The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (48 page)

He looked out over the wide expanse of water. The glimmering of the sun on the waves almost hypnotized him.

Master.

How? How had his little brother become Master? Why? Why had it happened?

He frowned. Strangely enough he wasn't that unhappy. Sometimes he was afraid, yes. Master could send him away. Forever. With one word. Yet, he wasn't unhappy. Just not happy. And neither was Master.

Strange. Why wasn't Master happy?

For himself he didn't mind. Not that much. Not anymore. He thought he understood why Master wanted to be in control. He was right. Somebody ought to be in control of him. He had amply demonstrated he himself wasn't. So Master had taken over.

To do that Master had needed him to be conscious at all time who really was in charge. That was why he was naked. Why Master had taken away his name and given him this new one. Why Master touched him, whenever he pleased, in the most intimate places. Why Master demanded he obey instantly and without asking questions. To show him.

Yet. Master never ordered him to have sex with him. He always asked nicely and took care to point out that he could decline.

He smiled. As if. Still...

He understood why Master needed to be in control. But there was something else as well. Master liked it. He never ever hurt his Tarno but he liked making him blush and cringe in shame. He liked it when his Tarno licked his feet.

He looked out over the calm sea and pulled the salty air deep in his lungs.

Yet Master loved him. Truly loved him. He was sure, so certain aster ce luof it.

Could it be? Could it be that he both liked doing those things, but that at the same time it made him unhappy?

He wished he were smarter. Maybe then he could solve this. Make his little brother happy again. Have him come running in his arms, like he used to, and babble about his day. And giggle while he let himself be washed. Or ride beside him with that proud look on his face that said, “This is my big brother and what business of yours is it?”

So what could he do to make that happen? It was simple of course. Just take away that one evening and all that had come in its wake would also disappear.

Two tears of desperate frustration rolled down his cheeks.

The one thing that was needed was the one thing he could never make come true.

When Anaxantis returned from the border he found scouts who had come back from the Plains waiting for him. They hadn't seen the enemy army, but they had encountered their Mukthar counterparts. In some cases short lived, ferocious skirmishes had ensued.

Anaxantis swore silently. He had given express orders to avoid all armed conflict. It was far more important that they returned safe and sound, bringing him the information he needed. However, he understood that in some cases it had been unavoidable.

By extrapolating just where the Mukthar scouts had been seen he got a fair idea where they had come from.

“My guess,” he said to Hemarchidas, pouring over a map, “is that their main army is crossing the Mirax here, in the great bight, this side of the Middlewood Forest.”

“That's good, isn't it?” the Cheridonian said. “That means they're still far from Ghiasht.”

“Yes, but so are we. And our army is disorganized, stretched out in a long line along the border. We'll never get all units together to stop them where I had planned to.”

“No, but surely we can position ourselves between Ghiasht and them. There's still time for that at least.”

“Let's hope so... Damn it, we have only the crudest, most superficial maps of that area and all they tell me is that there are several rivers and valleys. They could be using any of them, while we are marching through another one. A lot is going to depend on our scouts. I don't like it one bit.”

Anaxantis decided to wait for daybreak before taking the road himself. After having given orders to prepare everything, he went behind the makeshift curtain to have another rest.

The next morning, after a surprisingly refreshing sleep, he was up bright and early and made everybody jump through hoops. Less than an hour after rising he was underway.

He had decided to take Lorcko with him as far as Dermolhea, meaning to leave him with the other pages in the base camp. Since he hadn't told him his intentions, Hemarchidas hadn't corrected him or told him that he had ordered the pages to take care of his personal tent.

Progress was slower on the way back than when he had come to Mirkadesh. The roads where still filled with troops that had just made a turn about, and all along the way they encountered wagons with broken axles and some with damaged wheels. Others had fallen over.

Anaxanver.oketis and his clansmen often needed to leave the road to pass the slower moving units. Then there were long stretches where there was almost no congestion.

On the whole, however, everybody was going in the right direction. Nevertheless, the prince kept worrying.

Returning scouts didn't know where he was at first, and arrived in Mirkadesh only to have to pursue him in the direction of Dermolhea. News wasn't good. His initial guess had proven true, and the Mukthar army had already crossed the Mirax in its entirety. By now it was good and well on its way to Ghiasht.

He passed the base camp at Dermolhea, two days after he had left Mirkadesh, and was about to send Lorcko to it, when he finally learned that the pages too were on the road to Ghiasht. He cursed under his breath, but consoled himself with the thought that he would still be able to keep them far behind the lines.

The Mirkadesh Home Guard, considered to be totally unreliable, had been scheduled to depart last. As a result they were still there when Anaxantis reached Dermolhea. He called for the two captains.

“Under the circumstances,” he said, “I'm not going to ask you to come with the rest of the army. You can go to Mirkadesh and take care of your family and kinsmen. I only ask that you wait until all army units have passed the city, or that you take secondary roads home.”

The two captains looked at each other, then one spoke for the both of them.

“Your highness, we talked about this with the men. There's not much we'll be able to do whenever we get there that's not already being done. We know how little you value us and that you don't trust us. We don't blame you. You have no reason to. All the same, we'd much rather come with you and fight the barbarians who did this to our family and friends. We want revenge. And, no offense, you'll be needing us. If it's all the same to you...”

Anaxantis looked surprised at one, then the other.

“Very well, gentlemen. Take the road as soon as possible. I think there will be more than enough Mukthars for all of us.”

How true that was became gradually clear as more and more reports came in from returning scouts. This time there had been sightings of the Mukthar army. Exact figures, or even dependable estimates were impossible to get, as the scouts had, very wisely, not ventured too near the advancing barbarians.

The direction they were taking, however, was certain. As was the fact that there were an awful lot of them.

Meanwhile the pages had made good progress.

Obyann and Arranulf led their youthful mini army skillfully past all obstacles. Partly it was ingenuity, partly sheer subterfuge. By regularly reconnoitering the road before them, Obyann had been able to determine when it was profitable to leave it, and take small byways to circumvent major jams.

On other occasions they had just used cunning and not a small measure of bluff.

“You'll just have to wait until we come at the next stretch of road. I'm told it's much broader there, and maybe you can pass us there,” one particularly unhelpful captain had grumbled.

“Really?” Obyann had asked with a mischievous smile, “can you just give me your name — oh, wait, that's not necessary. My good friend the duke of Landemere, here, will just take a note of which unit this is.”

“What? Why?”

“Nothing much, really. Just so we can tell his highness exactly why he had to sleep under the stars instead of in his comfortable tent, which we have in those two wagons over there... So, captain, are you making a career out of the army? A promotion in sight, perhaps? Just curious.”

Roads tended to open and jams to disappear in this and similar manners.

Arranulf had put Eynurm and his patrol at the rear with the express assignment to urge stragglers on. A strict timetable was kept for changing the horses pulling the wagons, so as not to tire them out excessively.

All in all they ran an efficient outfit.

“You know what?” Obyann said to Arranulf, returning from one of his forays, on the third day after they had left base camp.

His friend looked at him expectantly.

“There's nobody in front of us anymore,” he continued.

“What do you mean? We're first? We passed all the troops?”

“Unless some units are far, far in advance of the rest, that seems to be the case, yes.”

They rode on beside each other, silently pondering the situation.

“Well,” Arranulf said, “the best we can do is go as far as the environs of Ghiasht and commandeer some barn or something. Then we wait for the arrival of his highness.”

“We'll send out some of the oldest guys to keep tabs on what the rest of the army is doing. Maybe try to find out where the prince is, and where he plans to go.”

“Good idea. We'd better be careful though. Very careful.”

“How so?”

“We don't want to fall into the hands of some advance party of Mukthars. You do realize, don't you, that we have most of the noble heirs of the Northern Marches with us? Not to mention several of the Ximerionian heartland.”

Obyann nodded.

“You're right. You're absolutely right. It would be a disaster if we fell into enemy hands. We could be used to put the prince under pressure. Maybe lose him the battle, the war even.”

Anaxantis and his party were more than seventy miles past Dermolhea when they were met by a very nervous delegation, comprising the mayor and some councilmen of Ghiasht.

As luck would have it he had just stopped for some rest and food at a roadside tavern. When he heard who exactly it was that wanted to speak to him, he grudgingly agreed to receive them. Although there were more than enough chairs he didn't bade the mayor and his party to sit down. He just nodded curtly to acknowledge their presence.

“Your highness,” the mayor started haltingly, “we have had some very disturbing news that a great barbarian army is marching on the loyal city of Ghiasht. We've come to assure you that we will offer you any assistance we possibly can—”

“It would have been a lot more useful, mayor, if you had paid your fair share of the tribute for the war effort.

What am I supposed to do with your hollow assurances?” the prince answered coldly.

“Ah, yes, the tribute... Unforese="1em" Uncesen circumstances, administrative difficulties, shortage of personnel and such. But we managed to collect the money by now. In fact it is here, at your disposal, to do with as you please, your highness. All of it.”

“How very comforting. It's a little late now to use it to recruit and train more troops, wouldn't you agree?”

“Yes, but maybe—”

“But maybe, mayor, I should adjust my tactics accordingly and use Ghiasht as bait. Let them sack and plunder the city a bit. Let's say a day or two. Then I could fall on them with the complete army when they're tired and drunk of plundering, murdering and raping. And such.”

The mayor looked at his councilmen, who all ardently wished they were somewhere else.

“Surely,” he pleaded, “it won't be necessary to let it come to that. Ghiasht has its own scouts. We like to know how things stand in the territory our caravans have to cross, you see. They tell us the Mukthar army hasn't reached the valleys as yet.”

Anaxantis looked at him with open contempt.

“The army is moving into the Plains right before Ghiasht, mayor. We'll do our best to stop them there. If that assurance was all you came for, please retire, and let me enjoy my dinner in as far as possible.”

“Yes, of course, your highness,” the mayor stammered.

When they were about to leave, the prince called after him.