Sensing that the horse wished to speak, Aram looked up at him. “What is it, my friend?”
“I have had time to think about the deaths of my parents,” Thaniel stated without preamble. “And my thinking has been altered somewhat.”
“Altered?” Aram frowned at him. “In what way?”
“That morning by the river, when we were south in Elam, you told me that there was no need for anyone but you and I to go and face Manon.”
Aram nodded as he sipped at his kolfa. “I did say this,” he affirmed.
“I believe you are wrong – and that I was also wrong in my desire to go and face him at once after the deaths of my parents. I confess that grief over their loss muddled my judgment.”
“Why do you think I am wrong?” Aram asked quietly.
“Because he will not allow you to simply come to him and bring the instrument of his destruction so near.”
“How do you know this?”
“I don’t know it,” Thaniel replied. “I should have said that I believe that he will not allow it.”
Aram looked down as a small log rolled free of the flames. He pushed it back into the fire with his boot and then looked up once more. “The grim lord stated that I could come to him and we could settle all this between the two of us.”
“He is a liar.” Thaniel said.
Aram nodded. “I do not dispute it.” Then he moved his hand, indicating the sword above his back. “But he wants this – indeed, he greatly desires it – and that desire may render him careless.”
“He is a god, Aram – however careless he may be; he would find a means of advantage over you.” The horse lowered his head to gaze at Aram more closely. “Hear me, my brother – you cannot face him alone. I believe that his offer to you is more than a lie – it is a trick. There are tens of thousands of servants at his disposal. Were we to enter his valley alone, he would command them to surround us as he did at the bloody stream. Even with the aid of the Guardians, this time he would not fail. He would slay us both.”
Aram looked hard at the horse; his eyes sharp and bright in the glow from the fire. “Have you not seen what this Sword can do?”
“No,” the horse answered stoutly. “I have only seen what you are able to do with it. Imagine that you were slain, and it passed from your hand to his. What then?”
Aram shook his head. “The Astra would not allow it.”
“You say so – and I believe it to be true. But can we be certain of it?” Before Aram could respond, Thaniel went on, “We must reduce his armies if we can; and then he will be the one hopelessly surrounded, at the mercy of his enemies, and not you, my lord.”
Unable to dispute the wisdom of this assertion, Aram looked down and watched the flames devour the wood in silence for a while. Then, without looking up, keeping his gaze upon the fire, he asked, “Alright, my friend – what do you say that we should do?”
“We must take the army north with us in the spring. We must meet the grim lord’s strength with strength,” Thaniel replied. “Manon’s forces must be diminished. And the reduction of his power must be the work of all the people of the earth. The world must be united in the fight for its freedom.”
Aram remained silent for a time, and then, “Joktan gave to me this same advice,” he admitted and then he sighed. “I am so weary of the killing, Thaniel. I am so tired of death.” As he spoke, he waved a hand back toward the darkness behind him, toward the southwest. “Even the death of Rahm Imrid, who I was determined to kill – and who deserved killing – gave me sorrow and no pleasure.”
Thaniel shifted his weight and spoke quietly. “I know this, my friend,” he said. “And I am sorry that so much of it falls to you. Were it a burden that I could lift from your shoulders, I would do so.”
Aram sighed once more, deeply, and stared out into the night. “All I have ever wanted is to live in quiet and in peace with Ka’en and my family.” With that, he ceased speaking; his thoughts went out to a distance, across the plains, beyond the hills, and down into a green and pleasant valley. After a moment, his features gave themselves over to what was almost a smile. He sipped at his kolfa as he allowed himself to ponder the dream he’d just described as if it were reality.
He thought of the tiny sky-blue eyes of his daughter and his smile grew pensive and soft. The weariness of travel and the soreness in his muscles faded before that pleasant image. Even the chill air of the deepening night momentarily surrendered its struggle with the fire.
Thaniel waited, silent, patient, and understanding until Aram retrieved his attention from the shapeless darkness beyond the influence of the flame and brought it back once more to the horse standing before him.
“My friend,” the horse stated solemnly. “Forgive me for being the one to state that which we both know, but a life of peace and freedom – for you or for any of us – will require more death and more killing, perhaps much more.”
Aram relinquished the last vestiges of pleasant thoughts and looked up at Thaniel. “I know – and I already count my own life as forfeit, if it becomes necessary,” he agreed. “But I hate the idea that so many others will die as well.”
“Those others have dreams of peace and freedom just as you,” the horse told him. “And like you they know the cost.”
Aram met his eyes. “Do they?”
Thaniel shifted his weight again, this time in irritation. “Ask yourself, my friend – do you not think that other men know what will happen to those they love if Manon and his foul minions are not destroyed or driven from the earth? What do you think? Would those men rather that their wives be made widows and their children orphaned, but made free of his evil – or that their wives be slain, their sons enslaved, and their daughters fed to his loathsome beasts?”
Aram looked down and stared into the fire. After a moment he sighed. “We have so few men. His armies are easily eight or ten times our own in strength.”
“There is Elam now,” Thaniel reminded him.
Aram shook his head. “I meant what I said to the council. I have no standing in that land. Nor do I wish it.”
“But Marcus swore fealty to you, my lord – I heard him do so. And with his fealty now comes Elam and its strength. And from that which I hear of their numbers, there are many thousands at his command.”
Aram shook his head again. “I absolved him of that vow of fealty when he ascended the throne of Elam.”
“Now that part of things,” Thaniel returned caustically, “I did not hear.”
Aram looked up. “I am certain that it was implied.”
“No – it was not, except perhaps in your mind.” The horse lifted his head and looked out and gazed into the darkness of the hills behind Aram toward the southwest. “You gave Marcus his land. He will not deny you his strength.”
Aram reached out and placed more wood onto the flames. “Well, let us go home,” he said, ending the discussion. “Let us enjoy the quiet of winter and then we will see what next year brings.”
The two of them arose early and wended eastward, reaching the fortress by mid-morning of the next day. Findaen, Wamlak, and Jonwood met them at the river.
“What news out of Elam, my lord?” Findaen asked.
“Marcus sits upon the throne,” Aram replied simply. “He is now High Prince. A friend governs that land now.”
Findaen raised his eyebrows even as a slight smile touched his mouth, but said nothing.
Wamlak and Jonwood stared, but like Findaen, reached the conclusion that whatever astonishing event had occurred to alter the circumstances of that distant land so dramatically, they would have to hear of it from others. Lord Aram, who no doubt had precipitated that “event”, would not speak of it.
After they’d all been ferried across, as he dismounted, Aram looked around at the others. “Manon suspended his slave trains,” he told them. “What does this mean, I wonder?”
In response, Jonwood grinned a savage grin. “Maybe because he has discovered that whoever he sends south do
esn’t usually come back.”
“Perhaps.” Aram smiled tightly and then looked at Findaen. “Where are Boman, Matibar, Edwar, and Andar?”
Findaen glanced onto the prairie at the many rows of tents. “They have been staying in the camp with their men, my lord.”
“Are they among them now?”
“Yes.”
“Can they be easily found and brought to the fortress?” Aram asked.
“Boman and Andar were together at breakfast not an hour ago,” Wamlak told him, pointing to the north side of the fortress, toward the rows of tents that belonged to Duridia. “They have probably not gone far.”
Aram looked at him and nodded. “Bring them, and send someone for Matibar and Edwar. And find Donnick and the other captains.” He looked up at the sun, rising toward mid-morning. “Tell them to make haste, if they will. I wish to confer with them and then go toward home. I want to be in Regamun Mediar before sunset on the morrow.”
Within the hour, the leaders of the armies of the east were gathered in the war room, along with Donnick and the captains. Aram informed them shortly of that which had occurred in Elam, ignoring the many raised eyebrows that were exchanged and the surreptitious looks of satisfaction that worked their way around the table.
“Now,” he went on, “Alvern tells me that the enemy has made no move to come southward, and that winter has come to the northern regions. It will soon come here. It seems clear that there will be no more fighting before the spring.” He looked over at Findaen. “How are we fixed for firewood and food for the men?”
“Dane and his men bring more fuel for the fires out of the green hills two or three times a week, my lord,” Findaen told him. “And Kinwerd sends word from Stell that the harvest is in, and that it was plentiful. We can send for that which we need whenever we wish. Lamont brought supplies with them as you know. With the excess harvest from here, from across the river, and from Stell, there should be plenty for the army.” He looked across the table at Boman. “Governor Boman has arranged for the surplus harvest from Duridia to be brought north as well.”
Aram studied the table top for a moment and then looked up at Boman. “Lamont is far away and Seneca is an impossible distance, but perhaps your men could go to their homes for the winter.”
The Governor stiffened and immediately shook his head in disagreement. “It cannot be right, my lord, for my men to winter at home among their families while these men from the east encamp in the elements.” He shook his head again, vehemently. “No, my lord; Duridia will stay with the army.”
Aram met his gaze. “I meant no offense, Governor; it’s just that we must gather supplies to go north with us in the spring as well. The less that is consumed through the winter here, the better.” He hesitated and then admitted, “Also, I confess that I wish for no man to be disheartened by separation from those he loves, especially when they are so near in miles.”
The expression upon Boman’s features remained impassive, as was usual for the quietly competent governor of Duridia. “As for supplies, my lord, we are all of us aware that it is as much for the campaign of the spring as it is for sustenance through the winter that stores are required. Word has come that the harvest in Duridia was ample; there will be enough.” After a moment, he went on. “As for the other thing – we came north not to fight one battle, but to fight all that are necessary until this war is won. No man of Duridia will become disheartened, or seek to return home until final victory is accomplished.”
Aram inclined his head. “Thank you, Governor.” He looked around at the others. “Thank you all.” He folded his hands upon the table. “Alright, now to other practical matters. Winter is not usually very harsh south of the Green Hills – still, there will be periods of cold and some snow.” He turned back to Boman. “How are the temporary shelters holding up?”
It was Edwar that laughed and replied. “They are something a bit more than ‘temporary’ now, my lord. Since returning from the battle, the men have taken an interest in their lodgings, knowing that they will winter in them. Many are now more wood than canvass.”
Findaen nodded his head in agreement and waved a hand toward the unseen prairie outside. “It is more like a town out there now than an encampment. Dane has been bringing poles down out of the hills with every shipment of firewood, which the men have placed in the earth surrounding their tents, rendering them as more substantial protection against the elements.”
Timmon leaned forward. “We have even partially enclosed the latrines and banked the streets to shed the rain.” He grinned. “All this encampment needs now is a proper name.”
“Streets?” Aram chuckled. “It seems I have not been around much lately.” But then he nodded. “I am glad to hear it. Alright, we will all winter here at the fortress then.”
From the other end of the table, Nikolus cleared his throat and frowned at him. “We, my lord?”
Aram frowned in turn. “Yes – well, not Lady Ka’en. She and our child will stay in Derosa.”
He was surprised to see the expressions of disapproval and consternation that immediately rendered themselves upon the faces of his commanders at this statement.
“What is it?” He asked of them, his frown deepening.
Hesitant silence greeted this question.
Finally, when no one else spoke, Andar leaned forward and grinned at him. “Forgive the impertinence, my lord, but you are not welcome here.”
Aram’s frowned deepened further, becoming an expression of irritated confusion. “What do you mean?”
Findaen turned to him and spoke evenly. “Lord Aram, we all know the sacrifices you make on behalf of all of us and our peoples. As you said – there will be no more fighting before the spring.” He reached out and put his hand on Aram’s shoulder. “Go home, my friend. Go home to Regamun Mediar and take a well-deserved rest with your family.”
Continuing before Aram could respond, he waved his hand around the table. “We will be fine here – and quite busy. There are men to be trained, a few wounded yet in the infirmary, and armor to be made and fitted.” He dropped the hand back to table, folded both his hands in front of him, and met Aram’s fierce gaze squarely. “Go home, my lord. We promise that your army will be fit and ready to fight when next you need it.”
At this, there arose a chorus of assent. Mallet seemed on the verge of tears as he spoke. “Go home, Lord Aram, and get to know your wee one. We’ll manage everything here.”
Abashed, regretting the moment of annoyance, Aram nodded his thanks. “I am grateful,” he told the assembled leaders. Fighting down an abrupt surge of emotion, he said, “Lord Alvern and Kipwing will be in the skies above us, and the hawks will remain on alert all the way north to Vallenvale and Bracken. I will come at once if there is any alarm.”
“Unless you are sorely needed, my lord,” Mallet stated, “we will take care of any alarm that arises without finding it necessary to disturb your rest.”
“Here, here,” Edwar agreed.
The meeting wound down on that note and Aram took his leave of everyone present.
The sun had risen to within an hour of mid-day when he was once again in the saddle and he and Thaniel were wending their way eastward around the limits of the camp.
Aram glanced up at the sun. “Can we make it near to the summit of the green hills by dark?” He asked Thaniel. “I want to be home before evening tomorrow.”
Thaniel lengthened his stride and his great hooves began to eat up the ground. “We can,” he replied.
13.
As autumn waned toward winter, Aram and Ka’en spent their days in leisurely manner; walking the porch and the avenue while carrying their daughter, going up the valley as often as possible to visit with Borlus and Hilla before the time came for the bears to go to their winter’s sleep. It occurred to Aram one day as they sat in the sun next to the orchard that these were the happiest, most pleasant days he had ever known.
He began to hope that time would continue to pass in th
at uneventful manner right into and through the winter.
One morning he stood alone on the porch in the hour after sunrise and gazed northward where far away there was new snow whitening the tops of the highest peaks. Ka’en and Mae were yet inside having breakfast. He turned to look the other way and found a familiar hooded specter standing next to the top of the stairway, facing him.
Aram inclined his head in surprise. “Lord Joktan.”
“Good morning, my son,” the ghost replied.
“What may I do for you, my lord?” Aram asked him.
Joktan turned his hooded head for a moment and looked toward the east where the body of the sun had just cleared the tops of the hills.
“The pass to the high plains is still open,” he said, turning back toward Aram. “Goreg seeks an audience with you.”
Aram frowned. “Goreg?” Then memory came. “Ah, the wolf, Durlrang’s son.”
“Yes – with the death of his father he is now chief of all the wolves of that country.”
Aram looked back toward the city for a moment before once again facing Joktan. “What is it that he requires of me?”
“That is not my affair,” the ancient king answered. “I want you to come to the high plains as well – and my need, I dare say, outweighs his in importance.”
“Your need?” Aram glanced toward the east. It was as Joktan stated; though there was snow on the peaks off to the north, those on the east of the valley were yet free of wintery deposits. He nodded. “I will come, of course. What is your need?”
Joktan shook his head. “It is not my benefit that I seek, but yours, my son.”
“Mine?”
“Yes.” With that, Joktan began to fade. “You will come?”
“I will.”
“Soon?” The king persisted, even as he shimmered on the edge of visibility.
“Tomorrow,” Aram promised.
Kelven's Riddle Book Five Page 10