“How big are they?” asked Wamlak.
Aram shook his head. “Enormous, I think. They flew above us one night, and seemed to fill the sky.”
Mallet had listened to all this with widening eyes. “But from whence do they come?”
Aram glanced into the darkness beyond the fire, where the dim forms of the horses had gathered close. They, too, were interested in the conversation. “Joktan believes that they come from deep in the earth, though not originally. Long ago, it is said, they were conjured by an ancient god who turned away from the Maker – Aberanezagoth – Manon’s mentor, as it were – and they wreaked havoc in the first war, threatening the gods themselves. They were eventually subdued by powerful servants of the Maker and imprisoned in the depths of the earth. Joktan believes that Manon has awakened them for his own purposes.”
Edwar frowned at him across the fire. “The first war?”
“In the world before ours,” Aram answered, “when Aberanezagoth and the ancients rebelled against the gods.”
Mallet’s enormous frame trembled visibly. Involuntarily, he glanced out into the night before returning his gaze to Aram’s face. “These things threatened the gods?”
Aram nodded. “So I was told.”
“And we are going to face them?”
“They’re not here any longer, Mallet. By all accounts, they’ve gone north.”
The big man frowned, evidently embarrassed by his momentary spasm of fear. “But you said that they serve Manon.”
“It’s what Joktan believes – I believe it, too.”
“Then we will face them sooner or later.”
Aram felt a twinge of dread, and a bit of astonishment that he hadn’t yet considered this obvious truth, always focused as he was on the business at hand. He nodded slowly. “If they serve the grim lord, then he will eventually send them against us.”
Findaen was watching him, and had noted his moment of surprise as he considered Mallet’s words.
“How do we fight such beasts?” He asked.
Aram met his gaze reluctantly. “When I first saw lashers, I believed them invincible, but they are not, a fact to which we can all attest. These dragons will have some vulnerability, as all things do. When the time comes, we will discover where that vulnerability lies.”
“You talk very bravely,” Edwar said, and his voice had a hard, doubtful edge to it. “It seems to me that our own vulnerability, as you put it, must by necessity be greater than that of beasts that have transcended time itself.”
“This was not done by virtue of their own strength,” Aram pointed out. “They needed Manon to set them free.”
“Perhaps – still –” shaking his head, the Captain fell silent.
Findaen stirred, and prepared another pot of kolfa, which he pushed onto a bed of coals at the edge of the fire. When he had finished, and no one else had spoken, he looked up. “So, why will we go to this mountain, again?”
Meeting the eyes of his oldest human friend, Aram decided that there were no more secrets to be kept. “Do you remember the terrible explosion of light and sound that occurred when Manon sent his army against the walls of Derosa?”
Findaen nodded, and the others, Wamlak and Mallet in particular, perked up their ears. “It was terrible, as if for a moment, the sun had crashed to earth,” Findaen said.
“That was Manon’s power. Florm called it a fellring. The grim lord has learned a dark art – he is able to send small portions of himself to great distances across the earth. At the proper moment, he separates the bit of spirit from the bit of flesh, and wreaks devastation within a certain range of the fellring. Nothing within that range survives.”
Edwar leaned forward abruptly, staring at him. “And how is the fellring transported.”
“By wagon.”
“In a dark wooden cone, topped with shining metal?”
Aram nodded.
The captain’s face hardened even as his features went white. “This is the thing that was in the wagon that traversed the full length of our land – you believe this, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“I don’t suppose you have defeated one of these as well?”
Aram shook his head ruefully. “No,” he admitted, “nor do I honestly think it possible. But I do want to know why Manon went to the trouble of transporting a piece of himself to the far side of the world.”
“Are there – or were there – more than two of these dragon things, in the beginning?” Ruben asked as he reached for Findaen’s pot and poured himself a cup of kolfa.
“I don’t know,” Aram answered truthfully.
“Maybe the mountain is the gateway from their world to ours.” Ruben continued. “You said that Manon awakened them deep in the earth. And the eagle said this mountain is known as the mountain of the deep darkness. Perhaps the grim lord is attempting to awaken more.”
Aram felt a chill climb his spine. More dragons? Could it be that Manon’s intention was simply to unleash mindless havoc upon the world of men? Had his hatred for the race grown that deep? He looked out beyond the fire into the edge of the darkness, and found Florm’s solemn gaze fixed on his face, the ancient horse’s large dark eyes reflecting the flames. He shook his head. “I hadn’t thought of that possibility, Ruben. Another reason to go and look.”
Mallet, who had foregone kolfa in favor of the fine whiskey from Lamont, set his jaw and looked across at Aram. “The thought of facing such beasts frightens me, I’ll admit,” he said, “but I’ll go with you, anyway.”
Despite the chill pervading his gut, Aram smiled. “We won’t go charging straight in – I hate to disappoint you, my friend. We’ll go, we’ll see, and then we’ll decide what is to be done.”
Edwar’s face twisted into a frown as he stared at the flames. “The grim lord went across Lamont from one border to the other. I guess we weren’t as immune from all this as we thought.”
“No one is,” Aram answered quietly.
32
The next day, as they went eastward on the ancient road, the countryside devolved into a pure desert of tangled rock, thorny plants, and dry stream beds. Kipwing sailed to the north, watching the land that lay between the road and the jagged black mountain, which drew ever nearer. As they passed over one dry wash after another, Aram began to be concerned about the levels of water in their canteens – he dreaded the thought of rationing Ka’en’s allotment – and he was especially worried about the horses. The grass which provided the horses’ nourishment had grown increasingly sparse, which was bad enough, but if there was no water, the situation would become desperate.
He watched the isolated storms that rose continually above the unseen ocean to the south, but they persisted in their habit of raining themselves out before they came far enough north to do them any good.
At midday, he scanned the sky to the northeast, trying to see Kipwing’s form. “Is there any fresh water to the south of the road?” He asked of the eagle. “A lake or a small stream that rises from the ground to our south – anything?”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” the bird answered. “There is nothing of which I am aware. I will go there now, and examine the ground again, but I fear we will have to hope for rain.”
Aram looked down at the back of Thaniel’s head. “How long before your need grows dire, my friend?”
“Water would be a pleasure at this moment,” Thaniel answered. “It will be a necessity before the end of the morrow.”
Aram felt the canteen lashed to his belt, giving it a shake. “I do not work as hard as you, Thaniel; I can spare some of mine.”
Thaniel laughed. “Forgive me, my lord, but it would not even suffice to wet my tongue.”
Aram looked to the south, watching dark thunderheads soar into the sky, and came to a conclusion. “If we do not discover water soon, we will turn south, and try to catch one of those storms as it comes ashore.”
“Do not fear, Lord Aram – we have found water every day thus far.”
�
�True,” Aram agreed, “but the streams have grown smaller, and fewer in number with every mile. And I have seen none today.”
Indeed, the country through which they passed had become increasingly rough and rocky, with high, jagged tors, and mounds of rock that appeared to have been piled at random by a whimsical giant. These jutted from the ground everywhere across the landscape, and were utterly devoid of vegetation. They seldom saw shrinn now, and when they did, the beasts were alone or in small groups, never a large herd like those seen at the western edge of the lost.
Aram looked to the northeast, at the black mass of the mountain. This day and one more would bring them almost due south of its position. Studying the dark pyramid of rock, and knowing what it was that very likely lurked near its base, Aram felt the twinge of dread go through him again. He kept his face averted from Ka’en, traveling on his right, until the feeling passed.
Some while later, as Thaniel’s hooves rumbled ceaselessly along the ancient road, and he was lost in thought, he felt something cool and wet fall on his brow. He looked up. Unnoticed by him, a storm had risen. Larger than most that they’d seen, and more substantial, it now soared above them, obscuring the whole of the southern half of the sky. Within minutes, it was raining steadily, and he began looking around for a shelter of some kind, an overhanging rock or a small cave.
Just when he was about to give up the visual search, halt the column, and unpack the shelter so that Ka’en could remain reasonably dry, the sky opened up. Rain came down as if they had ridden beneath a waterfall. Frantically, he peered right and left, to both sides of the road, looking for some semblance of shelter. Then, lightning smashed into the top of a small hill nearby, to the north of the road, thunder crashed into and through their company with tangible force, and thoughts of shelter gave way to the necessity to find lower ground.
Without waiting for the command, Thaniel veered right, down off the road into a wide, shallow stream bed, followed by the other horses, and then he spun immediately back toward the road.
“Clever horse!” Aram shouted over the crashing of more thunder, for he now saw what Thaniel had discerned. The stream bed was indeed shallow, but still deep enough that the ancient engineers had felt compelled to arch it with a bridge. The column pounded under the protection of the stonework and came to a halt. Aram looked at Ka’en. To his utter astonishment, she was grinning.
“That was fun!”
“Aren’t you soaked?”
She shook her head and fingered the woolen cloak. “Perfectly dry except for my hair. May the Maker bless Dunna,” she added.
Aram dismounted and searched until he discovered some brush growing near the edge of the opening that the blowing rain had not yet managed to find. “I’ll have a fire going shortly,” he called to Ka’en, and looked up just as Durlrang, Leorg, and Shingka, who had been scouting to the left and right of the column, entered the shelter.
There, beneath the bridge of his forefathers, they waited out the storm, while the water rose in the stream bed, quenching the horses’ thirst. The day darkened further, as the storm built toward its strength. After a time, Aram began watching the water rise toward the rocky lip of the stream bed with mounting unease. The storm still raged – indeed, it seemed to be intensifying – and the rain poured from the sky unceasingly. If the region drained by this stream was of substantial size, there was a very real possibility that they might be forced from their shelter and back out into the storm by a flood.
Edwar was standing with his back to the fire Aram had started, gazing out at the falling water. He turned and grinned at Aram, the first time he had shown anything other than grudging deference to the man his lord had compelled him to follow into the wilderness. “I wondered what all these washes were for, if they never carried water. I guess we know, now.”
Aram returned the captain’s good-natured grin, and turned back to watch the rising water. It had reached the lip of the wash, and would rise above it at any moment. Still the rain came down, and the sky to the south, from whence the storm arose, remained dark, though the unseen sun was yet well up in the western sky. The horses had walked straight into the stream at the first, lowering their noses into the water, and drawing in massive amounts of the badly needed fluid. Now, however, even the mighty, muscular Thaniel felt compelled to escape the rising force of the flood.
The water rose, breaching its natural banks, until the company was forced to crowd against the overhanging arch of the bridge. The lightning had lessened, moving off to the north with the most intense part of the storm, but the rain still fell, and the flood arose. It reached the fire and doused it. At last, Aram turned to Ka’en. “Pull your cloak fast around you. We have to go back out in it – get away from this water.”
She nodded and they went out and turned east up the rocky slope of the wash, followed by the rest of the company. At the top of the bank, Aram had a clearer view of the sky in all directions. To the west, the horizon was obscured by dark sheets of rain, but to the east, where they wanted to go, the sky had lightened. Mounting up, they moved onto the road and the horses pounded eastward, still beneath the storm, but away from its strength.
More time had passed beneath the bridge than Aram had realized, for as the road made a long curve toward the south, leaving the rain, and the storm in the west moved northward into the wilderness, the sun showed itself through the ragged clouds. It glowed orange through the back edge of the storm, barely an hour above the horizon. Aram had developed a habit of camping while it was yet light, giving the company – especially the wolves – time to secure the area, lessening the chance that they might be exposed to nasty surprises during the night. They would need to find a suitable place to camp soon.
Shortly, they came to another stream bed. There was water flowing here as well, but within the banks; the bulk of the storm had passed to the west and the sky overhead was clearing. Taking a lesson from Thaniel’s cleverness of earlier, Aram decided to pitch the small tent that he and Ka’en shared beneath the arch of the bridge that spanned the stream. As he and Mallet and Findaen were unpacking Yvan and Jerba, a large shadow sailed low overhead. Aram looked up.
“I see that you found water, my lord,” Kipwing said brightly.
Aram laughed. “More than we needed.”
“I will go to the sea now, Lord Aram, and return at sunrise.” But then he wheeled around and made another pass. “I went near to the mountain, for the storm drove me north and east. The beasts remain there, as they have for all this time.”
Aram turned to look north-northeast, where the multiple jagged peaks jutted above the horizon. “We lost time today,” he said. “How long before we reach the river where we turn north?”
“With no further delay – by the end of the morrow.” The eagle turned his head as he swooped low and looked westward at the failing sun. “I will go to the sea now, and return above you in the morning.” He spread his massive wings and climbed toward the south, fading into the evening.
By the time the sun had crossed the sky on the following day and lowered toward the western hills, they came to the stream described by Kipwing as the one that flowed near the mountain. As Aram was looking for a suitable place to encamp, he found tracks in the sand and earth where a heavy, wheeled vehicle had descended a gentle portion of the bank onto the river bed. There the tracks disappeared, doubtlessly wiped clean by the floods of the intervening years.
The next morning, they prepared to go north. The jagged black mountain rose before them, less than a hundred miles distant.
Aram sent Durlrang ahead of the column, with Leorg on the left and Shingka to the right, each wolf about a hundred yards from the main company. Aram went in front with Edwar immediately behind, and the four Derosans surrounding Ka’en, Findaen in front, Wamlak and Ruben to either side, and Mallet, much to his annoyance, bringing up the rear. His irritation at being placed so far from the possibility of conflict was assuaged somewhat when Aram told him –
“I want my strongest
man protecting us from surprise. Besides, if we are attacked from the front, it will fall to you to get Ka’en safely away. I trust you as much as I trust myself to this task.”
Mollified, Mallet had gone to the rear, obediently sweeping the countryside to the left and the right with his fierce gaze.
The stream bed evidently flooded often, no doubt because of storms like that which they had experienced two days earlier, and there were broad sections of windrowed sand which, though Thaniel found it irritating because of the sound rendered by his hooves sinking into it, made for good travel. At midday, Kipwing called down out of the depths of the sky.
“There are two of the beasts moving toward you, my lord, though they are yet distant.”
Aram looked sharply upward. “Lashers? Do they suspect our presence?”
“No. They hunt a group of the shaggy-haired creatures that the wild folk name shrinn. I believe these creatures supply much of the beasts’ food.”
“How far away are they?”
“They are closer to the mountain than to you. And they are nearly upon the shrinn.”
Sometime later, they heard his voice again. “It is a remarkable thing, Lord Aram. I have observed that the beasts of Manon are very deliberate because of their great size – and I always thought them clumsy and slow, but they have developed sound tactics for hunting the shrinn. While the shrinn graze, the beasts begin running when they are yet hidden by the crest of a hill or ridge. Once they are running at speed, they are very fast and quick, and strong indeed. They run among the shrinn almost before those creatures realize they are being hunted.
“They slew three quickly and wounded a fourth, before the herd escaped. I do not think they bore weapons,” the eagle said, with wonder in his voice. “It appears that they slew the shrinn with their hands.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 35