The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (60 page)

Anaxantis had fallen asleep again. Tarno lay staring in the dark, his vision blurred with tears.

Wasn't it for these moments he lived? For feeling that trusting body in his arms? For seeing that head, lying on his chest, the golden hair fanned out. Wasn't this why he had arms and a chest to begin with?

Wasn't this love, after all? Some kind of love, anyway? Wasn't this enough?

It was.

“And so the warrior returned home.”

...

“
Ah, yes, Mandigaill, I was expecting you to say that since you're a stupid boy after all. I'm getting used to
your stupendous lack of understanding. To begin with: he was not the first. His grandfather had done far
worse, and not to protect his people, but just to lay his hands on the Devil's Crown. Herruwold III the Bold
once put more than two thousand captive enemy soldiers to the sword. It hasn't hurt his reputation as a noble
and valiant warrior king one bit.”

...

“
Of course it was necessary, Hunter. It was also the most merciful decision he could take. Consider. Keeping
them prisoner for any length of time would have caused most of them to die from a virulent illness. But not
only Mukthar enemies would have died. His own soldiers inevitably would have caught the sickness. Where
would have been the justice, the mercy in that? Simply letting them go would have made him seem weak in
the eyes of the barbarians. They would have mocked him and within three years they would have been back
in arms.”

...

“
Try to imagine, you unthinking child, how they would have fared if they had fallen in the hands of Timishi.

He wouldn't have hesitated to turn them all into shorringah, like Ambrick. If Anaxantis considered that
solution at all, he didn't act on it. To feed them he would have had to steal the food out of the mouths of his
own people. Can't you see he was in an impossible predicament? There was no right decision.”

...

“
Have you known Anaxantis to ever do anything with only one good reason? He saw further. The Mukthars
returned home, group by group. When the old quedash learned that more than eighteen thousand of his
warriors lay dead upon the field and the rest was returning home blind, his heart gave out and he died of
apoplexy. Now, that Anaxantis couldn't have foreseen, but the other consequences he had.

“
There was not a town, not a village, not a settlement in the territory of the Bear Mukthars or some of its
inhabitants returned blind. Young men, with still a long life before them. They cast a gloomy atmosphere
around them, as you can imagine. Younger Mukthars, nearing the warrior age, saw their blind, useless
elders. They were a living, walking lesson that the days Mukthars could raid Ximerion unopposed were over
for ever. In that way alone, Anaxantis's decision spared thousands upon thousands of lives in the years to
come. Ironically, also Mukthar lives.

“
The Bear Mukthar nation could have raised another army. But it would have been their last, and Shigurtish
had delivered Anaxantis's message that, if vanquished, they would crawl home. In last analysis they deemed
the risk too high. And, of course, they soon found the passes had become impregnable.

“
The returning Mukthars were not only a damper on all plans of aggression, they also were a drain on the
simple economy of the tribe. Seven thousand proud, but useless warriors. Seven thousand unproductive
mouths to feed. For a long time the Bear Mukthars had more pressing worries than concocting war plans.”

...

“
Timishi had been right. Even to this day Mukthar mothers scold and threaten their unruly children, saying
‘Be good, or Anashantish will come at night and steal your eyes.’ And every Mukthar child knows what she
is talking about.

“
And of course Hemar="8pt"rsear chidas was right as well. Not a day went by or Anaxantis felt the weight
of that fateful decision. He never, in his heart of hearts, knew whether it had been the right one. Or if he
could have found another solution.

“
On the whole however it was an unmitigated triumph. The Provincial Council voted him the honorary title
of Shield of Amiratha. The whole of the Northern Marches helped pay for a monument, a memorial to be
erected at the place of the battle. You can still see it. ‘Here Anaxantis, warlord of Amiratha, Mirkadesh and
Landemere broke Mukthar pride,’ it says, inscribed in bold letters. He never visited it.”

...

“
No, Friend of Wolves. There are no endings. Pauses, yes. At most. Still, we're almost at such a pause, but
not just yet. A few things still remain to be told.

“
I don't think that as yet you realize just how complete, how overwhelmingly crushing his victory at the
Zinchara had been. It changed the political landscape, not only of the Marches, not only of the kingdom, but
of the whole region. The balance of power had shifted in a major, totally unexpected way. It took a lot of
people off guard. Not in the least his father and his mother.

“
Then there is the matter why he did it all. There was one underlying, all pervading reason. Maybe you can
guess what that was, maybe you can't. In any case I will tell you. Finally, there is one more battle he won.”

...

“
No. There is also just a little bit more to tell about that. The balance in their relationship would undergo
one more adjustment.”

...

“
I'm too tired, Hunter. But, well, let me rest my voice, while you cook us some dinner and I watch you from
my chair. I will continue after our meal.”

...

“
No, don't get dressed. It will whet my appetite watching you prepare our food.”

Anaxantis, by the Right of Arms

Lorcko dismounted and left his horse in the care of his five soldiers, crossed the makeshift wooden bridge that lay over the moat that was being dug and ran up the hill.

At the top Timishi was waiting for him, a big grin on his face.

“This is a beautiful spot, àjemisha,” Lorcko said, falling in his arms. ”And, oh look, what a magnificent view over the Mirax.”

Timishi noticed Lorcko had let his hair grow even longer and had adjusted the parting. Thick strands of shining, black hair now almost covered the left part of his face, while the hair on his right was held back behind his ear with a silver clasp, drawing attention away from the blemished side.

The Mukthar smiled. He didn't mind either way. He really liked the scar and didn't in the least think it diminished the attractiveness of his lover.

�" align��dn'��So, where are we exactly,” Lorcko asked. “Is this going to become the throne room?”

“For the moment it is just my tent and a wooden barrack. I haven't decided yet. All I know is that the bedroom is very nearby.” Timishi grinned.

“You'll have to show it to me then, won't you, barbarian?” Lorcko smiled.

They entered the barrack.

“Do you mind?” Lorcko asked, seeing a flask of wine and cups standing on the table.

“You don't need to ask,” Timishi said. “You're my other-self. All that I have is yours, to do with as you please.”

Lorcko loosened his belt and threw it on the table.

“What do you have in your belt purse?” Timishi asked. “It sounds like you have a rock in there.”

“Strangely enough, that's exactly what it is,” Lorcko replied, and he smiled sheepishly.

He opened the purse and handed it over to Timishi, who turned it around in his hands, looking at it.

“It's, ah, a rock. Just a rock,” he said, not understanding why someone would carry such an invaluable but heavy object around.

Lorcko laughed.

“Yes, it is. That strange, old doctor gave it to me. I got attached to it. I kind of like it, though it has a fissure at the bottom.”

Timishi again turned the rock around, looked at the underside, then laid it on the table with the crack downwards.

“What fissure? I can't see any fissure.”

The Mukthar withdrew and sank beside his lover. He drank in his bronze skin, the nipples that seemed hammered out of ancient silver and the soft, yet somehow firm curvatures of the body he had just possessed.

He felt the dark eyes rest on him, languidly, yet almost predatory and answered the feline grin with an uncomfortable smile of his own. He had a presentiment of what was coming.

“Now that you've had your vile Mukthar ways with me, barbarian, it's your turn,” Lorcko said, all but dreamily.

Timishi smirked uncomfortably.

“You... you mean...
me
?”

“Oh, yes,” Lorcko said, coming upright on his knees. “I'll be gentle with you,” he added in a purring voice.

“Just don't resist me and all will be fine.”

He lifted Timishi's legs and pressed the tip of his member against the entrance.

“You're a virgin there, aren't you?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Timishi lied in a subdued, atypically coy tone.

Lorcko let go of him, long enough to apply some oil to his member. Then he entered, as cautious, as gently as he could. When he felt himself firmly entrenched in his lover, he lifted the Mukthar up, with a surprising force. Timishi folded his legs around him and let himself sink even further down over his lover's shaft.

Supporting the Mukthar's head with both his hands, he kissed him full on the lips, then gently but resolutely probed his tongue inside. Timishi let himself be penetrated in two places at once.

“
I will never be this near to someone again,”
Lorcko thought, clasping his lover firmly in his arms”“I'll never love like this again.”

“Are you sure, you don't mind,” he whispered in Timishi's ear.

“All that I am is yours, to do with as you please,” the Mukthar king answered.

“Where is Rodo?” Lorcko asked. “I haven't seen him anywhere.”

They were walking through what still were fields, but soon would become the capital city of the Wolf Mukthars. Streets were being lined out. Everywhere laborers, mostly Dermolhean craftsmen, were at work.

“I sent him to explore the coast, for a suitable spot for a harbor. I want us to have a way out to the sea,”

Timishi said. “And we must hurry, because I know Anashantish has plans to rebuild Renuvia. We can't let him get away with all the trade. Can you imagine? Everything that is now hauled over land, and which takes weeks, months to get here, we could far more easily, and faster as well as cheaper, transport by ship. We will be the first seafaring Mukthars ever. Maybe I'll call a shatangmàhai and have the tribe's name changed into the Seawolves.”

His eyes glistened.

“And where is all the money coming from? You'll need even more to build ships. I could help, you know.

Iramid's coffers are full.”

“Ah yes, I forgot. You're the new baron of Iramid.”

“That's count, actually. Anaxantis elevated our House. And I am the new count, sort of, but... No, I don't think father will return. It's been more than a month now since he disappeared.”

“Ever found out what might have happened to him?” Timishi asked, looking away.

“No. I asked Illiam, his second in command. He seemed... not exactly reluctant, but he wasn't forthcoming either. He told me a weird story about father having discovered some spies and trying to catch them. He didn't seem to know much beyond that. I haven't exactly given up all hope, but chances seem very remote he will ever return. We should have gotten a sign of life by now.”

“You never know. All the same, it doesn't pay to cling too much to the past.”

“Wise words. Anyway, in the meantime it's up to me to decide over the investments of the House of Iramid.

If I can help in any way, just say the word.”

“For the time being we're good, àjemisha, but thank you. I hadn't asked anything, but Anashantish had a huge amount of gold delivered to me. Tomar said it was a loan, but strangely enough he seemed to have forgotten the contracts. Highly unusual for such a meticulous administrator. So, actually, I'm going to compete for trade with Anashantish's Renuvia with Anashantish's money.”