Kelven's Riddle Book Three

by Daniel T Hylton

  Aram stopped when he could see the faces in the watchtower plainly and studied them. All three men were young and fair-haired, with light complexions. He folded his hands on the front of the saddle.

  “Is this the land of Duridia?” He asked.

  “Who are you?” The reply came from the shortest of the three men; on closer inspection, he appeared older as well.

  “My name is Aram. I am the Prince of Wallensia.”

  “Wallensia has no Prince,” the man asserted. “Only a master. And the Wallensians don’t ride beasts – they walk like other men. What is that beast that bears you? It cannot be a horse – their kind left the earth long ago. Further, a wolf accompanies you. It is well known that the people of Wallensia have fallen beneath the boot of the one named Manon, who claims himself lord of the world.”

  There was a moment of silence, then – “Are you he?” The man’s voice was tense, but blunt, tinged with defiance, and only a bit of fear.

  Surprised at discovering such a rebellious attitude among an unknown people on the borders of the empire, Aram was also surprised at the drawn conclusion. “Do I look like Manon, then?”

  “How would I know? – I’ve never seen him.”

  Aram felt his irritation rise at the man’s antagonistic bluntness. “I am not Manon – I am his enemy. Are these the borders of Duridia?” He asked again.

  “Who are you?” The man repeated stubbornly.

  Aram studied the two younger men standing to either side of the speaker. By their demeanor, he could tell that they would defer to the man at the center, and not contradict him. Forcing down annoyance, he looked around at the green prairie. “It’s quite warm here today,” he said conversationally, and looked back at the men atop the wall. “Does it ever snow in this part of the world?”

  “Did you approach this wall to enquire after the weather?”

  Aram drew in a calming breath and tried again. “Is this Duridia?”

  There was no answer to this query, only silence that stretched out as they contemplated each other. He was getting nowhere, and his frustration was rising as his verbal options ran out. The art of diplomacy had always evaded him. If he could be certain that these men wouldn’t suddenly decide to act on their distrust, he could bring Ka’en forward – let her persuade them.

  Why not just show them who you are?

  Aram gazed down at the back of Thaniel’s head in surprise as the thought pierced his brain.

  “Show them –?”

  You are a warrior, my lord, not a diplomat. This is becoming an exercise in foolishness. These might be good men, but they need convincing. They will respond to strength. Show them who you are. Thaniel sounded as exasperated as Aram felt. And there was something else – he seemed annoyed, perhaps angered, that these men were showing his lord a lack of respect, a surprising sentiment for the usually stolid horse.

  Aram looked back at the men, and focused his attention on the unusual weapons held by the two younger guards.

  “Loose your arrows,” he commanded.

  “What?” This came from the older man.

  Aram shrugged. “You have a chance to slay someone you think might be an enemy. Loose your arrows – do the deed.”

  The man in the center shook his head. “We have laws – and a governor who enforces them. We cannot kill wantonly, unless Duridia is threatened. Are there no laws where you come from, your highness?”

  So, Aram thought, at least they’re civilized. But his patience had thinned beyond repair. Reaching back, he drew the sword of heaven and held it aloft. The sun was stronger here than further north and fire erupted from the blade, shooting into the heavens, and its song arose, rapidly gaining strength as the sun drew lightning from the shining weapon. The three men in the tower cringed before the terrifying display.

  “Loose your arrows!” Aram roared.

  The two men to either side of the shorter man flinched, both at the sound of his voice, and at the lightning sizzling into the clear sky. There were two short, sharp sounds and a pair of missiles came whizzing toward him. He lowered the sword quickly but carefully, keeping the angle of the sizzling fire above the tangent of the tower, and reduced the arrows to ash. The sword’s song grew louder and the men in the tower dropped their weapons, placed their hands over their ears, and disappeared from view.

  After a moment, Aram sheathed the sword, and quiet reasserted itself on the plains.

  “Show yourselves.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation; then three faces peered above the wall.

  Aram removed his hood and looked at them. “Now,” he said, “we’ll start again. Wallensia has fought for its freedom against the armies of the grim lord of the world, and has pushed his power back across the River Broad. Our land now has a prince. I am Aram. I am the Prince of Wallensia. Are these the borders of Duridia?”

  After another moment, the three men stood up, exhibiting a measure of bravery by showing themselves to him, though Aram could have sworn that they trembled. The older man answered with reluctant respect. “Yes, my lord, this is the border of Duridia.” He pointed to the north, behind Aram. “Though once it extended much further, to the edge of Wallensia. Our people and the people of the plains were allied, long ago.”

  Aram nodded. “And it will be so again, I promise. Who rules in this land – who is your prince?”

  The man shook his head. “No prince, my lord; we have a governor. His name is Boman.”

  “Are you he?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “No. I am Jozef – a captain of the barrier.”

  “I wish to speak with Boman.”

  “I’m not supposed to let anyone through the gate.” Despite Aram’s awe-inspiring display, he remained obstinate in his duty. “You’ll have to wait until I speak with the Governor.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Three or four days – perhaps a week.”

  “I am short of time on this trip. I must yet go into Lamont – and further, to Seneca, if possible. I can’t spare a week.”

  “Then come back another time,” Jozef stated bluntly.

  Aram leaned forward in the saddle. “I could just draw my sword and cut a section out of that fence, if you like.”

  Jozef paled and sucked in a sharp breath but managed a frown. “There’s no need to threaten me. I’ve seen what you can do. The fact is I was appointed captain of this wall to prevent anyone from entering Duridia.”

  “And are there many that try to enter here?”

  “We’ve fought off our share of horned monsters in the past – especially when my father captained this wall.”

  This bit of information was truly stunning. “You’ve seen lashers here?”

  “Is that what they’re called? No – not for a few years.” Jozef pointed to his left, across the river. “Four or five miles in that direction, there are skeletons of three that were slain by my father and his men, almost twenty years ago.” He shrugged. “They fell outside the wall, so they were left for the vultures, and as a warning to others – that there are no willing slaves in Duridia.”

  Aram felt a surge of excitement in his breast at this declaration. These were people that apparently understood the nature of the threats that existed in the world beyond their wall. Furthermore, they would fight, just the sort of allies he so desperately needed. And if the man in the tower spoke truly, they had once defeated a trio of lashers.

  He decided that tact was the better way. “I meant no threat, my man. But I came here to meet with the people of Duridia – to seek an alliance. I am not going away, but I can’t spare a week, either. We are at open war with the grim lord – and that certainly will not wait. I would speak with Boman today.”

  “Open war with Manon?” Jozef stared. “How can this be? The last I heard Stell yet languished in chains, blackened and burnt, and ground beneath the heel of the grim lord.”

  Aram shook his head. “Stell is free – at least its people are free, as is the portion of the city east
of the Broad. The rest is lost for now, but the bridges are disabled; the enemy will find it difficult to assault us from there.”

  Jozef watched him with doubtful eyes. “And you did this?”

  “My people did this.”

  After a lengthy, uneasy silence, the young captain came to a conclusion. He pointed to his right, away from the river. “There is a gate about three miles to the east.” His arm moved, pointing behind Aram. “And there’s a road behind you that will lead you to the gate.”

  Aram nodded. “We followed the road for a time.”

  “Meet me at the gate, Lord Aram. I will take you to Boman.”

  From the first mention of Aram’s plans to go into the south, and to take her with him, Ka’en had been thrilled at the prospect of going out into the world. For the first part of the journey, she’d been sublimely distracted by the exhilaration of watching the unknown country appear over the horizon and roll behind, beneath Huram’s hooves. The sight of the seemingly endless plains thrilled her, though she’d seen it from the vantage of the grasslands before Derosa many times. But out here, with the wild hills tumbling up to the east and the green hills falling far behind, the immensity of the prairie could be rightly seen and felt.

  They had camped that first night among those wild eastern hills, and Ka’en had delighted once again in the adventure of eating by a campfire as night closed in around them. During the night, however, despite the presence of Aram’s warm body – he fairly radiated heat, as if he contained an inner furnace – she had grown cold. A chill had settled in her bones that she felt certain only the warmth of the sun could dispel. And so, toward the ending hours of night, she had snuggled close to Aram, and prayed for the day to hasten.

  The morning, however, remained cool, though the sun, when it rose above the hills, shone in a clear sky. Despite her layered clothing, Ka’en could not shake the chill that pervaded her. The breeze that came down off the slopes of the eastern hills was thin and cold. By the time they turned west around the northern extent of a line of hills, and ventured out onto the open plains – where the breeze swung around out of the north and became a wind – she was fairly miserable. But she said nothing. She was afraid that if Aram became concerned for her physical welfare while they were yet this close to Derosa, he would take her home, and make the journey without her.

  Besides, she was angry at her own lack of toughness. She was a woman of fierce will, yet, while Aram was clad only in his shirt and trousers, and Ruben and Wamlak wore nothing more than cloaks over their clothing – Mallet, bare-armed, wore no cloak at all – Ka’en, bundled up soundly at Aram’s insistence, felt every cold tooth of the winter air’s bite. But she said nothing.

  Eventually, they turned south and rode through small patches of forest and then up over a broad rise. When they found the southern slope of the higher ground, and began following a small stream, the wind died away, replaced by a light breeze that was enhanced by the rush of air caused by the movement of the horses. The day grew warmer, and the air smelled faintly of salt. Still, she suffered, trembling from a lingering chill.

  Don’t you dare fall ill, she scolded herself.

  The ground opened up as they went south, the forests fell away, and the stream became a meandering river. They traveled through a broad green land bordered by hills, although the hills to the west could rightly be called mountains. Just after midday, Aram brought the column to a halt. He’d seen something in the prairie to their front. It turned out to be a defensive fence, a sort of stockade, and it was manned. She could hear the excitement in Aram’s voice as he instructed them to wait while he went ahead to make contact. Durlrang, ignoring the command, went with him.

  Ka’en felt the rise of apprehension as she watched her husband pull the hood of his armor over his head. He had brought the rest of the strange armor from the mountain with him, but it was tied in a bundle to the back of his saddle. He seemed excited, but was apparently unafraid, as he rode out to meet with people of whom nothing was known. She looked over at Findaen.

  “Shouldn’t someone go with him to…help?”

  Findaen grinned. “You mean to protect him?”

  “No, well…” Ka’en flushed. “Should he be going alone?”

  Wamlak stifled a smile. “My lady, I know that Lord Aram is your husband, and your feelings are natural, but trust me – he is not alone – there are things, creatures maybe, forces that go with him everywhere. He is probably invincible, though I can’t say it as a certainty.”

  Ka’en looked at him in shock. She knew for a fact that Aram believed that the presence of the Guardians was unknown by others, even unsuspected. Yet Wamlak spoke of them easily, as if there were no secret. She glanced at Mallet and Ruben. Neither seemed surprised by Wamlak’s words. She wanted to pursue it further, but Aram had sworn her to silence – and even if that silence was not, in fact, necessary, her loyalty was to him – so she did not. She turned to watch Aram, who had stopped and appeared to be conversing with the men in the tower.

  “He is safe, then?”

  It was Mallet that answered. “Safer than us, my lady.”

  Aram talked for several minutes with the men on the wall. Even from this distance, she could see his frustration rising; the conversation was not going well. She fought down the urge to go forward and give him aid. She had come to know her husband – he did not approve of the subtle games people often played with words during the course of conversation. He preferred bluntness and practiced it himself, often with decidedly mixed results, which invariably surprised him. The urge grew in her to go forward and give him the benefit of her expertise in just that thing that he despised, for it appeared to be needed.

  Abruptly, he reached over his shoulder and drew forth the sword from the mountain of Kelven, holding it aloft.

  “Cover your ears, everybody.” Wamlak said.

  A sound arose, filling the early afternoon with shrill, sharp, impossibly high-pitched undulating sound, like music. And then the melodic keening was broken by sharper sounds. Flashes of golden flame, like lightning strokes, leapt from the blade, sizzling and crackling in the still air, brighter than sunlight. Ka’en stared with wide eyes, hands over her ears, as Aram filled the blue sky above them with fire. A pair of missiles shot from the tower. She stiffened in alarm, but Aram angled the blade slightly and the arrows disappeared in puffs of dust. The men in the tower fell from view.

  Maybe he is invincible, she thought, maybe he is stronger than death.

  Aram sheathed the sword, and after a few moments, the men reappeared above the tower wall. Aram talked with them a few minutes further and then Thaniel wheeled around. Aram seemed pleased when he returned, and not angry at all, as she had expected.

  Findaen looked at him expectantly. “My lord?”

  Aram grinned. “I like these people, Fin. Hear this – they say that they killed three lashers before this very wall some twenty years ago.”

  “Forgive me, my lord, but I’d like to see the carcasses before I believe it.” Mallet snorted. “I know how hard it is to bring down one of those beasties and the boys on that wall hardly look capable.”

  Aram shook his head. “No, I believe them. Consider – they were never enslaved, though they dwell on the very borders of Wallensia, and they know of Manon and his ‘horned beasts’. They evidently know how to resist, which means they can fight. And we need allies that can fight.”

  “Might they be amenable to our cause, then?” Ruben suggested.

  Aram nodded. “I think so. They know of Wallensia, and of the ancient alliance with us, and they fully understand that Manon is the enemy – not just ours but theirs as well.”

  Findaen looked south with a new light in his eye. “I wonder how many of them there are behind that wall?”

  Aram laughed. “Yes, indeed – hopefully, there are many. Well, let’s go find out.” He pointed to the east, along the seemingly endless stockade. “The captain will meet us at a gate – two or three miles east. We’re going to mee
t with their governor, a man named Boman.” He smiled slightly as his good humor bubbled to the surface. “We’ll count them, Fin, and then, hopefully, we’ll add their strength – whatever it is – to ours.”

  Watching her husband, it occurred to Ka’en that she had never actually seen him like this before – a strong, confident, and trusted leader of men, laboring diligently at making the world safer, and larger, for everyone that followed him.

  He didn’t become a prince by marrying me, she thought. He was ever as he is now.

  And abruptly, she wasn’t cold anymore.

  22

  As they went east along the road, at a word from Aram, Durlrang, Leorg, and Shingka turned and loped across the prairie toward the distant hills, with instructions to watch for the rest of the company’s eventual egress from the land on the other side of the wall. Aram thought it best that the people of Duridia be exposed to as few new things as possible.

  When they neared the gate, it occurred to Aram that their arrival might precede that of Jozef, who was no doubt on foot, and the guards that manned the towers to either side of the road – there were ten, five in each – would not have been made aware of the arrangement. It quickly became evident that this was the case. The unusual small weapons, held at the level, were soon pointed at them like before. Once again, Aram went forward alone.

  He looked up as he stopped several paces from the wall. He left the hood off; he had no intention of drawing the sword again.

  “I’m here to meet Jozef, Captain of the wall,” he said. “We spoke near the river. I would meet with Boman, your governor.”

  The short, stubby bow-like weapons did not waver. An older man, gray-haired and stocky, studied him for a long moment.