The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (43 page)

Lee-Lack Scarminckle and his men had driven their horses at neck breaking speed. He had tried to overtake the Mukthars, but hadn't succeeded in doing so. They had arrived at Mirkadesh when the carnage was in full bloody sway. Lee-Lack had led his nearly two hundred men strong group in the thick of the fighting. The odds had been overwhelming.

The confusion was complete. It took some while before the Ximerionian garrison understood that the new arrivals were fighting on their side. In the middle of the chaos Lee-Lack managed to keep his men together and even to reunite with another group of Renuvian Robbers. They had come from the robber's secret hideout in the Teagriam mountains. Much as general Iramid had, but a lot sooner, they had seen Mirkadesh burning, and after having sent out scouts, they had come to the aid of their kinsfolk.

Lee-Lack was seething with anger at Shigurtish's betrayal. Fighting a desperate struggle, side by side with his younger brother, he cursed the treacherous Mukthar prince, knowing all too well how ineffective his damnations were.

While the Ximerionian soldiers were withdrawing to tfy">Whiles dhe town hall, Lee-Lack ordered his men to fall back to the outskirts of the village. The Mukthars seemed to mow his men away as sheafs of grain.

Their weapons, especially their daggers, left ghastly wounds. In desperation he saw his men fall by the dozen, each of them overcome by three, four barbarians.

Again and again he threw himself in the thick of the fighting, hacking furiously around. He and his dwindling number of men were pressed more and more together, until, reduced to a mere fifteen men, Lee-Lack finally gave the order to retreat. Three of them got an arrow in their backs. The rest managed to escape.

By the time Anaxantis entered Mirkadesh, Lee-Lack Scarminckle reached the robbers' lair in the Teagriam Mountains. Small, winding paths led up one particular hill, in between high rocks. Finally he and the pitiful remnants of his group reached what seemed a dead end ravine.

They dismounted and led their horses through a narrow passage, that had been invisible from a few yards away. Two sentries greeted the robber chief.

In the large cave only ten men had remained.

“
Cowards,
” Lee-Lack thought, barely able to contain his anger.

This was unfair. They had only stayed behind because one of the lieutenants had ordered them to. He hadn't wanted to leave the headquarters totally unprotected.

Lee-Lack sat down at the head of a large table and signaled one of the men, who brought him a pitcher of wine and a cup. Drinking thirstily, his mind worked feverishly.

The Renuvian Robbers were as good as wiped out with no possibility to replenish the ranks. Mirkadesh was gone. But there still was the treasury. At least that was safe. It would enable him to rebuild his own life if nothing else. It was time for Lee-Lack Scarminckle to disappear forever. Of course, there could be no witnesses. Luckily, his predecessor, Sanduvar Blacktooth, had already taken such a situation into account.

He looked from under his bushy brows at Norri-Nack. A pity. He really liked the guy. But it couldn't be helped.

“Right,” he said, standing up, “we're leaving by another exit that will lead us directly into the Plains. Follow me.”

He led them up a stairway, partly hewn out of the rocks, partly made of wood, propped up by sturdy beams.

They led to a door higher up which gave out to a long, narrow corridor. This led to the private chambers of the chief.

When they were halfway, Lee-Lack turned around.

“Wait here till I come to get you. I have to prepare something.”

The group waited obediently while Lee-Lack limped on and disappeared out of their view around a corner.

“Damn, I left my purse and dagger downstairs. I'll be right back,” Norri-Nack said.

He turned around and hastened back down the corridor.

Meanwhile Lee-Lack had reached what looked like the mechanism of a drawbridge. Except the chains that could be set in motion by the great wheel weren't connected to a bridge. They ran, by a complicated system of pulleys, inside the hollow walls of the long corridor and were connected to the mid-section of slim pillars that supported the roof plates of the hallway.

He closed the door to the corridor to keep the worst of the coming dust cloud out.

At first the big, spoked wheel didn't budge, and Lee-Lack feared he wasn't strong enough to set it in motion.

Then he managed to move it just a little bit, then some more, and finally he had turned the wheel half a rotation. He grabbed the spokes that were now on top and gave the wheel another tug.

With a thunderous rumbling sound the middle section of the roof of the corridor came crashing down on his men. The other pillars, made out of wood, couldn't support what rested of the roof anymore and tumbled down one by one, making more sections of the roof come down. The hallway filled up with rubble and rocks that had been laying on top of the plates.

The last of the Renuvian Robbers had no chance whatsoever to escape. Lee-Lack didn't even hear them cry out. The big roof plates had crushed them in seconds.

The corridor was completely blocked by the rocks.

He sighed. Again he thought what a shame it was about Norri-Nack.

He turned around, wiping his hands, and after a while reached a door. He entered the big room. Light came into it through two big window-like openings from where the Plains could be seen as far as the Pashira forest.

It had all possible comforts and amenities, including a water well.

He let a bucket fall down in it, and filled with water, hoisted it back up. Some of it he put, together with some herbs in a kettle which he hung above the hearth. Then he made a fire.

He took off his long black mantle and his equally black tunic. He got rid of the padded shirt that made him look broader than he was, revealing a hairless chest. In fact, he was rather slim, lightly built.

A niche-like space served as a simple bathroom. He used the rest of the water to shave off his beard. It was a long and arduous job. It was the first time he shaved in ten years. With some moist pieces of cloth he removed the sooth that had given him those dark patches under his eyes. Then he soaked the cloth thoroughly to get rid of the bristly hairs, glued in his eyebrows.

He strained the herbal concoction and let it cool down a little before rinsing his hair. It took several applications before all the black color had washed out and his natural, light brown hair reappeared.

He brushed his teeth vigorously with a small, hard brush to remove the yellow patina, the result of another herbal concoction which he had used regularly. Some small yellowish patches, specks really, remained, but they would be gone soon enough, since he wouldn't be using the herbs anymore that had caused them.

He dried and combed his hair and looked in a mirror. A good-looking, boyish, friendly face smiled back at him.

“Hey, handsome, long time no see,” he smirked at his image.

He had passed for thirty-three, was actually twenty-seven, but now looked barely in his early twenties.

He had been fifteen when he had become Sanduvar's lover. He had looked twelve then. Well, old Blacktooth had liked them young. Very young. At first he had been a bit reluctant, but his Gran had immediately seen the possibilities and told him not to be a cry baby. There were worse ways of earning a living, she had said, and besides, it was not as if it would be forever.

To Sanduvar's surprise he hadn't been contented with just being the favorite of the chief. He had claimed an active role in the wheeling and dealing of the Renuvian Robbers. It had amused Sanduvar enough to indhe Rengh e hulge his young lover. Guided by his Gran, who had made his first padded shirt to buff him up a bit, he had made himself indispensable to the chief, in and out of the bed.

To remain attractive to Sanduvar and at the same time credible as his first lieutenant had been a bore, involving a black wig and a false beard.

Now came the difficult part: walking without a limp. He had practiced often and long, but it still hurt like hell. Luckily he had pills to take the edge off. Gran got them from some famous doctor in Dermolhea. He swallowed two of them. No more, he reminded himself with a wry smile, or they would make him drowsy.

Like they had made Sanduvar drowsy.

Then he shrugged and took another two. He needed a good, long sleep. The last days had been exhausting.

There was nothing he could do for the moment anyway. He was safe in what Sanduvar had called his eagle— nest. Tomorrow the Mukthars would surely be gone. He would wash up a bit before the pills took full effect.

He would also take out his light brown trousers, dark red shirt, and bright yellow mantle, ready for him to wear.

Tomorrow Mirry-Nonn would go down the secret exit of the eagle's nest, his purse full of silver moltars. Just

a young guy going to visit his Gran, who lived halfway between Mirkadesh and Dermolhea.

He could almost smell her self made almond cookies. He smiled. They were delicious, especially with fresh, cool milk.

He had just grabbed his purse and his dagger, when Norri-Nack heard a thundering noise. He ran up the stairs, but when clouds of dust came out of the door he knew his worst fear had come true. The corridor had caved in.

Try as he might, he couldn't keep the dust out of his mouth or nose. Even his eyes began to hurt as sand particles scratched them. There simply was no getting through. Coughing he descended the stairs.

His tears washed the dust out of his eyes.

“
Oh, Lee-Lack, Lee-Lack... My poor brother.”

He looked around the great, empty cave. Suddenly the realization struck him. He was the only survivor.

The last of the once mighty Renuvian Robbers.

Clansmen had found a barn that had escaped the general destruction. The farm to which it belonged had not been so lucky. The barn was one of the few structures that was still standing in the whole of Mirkadesh.

By the time Anaxantis entered it, his men had found a few tables and chairs.

He had taken care of organizing the rescue operations. Patrols were looking for food and gathering it in a central place for rationing. Other patrols were looking out for medicines, bandages and the like. Messengers were sent to make army units turn around and march on Ghiasht instead.

Anaxantis's main worry however was where the main force of the Mukthars was. Had they already crossed the Mirax? He had sent out scouts to try to determine their exact position. They were warned to look out for the Mukthar cavalry that had raided Mirkadesh.

By the time he reached the barn, which was to be his headquarters for the time being, he was exhausted and sick with worry.

“You have to rest,” Hemarchidas urged him. “You can't take much more.”

“Rest?” Anaxantis answered. “How can I rest? Look at this shambles.”

“It's not as bad as it looks. We have not been defeated in battle. They may have won the first round by stealth and surprise, but we're still very much in the game.”

“Yes, that's true.”

“Yes, it is. The army is turning around and regrouping as we speak. When the scouts return, we'll have a much clearer outlook on the situation.”

“Yes, you're right.”

“And by then you should be rested, so as to be able to make decisions with a clear head.”

Anaxantis smiled.

“And again you're right. Where are Timishi and his men?”

“The Clansmen have improvised tents on the meadow behind the barn. They're in one of them. I thought it better they wouldn't be too, eh, visible. The locals, the survivors that is, might want to take revenge. Don't worry though, Lorcko is with them.”

“Good.”

“Now, I have a section of the barn in the back partitioned off. A nice bed of straw awaits you. You'll have no difficulty to sleep. It is dark there.”

He had been up since the morning of the previous day, and Hemarchidas mentioning even an improvised bed, suddenly made him feel tired.

“Thank you, Hemarchidas. You're a good friend,” he said.

Timishi and his friends, including Lorcko, had been pent up in their makeshift tent all afternoon. When darkness fell the page went to seek out Hemarchidas.

“We can't expect them to remain in that thing forever,” he argued.

“The problem is that I haven't enough men to secure the whole area,” Hemarchidas replied. “I can only guard the barn. The rest of the men are busy.”

“They need to take care... of business,” Lorcko said. “I can keep them sort of together and tell them not to venture off the meadows surrounding this place. No locals will see them.”

Hemarchidas thought for a while.

“All right then,” he said, “but they're your responsibility.”

Lorcko had told the Mukthars where they could go and where not. He himself was glad to take a stroll in the cool evening air. He ambled to the most northern end of the meadow, out of view of the tents and the barn.

He looked out over the fields. Some miles from where he stood the Plains began.

Soft footsteps announced someone was coming. Lorcko didn't turn around as he had a good idea who it was.