explain.

This is all a horrible misunderstanding. A horrible, horrible misunderstanding. He'll understand. Me. Me taking... horrible,
horrible
.”

“Ah, yes, would I could help you, my dear, good friend. Alas, my mind is cluttered with recipes for mixing perfumes and I'm afraid—”

“Tell me where he went to, Landemere, or you're dead. Deader and a dead doornail,” a totally distraught Obyann exploded.

“Since you're so polite about this, I think he mentioned something about going to The Hole. He's probably going to tell what happened to everybody who will listen. Which will be of course everybody. You and Bortram will never hear the end of it, I'm afraid. But Bortram won't mind after you explain what happened to him. You're good at explaining things.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Yes,” Arranulf said, almost bursting with mirth.

“I,p>

“Go, go, Ramaldah, precious time is fleeting away.”

Obyann rose and grabbed his mantle. Just as he was opening the door, Arranulf called after him.

“Obyann, now that I think about it, maybe Ryhunzo went the other way, you know, to the fields, to cry on his own.”

“Oh Gods, what a relief. Thank you, thank you, Landemere.
What?
You knew? You knew that, didn't you?

You're dead, Landemere, dead, I say... oh, yes, there's something I have to tell you about Iramid...”

“Sorry, Obyann, I'll be dead soon and beyond caring.”

“Yes, you will be. Very, very dead... I'll tell you afterwards... after I speak to the little one... and then I'll come back and kill you dead, Landemere, I will... I mean it this time... but thank you...”

Completely confused he ran out of the door.

He looked up at the steep rocks. The path was still there. Of course it was, yet he felt relieved.

Damn the cavalry. Right after they had returned from the Renuvian Plains, barely a day later, his unit had been sent to the base camp near Dermolhea to assist in the training of some peasants the higher ups wanted to be able to mount a horse on one side without falling off it from the other, the moment they managed to sit upright in the saddle.

By now Ehandar must be thinking that Gorth had abandoned him as well. He climbed the path without any difficulty. The little door was closed, but not altogether. He almost sheared a fingernail while prying it open.

Cursing under his breath he entered the long cellar-like structure. To his relief, the candles and the tinderbox were still there. Mounting the steep steps to the little door under stairs he took extra care to be as silent as possible. He waited for several minutes before venturing into the private hallway. He mounted the flight of stairs. The door to the higher levels still looked new. He hid himself in one of the niches with doors, sat down beside a wooden bucket and a broom, and prepared himself for a long wait.

It was about an hour before midday. The servants were gone, he reckoned, if they still kept the same schedule, and why shouldn't they? He could only hope that his friend hadn't already come to fetch whatever food and other things they had brought.

He almost didn't hear them, so soft were the footsteps.

In a moment he had left the niche and lain down before the gap under the door.

“Ehandar, Ehandar, it's me, Gorth,” he whispered as loudly as he dared.

He tried looking trough the gap. His field of vision was very limited, but still he could see that his friend was barefoot.

“Ehandar, are you mad?” he said worriedly. “I know the weather is fine for the time of year, but those stones must be ice cold. Why are you on your bare feet. You'll get sick.”

“Gorth, Gorth, oh Gods, I had given up all hope of hearing from you again.” The voice paused. “I... I slept in.

I'm not fully dressed yet. Please, don't look under the door.”


How strange,”
Gorth thought. “
I've seen him bare chested and bare footed in our training sessions. And he
me. He never struck me as beining sme ougng a prude.”

“Are you all right, my friend?” he asked. He tried to make the question sound casual.

“Yes, yes, I am. My lo— he treats me well. He looks out for me. I want for nothing. And you? How have you been?”

“Ah, we went to the Renuvian Plains, caught us some Mukthar youngsters, and no sooner had I returned when off they send me to Dermolhea to help in the training of the cavalry. That's why I couldn't come sooner.”

“I see. Mukthars you say? Young ones?”

“Yes. Didn't you know?”

It took a while before there came an answer back.

“He doesn't tell me much, Gorth. It's because he doesn't want me to worry. Since there is nothing I can do, you see? It really is because he wants to spare me—”

“Nonsense, Ehandar. He keeps you a prisoner, and he keeps you in the dark.”

“Any news of our friends?”

“No. Not that I know of. But then again, I've been away from Lorseth most of the time. Still, I doubt any of them made it.”


At least not here,”
he thought, not without some bitterness.

“That was to be expected, I suppose.”

“Hey, don't give up man, there's still me.”

“I know... I know...”

It sounded profoundly sad.

“So, listen, I'll fill you in about what happened since my last visit.”

They talked for about half an hour.

“You'd better go, Gorth. Sometimes he returns at midday. Sometimes he doesn't, but you never can tell beforehand.”

“All right,” Gorth answered. “I'll come back as soon as I can. Meanwhile, don't give up hope, my friend.”


The war is upon us. Anytime now. I'll desert halfway to the Plains, and I'll return. They wont have time to
chase after me, and conditions will be more lax while that little toad is gone to play his war games. Then
we'll get our chance.”

“Be careful, my friend, be very careful... and thank you,” he heard the voice on the other side of the door say softly.

“Fare well, my prince, until we meet again. Soon. Very soon.”

Gorth rose and silently made his way to the little door.

Tarno mounted the stairs, deep in thought.

The weather was fine, still he kept the fire blazing. He liked the feeling of the heat on his naked skin. It was as a bath of flames. Purifying.


My prince.”

Gorth had called him ‘my prince.’ He sat down next to the hearth, pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees, staring into the flames. Their hypnotic dance almost made him doze off. He startled. He must clean. Clean. In case his lord came home early, or just to take his midday meal. Then he remembered. He had cleaned already today. This morning, right after breakfast. He looked around. Everything was as it should be.

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