The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse)

by Andrew Ashling

  Ehandar and Anaxantis could not have been more different. Ehandar, the older one by a year, was tall and moderately muscular. He wore his black hair long. It softened the strong, angular features of his handsome face. Anaxantis was a full head shorter and skinny, bordering on scrawny. His short, blond hair was usually tousled. His face, though attractive, was soft and childlike for his sixteen years.

  The princes were half brothers. Ehandar's mother had died, shortly after giving birth to him. Two months later Tenaxos had married her close friend, Emelasuntha, sister of the king of Zyntrea. The House of Tanahkos, only for the second generation on the throne, needed this alliance with an old and venerable, though weak, royal dynasty to enhance its legitimacy. While Tenaxos had loved Ehandar's mother, his second wedding was more a political convenience than a union of hearts.

  When he was twelve, Anaxantis had fallen sick with an ill defined ailment from which he never recovered fully and which left him weak and quickly tired. Emelasuntha had insisted on choosing her own Zyntrean doctors. She had always doted on her son, but since his sickness she had begun to spoil the boy and suffocate him with excessive motherly care. Tenaxos had watched this course of events with scarcely repressed irritation. He had tried to counter Emelasuntha's influence by having the boys educated together and ordering Ehandar to spend time with his younger brother. He had hoped that some of Ehandar's ruggedness and strength would rub off on Anaxantis. Ehandar always was attended by his young noble friends, while formally obeying his father's wishes. Emelasuntha saw to it that Anaxantis was at all times surrounded by servants to watch over him, so that he didn't exert himself, and to carry his books and medicines and the sweets she provided in large quantities.

  The two brothers had barely spoken a word to each other for years, outside some empty formulas of politeness, although they were being taught together, often rode in the countryside, making frequent stops to let Anaxantis recuperate, or simply walked in the gardens of the castle. It always looked as if two distinct groups had met in the same place by accident. Tenaxos knew all this of course, but after a while had found it more rewarding to prepare his two oldest sons for their future responsibilities, and he had let the situation fester.

  Anaxantis admired his older brother and had tried to befriend him in the beginning. He had met with polite but cold indifference, that was more hurtful than a downright rejection would have been. He sorely lacked a friend and would have given anything to be admitted in Ehandar's circle. But he was never invited and always ignored. Anaxantis had often cried, late at evening in his bed and wondered why his brother would have nothing to do with him. Several nights he had awoken, feeling his body contract and semen gushing out of his member. He never could remember exactly what he had been dreaming about, but he was almost certain that every time Ehandar had been in one way or another part of it. Whenever it happened he felt ashamed and confused, certain that a brother wasn't supposed to evoke that kind of reaction.

  Eventually he had gotten used to his half brother spurning him. He had, however, never completely given up.

  Ehandar looked out over the landscape that had gradually become more undulating and craggy.

  “Maybe this is a good thing after all,” he thought. “The operations in the south will be led by father with rigorous discipline and there will not be many occasions to shine. Here in the north, far away from paternal supervision, I am lord governor and as good as my own man. Not quite. Not yet. Two problems remain to be solved.

  “First Demrac. Father has intended him to be the true master of the North. Thank the Gods for spies. I always knew it would be useful to have a royal scribe in my pay. Neither father nor Demrac suspects that I am aware of the secret charter and what it stipulates, but I know exactly within what margins I can operate. The articles concerning a possible conflict with the Mukthars make it plausible that father expects that the treaty will be broken within the year. It will not be a big battle of course, but it will be a military operation nonetheless, and I will lead the Army of the North, such as it is. I may very well be the first among my brothers to see action. Father may have meant for Demrac to be the real decision maker, but we will see about that. Demrac is a valiant warrior, and the men trust him, but he is no strategist. Let him do the hard work. I will find a way to be the commander of the commander of the Army of the North.

  “Then, Anaxantis, that annoying weakling. It is good to know that the secret charter gives me leeway to do practically all that I want to remove him from power, save outright kill him. But I will find a way. Demrac is under orders not to intervene.

  “The little pest has taken everything from me. There are rumors that his mother has poisoned mine to supplant her in father's bed. I wouldn't put it past the evil witch. Then father has forced me to be his nanny for years. Years I could have spent with Tenaxos and Portonas, learning to fight, learning to command armies and how to rule. Instead they ignore me. They treat me as if I were a weakling myself. Father barely knows that I exist. As a final insult he made Anaxantis lord governor with equal powers to mine. The insufferable brat has cost me the respect of my whole family. As luck would have it, I know the king's true intent, and I will give him exactly what he wants. And maybe somewhat more. It will hardly be my fault if the boy were to die from whatever sickness he has. After all, it is the way of the House of Tanahkos. Father himself got rid of his two younger brothers after he ascended the throne, or so they say. He can scarcely begrudge me one little half-brother. I will begin by removing Anaxantis from the public eye. Then, when he is forgotten by everyone...

  “Tomorrow we will arrive at our destination, the castle of Lorseth. Within a few days there will be but one lord governor of the Northern Marches. Me.”

  Chapter 2:

  The Ways of the House of Tanahkos

  “That was a fine meal, Friend of Wolves, who they call the Hunter. Now let us go sit by the fireplace, me in the great chair and you on the stool in front of it.

  “I can tell the rest of the story in many ways. If you want me to tell it straightforward, you will get all of the excitement and all of the wisdom, but your blood will not run so hot. In that case, simply sit down. If you want me to elaborate and tell you precisely what happened in days of violence and nights of passion, you must undress before you take your seat.”

  ...

  “Yes, I know all the details as if I had been there myself.”

  ...

  “Yes, take off everything.”

  ...

  “You'll understand one day, if and when you reach my age. There are but few joys that time, the great thief, leaves you. Telling about other's encounters with lust and love, remembering one's own and looking.

  “Keep your legs apart.”

  ...

  “Wider... Good. If you want to hear more details touch yourself. Stroke harder if you still want to hear more, but careful, if you spend yourself, I will end my tale for the evening.”

  ...

  “Indeed, this was the part that Verial didn't tell you.”

  Late in the afternoon the small Army of the North reached Lorseth, by the coast.

  The castle was built more than three hundred years ago, when Ximerion had conquered Amiratha. It lay on a high cliff by the sea and was surrounded by a thick stone wall. Around it were barracks that could house up to six thousand troops, quarters for the generals and captains. Lorseth Castle itself was the main keep, and lay in the north eastern corner on the highest point. It's back wall stood on the ridge of the cliff, overlooking the Bay of Lorseth. It's main building was a square tower, the residence of the lord governor, with on the ground floor the great hall, used for official functions and councils, and some smaller rooms. On the second floor were utilitarian rooms, and on the third the private apartments of the lord governor. The captain of the garrison welcomed the princes and the commander of the Northern Army. The rest of the day was taken up by the cantonment of the troops and their officers. Meanwhile Ehandar and Anaxantis inspected the c
astle. They lodged their personal guards in one of the smaller buildings. A small staff of a dozen or so servants took care of the maintenance of the place.

  Ehandar had ordered his and Anaxantis's personal belongings and equipment to be brought to the living quarters of the lord governor. When the servants had left he had posted two guards at the gate of the tower, with strict orders they were not to be disturbed until next morning. The third floor was divided in a landing and one big room from where four doors led to three smaller ones and a bathroom. A fifth door gave access to a wide balcony, perched spectacularly above the cliffs. The room's great windows looked out over the sea on one side and the courtyard on the other. It also sported a monumental hearth. On the wall facing the entrance stood a magnificent, four poster bed, an enormous wardrobe and some smaller cabinets. A curtain that ran along the full length of the living accommodations, gave a modicum of privacy to the sleeping quarters when closed. The apartment also contained a table and chairs, a work desk and a big ornate armchair by the hearth.

  Ehandar took a quick look in the three smaller rooms. One of them was obviously meant for a man servant, because it contained a narrow bed and some sparse furniture.

  “I will sleep in the big bed and you will sleep in that room,” he said curtly to Anaxantis.

  Anaxantis sighed, but complied.

  “Is this how it is going to be?” he wondered. “Better not provoke him for the moment. Maybe he'll turn around once we have started working in earnest. He can't possibly stay annoyed with me all of the time.”

  The servants had made a fire in the hearth. Ehandar sat in the big armchair, looking in the flames, brooding.

  “Tomorrow we must begin organizing the defense of the northern border. I will propose an inspection. Let's see how Anaxantis will weather three days on horseback. He can't do it and will have to return.”

  Anaxantis sat at the table with a rare book that described the Renuvian Plains and the Somertian mountains.

  “The northern border is secured by mountain ranges,” he mused, “except for a gap of about hundred and twenty miles of relatively flat land that slopes down into the Renuvian Plains. According to the treaty with the Mukthars this is no-mans land, not to be occupied by either of us. It is sparsely populated, mainly by groups of outcasts. On the other side rise the Somertian mountains, behind which the Mukthars live. Only two passes give access to the plains. The mountain pass of Queneq, and a small strip of land at the coast where the mountains slope down, the Urtdam-Dek Pass. The most sensible course of action would be to occupy these passes. We could easily defend them with five hundred men against a whole army. Even more so if we build fortifications there. That would be contrary to the terms of the treaty of course, but isn't it just a question of time which of us violates it first?”

  “Anaxantis, go to your room. I want to go to sleep,” Ehandar ordered.

  “Who does he think he's speaking to,” Anaxantis fumed inside, “I'm his brother. I am just as much lord governor as he is, and I am not his servant to be ordered around.”

  For the moment, however, he thought it wise not to make waves.

  “This has got to change. I will speak to him tomorrow, when we are both rested. Maybe he will be in a more receptive mood.”

  “Good night then, Ehandar,” he said.

  There came no response.

  “The first thing we will do,” Ehandar said, “is make an inspection tour of the border. We can look out for favorable places for border patrol posts.”

  “Wouldn't it be sensible to reconnoiter the Renuvian Plains?” Anaxantis asked. “We should form advance guards that can function as an early warning system to give us time to prepare if and when the Mukthars decide to attack.”

  Demrac had listened in silence. The three men had convened in a room, next to the great hall, that functioned as war room. On one wall hung a great map of the northern border region.

  “The Renuvian Plains are neutral territory,” Demrac replied hesitatingly. “Sending patrols of armed soldiers there could be construed as an hostile act.”

  “It has only just begun,” he observed silently, “and in true fashion of the House of Tanahkos they are already at loggerheads. It's interesting, though. Ehandar opts for a passive, defensive strategy while Anaxantis supports a more proactive plan of action.”

  “Don't you think the Mukthars keep an eye on them?” Anaxantis asked.

  “Probably, although we can't be certain,” Demrac said.

  “That is precisely what worries me,” the young prince answered. “We seem to know very little, almost nothing, once we venture a few miles across our borders. That gives the Mukthars a great advantage.”

  “For the moment that's neither here nor there,” Ehandar intervened impatiently. “First we will inspect the border.”

  “I've had enough of this,” Anaxantis thought. “If I let him walk all over me without any opposition it will only grow worse.”

  “You seem to forget that I am as much lord governor as you are, brother,” he said in a measured tone. “We will of course inspect the border carefully, and we will send out covert patrols, at least as far as the river Mirax.”

  “What good will that do, you fool?” Ehandar snapped.

  “First of all, you ignorant oaf, I am not a fool. What good will it do? We will get to know the terrain. From that we can deduce which routes the Mukthars could use if they decide to break the treaty. That, in it's turn, will enable us to put watchers in place to warn us in time, so we can fight them on the Renuvian Plains instead of on our own lands. Do you even know what happened twelve years ago? The first we knew of their attack was when they stood at the border. The army came too late to prevent the sack of Dermolhea. More than 15,000 civilian lives were lost. The king had to exempt the city of taxes for seven years to enable them to rebuild. Less revenue for the treasury meant less money to spend on the defense of the Northern Marches. Which, brother, is why now we are forced to inspect the borders, as you so tiresomely have brought to our attention.”

  “The young one is no one's fool, that is clear,” Demrac noted silently. ”His reasoning is sound and he would be right in most circumstances, but not in these. Ehandar may be the stronger, but Anaxantis is smarter. No good can come of this.”

  It seemed as if Ehandar would slap Anaxantis in the face, but he withheld himself in time.

  “Very well,” he conceded with ill grace, “then you organize and lead the patrols into the Renuvian Plains for all the good it will do and I will see to the border defenses.”

  Anaxantis smiled.

  “A division of tasks. That's a very good proposal, Ehandar. Thank you,” he replied. “Unless you have objections, commander,” he added, turning to Demrac.

  “No,” Demrac responded, “you are the lord governors and I see no military reason to oppose your plans. I would advise caution, though, Anaxantis. The Plains are scarcely populated but there have been reports of gangs of robbers. You will have to see to it that your information gathering stays covert and yet you'll have to be in sufficient number to defend yourself.”

  “Understood,” Anaxantis said. “I will plan a route this afternoon, and tomorrow I will meet with General Busskal of the cavalry to seek his advice and to make practical arrangements.”

  The three men talked about general organizational problems for a while before they took leave of each other.

  Ehandar was almost exploding with pent up anger and disgust.

  “How dare the little worm,” he fumed inside. “How dare he upstage me like that and before Demrac too. I must put a stop to the interference of that insolent little imp. I can't afford to lose face as lord governor.”

  In reality Ehandar was not only angry, he was also afraid. Formally the eldest inherited everything, and since two generations ‘everything’ included the crown of Ximerion, but only if he proved to be the strongest or the smartest.

  “If something were to happen to father, Tenaxos or Portonas will succeed him. They are the
oldest, and whoever of them gains the upper hand has the Army of the South to back him up. Whoever succeeds will as soon as possible remove all threats to his position and especially close family members who could compete for the throne. The only way to escape perpetual imprisonment or worse is to build my own power base. How am I supposed to do that with only three regiments and a handful of cavalry? On the other hand I am far away in the North. They can't possibly attack me here without weakening the southern border and they must be aware of the fact that I can't attack them for lack of troops. What's more, I am defending their backs. Maybe the future king will find that it is in his own interest to leave me in place. I'm relatively harmless and possibly useful.

  “I can't have Anaxantis undermine my authority, though. The Army of the North and the Northern Marches must be mine and mine alone.”