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.Just shy of fifteen thousand men.It had seemed so much.Compared to the small army he hadstarted out with.Compared to the ten thousand barbarians he hadexpected to meet in battle.And that was provided everything wentsmoothly.But would it? Could he count on the Ximerionian Armyof the North? What would Commander Tarngord do, once he sawhis secret charter was worthless? The Amirathan Militia was stillrecruiting.The Landemere Contingent was as good as complete andwell trained.At least he wouldn t have to worry about them.Therest.well, the rest didn t matter that much, did it?All things considered he had a good chance to defeat the tribethat was coming against his borders.Only to be confronted somemonths later by a flood of barbarians that would engulf his puny 414 Andrew Ashlingforces and annihilate them completely.The Mukthars would carrytheir vengeance deep into Ximerion.Lorsanthia would seize thisgolden opportunity to attack from the south.He would go down in thechronicles as the fool hearted prince who lost a kingdom through hisown stupidity and stubbornness, while his brave father and brotherswere defending the southern border.He would not only have ruinedhis dynasty, but also his country.And the price would be so muchhigher than fifteen thousand lives.So very, very much higher.Crouched against the tree, making himself as small as he could,hugging his knees, he felt his thoughts and emotions run away withhim.Maybe, just maybe, he should welcome Damydas, wait calmlyfor the autarch to arrive and bare his neck for the coup de grace.Or was there still time? Time to go to Lorseth, pretendingeverything was all right, collect him and haul off in the direction of theeastern border, to the independent city states.Just leave the wholedamn mess to those who had made it.His father and his minions.But it was not possible.He couldn t just run out on his friends, hissoldiers who trusted him, and the people who believed this time itwould all be different.Well, it wouldn t be different after all.Suddenly he felt the golden pills he had sown himself into a falseseam, in the left sleeve of the shirt he was wearing under his tunic,almost pulsate against his skin.He could get at them instantly, justby tearing the stitches.One bite on the soft metal, and the liquidwould drip into his mouth.It would be over in an instant.Whatwould they think when they came looking for him and found himthere, lying dead against a tree.Would they believe that he had diedof natural causes? That he hadn t been that healthy after all? That hehad exerted himself too much and that his heart had given out?And why did that even matter to him? Or would they understandwhat happened? Bonds of Fear 415Hemarchidas would understand.The first friend he ever madewould know that he had done all he could, and only taken this finalway out because the odds were overwhelming, insurmountable.Hewould blame the cruel king who had sent his youngest sons intoa quagmire, without adequate means and without the necessaryintelligence.Yes, Hemarchidas would understand and he wouldexplain to the others.Their lives would change of course, but not allthat much and soon he would be only a memory, a vague recollectionof a hope that had once shimmered in the early dawn and then diedout.His father had been right after all. So here it ends.In a nameless field, somewhere between Dermolheaand Mirkadesh.Alone. 416 Andrew AshlingChapter 12:Race to ElmshillDusk was falling and still Anaxantis sat against the tree, hisforehead resting on his pulled up knees, his hands clawing in hislush, golden hair.He had never been so arrogant as to think victory was assured,but he had believed he had a chance, a reasonably good chance even.He had based all his plans on incomplete intelligence, it seemed.Nowthe situation was beyond repair, and his father had obviously decidedwhat the price for failure was.At least he could decline paying thatprice.By being quicker.By taking the burden out of his hands.He sighed deeply.He looked out over the fields.In that direction lay the border.From there they would come in their tens of thousands, inexorable,unstoppable, laying waste to whatever they found on their path.They would reach Dermolhea and in their rage they would not onlyplunder it, but tear it down, stone by stone, and murder every livingsoul that had taken refuge in its ruins.Eventually they would reach Lorseth.Maybe the castle could holdout for a while, but sooner or later it would fall, and wave upon waveof barbarians would burst through the gates [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]