Kelven's Riddle Book Three

by Daniel T Hylton

  Aram nodded. “He is one of the wisest men I have ever met.”

  “Indeed?” Eoarl gazed at him in some surprise.

  “He possesses a keen and clever mind. He grasps things quickly and easily and understands what he hears and sees. Those attributes alone place him above most men.”

  Eoarl nodded thoughtfully. “I always suspected he was no fool.”

  Aram leaned forward. “These men you mentioned – those that will have difficulty in obeying my command – will they obey Edwar?”

  “Oh, yes,” the old farmer replied. “They must do so, or face dishonor.”

  Aram nodded in satisfaction and sat back in his chair. “Wallensia has maybe a thousand men under arms, Duridia will send between four and five thousand. Lamont alone will send nearly six thousand, more than the rest together. Edwar, therefore, will command the largest corps upon the field. We will take counsel together when we face the enemy, and he will know my mind. But he will lead Lamont into battle, sir, not I. The men of Lamont will see one of their own at their head.”

  A look of relief and gratified amazement settled on Eoarl’s face. “You are an unusual man, Lord Aram.”

  Aram smiled slightly but returned no answer to this. When it became clear that the farmer intended to say no more, he gently prodded him. “You spoke of Lamont being left unprotected?”

  Eoarl nodded. “I know that our forces are going west, upon your heels. Muray brought me a copy of the Hay’s writ.”

  Once more he got up to service the mugs. He was frowning when he returned to his chair. “Lord Aram – you must understand that your coming has stirred a great many pots, as it were. For one thing; we now understand that we are not beyond the grim lord’s horizons. He knows we are here, he has seen us; perhaps most alarming, he has interests to our east.”

  Lines of worry deepened the creases in Eoarl’s forehead. “I would not have the land emptied of its soldiers only to discover that there are dangers upon our eastern doorstep.” He looked at Dunna, then at Ka’en, and then returned his attention to Aram. “Can you tell me plainly that the winged demons are gone from the lost?”

  “Yes,” Aram assured him. “The dragons have gone north, into Manon’s service, and the lashers that he left behind him are dead. So, unless –” Aram caught himself, abruptly aware that the calm that pervaded this farmhouse had rendered him less cautious than normal.

  Eoarl examined him in silence and then leaned across the table. “Lord Aram; if my surgeon knew that I would shortly die, I would hope that he would not hide such knowledge from me. I do not fear death or danger, only ignorance. The people of Lamont are your allies now, and I am your friend. I pray you; do not exclude us from knowledge that may help us to act wisely in your absence.”

  Aram stared down at the mug sitting in a small pool of foam on the table in front of him. After a long moment, nodding his head, he sighed.

  “There is an unborn dragon in the mouth of the deep darkness. It must be the child of the two that serve Manon.”

  After the gasps of astonishment, and the sound of breath being sucked in sharply, there was dead silence around the table. Even Mallet set his mug aside, unattended.

  Aram looked up. “That is what keeps the grim lord’s attention fixed upon the eastern borders of Lamont.”

  Findaen stood, understanding sharpening his widened eyes. “That’s how he controls them!”

  “Yes,” Aram agreed quietly. “I have come to the same conclusion.”

  Eoarl’s gaze was fixed on Aram’s face. “These – dragons, you name them? – are they a conjuration of the grim lord?”

  “No – no one knows from whence they arise.”

  “And they are very dangerous?”

  A line had been crossed; there was no further advantage in secrecy. Aram looked around at the others, reached out for Ka’en’s hand, grasping it tightly, and turned back to Eoarl.

  “They are dangerous beyond imagining; even the gods fear them,” he said. “That’s why Manon has to imprison their child to enforce obedience.”

  Eoarl went white.

  “Dear Maker,” Dunna gasped. “What can we do?”

  Aram looked at her. “Manon will very likely keep them employed far away from their child else they might discover a means of getting past his defenses. As long as he succeeds in this, I do not think that Lamont has aught to fear from the east.”

  “His defenses?” Eoarl said sharply. “But you slew his beasts. What other defenses does he possess?”

  “There is a piece of him, in the mountain, by the young dragon.”

  Eoarl went even whiter. “So he is here – in this part of the world?”

  As fully and succinctly as he could, Aram explained about the fellring; about its use and limitations as he understood them. “So, you see, that piece of him is not able to walk about on its own; that’s why he needed lashers to bear it to that place. I am certain that it does not pose a threat to Lamont, both because it is needed to guard the unborn dragon and because it cannot move on its own. At least that is what I believe,” he finished.

  “You also said ‘unless’ earlier,” Eoarl reminded him.

  Aram sighed, and shook his head. “I know nothing about dragons,” he said. “But that thing in the egg looked as if it could breathe and move on its own if it got out.”

  “It’s in an egg?” Ruben asked.

  “Yes,” Aram replied. “A very large egg.”

  “And if it gets out?” Eoarl, his face still very pale, was staring at him with rounded eyes.

  “That was the ‘unless’. I believe Manon would employ the fellring and kill it, but such an act would break his hold on the dragons – unless he succeeded in hiding the deed. If he failed, and they were released –?” Aram rubbed at his forehead with the fingers of his free hand, and then drained his mug. He let out a short, harsh, mirthless laugh, and said, “Who knows? Maybe the dragons would then destroy Manon and leave the world for distance shores, solving all our problems in one stroke.”

  “But you don’t believe that,” Eoarl stated.

  Aram met his eyes. “I don’t know what they would do,” he admitted.

  After that, out of sheer necessity to dispel the gloom that had descended upon the room, the conversation turned to other things. Wamlak related more of their journey into the east, nobody caring that the tales were but repetitions; Findaen and Eoarl talked of the qualities of fine leaf; and eventually, Mallet convinced the old farmer to explain the delicate process of making beer.

  Ka’en and Dunna moved to the fire, stretching their feet toward its warmth. Eventually, as the evening wore on and the somberness borne of the talk of dragons dissipated a bit, their quiet talk was punctuated, now and then, by Dunna’s chirping laugh. Aram was content to sit quietly and sip his beer, a substance for which – though he was careful not to show it – he did not share Mallet’s enthusiasm. Muray confessed himself torn between a desire to continue on with the company, or to wait for the passage of the army as he had been instructed, and he wrangled loudly over the matter with Wamlak and Ruben. After a few firm words from his father, however, it was decided that the latter was the wiser course of action.

  Sometime later, Dunna tapped Aram softly on the shoulder and directed his attention to Ka’en, who had fallen asleep in the warm chair by the fireplace. Though dampened by discussions of dark things, the evening had managed to provide them with a pleasant interlude, and Aram was sorry to see it end.

  He found himself curiously regretful at departing the next morning. Eoarl was a calm and measured man whose company he enjoyed and Ka’en seemed, more and more, to view Dunna as a surrogate mother. It was like parting from family.

  Nonetheless, as the sun rose above the hills to the east, they took their leave, collecting Durlrang from the patch of forest, and went out the broad ridge top to the main road, where they turned west on the last leg of their journey toward home.

  46

  Two days later, a few hours before evening, t
hey came down into the long valley above Durck where the road went north from the crossroads toward Derosa. But Aram turned left, toward Durck and the sea. Here, when they came through the gap onto the heights above the town, a surprise awaited him. The bayside haunt of privateers was generally cleaner and tidier than it had ever been.

  Further, a ship that he recognized lay at anchor in the harbor. Keegan was in town. He was glad of this, for it meant that he could render the yearly payment which he had promised to the young privateer.

  The new spirit of order and cleanliness extended to the public house, where Mullen had taken up residence with Lora and her children. The tables and chairs were sound, the floors were clean, and the grime had been wiped from the windows, alleviating much of the gloominess. Keegan and his crew, who had been sitting at a table along the back wall jumped to their feet as Aram and the company entered, and Mullen appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his waist band.

  Mullen stopped in surprise. “Lord Aram – I sent no signal –”

  Aram laughed. “I am passing through on other business, Mullen, and thought I’d rest the night here. My lady is tired from the journey,” he indicated Ka’en. “If Lora has something suitable –?”

  Mullen stiffened as he looked at Ka’en and something akin to panic entered his voice. “We have rooms, yes – but for a lady? We keep them as clean as possible, but –”

  Ka’en spoke gently. “If the room is clean, it will suffice.”

  But at that, Mullen became abruptly decisive. Bowing his head respectfully to Ka’en, he turned back to Aram. “My lord – do you recall my house, up the hill, against the bluff?”

  Aram nodded.

  “If you remember, my lord,” Mullen continued, “I maintain it well – it is very clean and tidy. My bed is not much, but you and your lady are welcome to it for your needs. It will be much better than a room which has been sullied by many a filthy seaman.” He turned his head and looked toward the back wall. “I mean no direct offense, Keegan.”

  The young privateer with the scarred face laughed outright. “But I agree with your sentiments completely, Master Mullen,” he answered and then he bowed to Aram. “I am honored to see you again, my lord.”

  Aram nodded. “And I have your yearly pay, young man.”

  Keegan frowned and indicated Mullen with his hand. “But Mullen paid that two months ago – to Lubchek, as well.”

  Aram turned back to Mullen in surprise. “You paid it?”

  “As you recall, my lord, you gave me two monarchs.” Mullen shrugged. “You placed me in charge here and I couldn’t know that the captains would be fortunate enough to meet with you when next they were in port.”

  Aram nodded. “Of course this is the proper method of handling my affairs here. I will replace those that you paid out, and give others into your disposal as well. And we will soon have a wide variety of coinage coming out of Lamont, so you will be well supplied.”

  Mullen shook his head even as he grinned. “Don’t give me too much at a time, my lord, not until we’re certain of my trustworthiness.”

  “I trust you,” Aram returned flatly, ignoring the attempt at levity, “and that is good enough.” He frowned. “We do need to consider your security, however. There are those upon the sea that don’t know me, and might make attempts upon you when it is known that there is wealth at your disposal.”

  Still grinning, Mullen laughed, and shook his head more decisively. “Nay, my lord; there are none upon the seas – at least as it concerns the privateers – that know you not. Your word is law, and the seas are yours. None will try to steal from me.”

  “Good,” Aram replied. “I’m glad to know that I can safely place my affairs here more fully in your hands. Thank you, Mullen.”

  His grin fading, Mullen gazed back at his lord with an expression on his face that said he understood that his responsibilities had grown rather abruptly larger, and that his former life of relative dissolution had receded even further into his past. Naturally disposed to a sort of benign lawlessness, he nonetheless always found himself wanting to please this tall, fierce prince. “I’ll help Lora bring supper,” he said finally, and went back into the kitchen.

  Aram looked at Keegan. “Sit with us,” he invited.

  After they had supped, Aram inquired as to whether Keegan often went into Seneca.

  Keegan slid his eyes sideways at Mallet. “Yes, my lord, occasionally – more, in recent years. It’s where we acquire banyas, and other fruits. Also, they supply fine hardwoods that are greatly prized in Elam and Vergon.”

  “You made an odd statement to me, once,” Aram said then to the young seaman. “I remember it well, and have often puzzled about its meaning.”

  “I did?”

  “You mentioned ‘guns’.”

  “Guns?”

  “It was the means by which you and Lubchek gained the advantage on NIven. You ‘had four more guns’, as I remember it.”

  Keegan frowned. “Yes, we did.”

  “What is a gun?”

  “We call it a ‘wizard’s voice’.” Keegan cupped his hands, forming a tube. “The correct word is ‘cannon’. It’s a rounded barrel about like this and is three or four feet long. It rests in a wooden cradle. You put a bag of this black powder – nixite, I think they call it – down the tube and force it into a chamber at the back, then a damping cloth, and then you can put in whatever you like on top – rocks, nails, anything sharp and hard – and light the wick, and Boom! She sends stuff flying. I like to use round metal shot when I can get it, but that comes from the inventor of the guns, and he’s hard to find. They’re a relatively new thing, and not widely known, but highly prized by captains like myself.”

  “And they’re effective – and powerful?”

  “Oh, yes, very.” The seaman laughed. “The Nighthawk has four, two on a side; and if you light ‘em up two at a time, they’ll hove a ship sideways in a heavy sea.”

  “Where do they come from?” Aram asked.

  “Vergon, I think,” Keegan answered. “Those on the Nightkawk were already in use by Burkhed when I came aboard. I think, in fact, that Burkhed possessed the only guns in the world at that time.”

  “And he acquired these guns – these cannons – in Vergon?”

  Keegan nodded. “There’s a wizard there, they say, a sorcerer of the metallic arts that lives deep in the Iron Mountains, who invented them.”

  “Are they only used on ships, or do armies employ them?”

  “I don’t know if armies have them,” the captain answered. “But there aren’t many around, so I doubt it. I know that Elam’s navies don’t possess any – and they’re the largest fleet upon the sea. It’s how we manage to maintain a certain advantage, you know? They’ve tried many times to capture a privateer in possession of cannon – and there aren’t many of us that has ‘em.”

  “Who is this wizard – have you met him?” Aram asked.

  “Oh, no – I don’t know of anyone that has met him. Burkhed knew him, I think, but he tends to live away from folk, and outside the law, if you know what I mean – like us.”

  Aram gave him a stern look. “You’re not outside my law, Keegan.”

  Keegan’s eyes widened. “No, Lord Aram, of course not, just that of Elam and Vergon, and the like.”

  “Can you find this wizard?”

  The young captain frowned. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “You said that he lives in the Iron Mountains.”

  “Yes,” Keegan agreed, “but those mountains are big and wild. Who knows what all lives in there?”

  “Will you look for me?”

  Keegan stared, unable to answer.

  “Find a man,” Aram instructed him. “A strong man, and clever – someone you can trust, or whose loyalty can be purchased with money. Put him ashore and send him into the mountains. Have him find this wizard and learn how to construct cannon, and adapt them for use on land. I will make this man rich if he succee
ds.”

  The seaman spread his hands. “My lord, you may have the guns from the Nighthawk – they’re really yours, anyway.”

  Aram shook his head. “You need them – to maintain advantage over Elam’s navies, as you said. No, my way is better. Find a man as I described and send him into the Iron Mountains. Bring me the secret of cannon, if possible.”

  Keegan’s face clouded with doubt. Nonetheless, he said, “I will try, my lord.”

  Aram met his eyes and nodded shortly. “So, Elam possesses a great navy?”

  “One hundred and forty ships or more – so they say. I never hang around to count them.”

  Aram laughed. “I imagine not. Tell me – who rules in Elam?”

  “His name is Rahm Imrid,” Keegan answered. “Imrid succeeded to the throne when his elder brother died some eight or nine years ago.”

  “What do you know of him?”

  Keegan considered. “Well – nothing that you could trust, my lord. As for us privateers; we consider him to be a nasty piece of work, mostly because he hunts us relentlessly. In the days of his elder brother, we were pretty much left alone, as long as we didn’t flaunt local laws.”

  “What does he have against you?”

  “He wants the cannon, for one thing,” he gave Aram a sidelong look. “Probably for the same reason you do, my lord – if you don’t mind my saying it.”

  Aram shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

  Keegan sipped his whiskey. “Mostly, I think it just galls him that there are people who don’t answer to him or his word. From what I hear, he has a need to be in charge.”

  Aram pursed his lips and nodded, thinking of the old man in Seneca. “A common affliction among rulers.”

  Keegan, emboldened by whiskey, grinned. “But not you, my lord?”

  Aram returned a slight smile. “There will be order, law, and justice on my lands, Keegan, but that doesn’t arise from any personal need on my part. It arises from the necessity for people to be free. And for liberty to thrive there must be a framework of order and governance. But not tyranny.” His features hardened. “I despise tyranny.” He was silent for a long moment, and then the lines of his face softened. “As for myself, I have but one need, and it has already been satisfied.” He looked up and found Mullen. “If you truly meant the offer of the use of your house, Mullen, then Lady Ka’en and I will retire after supper.”