The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (5 page)

Anaxantis was too stunned to react immediately.

“Let's see, what have we here?” Ehandar resumed as he began rummaging through Anaxantis possessions.

As he opened a chest, a sweet odor pervaded the little room.

“Ah,” he said with contempt, “Emelasuntha's famous sweets. That's food for little girls. And sacks of herbs and pills.”

“Leave that alone,” Anaxantis cried. “Those are my medicines. I need them.”

As if he hadn't heard his brother, Ehandar took the chest and dragged it to the balcony where he threw it over the balustrade into the sea.

“What have you done with my medicines?” Anaxantis asked anxiously when he returned.

“I threw them in the sea. Stop blubbering or you'll go after them.”

“You can't do this. Someone will miss me. Demrac will want to know where I am.” Anaxantis yelled in a shrill voice, betraying a mixture of fear and rage.

“You are sick and need to rest. I will tend to you myself, out of brotherly love of course. Demrac will do nothing, believe me. You can yell all you want. The walls are thick, and the roaring of the sea will drown out whatever sound manages to get through. You would be well advised to be civil towards me. I am the only one who can give you food and water.”

“Damn it, Ehandar, I am your brother,” Anaxantis shouted through his tears. “I am a prince of Ximerion.”

“Sleep well then, prince of Ximerion,” Ehandar replied mockingly and closed the door behind him.

Utter darkness fell upon the little room.

Chapter 3:

The Prisoner of Lorseth Castle

It was two o'clock in the morning and all was quiet in Ormidon Castle. A detachment of the Royal Guard knocked at the door of the private apartments of the queen. After several minutes of insistently banging on the door it was opened. The soldiers immediately entered.

“What is the meaning of this?” a sleepy, thickset woman asked indignantly.

“Wake the queen, woman,” the captain of the Guard ordered.

“But it is the middle of the night.”

“Wake the queen. Now. Or we will do it ourselves.”

“All right, all right,” the woman mumbled and disappeared behind a door.

Minutes later queen Emelasuntha came into the reception room. Though in her late thirties, she was an impressive and striking figure.

“Captain,” she said with an icy voice, “I presume you have a very good reason to wake us at this late hour?”

“The best, your highness. A direct order from the high king. You are to depart from here within the hour. You can pack a few necessities for the journey. The rest of your possessions will be brought to you at a later date.”

“Where am I to be taken?”

“I don't know, madam,” the unhappy captain said. “My orders are to deliver you at the eastern gate where a company of Black Shields will take over the responsibility for your safety.”

“Can I bring my women?”

“I don't think so, madam. Personnel will be at your disposal where you are going to.”

“It seems I have underestimated Tenax,” Emelasuntha thought. “Damn it. He is placing me under arrest, no less. I will lose all my contacts and all my sources of information, unless the Sisterhood can find out where they are taking me. And he is using the Black Shields. They won't hesitate a moment to kill me if I resist.”

“Very well, captain, I won't make your task more difficult than necessary.” She turned to the stocky woman. “Sobrathi, it seems I will not be needing your services for a while. When I return I will send for you. For now, you can go.”

“Yes, madam,” Sobrathi replied softly and left the reception room.

Moments later she reappeared, clad in a thick woolen mantle. Emelasuntha went to a cabinet and took a few gold coins out of a purse.

“This is to tide you over until my return,” she smiled as she pressed the coins and a ring she had covertly removed from her finger in Sobrathi's hand.

“Thank you, madam, that is very generous,” Sobrathi mumbled and shuffled out of the queen's apartments.

Sobrathi made her way, at a quick an energetic pace, through the city of Ormidon. The streets became narrower and more winding, indicating that she had reached the oldest districts. She entered a packed tavern and pushed her way through the throng of guests to the back of the inn, where she opened a small door that gave access to an inner courtyard. There she climbed the rickety stairs and entered a door. Another staircase brought her to a landing. A door opened and a young woman, with short black hair of about eighteen years, came looking who had arrived.

“Sobrathi, come in,” she said.

“Quick, Martillia, I have disconcerting news.”

“Yeah, so have we,” Martillia replied.

Inside were two other women.

“Is that all?” Sobrathi inquired.

“The Sisterhood is thinly spread at the moment,” Martillia shrugged. “We had to dispatch a lot of our sisters to the southern border to prepare for the arrival of the king. And, of course, a few of us went to the Northern Marches.”

“From where worrying news has reached us,” an older woman intervened. “It's lucky that you're here, because we need to ask Emelasuntha's advice.”

“Emelasuntha is under arrest, Brenacia” Sobrathi said. “She is to be deported within half an hour or so. Destination unknown. I came as fast I could.”

“What? Arrested? The queen?” Brenacia gasped.

“That worm Tenaxos,” Martillia hissed with contempt. “Typical scoundrelly behavior of a man.”

She spat on the floor.

“Sisters,” the fourth woman said, “let's remain calm. We must find out where they are taking Emelasuntha.”

“The Black Shields are to escort her, priestess” Sobrathi said. “They will leave by the eastern gate.”

The priestess looked at Martillia.

“I'm on it,” the young woman said, while girding her sword on.

“Sister,” the priestess said soberly, “no heroics, please. The important thing is to know where they are taking her. And be careful.”

“Bah, mere men won't stop me,” Martillia grinned.

“These are not mere men, girl,” the priestess admonished her. “These are Black Shields.”

“What now? Emelasuntha is under arrest and her son hasn't been seen in public for two weeks,” Brenacia asked, in a downcast voice, when Martillia had left.

“What?” Sobrathi exclaimed.

“Anaxantis hasn't left the tower of Lorseth Castle in fourteen days,” Brenacia explained. “We don't even know if he's still alive.”

“We must ask for reinforcements from Zyntrea,” the priestess said pensively.

Martillia sat on horseback at the outskirts of a forest from where she had a clear view of the eastern gate of Ormidon Castle. She was just beginning to fear that she had arrived too late and that the party that was to bring Emelasuntha to her new place of confinement had already left, when the gates opened. They were well maintained and made relatively little noise. Eight knights, all clad in black, and a closed wagon slowly set on the road. Martillia grinned self-satisfied. When the small convoy was a few hundred yards underway, a second, identical detachment of knights and a cart came through the gates. Minutes later a third group appeared.

“By the rotting penis of Sardoch,” she cursed under her breath, “is there no end to the deviousness of men?”

“What now?”
she thought.
“They will take different roads. Which is the one that carries Emelasuntha? Fuck. They may be but men, but in every group there's eight of them. I can but follow one group and I can't get near the cart to see if Emelasuntha is in it.”

She followed the three groups from a distance. At the first fork in the highway one group took the left road and the other two the right one.

“The right way leads to the eastern provinces. They will probably split up later, but at least I know the general direction they're taking. I'll follow the other one. If I get lucky that's the one carrying Emelasuntha. If not it will be a long search through the eastern provinces.”

Anaxantis had found it almost impossible to sleep the first night he was chained. The collar chafed his neck, and a flood of emotions overwhelmed him. At first he had been indignant and angry, but gradually he had calmed down a bit, and when he took stock of his situation quiet despair became the dominant feeling.

“Ehandar could just be right,”
he feared.
“He has the authority to deny anybody entrance to our private apartments. Demrac will probably not insist very long and accept Ehandar's explanation. Mother. She must have her spies here. She has tried with all that was in her to prevent me being sent here. She had to give in and was quarantined for her pains. However, she must have foreseen that she could fail and have taken other measures. Whoever is her agent or agents in the Northern Army will have as primary mission to keep her informed about me. It is unlikely that they will fall for Ehandar's primitive ruse. Mother will be informed of my disappearance out of the public eye within days. But will she be able to do something?

“What if Ehandar decides to kill me? He has taken my medicines. Does he plan to let me die a so called natural death? How could I have been so stupid, so immensely stupid? I knew how this family has worked it's way upward from a robber's lair to the royal castle. I knew to what lengths any member of this nest of vipers would go to rid themselves of possible rivals. How easily I have let myself be eliminated. And now I am totally in Ehandar's power. The only thing that's left for me to try is reason with him. Or plead. Or beg...”

He began to cry softly. Not only was his situation as good as hopeless, but he had been casually betrayed by the brother whose approval he had craved, and who he had admired so much. Admired and more. But it was much too painful to let his mind wander in that direction.

After the first night a routine had set in. Before leaving Ehandar chained Anaxantis to a long chain attached to the wall near the fireplace. This allowed him to use the bathroom. He could even reach the cabinet where he had put his books and the balcony. The balcony offered total privacy, as it was at the backside of the castle, looking out over the sea. Only from a ship could he have been noticed. However the weight of the chain pulled uncomfortably at the collar when he moved from the wall where it was attached to, and he had to support it to remove the strain on his neck. Most of the day he stayed near the fireplace, sitting on a folded blanket, occasionally fetching a book or using the bathroom.

The first few days had been the worst. Around noon of the second day he had begun to feel nauseous, and later his throat had begun to hurt fiercely. The pain had disappeared after a while, only to reappear in his right ear. By the time Ehandar had returned he was shivering with fever. Ehandar had looked at him and dragged him to his little room. After he had chained him, he had brought a wooden bucket. The pain and the fever had kept Anaxantis awake and by morning he was almost certain that without medical care his days were numbered. The pain in his throat had reappeared and prevented him from eating and drinking, as swallowing had almost become impossible.

By late afternoon of the third day he had dragged himself to the bathroom and hung over the stone tub. For hours he felt as if he had to throw up, but nothing came of it, except some bouts of painful dry heaving. Only the fourth day he began to vomit, after severe convulsions. What he regurgitated seemed to come from deeper than his stomach and consisted of long, sticky strands of slime. The taste and the smell were horrible, and his stomach muscles were hurting from the severe contractions. The bathroom had streaming fresh water, thanks to a bifurcation of the aqueduct, so that he could rinse his mouth. When finally, after hours, the heaving stopped he felt weak and drained. He barely managed to crawl back to his place near the hearth and had fallen down, exhausted, on his improvised nest of blankets and cushions.