The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (36 page)

“Are you certain?” Anaxantis asked eventually.

“Yes, yes, I'm certain,” he answered, unhappily but submissively.

“Very well,” Anaxantis finally said after a long pause. “I suppose we could give it a try and see how it works out. All right then, you can stay. For the moment.”

Ehandar couldn't help sighing with relief. He looked up at Anaxantis who was studying him intensely.

“What is he looking for?”
Ehandar thought.

“Well?” Anaxantis said.

Ehandar looked at his little brother uncomprehendingly.

“Well, aren't you grateful that I let you stay here?”

“Ah... Oh, yes... thank you. Thank you. Thank you for letting me stay.”

He cast his eyes down. It was then that he saw it.

“He has an erection. It excites him to have me in his power. It arouses him to humiliate me, to see me crawl before him.”

After Anaxantis had left, Ehandar sat down in the big chair by the hearth and buried his face in his hands.

“This was not how it was supposed to go. He has me completely cornered. He can do whatever he likes with me. If I resist he only has to call the guards and they will do to me whatever he says. I am nothing, literally nothing, and he is the lord governor, the regent of Landemere. He can destroy me with one sign of his hand.

“Did he ever love me? I doubt it. It is all so clear now. The boy who stole the duchy from Athildis, threatening to kill her grandson under her eyes, has been planning this for months. He has played me from the very beginning. From the very first kiss that was also the very first lie. And I, I fell for it. And for him. He must have been planning this even longer, much longer. Probably from the night...”

Here his thoughts faltered as he suddenly realized that it was not Anaxantis who lay at the very beginning of the plight he found himself in. It was he who had unleashed the furor, he himself who had lighted and fueled the fire that now threatened to consume him.

There they were again. The horrible pictures of that drunken night of impotent rage and terror when he had cooled his feverish nerves by overpowering and abusing his younger, weaker brother. Anaxantis had wanted nothing else than for them to be friends and work together, and he had not only spurned him and thrown his good intentions in his face, but he had repaid kindness and patience with raw brutality and vile abuse.

Tears started streaming down his cheeks. Not for his own dire situation, but for the first time he cried out of remorse, not only for having ravished his little brother, but for having turned him into this cold hearted, revenge seeking stranger. He had not only stolen his innocence, he had also killed a good and kind boy and unleashed a cruel, calculating monster it seemed. There was only himself he could blame. For everything. He had always known, since that night, that he owed Anaxantis. Only now he understood that his debt was so huge, it could never be repaid, because the damage could never be repaired.

There was nothing he could do to make this better. There was nothing he could do to heal Anaxantis. There was nothing he could do to undo this. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing.

Having become aware of his utter powerlessness to right what he had done wrong, of the impossibility to put back together what he had broken in such an uncompassionate manner, he sat there frozen, soundless, while tears kept streaming down his face.

It was all he could do. There was nothing to rage against in the hope of driving it away. He had spoken words that couldn't be unspoken, ever. He had done things that couldn't be undone, ever.

He had been afraid of being sent to the Royal Farms, of course, but more than that he had been terrified of being sent away from Anaxantis. This was what made it all so much, so much worse. Even now that it had become clear to him that his little brother had played him for all he was worth, that it had all been a sick travesty, a ruthless hoax, the hungry kisses, the warm embraces, the fiery love making, all just ably performed deceptions, even now, it didn't matter in the least. He loved him. Still. Despite everything. No matter what Anaxantis had done to him, no matter what he had wanted to do, he loved him. And that also was something he could do nothing about.

In the depths of his despair, in the midst of his hopelessness, in the turmoils of his misery, but also in the absolute abandon of his love, he came to an unavoidable conclusion. And, because he couldn't do otherwise, he made a decision.

Whatever Anaxantis wanted from him, Anaxantis must get.

As soon as he could free himself, Gorth had gone to where he could descend the cliffs and had made his way to his secret entrance in the castle. He had brought a satchel with candles, a tinderbox and something to eat and drink. It was about an hour before midday when he sat down upon the upper tread, next to the little door that gave into the hallway, under the staircase. Since the door was out of view from all angles he risked leaving it very slightly ajar. This let some light in and allowed him to hear what was going on.

A while after midday the coming and going of servants stopped. He heard a lock turn above him and soon after that another one from somewhere on ground level. He waited for a few minutes and then came out of hiding. All was quiet, and the hallway was completely deserted. Silently he mounted the stairs. On the landing of the second floor was the door he had heard being locked. He tried nevertheless to open it. In vain, as he had expected.

He looked around. At regular intervals there were niches in the walls, some of which had doors. Probably to store weapons and such in times of danger. In one he found buckets and brooms, but most were empty. If he heard the lock of the door downstairs turn, he could easily reach an empty niche with a door and hide.

He sat down against the locked door that so frustratingly kept him from reaching his friend and settled down for a long wait. He felt excited. He had come very close to his goal in a few short days, and this last obstacle wasn't going to keep him from freeing Ehandar. He would get an idea, sooner or later. He was sure of it. His best insights came when his mind wandered, so he restricted himself to taking in his surroundings and storing away the most minute details.

He had been sitting, leaning against the door, for more than an hour, when he heard a barely perceptible noise on the other side of it. That could only be Ehandar. To draw his attention he began to vigorously swing the door handle. After a while he heard a faint voice.

“Is someone there?”

“Down, down, there is a gap.”

At the underside of the door was indeed an opening of about two and half inches. By lying on his belly, he could see and speak through it. Soon he saw another pair of eyes.

“Gorth?”, Ehandar said, surprised. “Gorth, is that really you.”

“Yes it is,” came the hurried answer. “Don't worry, Ehandar, I'll get you out of there. I still have most of the money you gave me, and I have some of my own. More than enough for the both of us. And I have a way in and out of the castle that nobody knows about except me. Once I can get through this door, we're as good as out of here. We'll be over the border in no time—”

“Gorth, Gorth,” Ehandar, who was moved to tears, interrupted him, “I can't leave. I doubt you could get through this door, but even if you could... I just can't leave.”

“Why, Ehandar, why?” Gorth asked, pleadingly.

“I just can't. I owe him too much. You have no idea.”

“Damn it, Ehandar, listen to me. It's obvious you're in love. It took me long enough to see that. But look at what he made you do. You gave up everything for him, and in return he keeps you a prisoner.”

“You don't know half of it,”
Ehandar thought.

They remained silent for a while.

“So, you know,” Ehandar finally said hesitatingly.

“Yes, that is, I guessed, to be honest.”

“You're not disgusted? This must be so not how you used to see me.”

“Never mind how I used to see you. And of course I'm not disgusted. Granted, it took some getting used too, but in the end all that counts is that you are my friend. I'll stand by you, just like you always stood by me when those highborn creeps looked down on me because my family was only of lower nobility. It's easy to be a friend when everything is going fine and the future looks bright. I am not going to abandon you because you're going through a rough patch. Not when you need your friends the most.”

“Rough patch? Friends?” Ehandar laughed sarcastically. “Gorth, you're the only friend I have left, and this is no mere rough patch. Take the money and leave. Make a life for yourself in one of the independent city states. Forget me. There is nothing you can do for me.”

“I can get you out, damn it. We'll be over the border in no time. Find yourself another boy in Soranza. They haven't the least problem with who you bed there. Let the Mukthars do their worst here. After we're gone.”

It remained silent on the other side of the door.

“I can't, Gorth,” Ehandar finally said in a choking voice, ”I just can't. I love him. I can't bear to lose him.”

“He keeps you prisoner, Ehandar, in the name of the Gods, open your eyes. He takes advantage of your affection for him.”

Ehandar laughed eerily.

“Gorth, it is the other way around. I... I owe him... I owe him more than I can say, than I want to say.”

“Whatever it is... does it warrant this?”

“Yes.”

Gorth thought for a while.

“Gorth,” Ehandar said softly, “don't invest in a lost cause any longer. You've done all you could. More than anyone could expect of you. Leave all this, and me, behind you.”

“No. You can't make me. I'll stay here, and I'll wait, and I'll come back, and every time I come back I will ask if you still stand by your decision.”

Gorth slid his hand as far as it would go under the door. He soon felt the hand of his friend on his fingers.

“You see,” he resumed, almost in tears himself, “you can't get rid of me. So, what can I do for you to make this easier?”

Ehandar thought for a while.

“He doesn't tell me much. My world here has become very small, and very quiet. I would like to know what is going on outside this tower. But most of all I could use hearing a friendly voice, now and then.”

“I'll come as often as I can. I'll tell you all the news and every little rumor that is going around the barracks. You'll be the best informed man in Lorseth.”

“Meanwhile I will wait patiently and watch out for the least sign that your resolve is wavering. I don't need much, just a smidgen of doubt, a little opening where I can put a wedge in. I'll get you out of here yet, Ehandar.”

Uppam Fraleck, lord mayor of Dermolhea, sat in his ceremonial chair at the head of the table in the council room. He had just been informed that the lord governor of the Northern Marches had arrived.

“Another one, even younger. Another Tanahkos. He was taken prisoner by his older brother and nobody gave a copper sarth for his life, yet somehow he seems to have turned the tables on his older brother. And now he is the sole lord governor, and it is he who keeps the other one prisoner. I seem to remember that the older one wasn't very gifted, but still... And he has robbed old Athildis of her duchy. Always nice to see the nobles devour each other, but nevertheless I'd better not underestimate this one. He's in a different league altogether. Still, I have experience on my side. I'll begin with ladling on the flattery in liberal doses and take it from there.”

When the lord governor was announced, mayor Fraleck was already standing and smiling broadly.

“Your royal highness,” he purred, “this is indeed an honor. Please, seat yourself in my chair.”

He bowed and gestured to his ornate seat at the head of the table.

“Lord mayor,” Anaxantis answered his greeting, smiling as broadly as Fraleck, “the pleasure is mine. I wouldn't dream of robbing you of your rightful place. That chair, wherein so many illustrious mayors have sat is yours, and I'm sure you have earned your right to sit in it.”

He took the first chair at the corner, sat down and with a gesture invited a surprised Fraleck to sit down in his chair at the head of the table.