The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate by Andrew Ashling Page B

will hurt for a month.”
    “Yeah, dream on, shrimp. Never going to happen.”

    “Why can't Hemarchidas see it like you do,” Anaxantis complained.
    “Because he thought you were friends,” Bortram replied, picking his teeth.
    “We are friends,” Anaxantis said emphatically.
    “Friends usually don't lie to each other.”
    “But I didn't lie. I... adjusted the truth somewhat.”
    Bortram burst out in laughter.
    “Really, all the important stuff I told you was true. Only some details were... less true,” Anaxantis tried to convince himself.
    “Yes, like the detail that you are not a rich farmer's son, barely a minor noble, but a prince of the realm. A detail, if ever there was one.”
    “I meant to tell you, honestly. I was just waiting for the right moment.”
    “You lied, Anack... santis, and Hemarchidas is hurt.”
    “There must be something I can do to make it up to him,” Anaxantis almost cried.
    “Well, in my experience saying you're sorry goes a long way to setting things right,” Bortram said soothingly. “By now he will have calmed down a bit. Why don't we go and look him up. I know where the barracks of the Cheridoni are. Tell him you were afraid he would have treated you differently if he had known who you really were. Tell him you were afraid you would never have become friends in the first place.”
    “How did you know that? That's exactly what I thought.”
    Bortram shrugged.
    “He will never forgive me,” Anaxantis said pessimistically.
    “Of course he will. He likes you too much not to.”
    The calm, self-assured demeanor of Bortram gave Anaxantis some hope and they set out for the barracks of the Cheridoni.

    When they neared the barracks of Hemarchidas's tribe their noses were molested by a penetrating smell.
    “By the Gods, what is that awful stink?” Anaxantis gasped.
    “I reckon that's patriph, you know, their national staple,” Bortram said disgusted. “Lucky for me you brought the food and not them.”
    The fourth barrack they knocked on was the one where Hemarchidas and Lethoras were lodged.
    “Hem, visitors for you,” the young tribesman who had opened the door yelled to someone inside.
    Hemarchidas appeared in the door opening, took one look at Anaxantis and Bortram and started walking briskly down the path between the barracks without uttering a sound.
    “Come on,” Bortram said, giving Anaxantis a push in the back, “after him, and make it sound good. I'll have a word with Lethoras.”

    Anaxantis went after Hemarchidas. For every step the young Cheridonian took, he had to take two.
    “Hemarchidas, wait, let me explain, wait...” he shouted after him, without result.
    After a few minutes they were out of the encampment and Hemarchidas walked down a small path that led through the fields, with Anaxantis, almost out of breath, trying to catch up.
    “Hemarchidas, damn you, slow down, I can't keep up,” he yelled nearly in tears. “You're the first friend I ever had and I don't want to lose you.”
    The Cheridonian stopped in his tracks and turned around.
    “O, come on, you must have dozens of friends. Noble friends. Real friends.”
    “No, you don't know what it was like. I had servants, tutors, doctors... but never a friend. Never someone who liked me for who I was. Never someone like you.”
    He had caught up with Hemarchidas, but was still breathing heavily.
    “I wanted to tell you, honestly, I just didn't know how. I was afraid you would treat me differently.”
    “So, you didn't trust me?” Hemarchidas asked coldly.
    “No, that's not true. Not exactly. I knew you liked Anack, but I wasn't sure if you would like Anaxantis.”
    “How can he trust, where would he have learned it?” Hemarchidas thought, while he looked at the blond boy who now was really on the verge of tears. “If only half of what they say about the royal family is true, it's no wonder that he has trust issues. He seemed to enjoy our time together, and he wouldn't have wanted to