Kelven's Riddle Book Three

by Daniel T Hylton

  Vitorya jerked her head around to stare at her son. “You’ve gone out into the city?”

  He grinned and motioned with his hand, sweeping it from front to back, over his face and head. “A heavy cloak, and a dark hood – no one expects the Hay to wander the streets. But how else will I truly know my people?”

  She shook her head in amazement. “And I did not know this.”

  Jame glanced at Edwar, much to that man’s discomfiture. “You are often distracted – it was not a difficult thing to conceal.”

  Ignoring the sudden flush on his mother’s face, and Edwar’s obvious distress, he turned back to Aram. His pleasant and astute young face darkened and he sighed. “I would not presume to advise you, Lord Aram, but – the east? You have heard, have you not –” Seeing the beginnings of Aram’s answering nod, he let the question die. “And so you will go into the east.”

  It was a flat statement of acceptance, which Aram acknowledged by completing the inclination of his head. “I must, Your Grace.”

  “You must?”

  Aram met his gaze. “Long ago, Seneca was ravaged, because it dared to stand against the grim lord alongside my fathers. Perhaps it was ravaged to nothing, its people lost forever, I don’t know. But I must discover the truth. If there are yet people in that land, and if they remember what was done to them, perhaps they will wish to avenge their fathers, as I do mine. Besides, my need for allies is great, Your Grace. The addition of the power of Lamont easily doubles our strength – nonetheless, it is still barely more than one-tenth that of the black tower.”

  Jame’s eyes went to the hilt of the sword. Aram noticed and answered the questioning look.

  “Kelven’s gift may indeed prove to be the difference, but I must get to the grim lord in order to put it to use. Many armies stand between him and me.”

  Jame turned and looked again out over his country, toward the east, where the dusky haze of afternoon gathered along the horizon. “And so you will go east. To reach Seneca, if indeed it still exists, you must pass through the lost. You have heard of this troubled region as well?”

  “I have. I know that Manon’s horned beasts went through the land from west to east several years ago and into that region.” Aram hesitated. “Will you – can you tell me what has transpired since then?”

  Jame glanced at each member of the party in turn before answering Aram’s question. Drawing a quick, sharp breath, he looked down at the paved stones and considered for a moment. “After the golers went through –” He looked up. “You were told of the strange wagon that went with them?” At Aram’s nod, he continued. “During the next year, the wild peoples of the east began streaming out of that land, speaking of huge, winged demons that burned and destroyed in the dark hours of night, and ships that were abandoned on the shore, devoid of men. There were ever few ships that plied the waters to the east of Lamont – even fewer, if any, go there now.”

  Kipwing, who had rested in the upper branches of one of the taller trees since the party exited the hall, had come down and now sat on the low stone wall that enclosed the pool. Jame turned and looked over at the eagle. “You saw the creatures once or twice?”

  “Twice,” Kipwing affirmed. “Once at twilight, and once just as dawn broke in the east. On both occasions they moved in the region near unto the mountain of the deep darkness.”

  Aram frowned at the bird as Ka’en came to stand near him. “The deep darkness?”

  “Yes,” Kipwing answered. “This mountain rises in the barrens to the north of the ancient road. There is a hole, a dark mouth in its southern side, a gateway into darkness. The wild people that once dwelled in that land ever avoided the mountain and its environs. It is said – though of course I cannot confirm such a thing – that this gateway leads downward into the very heart of the earth.”

  “Can you describe the creatures?” Aram asked.

  The eagle considered. “It was in dimness on both occasions. However, I would describe them best as serpents with wings, for they moved through the sky as a serpent swims in water.”

  “Do these creatures sojourn there still?”

  “No, they vanished from these skies at least five years ago.”

  “And the lashers?”

  The eagle blinked his eyes at him. “Lashers?”

  “The horned beasts.”

  The great bird nodded. “They yet remain, encamped by the gateway into darkness. It is said that they feed on the other wild beasts of that land, but that, in the beginning, they consumed people as well.”

  At this, Edwar moved to stand close behind the Dame Regent, gazing at the bird, and Aram felt Ka’en shudder. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. He met the eagle’s gaze.

  “And the wagon?”

  “They guard it still.”

  Jame looked up at the sky. “For these reasons we separated Lamont from the world with barriers east and west, and while both are guarded, the bulk of our power is to the east.” He lowered his gaze and studied Aram a moment. “I perceive that you are troubled by these tales, but not deterred.”

  “No,” Aram admitted. “I am compelled to go into Seneca. And I also think it necessary that we discover why the beasts remain,” he added quietly.

  Jame cocked his head to one side. “What will you do when you find these beasts?” He asked in a quiet tone.

  “Mostly, I need to satisfy my suspicions of the content of the wagon they guarded.”

  “And what do you think it to be?”

  Looking out over the countryside, Aram considered the wisdom of truth. After a moment, he said, “I believe it to be a fellring of Manon.”

  The Hay’s eyebrows moved up his forehead. “A fellring?”

  As quickly and succinctly as possible, Aram described for Jame both the purpose and power of Manon’s dark device. When he had finished, the young Hay let out a low whistle.

  “Why would such a thing be camped beyond our eastern borders?” He wondered.

  “Exactly.” Aram nodded. “That is what I must discover, and then, if chance allows, slay the lashers that guard it, rendering it abandoned – at least, that is my hope.”

  Jame frowned at him. “I know by your reputation that you are formidable, Lord Aram, but there were six of the beasts, after all; and that serves to make them formidable as well.”

  “Yes,” Aram agreed, “but if it proves to be a danger to our cause to let them remain, then it would be folly to do so. I will go and see, and then I will know.”

  Jame sighed but nodded. “Are you and Lady Ka’en comfortable in the Silver Arms, Lord Aram?’

  “Yes, very comfortable indeed,” Aram answered with a smile.

  “I’m extremely pleased. Anything you require will be provided – I will see to it myself.” Jame glanced up at the sky again, and then looked at Aram and grinned. “I think I shall prevail upon you to go and see the horses now.”

  They went openly down through the city, much to the amazement of the citizenry. The denizens of Condon watched, many with open mouths, as their unusual young Hay strode through the streets, talking with the tall stranger that had recently come among them, and went out through the gates into the open country beyond. Many crowded the walls and gazed upon the astonishing sight of him communing with the great beasts of legend that had accompanied the strangers into their land.

  Later, when the Hay had gotten his fill of conversing with Florm and Ashal, at least for the moment, he, along with his mother and Edwar, accompanied them back to the door of their inn. Before he turned away, he begged of Aram that the adventure be allowed to continue on the morrow, and further insisted that the wolves be called in from the hills, so that his experience of the world beyond his Hall would be widened further.

  After they had supped with the men from Derosa who, it became evident, had not abandoned their table – or its supply of whiskey – for the whole of the afternoon, Aram and Ka’en went up to the room. She sat in a chair and watched as he slipped the sword over his sho
ulder and slid it beneath the bed.

  “You’ve been quiet, my love, more than usual, for some time now. Even Thaniel noticed.”

  Aram glanced at her and nodded. “I’ve been thinking.”

  At the quiet tension underlying his voice, she grew still. “May I have access to these thoughts, or do they not concern me?”

  He smiled ruefully. “Once again, I marvel at your powers of perception.”

  “Please, do not tease me.”

  He sighed and sat on the bed, looking at her. “How can I take you with me?” He asked bluntly, and immediately shook his head. “I cannot. You must remain here – in safety – until I return from the east.”

  She sat very still for a long moment, and then he saw her stiffen with resolve. “No, Aram, I go with you. Wherever you go, I go, too.”

  “But not to war – we agreed.”

  “There is no war here.”

  “Perhaps not war,” he admitted, “but danger, certainly. Conflict, too, probably.”

  “With whom?”

  He gazed at her in surprise. “With these lashers of course, as I told Jame.”

  “Why? Why must you fight with them? Surely we can slip past them to the east. It is Seneca that you are interested in, after all.”

  He shook his head, almost as if in resignation. “No. Whatever they do here, it serves the interests of the enemy, and therefore endangers ours in some way.” He frowned at the floor. “And somehow, their presence is connected with the winged demons – dragons, Joktan called them, and such they must be – though I can’t imagine what that connection would be.” He looked up at her. “No – whatever the servants of Manon do here, it must be interrupted – and ended. So, you see, it’s best that you remain here. I saw you talk with Vitorya. You like her, I can tell. You will not be alone, and you will be safe.”

  “I’m safer with you than anywhere else.”

  He grimaced. “That is not invariably true. I told you once that when I am in battle, I must know that you are safe in order to maintain focus.”

  “If you insist on fighting with the lashers, I will stay behind you, away from harm.”

  “That’s not the way battle works, Ka’en. If things get hot, it will be difficult, in strange country, to know where you will be safe while the issue is resolved.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m going with you.”

  He waved his hand around the room. “You’ll sleep in comfort, instead of on the hard ground. You’ll be among good people, and eat warm food. And,” he added significantly, “you won’t get cold at night.”

  “I don’t get cold anyway.”

  He repressed the smile that leapt to his face. His next thought erased it entirely. “Your safety is the most important thing in the world to me,” he said somberly. “Please, Ka’en, do this.”

  Usually compliant to his more earnest wishes, she nonetheless shook her head. “I’m going. This is not war – I won’t be left behind.”

  He sighed, dropped his head for a moment, and then glanced out the window, where, though full night had not yet fallen, the day had faded to the extent that lights shone in the upper windows of the buildings opposite. He nodded, and looked at her. “I’ll go down and fetch some wine.”

  She looked over at the cord hanging by the door. “We could have it sent up.”

  “No,” he said, scowling at the cord. “I won’t be bowed to or coddled any further, today – I’ll fetch it myself.”

  He went out into the hall. She gazed at the closed door, and for several moments, the smile on her face was soft, warm, and thoughtful.

  They remained in Condon for the entirety of the following day, and the next, firming up Aram’s currency needs and how they would be met, dining at the Hall, and watching as Jame once again plied the horses and – on this day – the wolves, with myriad questions. That second evening, on the veranda of the inn, Jame asked if they would enjoy a tour of the mines on the morrow, but Aram insisted that time grew too short; he must start toward the east.

  The tall, thin, strange young Hay met his eyes. “Kipwing has agreed – nay, he insisted that he will watch over you from above and be your eyes in the heights. Go safely, my lord, and return. We will be most anxious.”

  “I will be grateful for the eagle’s presence.” Aram replied. “Do not fear – we will return.”

  Jame hesitated, glancing down the darkening avenue. “There are ten horses, and but six riders.”

  Aram nodded, frowning, and remained silent, watching him.

  “Lord Florm, I understand, bore Muray to my door.”

  “Yes.”

  “Muray may stay here, in my service, should my captain find it expedient to go away. Will Lord Florm bear Edwar?”

  Behind the Hay, the captain of swords, standing very near to the Dame Regent, stiffened, his attention riveted on his young lord.

  Aram glanced over at him. Over the last two days, he had developed the distinct impression that while Edwar would never lightly resist decisions made by the Hay, he was nonetheless put in a great measure of distress at the changes Aram’s presence had wrought in his country, and in the attitude of its leader.

  He looked back at Jame and answered carefully. “I believe that he would, yes. However, we possess but six saddles, and the distance is too great to ride bareback, especially for someone without experience.”

  “These saddles of which you speak – they are made of leather?”

  Aram nodded.

  “Then it is a thing easily resolved,” the Hay answered. “We have excellent craftsmen in this city, many of whom are skilled at working with leather. And for me, they will work through the night. If they are allowed the use of one of your saddles as a template, you will possess your seventh by the morning. Would you agree to this?”

  Aram nodded again. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  The Hay clapped his hands together in decision. “Then Edwar will go with you into the east. Muray may assume his duties here until your safe return.” He turned to look at his astonished captain. “I know, Edwar, that you will hesitate at accepting the wisdom of my actions, but understand that there is no hesitation in me. Our fortunes will be bound to Lord Aram’s from this day forward. You are the Captain of all our power – it is necessary that you discover the wisdom in our choosing this path. You must come to know Lord Aram, and to trust him. Only time spent in his presence may accomplish this.”

  He met his mother’s eyes for a long moment, and then looked back at Edwar. “You are a warrior in your own right – one of the few that has seen action in the field. You will go.”

  Edwar glanced at the Dame Regent, nodded, and repeated Aram’s words. “As you wish, my lord.”

  Jame turned suddenly to Aram, excitement brightening his features. “For that matter, I could go in his place!”

  Aram froze, frowning. “Your Grace –”

  The Dame Regent and Edwar paled.

  Jame convulsed with quiet laughter. “See – my powers for startling my friends remain unbounded. Nay, fret not; I will stay and the Captain will go.”

  Still laughing softly, he descended the steps, followed by Edwar and the Dame Regent, and disappeared around the corner of the avenue, walking briskly toward the Hall on the hill above.

  30

  The Hay of Lamont stood at the high windows on the east side of his apartment, and gazed out over the town below, where lights blazed and twinkled in the deepening evening. His attention did not remain fixed there for long, however; instead it turned upward, toward the darkened horizon at the eastern edge of the world. His thoughts, as evening faded behind him into the west and night overtook the earth, were unusually dark, and troubled. Jame was naturally cheerful, and his outlook was generally – and genuinely – bright and optimistic. Since his friendship with Kipwing, however, his knowledge of the world beyond Lamont had grown, and with that knowledge had come an understanding of just how grim and dangerous were conditions in that wide world.

  In the last week, e
ver since he was alerted to the imminent arrival of Joktan’s heir by the Great King himself, he had sent the eagle abroad, to learn all he could of Aram, and of the world that had produced him. The news he brought back astonished Jame – and terrified him. And, clever man that he was, the Hay had thought through everything that was told him, mentally organizing the many bits of information, and saw patterns begin to emerge.

  The single most troubling thing was the knowledge that the golers and their strange wagon, drawn across the whole of Lamont, from one border to the other, was not a random act of anachronistic monsters, returning home to the lost where they belonged, as had been believed.

  No, it was the finger of Manon himself, alive, grown in strength and in evil intent, probing Lamont, and other lands – lands once thought safe because of their separation in distance and time from the tower in the north and the events of the past.

  Jame now knew that nothing and no one was safe from the coming war. The world was in for desperate times, and Lamont would not be exempted from them. Willingly or unwillingly, his land and its people would become embroiled in the terrible events that would decide the future of the world.

  Jame had decided that Lamont’s engagement would be willing – and, if possible, pre-emptive. War would ravage much of the world; that truth was unavoidable. It was his desire that it not come to the towns and countryside of his homeland. But Lamont must pay for any exclusion from destruction – of this fact he was well aware. And the debt must be paid in blood, shed on distant fields.

  The one bright – intensely bright – light in the current darkness was Lord Aram. How fortunate for the world – Jame thought it looked more like the work of the gods – that he had appeared at just this moment, when the need of the people of earth approached its greatest.

  Aram was the real thing, and Jame had not just the word of an ancient, dead legend for proof of the matter. Kipwing, whose word he trusted implicitly, and his brethren the lords of the air, including the venerable Alvern, had put their trust in Aram as the answer to a prophecy known as the “Riddle of Kelven”. The hawks, in fact, believed Aram to be Kelven himself, returned to earth.