The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (37 page)

You're a little bit young, but I might even make you a lieutenant. That way I can keep you even closer.”

“No,” he said slowly, almost reluctantly. “No, indeed. I have a bad feeling about our agreement with the Mukthars.”

“We kept our side of the bargain. Why shouldn't they? Besides, don't they need us?”

“I wonder if Shigurtish thinks he needs us still. Another thing: there's far too many of them coming through the Queneq Pass. Far more than is needed to sack one city.”

“Aren't we family? Kind of, anyway?”

“That was a long, long time ago, Norri-Nack. Long before Ximerion came upon the scene even. There's no telling how they look at us now. As long as they needed us they kept up appearances, but like I said: do they still need us?”

“The Ximerionian prince,” Norri-Nack said.

“What about him?”

“He has an army. He wants to fight them. Isn't it time, perhaps, to change allegiances?”

“
Damn it, the boy is clever.”

“I thought about that, but that gives us a whole new set of problems. Look at what he did with the elders.”

“
And with that man his father sent to keep him within bounds.”

“No,” Lee-lack resumed, “I'm going to try to keep Mirkadesh out of this mess. We'll reassess our position the moment we know who is the last one standing upright on the field.”

Shigurtish, third son of the first Queen of the Bear Mukthars, Supreme Commander of the Army, stood before his tent, a heavy, round construction covered with hides. With crossed arms he overlooked how his troops filed by to make camp further down the valley.

Khrunosh, first son of the sixth Queen joined him, scratching his scalp with one finger, taking care not to disturb his shirma. Khrunosh knew he wasn't smart, but people would follow him into battle. He couldn't devise a strategy, but he could execute orders to the letter. He knew that made him a valuable asset to Shigurtish. His lack of intellectual capacities and the resulting absenlack oingterce of ambition made that he was safe. Shigurtish would never see him as a threat, as a competitor for the crown. Khrunosh knew his place and he liked it.

They grinned at each other by way of greeting.

“Are you ready?” Shigurtish asked.

Khrunosh nodded.

“Three thousand of the best horsemen. Fierce warriors to the man. It should be more than enough.”

“Good. I'm counting on you, Khrunosh. The timing has to be exact. The little frishiu must have received the message from his captain by now.”

“But, didn't you make that dog write to him that he needn't worry? That we were nowhere in sight.”

Shigurtish smiled lopsided.

“Yes, I did. That's why he'll be on the march as soon as he receives the message.”

Khrunosh made a gesture indicating that what Shigurtish had said was a total mystery to him.

“It's simple, brother. He has given his captain some signs, some subtle, hidden markings, some words maybe, so he can be sure that any message he receives is truly from him. There will also have been signs to indicate when a message was written under coercion.”

“Didn't Lee-Lack Sharminshle torture him and make him give up those signs?”

“Yes, he did. And how do we make sure the captain gave them all?”

Khrunosh thought for a moment.

“I don't know,” he said at last.

Shigurtish laughed.

“Neither do I.”

Khrunosh looked at his commanding officer with utter stupefaction.

“Actually, I do know, Khrunosh,” Shigurtish grinned. “We didn't get them all. So, the little frishiu knows we're coming. I bet he's collecting his army as we speak, and then he's going to commit his first mistake out of a long row. No, the torturing, the message was for Sharminshle. He thinks he knows how we're tackling this war.”

“If you say so, brother,” Khrunosh said hesitatingly.

Shigurtish put his arm around his half-brother's shoulder.

“Don't break your head over it. We're going to make the Ximerionian run along his border like a frightened rabbit. See, that's why I needed him to know we were coming. I wanted to control the exact time he got that knowledge, to know exactly
when
he would move. You, brother, are going to make him move his army to
where
I want it moved. You understand now?”

“Not really. But you know what you are doing. That I am sure of. Me, I would have thought it would have been enough to attack him outright,” Khrunosh shrugged. “What's he going to do?”

“If he can keep his army together he has about fifteen thousand men. We have twenty five thousand. He won't be expecting that many, to begin with. But to make double sure, I want him to disperse his forces. He has built up quite some hope. You see, I don't want to just vanquish him. I want to destroy him as completely as possible. I want the north of Ximerion to despair utterly in any chance whatsoever to resist us.”

“Finally, revenge. After all those centuries.”

“Indeed.>

He laughed.

“Now execute your orders to my satisfaction, and I might let you play with him for a few days.”

They both laughed. A hard, barking laugh.

When Anaxantis mounted the stairs to his private apartments he heard the wistful tones of a flute. The melody was sad, melancholic and acquiescent at the same time.

“
He has finished it and it's beautiful.”

When he entered the room, Tarno looked up, unsurely and nervously. Somehow there was trust as well.

“
He is completely defenseless and it is I who have made him into this vulnerable, frightened pet. That makes
him my responsibility. I must take care of him. How can I do that while I'm away? If I don't return from the
Plains he'll have to become Ehandar again. Can he?”

For the first time he fully realized that this was not him. He knew he could never harm this childlike creature.

He doubted Tarno would even understand what was happening to him or why.

“Tarno, come here, please,” he said as softly and non-threateningly as he could.

Nevertheless it was a trembling boy Anaxantis took in his arms.

“Remember,” he asked in a soothing voice, “when I had to leave you alone for a while?”

Tarno nodded without speaking.

“Well, I have to go for a short while again. I don't think it will take as long as the previous time. I will be back soon.”

“Where are you going to, master?”

It was almost inaudible. Anaxantis hesitated.

“Back to the Plains.”

“You're going to war, aren't you?”

Again Anaxantis hesitated.

“Yes. Yes, I am, but don't worry. There are many, many soldiers going with me. And I'll be back before you know it.”

He had wanted to add ‘I promise,’ but that was really a pledge he couldn't make, could he?

“You will be careful, master? Very careful?”

Tarno pulled him close to his naked body. Anaxantis couldn't help marveling how strong his arms were.

“I will be very careful, Tarno. Now, you must promise me to be good and wait patiently until I return. Will you promise me to do that?”

“I promise, master, and I'll keep the place clean while you're away.”

Anaxantis kissed him lightly on the forehead. Then he freed himself of Tarno's embrace.

“Well, this is it. I hope to see you soon, Tarno. Take good care of yourself.”

He turned around and walked to the door.

“They say it's important for a good general to lead from the front. It's not true. It's far more important that he stays alive. Battles have been lost in many ways. They're always lost the moment the commander in chief is killed in action.”

Anaxantis halted in his tracks. This was not Tarno who had spoken, yet when he turned around again that was the only one he saw.

“Thank you, I'll remember that,” he said.

On the inner court his friends stood waiting for him. Hemarchidas held the reins of Myrmos. The Mukthars, and Lorcko, were already on horseback.

Anaxantis mounted his horse and raised his right hand.

“Gentlemen, let's go.”

Rullio looked out of the window of his room in the guest house of which he was now the sole occupant. He tried to look up at the tower, but the private apartments of the lord governor were too high to be able to see if anybody was looking out of the windows from there as well.

There was of course.

“
Be careful, please, be careful. You have to come back to me. What's to become of me if you don't return?”

The old commander and his staff were the last to ride out of the castle gates. Half a mile down the road they had to wait for a long time. Thirty clansmen, each carrying a dragon standard ranged around Anaxantis's group and the Mukthars, while the rest of the Clan filed behind them.

The pages were next to take up their position in the column.

“Where are the little ones?” Obyann asked, while he signaled directions to the patrol leaders.

“I put them in Eynurm's patrol,” Arranulf answered.

“Good. Did you tell Tarnwood to keep them in the middle?”

“I did, Obyann.” Arranulf smiled. “Nothing is going to happen to them.”

It took ages for the Amirathan Militia units to fall into rank, but finally commander Tarngord could move on.

It was several hours later when finally what rested of the Ximerionian army, its cavalry and the Landemere Contingent were on the road.

Vonnyda slung her arms round the hips of both her sons, standing on either side of her, as if to make certain they wouldn't run away and follow the army.

They were standing beside the road, somewhere between Lorseth Castle and Lorseth Market, not far from their house.

Vonnyda congratulated herself. She had been right. Thanks to her foresight Chrom was safe. Safe behind the thick walls of Lorseth Castle where he was a captain of the garrison.

The army filed by, the prince-governor amidst his companions, in front. She could understand he inspired loyalty, love even, sitting there on his horse, his back straight as an arrow, his long, golden hair softly flowing in the wind, matching the dozens of yellow standards that surrounded him.

Yes, his smile was charming, alluring. Yes, his youth was endearing. Yes, his kindness and unpretentiousness made him lovable. Yes, his foresight made people trust his judgment and think him wise beyond his years.

Yes, his determination to resist the barbarians was admirable. Yes, his courage was undoubted by all. Yes, he had wrought a miracle in rallying the province and for had we as wging an army out of nothing...

And he was welcome to it all. To all the adulation and reverence. To the shining toy he had created and which he was taking out today to play. To the legend he would become if he managed to crush the enemy, or the mourning he would inspire if fortune didn't smile upon him and he fell in battle.

He was welcome to it all. But he was not taking her husband. Neither was he taking her sons who, praise the Gods, were too young.

“My friends wonder why father isn't riding with the prince,” the oldest said, watching the Clansmen ride by.

Vonnyda slapped him on the back of his head.

“You tell those hoodlums that your father is needed to defend the castle, and that they'll be glad he is doing so if things turn ugly,” she said in a stern tone, but she smiled.

“I wish I was a few years older,” the boy answered wistfully.

“Well, you're not,” his mother replied, silently thanking the Gods again.

Her youngest had always been a bit of poet, so she wasn't surprised.

“Look at all those yellow flags with the black dragons, how they flutter and hover in the wind. It's as if they are dancing.”

Vonnyda caressed his straw blond hair.

“Yes dear, you're right. They look just like dancing dragons.”