Kelven's Riddle Book Three

by Daniel T Hylton

  Boman shook his head slowly, still gazing at Florm in amazement. “You come to us, strangers out of the wilds, with horses that speak with the tongues of men, and tell us things that contradict all our histories. I must consider all of this carefully.”

  Florm snorted in frustration but Aram held up his hand. “My lord governor, I am Prince of Wallensia – let us consider that alone. In ancient times, our two peoples were allies. I am at war with Manon, and I will gladly relate to you all of the particulars of that struggle.” He glanced around again at the town, noting once again the solidness of every construction. The town resembled the people who had built it. He met Boman’s eyes. “And I will tell you willingly that your strength is greater than ours. We have barely a thousand men to bear arms against the grim lord. Yet we fight. I came seeking alliance – say that it is impossible, and I will go and seek others.”

  Boman watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he glanced to the west, into the deepening gloom. “For several years now, the horned monsters have pushed, now and again, upon our defenses. Six months ago, a large group came into the western mountains and appeared to take stock of the disposition of our defenses while remaining out of the range of arrows. Since that time, however, there has been only silence from the west.” His eyes narrowed. “Jozef states that you claim to have freed Stell. When did you do this?”

  “At the end of summer,” Aram answered calmly, and he indicated his companions. “We did it, and we left good men buried there.”

  After a long moment of searching Aram’s face, Boman nodded. “We have seen no – lashers, you name them? – since the end of the summer. Indeed, as I stated, the western borders have gone quiet.” He tilted his head back, lifting his chin stoutly, and gazed at Aram. “Will you stay for a time – that we may discuss these issues further, and grow in acquaintance? We know that Manon must be resisted, and if there are others in the world willing to stand against him, they will not stand without the strength of Duridia beside them.”

  Aram nodded in agreement, even as he frowned. “We may stay a day or so, but I intend to go into the east, to Lamont – if possible, into Seneca. And I must return from the east before the spring allows our enemy to move against us unchallenged.”

  Boman’s eyes hardened. “You claim to seek allies – yet you would rush us into a decision? If you have other places to be, Lord Aram – then go there. The people of Duridia are not so rash.”

  Dismayed by Boman’s abrupt and dismissive attitude, Aram mentally chastised himself for his impatience. What was to be gained by continuing to seek for allies elsewhere, if he offended such a hardy and numerous people as these who dwelled on the very borders of Wallensia?

  While he searched his mind for a properly conciliatory response, Ka’en, who had stayed in the rear, moved Huram forward.

  “Sir,” she spoke quietly, and her tone conveyed due respect, causing the governor’s demeanor to soften as he looked up at her. “I beg of you – forgive my husband’s rather impatient manner. Long he fought the forces of the grim lord alone, and in so doing he became accustomed to the need to act quickly and decisively. Before he came to the rescue of my people, and became our Prince, he consulted with none but the noble horse people, for there were no others of his own kind to stand with him.

  “Now he leads the remnant of Wallensia, and because of him, we are here together today, cousins bound by the ties of ancient blood. Will you allow the impatience of my husband – a man used to the necessity of quick and decisive action – to be the cause for those ancient ties to remain severed? You say that you are not rash. Yet by turning aside from him, you would rashly rob both our peoples of the ability to act in unison against the threat of the grim lord.”

  Her words were firm and blunt, yet the tone with which they were delivered seemed to calm every ear.

  Boman looked around at his companions, and then watched Aram for a long moment before looking back up at Ka’en. His manner was once again stoic and measured. “You stated, my lady, that Lord Aram ‘rescued’ your people. Will you explain this statement?”

  “Three summers ago,” she answered, “the grim lord sent an army against the walls of Derosa. That army came to destroy and enslave the last remnant of Wallensia. My husband and his great mount, Thaniel, came upon the field at the last moment, catching the enemy by surprise upon his flank, causing confusion among his ranks, and saving us from ruin. We resisted then, but what will we do when a larger force comes against us?”

  She gazed down at Boman, her large eyes clear and earnest. “We are few, and you are many. You are Duridia; I am Wallensia. You are my brother, as I am your sister. Do not mistake this fact – Manon will move against us again. Should we not stand together?”

  Aram had inwardly cringed as she began speaking of the battle on the plains before Derosa, as he doubted that Boman would be inclined to believe an honest telling of that day’s events. But she understood this, too; and he was amazed and pleased at how deftly she credited him with the battle’s success without enunciating the astonishing facts. Then, with superb instinct, she had gone on, stressing the familial bonds between their two peoples.

  When Ka’en finished speaking, Boman was silent for a moment, and then a slight smile took possession of his countenance as he turned to Aram.

  “You should, perhaps, always give your princess leave to conduct your business, Lord Aram.”

  Aram nodded in relieved agreement as he returned the smile. “We will stay as long as you need to render your judgment of our request for friendship,” he said. “Lamont and Seneca will wait.”

  “Lamont, I understand,” Boman answered, his frown returning, “they are a people nearly equal to us, but Seneca?”

  Aram looked at him sharply. “You know of Lamont? There are people in that land – many people?”

  “As many, nearly, as there are of us, I believe,” Boman nodded. “Perhaps more, though I doubt it. We trade with them for metal tools and weapons – axes, shovels, arrow tips, and spear points.”

  “They have steel in that land?”

  “No, I think not.” Boman replied. “But there are people there that are excellent craftsmen, and design fine weapons. They themselves mine silver, mostly, which they trade for steel from the west.”

  Aram was amazed and overjoyed to hear these things. “And they make coins?”

  “Yes, though we have limited need of such things. We’re farmers – when we aren’t defending the borders – and we raise more than enough to trade for what we need.”

  “I have seen that,” Aram answered, thinking about the many farms that had dotted the landscape to both sides of the road. “You said that they are a people equal to you?”

  “I’ve been to Lamont a few times, but only to the first town that lies inside the gates. I never went eastward to their capitol, nor have I traveled in the countryside,” Boman answered. “We are not a great people, but we are not small, either. I believe them to be somewhat less than us.”

  “And their governor?”

  “Is a man called the Hay, whom I’ve never met. He is a strange young man, so it is said of him, and cannot – or will not – speak. It is said that perhaps he cannot hear, either.”

  “Have any of your people met with him?”

  “No,” Boman answered. “Our business is generally conducted at the border, or in the nearest town. That land is entirely walled and gated.” He smiled a slight smile. “Though they are far from danger, yet they seem to fear it more.”

  “Thank you for this information,” Aram said, and then continued. “We possess many excellent arrow tips and spear points.”

  Boman frowned. “Sir?”

  “In our armory,” Aram explained. “There are thousands of the finest weapons, including swords, in our armory – needing hands to wield them.”

  Boman rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. “If you are willing to trade for food stocks, I might be interested.”

  Aram shook his head. �
��Since the freeing of Stell, we are not in need of food, nor do we need these weapons. We are in need of allies. I simply meant that if you will stand with us against the grim lord, our excess weaponry is at your disposal.”

  Boman’s eyes narrowed. “You demand nothing in return?”

  “I want nothing in the way of payment. These weapons of which I speak will lie unused if I cannot find friends to wield them. As such they have no value. I seek allies, sir.” Aram paused and settled a hardened gaze on Boman’s open, honest face. “Do not misunderstand, sir, what I mean by allies. We need men to stand with us on the field, to share in the difficult work of battle – men that are willing to shed their blood beside ours even as we spill that of the enemy together.”

  Boman gazed at him for a long moment, nodded shortly, and then turned, sweeping out his hand toward the center of town. “Will you dine with me tonight, my lord, and be guests in my house – you, your lady, and your friends? We can discuss these matters further, and perhaps enlarge upon our understanding of each other.”

  “It will be an honor.” Aram glanced around at the horses. “We will need to relieve our friends, the horses, of their burdens, and they will need to find forage upon your grasslands.”

  “Of course.” Boman motioned toward the west. “Most of our fields lie fallow at the moment and there is plenty of grass, especially along the river behind my own house. I will instruct the garrison that they are to be unmolested and their requirements met.”

  Aram helped Ka’en down from Huram’s back, the horses were released of their burdens, their packs stowed in a locked storage room by the garrison’s quarters, including the bags of monarchs, which, since none knew what they were, Aram ignored, and the horses went around the buildings of the town into the open fields near the river. The Derosans followed Boman through the town toward the larger building at its center. The main avenue was broad and the houses and places of business that lined it to either side did not crowd against each other, instead allowing for each resident to have a bit of space where there were trees, grass, and occasional beds of flowers.

  Boman’s house was a three-storied affair set a little way back from the street. There was a porch that spread across its front and balconies fronting the stories above. Boman stood aside at the entrance, which consisted of two wide doors that swung aside as he arrived.

  “Please, my lord and lady, enter my house.”

  There was a large room just inside the door, extending the length of the house that was obviously intended for official use, for there were rows of chairs, and scattered desks. To one side, a single seat faced eight or ten others, as if the person that occasional occupied the one seat either passed judgment upon or was judged by the others. Boman passed through this large room and led them down a short hallway and into a dining area. Here he indicated chairs situated around a long table.

  “If you are hungry, you are welcome to our fare, such as it is.”

  Aram glanced at Ka’en, and nodded. “Thank you, sir – we have not eaten yet this evening.”

  “Then sit, please, and take your ease. Ah – here is my wife,” he said as a small woman with a heart-shaped face, blond hair and sharp blue eyes entered the room. “We have guests, my love. Can dinner be expanded?”

  Giving her husband a curt smile, Boman’s wife did a quick count of the people in the room, and then nodded shortly. She focused her attention upon Ka’en as she spoke. “There will be a bit of delay, madam, but as my husband has invited you – then you are welcome at our table.”

  Dinner was, in fact, marvelous, consisting of roast venison with a wide variety of vegetables, many of which were unknown to the Derosans. The only thing that was not present in amazing abundance was potatoes, which were not present at all. The hall was long, fairly wide, warm and comfortable. If Duridia was not rich, it was at least prosperous in the fact that it did not lack for basic needs and comforts.

  Aram discovered that he was ravenous, and he bent his attention to the food placed at their disposal. After a while he looked up to find Boman, who was seated across from him, studying him openly. The man did not appear anxious or tense – in the short tome he’d spent in his company; Aram had observed that Boman was probably not the kind to succumb easily to either of these emotions. But it did appear that he had something on his mind. Aram met the governor’s gaze and waited.

  Boman’s eyes were blue, like pooled water reflecting the cloudless sky, and were set under an intelligent forehead, beneath sandy hair and brows. His nose was straight and his jaw was square and firm. Aram suspected that women would generally find him handsome. He was a compact man, a little below average in height, and muscular.

  Boman’s gaze flicked upward to the hilt of the sword jutting above Aram’s shoulder. For a moment, his face set in subtle lines of unease; he’d no doubt been informed of the strange lord from Wallensia’s demonstration of this odd weapon’s power earlier that day. His eyes moved downward and found Aram’s. “You were not born in Derosa then, my lord?”

  Aram understood that Boman wished him to divulge more of his history, though the man was clever enough to suspect that this lord from the north might not want to revisit the fact that he claimed to have come into the world as a slave. But he was curious, for good reason.

  “No.” Aram shook his head. “I am not a Derosan – nor by blood, at least, a child of Wallensia. My people came from lands further north.”

  “I understand this,” Boman nodded slightly. “The horse said that you were descended from Jogdan – Joktan. I mentioned that our histories are somewhat different from this version of events. But those histories came from the Book of Wallen, so they are, in truth, your histories, since you are now the prince of that people.”

  Aram took note of the uncertain tone in the governor’s voice and smiled slightly. “And you are not yet sure that you accept this as fact.”

  “As I stated, sir, I don’t know you.” His eyes flicked involuntarily upward again to the sword, which Aram had not been asked to remove despite the worry that its presence seemed to cause.

  Aram drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and decided that there was nothing to lose by making a full disclosure of the circumstances of his life.

  “I was born on the plains, far to the northwest, in one of Manon’s slave villages. I spent my youth in the grim lord’s chains. I escaped almost ten years ago and went into the wild. When I came into contact with the people of Derosa, they took me in as one of their own.” His hand was in his lap, out of sight. He reached over and grasped Ka’en’s. “By virtue of my marriage to the Prince’s daughter, I am now their prince. This is true.”

  He glanced around the room. Every eye was on him, and Boman did not seem concerned that soldiers, cooks and waiters, and even the boy that tended the fire, were all privy to his meeting with a foreign lord.

  He looked back at Boman. “We have met the grim lord’s servants three times upon the field of battle. We have not gained much, but we did win each engagement, and have managed to free the lands east of the river Broad, and have kept the enemy from our doorstep. But he presses us, and we need allies.” He leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “Do not think, sir, that I came seeking homage. I came seeking friendship and alliance. If you will stand with us, I can provide your people with weaponry of the finest sort, and there are horses in alliance with us that, as yet, have no riders. This is the reason we are here, and no other. How may I convince you of our sincerity?”

  Boman had started at Aram’s mention of riderless horses. “Do you mean to say that the horses will bear the men of Duridia into war?”

  Aram nodded but said nothing, waiting for Boman to answer his question.

  The governor looked down at the table for a long moment. When he again looked up, his gaze went momentarily to the hilt of the sword. “May I ask, Lord Aram, what that thing is that you wield?”

  Aram hesitated. “I regret to say that, on this point, I cannot be completely open. Allow it to suffice,
if you will, that it is an heirloom of my ancestry.” As he spoke, he did not look at any of his companions.

  “Of Joktan’s?” The governor asked.

  Again Aram hesitated. “Further back, even, than him.”

  Boman was watching him closely. “They say Manon uses magic.”

  “I’m sure that he does, but I do not. This is not a thing of magic.”

  Boman’s eyebrows went up his forehead. “No?”

  “It is a thing of power.” Aram leaned back and folded his hands upon the table. The two men regarded each other across the table as the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. Aram had instinctively liked this man from the beginning and hesitated to deceive him, even while maintaining necessary secrets. At last he said, “It is a gift from those who resisted Manon before us, and meant for my hand only. Those that made this sword intended that the wielder would someday find his way into the presence of the grim lord and bring about his destruction. For the moment, I cannot say more.”

  Boman didn’t answer for a good while as he considered what he had been told. Then, after a time, he nodded slowly. “A heavy burden for the bearer.”

  Aram shrugged. “It grows lighter with the addition of every friend and ally.”

  Boman let out a breath, as if he’d been holding it the whole time, and looked around before bringing his attention back to Aram. “There is truth in your look, Prince of Wallensia, and therefore it might be properly allotted to your words as well. Will you stay with us a few days that we may further improve upon our understanding of each other?”

  “I will,” Aram answered, thinking that, if he gained this man’s alliance, whatever he lost to the east by delay would be rightfully ameliorated by an alliance with a strong man, leading a strong people, living so near at hand.

  Ka’en reached over and slipped her fingers through Aram’s. She smiled at Boman.

  “My husband and I thank you for your kind and generous hospitality,” she said graciously, and the atmosphere in the room abruptly lost much of its tension as Boman returned her smile.