Kelven's Riddle Book Three

by Daniel T Hylton

  Yelling in desperate, anguished fear for Ka’en, he struggled up the incline through the brush and rocks, even as the beast shot up the ridge, rapidly closing the gap between it and its prey. Horror descended over Aram as he realized with terrible certainty that he would be too late.

  Then Thaniel was there.

  “Lay hold of the saddle.” The horse’s voice was irresistible in its fierceness.

  Switching the sword to his left hand, Aram grabbed the horn of the saddle just as the big horse swept past and charged up the slope.

  Thaniel’s muscles bunched and strained as he dug his hooves into the incline, heaving his massive frame upward, dragging Aram with him. Thaniel reached the level an instant before the beast could get past him. Driving his hooves into the soil, the horse slid to a stop atop the ridge. Aram let go the saddle, scrabbling awkwardly at the rocky ground with his gauntleted right hand, falling nearly prone as his forward movement was abruptly halted. Rising to his knees, he switched the sword back into his right hand and turned to face the beast.

  The monster slid to a stop as if it had encountered an invisible barrier, pelting Aram with a shower of rock shards. Aram felt a sting on the exposed flesh of his face, and a moment later, the warm trickle of blood. The beast gazed down at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, and then moved its attention to the blade. It was no more than two or three sword lengths away from him. Aram was breathing hard from exertion, and behind him Thaniel snorted and blew great blasts from his nostrils. The creature, however, seemed unaffected, either by the mad rush, or the stunningly sudden stop.

  The thing was enormous, towering over him, a vast, malevolent mass. Aram was assaulted by an intermittent faint smell of rotting flesh as the beast breathed in and out. In its eyes, he saw hunger, and frustration – and fury that its prey had been denied it. It moved its orange-red eyes and gazed at the tiny flow of blood on Aram’s cheek, and then re-focused on the sword in its adversary’s hand. Unquestionably, the beast recognized the unearthliness of the blade, and the mortal danger that it represented, for it blinked and flinched, and moved back a step.

  Aram realized, in that instant that the beast retreated, that the ridge top was too narrow to allow the creature to get past. And it was less than ten feet away. Here was his chance. At that moment, the presence of the Guardians crossed his mind. What would the Astra do? Those strange beings had never come at his call, and often they let him resolve things without aid, only showing their power when he was in danger of being overwhelmed. Would they help him now, he wondered, if he forced close combat with this monster?

  Grasping the sword with both hands, and cocking his arms to deliver a stroke, he charged. But the massive creature was too quick.

  Moving like lightning, it turned and leapt down the rocky slope to Aram’s left, and was beyond the reach of the sword before Aram arrived at the spot where it had stood but a moment before. When it gained the bottom, without hesitating, it turned and ran to the west, aiming for the front of the knoll and easy access to the company on its top.

  Once again, Aram was caught off guard.

  “Thaniel!” He screamed.

  The great horse was already turning to place himself between the beast and his friends. Aram grabbed the saddle’s horn with his left hand and hung on, holding the sword out as Thaniel dragged him to the top of the knoll, once again reaching a position of interception just in time.

  After another momentary confrontation, the beast backed away and went down the slope and crossed the pavement to the far side of the road. Once out of clear range of any danger, it sat back on its haunches once again and studied its adversary and the desired prey atop the rounded hill.

  Aram stood in front of his companions, breathing hard, and stared at the beast in turn, watching for any deceptive maneuver it might attempt. Feeling someone at his side, he shot a glance in that direction before quickly returning his attention to his adversary. Wamlak had come forward to stand next to him, an arrow nocked in his bow.

  “Will this do anything, do you think, Lord Aram?” Wamlak’s voice shook, and was unnaturally low in pitch.

  After a moment, Aram nodded. “Go ahead – put one in him, in his biggest part. Maybe you can do some damage – take a step or two off his speed.”

  Wamlak pulled back with his might, making the bow groan. Holding his breath, taking careful aim, the slim, dark archer loosed the missile.

  Unmoving, the beast watched the arrow rush toward it. At the last instant, it reached up, the clawed foreleg a blur, and snatched the offending object in the course of its flight. It sniffed at the long wooden rod, picked at the feathers and then flung the arrow aside. Then it sat back once more on its huge, muscular haunches, indifferent to the previous assault that had been perpetrated upon it, and seemed to consider its options for getting past the man with the strange weapon so that it might feast on those behind him.

  Aram turned to stare at Wamlak, who gazed back with widened eyes.

  It was unnecessary to say it, but Wamlak couldn’t stop himself. “He took it right out of the air.”

  Aram shook his head in disbelieving agreement, feeling suddenly weary, and then glanced up at the gloomy sky.

  “Can you get above the clouds,” he asked Kipwing, circling overhead, “and see where the sun is?” The sword was pulling harder against his grip, straining his fatigued muscles, wanting to go west.

  “At once, my lord,” the eagle answered, and then he added, “There are no beasts but this one anywhere within the sight of my eyes.”

  Aram accepted this information silently. One alone is far too many, he thought.

  A moment later, the eagle spoke again. “The sun is closer to the edge of the world,” Kipwing informed him, “than it is to the top of the sky.”

  Nodding tiredly, Aram returned his full attention to the beast across the way, which had once again risen and was angling toward the east. “Get back with the others,” he told Wamlak.

  There followed then a long and terrible duel, with the beast feinting first one way and then the other, always trying to draw Aram too far, and Aram, for his part, careful to keep himself between it and Ka’en and the others, moving with it as it moved, but staying ever vigilant for a change in course. Several times, the creature nearly succeeded in pulling him too far, but Thaniel, also diligent, would come with his greater speed and strength and drag Aram into its path, flinging him into harm’s way, shutting off the beast’s avenue of assault.

  The day waned, the sky grew darker; the sword pulled ever harder against his grip, draining the remaining strength from his already strained muscles. Time after time, Aram glanced at the western sky, praying for a lone shaft of sunlight to strike the blade and give him fire that he could use to drive the creature away, injure or even kill it; but it remained a futile hope. Though there was no rain, the clouds hung thick and unbroken across the dome of the sky.

  His arm ached from resisting the pull of the sword, and the muscles in his legs trembled from exertion and the unending strain of the duel. It could not last much longer, he realized. Night would fall and then they were doomed. In his debilitated state, and without the advantage of sunlight on the blade, he could think of nothing to do to gain the upper hand. And still the duel went on.

  Once, exhausted, breathing hard, he glanced over at Thaniel, who stood a few yards away and slightly behind him. At first, he thought that his eyes were dancing as a result of tension and fatigue, for Thaniel’s chest and forelimbs seemed blurred. Then he realized that the horse’s muscles were quivering. Thaniel, also, was near exhaustion.

  Then, as thick gloom gathered among the rocky draws, and the sword’s westward pull on Aram’s arm increased, the creature retreated from the duel and went to the far side of the road, fixing its orange-red gaze on Aram. Aram stared back, and after a few moments, the beast looked away and peered up into the darkening heavens. Then it turned its head and looked toward the west where the jumbled horizon was fading slowly into the general twilight.
After gazing into the west for some time, it sat down on its massive haunches and seemed content to wait for the blackness which follows the end of day.

  Abruptly, with terrifying clearness, Aram understood that the beast knew that night came quickly on, and when darkness fell, all advantage went over to the monstrous predator. In the blackness of night, Aram would have no choice but to separate Ka’en from the others, back her into a cleft in the rock and try to defend her with wild, blind thrusts of the blade. In doing so, he would necessarily sacrifice every other member of the company.

  The sudden and certain knowledge of impending, unavoidable, horrific carnage stunned him, and exhaustion washed over him in a flood, for he could think of nothing to do to avoid imminent disaster. He had brought his closest companions, his nearest friends, and the woman he loved more than his own life into this bleak wilderness to die in hideous manner.

  His heart felt as if it would seize and stop.

  He had come to the end of the earth only to discover that he was the most foolish of all fools.

  And because of him, Ka’en stood on the threshold of death.

  Then, as the awful realization of the true state of the situation assaulted Aram’s mind and spirit, bringing into stark focus the jeopardy that threatened to swallow them all; something snapped inside him. Erupting suddenly out of a deep well of fear, the old familiar fury rose up within him, making his thoughts grow cold and clear, supplanting fear and uncertainty.

  Trembling, tired beyond all limit, and terrified for Ka’en’s safety, and the safety of the rest of his company, Aram grew angry. He was angry at himself first, for bringing her and the others into unknown, dangerous realms and putting everything he cared about at risk; then he was angry at the gods who, either by deliberate acts or by neglect, had let the world slide unaided to the edge of ruin. Then, at the last, he grew angry at himself again for letting Manon bully him and frighten him inside the black mountain.

  Finally, that anger coalesced into a focused fury that directed itself at the vicious beast that had come out of hell’s wastelands and threatened their lives. Fatigue left him, and he looked around at his immediate environs, as if, in his rising fury, he saw them for the first time It became clear, almost in an instant, what he would do.

  “Stay here, Thaniel,” he commanded, and he began walking deliberately toward the hulking creature.

  Startled, Thaniel started forward.

  “Stay,” Aram said, and his tone brooked no disobedience.

  Thaniel stopped, staring at his master’s retreating back.

  As Aram approached his enemy, he gazed into the beast’s eyes, watching for signs that it intended to feint to either the left or the right. But the beast was surprised by this abrupt change in its opponent’s tactics, and for a moment did nothing but watch as Aram approached. The road’s verge was less than a dozen yards away from Aram now; and the beast rose to its enormous, clawed feet and began to prowl the edge of the pavement on the far side.

  The creature waited a few moments longer, obviously disconcerted by his adversary’s behavior, but then, as space began to open up between Aram and the group on the hill, temptation became too great.

  The beast charged, swinging wide around Aram’s left. And there was too much space now; even Thaniel couldn’t get to him in time to drag him back into the breach. The beast flew across the pavement, moving at a frightening speed despite its great size.

  There were rocks of various sizes lying about everywhere, which through the centuries had tumbled down the slopes and onto the verge by the road, like pebbles strewn by a giant. Running now, angling toward the tangent of the beast’s attack, Aram reached down and pierced a stone the size of a melon with the sword. Instantly, the rock smoked and melted, becoming a viscous, gooey mass.

  Charging straight at the beast as it attempted to go by him; Aram swung the sword, discharging a looping stream of flaming matter from the end of the blade. Much of the molten rock missed, spattering onto the surface of the road, where it hissed and burned holes into the ancient stone, but enough of it struck the beast, especially on its left leg and hip, that it swerved aside, roaring with sudden and unexpected pain. But Aram had already speared another rock and came on, even as the creature halted and hesitated.

  Aram’s second assault struck the beast nearly full on, splashing searing fiery rock onto its chest and left shoulder. Screaming in torment, it turned and fled, clawing at the terrible fluid burning its flesh and bone. Stumbling, dragging its wounded leg, it retreated across the road and into the rocky barrens. But Aram’s blood was up; his fury fully hot. The wolves came out of the shadows to join him, their noses up, growling into the north.

  He turned and found Thaniel. “Let’s end this.”

  As Thaniel came near, Aram slid his foot into the stirrup and vaulted into the saddle. “After it,” he said.

  The horse complied, surging across the pavement into the wild country beyond, but as he went, he spoke. “The day is spent, my lord; it grows dark.”

  His focus on finding the beast for a moment broken, Aram glanced around, and then looked toward the west. That horizon had gone as dark as the others. The sun was either on the horizon, hidden by the thick overcast, or had actually set. Beyond the brighter, open area of the road, gloom had exerted its influence. With a word, he brought Thaniel to a halt, drew in a deep, trembling breath, let it out slowly, and looked skyward.

  “Are you yet in the sky, Kipwing?”

  “I am, my lord. Your quarry flees into the north. Though it stumbles and appears in great pain, it nonetheless moves quickly.”

  Aram nodded. “It grows dark, does it not, even for your eyes?”

  “Yes, my lord; the world below me lies in shadow, and grows dimmer by the moment.”

  Reluctantly, Aram turned Thaniel back toward the road. “Alright,” he told Kipwing, “watch as long as you are able, my friend. I know that you must go to the sea soon.”

  “Nay, lord,” the eagle answered. “I will rest on the crag above the hill tonight that I may discern the beast’s location when light returns on the morrow.”

  “I thank you for that,” Aram replied shortly. He looked down at Durlrang. “Bring Leorg and Shingka, and let’s get back beyond the road.”

  As he dismounted near the others atop the knoll, he found the wolves close behind him. “Stay near us this night, and take turns resting as required – but wake me at any alarm.”

  Silently, the wolves faded down the slope and into the deepening gloom.

  With the duel seemingly ended, at least for the moment, Aram’s strength abruptly left him. Finding the sword still in his hand, he carefully slid it home in its sheath and then stood for a moment, one hand on Thaniel’s shoulder, steadying himself against utter collapse. After a few moments of breathing slowly and deeply, he found a reservoir of strength and stepped around Thaniel and climbed the slope to where the company waited on the top of the mound. Ka’en, white-faced, with her arms clasped tightly across her breast, stood behind her brother. Aram met her eyes for a moment and then looked at Findaen, who gazed back with an expression of shock fixed upon his features.

  Aram felt that he needed to say something – do something to break the spell of hideous terror that hung over the evening. “I told you that I wanted your counsel, of whatever sort it is. So, tell me – is this where we turn back toward home?” Pivoting, he gazed northward into the night. “Who knows what other monsters roam this blighted land?” Turning back to Findaen, he looked at the others as well. “Do we abandon the idea of Seneca?”

  A long silence followed this blunt question, until Ruben spoke up. “Was that beast anything like the flying creatures that you saw in the west, Lord Aram? For it appeared to me to resemble a lasher.”

  Relieved to have something to fix upon, Aram nodded. “It did, didn’t it? – a very large, four-legged lasher,” he answered, and then he shook his head. “I didn’t actually see the flying creatures, Ruben; but no – I don’t believe it is an
ything like their kind.”

  He glanced at Wamlak and Mallet, and then met Findaen’s gaze again. “Do we abandon Seneca?”

  “I don’t know, my lord,” Findaen responded, his face white and his eyes wide. “The last few hours have sorely rattled me, I admit. But I can’t say what it portends for the rest of our journey. Perhaps Kipwing can be persuaded to go farther afield, and see just what unknowns lie between us and your objectives?”

  As he was talking, Ka’en slipped past and came close to Aram. Reaching out, Aram pulled her closer and found that she was trembling, from the chill of the evening and the terror of the long afternoon.

  “They’re our objectives, Findaen, not mine alone.” He looked down the slope into the low place between the knoll and the craggy hill that rose to the south, a kind of saddle that fell away to either side. There was a small grove of junipers in the bottom. With his free hand, Aram pointed. “Let’s camp down there, in that low spot. We’ll be out of the wind, and if it rains, it will be shed on both sides. There’s room for the horses, too.”

  Holding Ka’en close, he started down into the hollow and was surprised to find that he stumbled as he went, from sheer weariness. Feeling a need to pierce the darkening silence of the falling night, he raised his voice so that all could hear, both men and horses. “In the morning, I want everyone’s opinion – do we go on, or do we go back?”

  38

  After Aram left the cavern, Manon turned his attention back to his brother. Ferros had approached the dragon child and was bent forward, watching the unborn Laish squirm and twitch within the leathery egg sack.

  Manon moved his second self nearer the protective ring. “Do not meddle in my affairs, brother, I warn you.”

  Ferros did not look up. “You are in my domain,” he reminded Manon, “therefore this affair is more mine than yours.”