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

by Andrew Ashling

  “He is alone,” he reflected. “Could it be true what they say? That he has murdered his brother and colleague. I wouldn't at all be surprised. He is a Tanahkos and the wolf cubs will already be fighting over the throne. He is a Tanahkos and that means he is arrogant. He is also young, very young. That also means he is arrogant and at the same time susceptible to flattery. Well, feigning deference is easy enough. I wouldn't be where I am if I couldn't do something as simple as that.”

  Ehandar was welcomed into the Council Room by a beaming lord mayor.

  “Your royal highness,” he almost purred, “it is an honor... please, seat yourself in my chair.”

  He bowed and pointed to an ornate chair at the head of a large table. Ehandar sat down.

  “Thank you, mayor,” he said. “Do you have something to drink? It was a tiring journey.”

  The mayor clapped his hands and two servants came in the council room, carrying drinks and refreshments on silver plates. The mayor himself poured wine in a silver cup and offered it to the lord governor.

  “In your letter you stated that there were certain matters you wished to discuss with me?” the mayor asked.

  “He could have given me my full title of lord mayor. He accepted the royal highness readily enough.”

  “Yes,” Ehandar replied, after he had taken a few swigs of wine, “I see you like to come straight to business. Good. I like that as well. As you know, my first responsibility is the defense of the northern border. We can't be certain when or just where, but the probability of an attack by the Mukthars is very high. I don't have to remind you what happened twelve years ago, I suppose?”

  “No, you don't. I was here until the day before they came. Of course, when they arrived I was already far away. And you, you were all of five years old at the time.”

  “Our fair city was sacked and, alas, many lives were lost.”

  “Yes, exactly. I hope to prevent that this time around. To that end I am mobilizing as many men as I can. My own troops are not sufficient to effectively withstand them. I'll be as direct as I can, mayor. I want Dermolhea to take part in the responsibility of its defense. I'm here to commandeer your militia.”

  “But of course, your royal highness,” the mayor acquiesced in an oily voice. “The militia is at your disposal.”

  “And a fat lot of good it will do you. The militia has about two hundred members. They're supposed to practice, mainly archery, to defend the walls. In fact most of them became member of the militia for the honor, such as it is, or the uniform, or the empty titles they call themselves by. Most of their gatherings are spent drinking beer and wine. I doubt they could hit a cow standing ten feet away with an arrow. But they are all yours.”

  “Excellent. How many men are we talking about?”

  “Finally I'm getting somewhere,” Ehandar thought.

  “I am not sure, two hundred and ten or two hundred twenty five. Something like that. Archers mainly.”

  “Is that all?” Ehandar exclaimed. “Dermolhea is a city of two hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants and all you're offering me is two hundred archers? That's not even one man for every thousand citizens.”

  “What can I say,” the lord mayor almost shrugged, “this is how things stand.”

  “Well, it won't do. I want at least a contingent of two thousand men out of Dermolhea.”

  “Ah, your royal highness, that will be difficult, but I will do my best of course. I will put it on the agenda of the very next meeting of the Council. You know how it is. I have twenty four colleagues and decisions of this kind can only be made by a two-thirds majority. It will not be easy...”

  “Nothing seems to be easy in the Northern Marches,” Ehandar reflected bitterly. “I know these councils. They will talk and talk, interminably... and do nothing. Don't these people care at all that a savage tribe can attack them and sack their city all over again?”

  The conversation continued for about half an hour during which Ehandar conveyed his firm intention to rouse the whole province into a state of defensibility, and the Lord Mayor gave his equally firm assurance to assist him with all the power of his office.

  By the beginning of August, Ehandar got thoroughly depressed. Wherever he turned he met, not exactly resistance, but a debilitating lack of enthusiasm of the inhabitants to take the slightest interest in their own defense. The further cities and communities lay from the border, the greater their lack of motivation was. Only the duchy of Landemere remained to be visited. When he had formed his plans, he had calculated the duchess could at the very least provide him with a contingent of about a thousand soldiers. Now, he wasn't all that certain anymore. The wily old bird would probably find ways to wriggle out of any pressure he could apply on her.

  The greatest success he had booked was with the small tribe of the Cheridoni. Four hundred years ago they had sought asylum in Ximerion, and they had been given a small valley at the eastern border under the condition that they were responsible for the defense of its mountain passes. They were permitted to keep their own laws and customs, as long as they fulfilled their obligations and recognized the overlordship of Ximerion. The Cheridoni had received Ehandar with great hospitality, but he saw immediately that their population was rather small. Their main occupation was raising horses and training them. Cheridonian horses had an excellent reputation. They immediately acknowledged their debt to the kingdom of Ximerion that had sheltered them for the last four hundred years and had offered him hundred and fifty horses, which represented an enormous amount of money for their tribe. They also agreed to form a cavalry unit of fifty warriors on horseback, fully equipped and trained. They had requested respectfully that their unit would be allowed to be commanded by their own officers.

  Ehandar had been all too happy to grant this reasonable request. He had even offered to give their commander the rank of general in the Ximerionian auxiliary army, a gesture which had greatly pleased the elders of the tribe. Relatively speaking their contribution to the defense efforts was the highest of all. Six weeks later a first unit of twenty warriors, accompanied by fifty horses had arrived at Lorseth.

  The grand total of three months of efforts to raise troops had resulted in about eleven hundred extra soldiers of, with some exceptions, mostly doubtful quality.

  It was not nearly enough.

  While pondering what could be his next move in the war room, a guard announced a visitor who said to bring news of Gorth of Sidullia. When the man entered he saw that it was Gorth himself, his once dark red hair now straw blond. Gorth wasn't smiling as he entered.

  “Gorth,” Ehandar said surprised, “what have you done to your hair?”

  “I've bleached it, and I am traveling under a different name, Ehandar,” he replied, while hugging his friend. “I have terrible news, I'm afraid. I came as fast as I could.”

  Ehandar gave Gorth a cup of wine.

  “Out with it,” he said with an eerie feeling of impending doom.

  “We've been discovered. The servant of Portonas we had bribed has been found out, or he has betrayed us, we're not certain which. Anyhow, when he had his next meeting with Rullio he was covertly accompanied by Portonas's men. Rullio was captured. When after several hours he hadn't returned we went to look for him. Nothing, only signs of a struggle and his sword. We don't know where he has been taken. From all that we know about Portonas, it is almost certain he has been tortured.”

  “Portonas wouldn't dare. Rullio is of the highest nobility,” Ehandar said, more in hope than because he believed it himself.

  “Ha, as if that would stop Portonas. As I said, Rullio has been taken to an unknown location, probably far away from the fort of Nira where your father has made his headquarters. They will have recognized him of course, so Portonas now knows that it was Ehandar's friends who spied on him. The five of us have fled the army, rather than waiting till Portonas came for us. By the Gods, I hope Rullio is dead by now.”

  Ehandar said nothing, paralyzed with fear.

  “
Now he will come after me for certain,” his panicking thoughts raced. “This is worse than three months ago. There will be no doubt in his mind anymore that I am a danger to him. He will feel it necessary to eliminate me. And now I am blind and deaf also. I have no way of knowing what is happening at the southern border, except what they choose to tell me in official communications.”

  “What will you do?” he managed to ask.

  “I thought to apply to the cavalry here, under an assumed name. That way maybe I can still be useful to you, and it is the farthest I can flee without actually leaving Ximerion. If you have no objections, that is.”

  “No, it's fine. I believe there are openings. A few men got injured and some were decommissioned for various reasons. If you encounter any difficulty, I will intervene on your behalf.”

  “Better not, Ehandar. In fact we should meet as little as possible. I don't want to break cover, except when strictly necessary. I'm sure I'm more than qualified to be accepted on my own merits.”

  “Do you need anything? Money?”

  Gorth grinned.

  “I'm good, thank you. After all, I will be earning a salary. For now I will return to the woods nearby and sleep there. Tomorrow Serimar Delono will present himself to the recruiting officer.”

  They went over the situation again until the evening fell and Gorth could leave under the cover of darkness.

  Anaxantis sat, quietly reading a book, by the hearth when Ehandar returned. Beside him was the empty bowl out of which he had eaten the simple porridge that had been his staple for the last three months. He didn't say a word and continued reading while Ehandar ungirded his sword and lay it on the table. After taking off his mantle and tunic with the eagle crest and hanging them in the wardrobe, he sank in the big chair by the hearth, which at this time of the year was not burning. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

  The fear had swollen to full fledged panic.

  “What am I going to do? What am I going to do? Before this happened there was a chance that Portonas would have left me alone. Now that he knows I suspect him and have been spying on him, he will surely want me gone. And I still don't have enough troops to defend the border. Demrac and the other generals barely take me seriously, and the lower officers don't know me, let alone the soldiers. At any moment a royal writ, whether it be one from father or Portonas, could undermine my position. Worse, I could find myself a prisoner instead of lord governor. There must be a way to avoid this, but I'll be damned if I can see it.”

  Behind his back Anaxantis, who had carefully observed him, as good as he could from his position, quietly went to the table where Ehandar's had left his sword. Without making a sound he removed the belt. Then he went back to where his brother sat and threw it in his lap.

  “Use it,” he said calmly, while he loosened the laces of his shirt, “it will make you feel better. It did the last time.”

  “What?” Ehandar asked, flustered. “What do you mean?”

  “Beat me. You're obviously in pain. Share it with me. Beat me. You like to beat me, don't you?”

  Anaxantis removed his shirt and turned his back to his brother. Ehandar was stunned and immediately torn out of his worries.

  “Is that really how he sees me”, he thought exasperated. “But of course he sees me like some monster that likes to inflict pain. He has no reason to think otherwise.”

  “No,” he said forcefully. “I won't beat you. I don't want to. Why would—”

  “Then take me,” Anaxantis interrupted him while loosening the drawstrings of his pants. “I know for certain you liked that.”

  “Piss on me, if it makes you feel better,” he added.

  “Is he serious? What has gotten into him?”

  Ehandar looked at his brother who now stood before him, clad only in his drawers, his face impassive yet earnest.

  “His hair has grown and it suits him. In fact, he is quite handsome. Strange that I never saw that.”

  “No,” he said, but it sounded less self-assured. “Why would you even... consider this?”

  Anaxantis shrugged.

  “You're my brother,” he said undisturbed, “and I love you. Maybe more than one should love a brother. I don't like to see you in pain.”

  Anaxantis came nearer and sat in his lap, throwing one arm around his neck and laying a hand upon his breast.

  “Take me,” he whispered in Ehandar's ear. “You want to. I want you to.”

  He moved his hand downwards.

  “You can't lie to me anymore, Ehandar. Your body speaks for you.”

  Ehandar felt himself blush.

  “No,” he said softly, “it will hurt. I've hurt you too much already.”

  “I don't care and you will be gentle,” Anaxantis said and his lips sought Ehandar's.

  “Is there no battle, no battle at all I can win? Have I no defenses? Even here?”

  “We're brothers,” Ehandar said, against what he truly wished.

  “We're half brothers. If that. But first and foremost we're Tanahkoses. We don't obey laws. We make them,” Anaxantis replied softly, but confidently, barely breaking the contact of their lips.

  Hesitatingly, very cautiously, Ehandar kissed him back.

  “It's only a kiss. I can stop it at any moment, and then it will be over.”

  Just like water that at first seeps through a small crack in a dam, but gradually widens the gap and at long last bursts through it with roaring force, taking the whole structure with it, Ehandar's feelings swept him away.

  It wasn't only a kiss, and it had never been just the wine, he understood now.

  When finally they stopped kissing and Anaxantis had rested his head against his chest, Ehandar opened his eyes and looked upon the blond head that so trustingly lay against him.

  “How could I ever...”

  But he didn't want his thoughts to go there. He reached in his pouch and retrieved a key. Almost timidly, trying not to disturb the softly breathing boy on his lap, he opened the collar and let it drop to the floor. He gasped when he saw the crusts that had formed on the chafing wounds on Anaxantis's neck, and which somehow he had overlooked until now. He cursed silently.

  Anaxantis looked up at him. Ehandar gulped.

  “Will you share my bed tonight?” he asked, almost shyly. “You don't... only if you want to.”

  As his only answer Anaxantis rubbed his body closer against his. Ehandar carried him to the big bed, lay him softly down and undressed. Before getting into bed, he removed Anaxantis's drawers. The boy smiled and lifted his hips to accommodate him. When he had crawled into the bed, he took Anaxantis in his arms and kissed him softly on the mouth. He straddled the boy, bended over and started kissing him first in his neck, softly, as if trying to heal his wounds with his lips, then let his kisses wander on his chest and nipples, slowly moving downward. He felt Anaxantis shiver. The boy turned on his belly under him.

  “Do you want this?” Ehandar asked. “We don't need—”

  “Do it,” Anaxantis said.

  He grimaced involuntarily when Ehandar entered him, and clenched his eyes shut. The older boy held back a while before lowering himself as careful as he could.

  “Tell me if I'm hurting you,” he said anxiously.

  “It's alright,” Anaxantis groaned softly.

  Very slowly Ehandar started moving up and down as he felt Anaxantis relax under him. He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to thrust vigorously, but instead kept moving at a steady rhythm. A soft moaning escaped from his partner's lips and he felt a gentle clenching around his member. When finally he peaked it was not a forceful explosion but an equally satisfying, gushing release. He let his body sink upon Anaxantis's and kissed him in the neck, while still remaining in him. When later he withdrew, he turned the boy around and was greeted by an enchanting smile which was impossible not to return. He took him in his arms and lifted him half up, while he took Anaxantis's member in his hand. He pressed his lips upon the slightly open mouth of the boy,
while he kept stimulating him. Soon he felt as if all air was sucked out of his mouth, and Anaxantis's body contracted and then stretched out, at the same time turning to him while his semen erupted on both their bellies.

  Anaxantis was still panting in the afterglow, while Ehandar moved a sweaty, wavy strand of blond hair out of his eyes. The gray-blue eyes looked with gratitude up to him, and Ehandar, for the first time in his life, felt wanted, needed.

  He wished he could retain the moment, stop the time, but inevitably it passed.

  He stood up to get a towel, moistening a part of it with fresh water, and cleaned them both under the adoring gaze of Anaxantis. When he climbed back in bed and stretched out beside him, Anaxantis sighed as he snuggled against him. With his head in the crook of Ehandar's shoulder, the boy almost immediately fell asleep.

  For a long time Ehandar didn't dare move, even when his muscles began to ache from holding the same position too long, for fear of interrupting the peaceful, trusting slumber of his partner. Feeling the nearness of the warm, slender body almost brought tears to his eyes.

  “How could I have been so stupid, so blind. He must have loved me for a long time before this. And I, who have always felt so lonely, even with my friends around me, have done nothing but push him away and blame him for everything. Well, all that is going to change. Tomorrow I'll explain everything to him, all the dangers that lurk around us, all that went wrong, all my failures, and this time I will listen to his advice. With my arm and his brain our chances of surviving the struggle for the Devil's Crown are more than doubled. We'll make the Marches into an impenetrable bulwark were we can't be budged from.”

  When he had checked that the boy was fast asleep he carefully made himself more comfortable. Anaxantis moved in his sleep and lay a hand on his chest. Ehandar smiled and drew the covers over both of them.