Aram thought for a moment and then nodded in assent. “Yes, at least I believe them to be.”
Matibar’s frown deepened upon his brow. “Then why do not they take up the weapon and destroy the Scourge? Why lay this burden upon a man – even a man such as you?”
A dry, slight smile, utterly devoid of amusement, came upon Aram’s face. “You are not the first to ask that question, captain,” he replied. “I have often asked it myself, always without resolution.” He shrugged. “The answer to that lies with the Maker alone. I only know this – the Sword is in my hand. It falls to me to put it to its intended purpose.”
Matibar continued to watch him closely. “The destruction of the Scourge – that is its intended purpose?”
Aram nodded. “That is the sole reason it is upon the earth, captain.”
Matibar met his gaze for a moment longer and then nodded and looked into north, his dark eyes sweeping along that unfamiliar horizon. “I will do everything in my power to aid you, my lord.”
The first of the villagers began to straggle up, timidly, slowly, painfully, and warily. They had heard the rumors, wrought that very day that these men on beasts were come to rescue them, but long experience had taught them that those who were strong were not disposed to come among them for benign purposes.
So, despite the small flames of hope that flickered in each starving breast, they hung back as they arrived at the road, gazing up at Aram and Matibar with more wariness than hope. These tall, fearsome men in armor, mounted upon even more fearsome beasts, had commanded them to come, so they came. Such was their lot.
As Aram looked around at them, his eye fell upon an older man with gray hair that leaned heavily upon a staff. Two others stood near him, as if by wont.
Aram dismounted and walked slowly toward this man. “Are you Aluren?” He asked.
The man flinched as Aram drew near, and glanced furtively at each of his companions. “I am Aluren, my lord.”
Aram inclined his head and spoke firmly but quietly. “I am Aram, lord of the free lands of the east and south. We have come to make you free.”
Aluren blinked, but made no reply. He eyes went flat and he simply gazed at Aram as if without comprehension. “Free?”
Aram swept his hand around to indicate the village. “The grim lord has removed all his servants from this place – and has taken your food. Is this not so?”
“Yes,” Aluren admitted. “It is so.”
Aram indicated Matibar, seated upon Yvan behind him and then pointed back down the road. “It is because of us that he has done this. Our army will begin to pass through this village within the hour.” He looked around at the villagers, who were still gathering, shuffling in from among the ruined buildings of the ancient town.
“Behind the army, there are carts filled with grain and other foods. We will leave you enough to feed you until harvest, and give you seed to plant.” He indicated the road. “Our army will pass along this road for the next day or more as we go north to vanquish the grim lord. The carts with the seed and food will follow behind.”
After watching the approach of the leading elements of the army for a moment, he turned back to Aluren. “Empty your granary,” he commanded of the elder, in a tone that brooked no dissent. “Distribute the grain among every family.” He studied the pitiful folk that had slunk out of their dreary huts to hear him on this chill, late winter day. “Regain your strength,” he stated kindly. “You are our people, and we will let you starve no longer.”
The people continued to stare at him, most of them in confusion, unresponsive, though a few looked at their fellows with the smallest glimmer of hope brightening their dulled eyes.
Watching them, Aram knew that the truth of their changed circumstances would dawn on them but slowly. It was useless to try and convince them of it at this moment. “Go,” he said to Aluren. “Distribute the food to every family.”
Aluren stared at him for another long moment and then swallowed and nodded. “At once, my lord.”
Aram mounted up on Thaniel again and he and Matibar went back to the south end of the village to watch the army come toward them. As the leading elements of Duridia arrived at the village and began to pass through, Boman, riding ahead of his troops on Stennar, raised his hand in salute.
“Continue on, Lord Aram?”
Aram raised his own hand in reply. “Continue on, Governor; there is no enemy about. Lord Alvern is above you, and Kipwing and the others scout ahead. They will warn you of any danger. Have you seen Marcus?”
“No – Captain Wamlak asked the same question not a half-hour ago. Is there a problem?”
Aram nodded. “These people are starving. Manon took their winter’s supply in advance of our passage.”
“Bastard,” Boman growled, and said no more, but his hands made fists as he continued on, leading his troops northward through the burned and crumbled-down town.
Duridia had already passed by and the foremost troops of Elam were flowing past when Marcus came pounding up on Phagan, accompanied by Wamlak. The young High Prince nodded to Matibar and then looked at Aram. “You wanted to see me, my lord?”
“You told me once that your people keep a year’s supply of food-stocks laid up whenever possible.”
“Yes.”
“And your troops brought six months’ worth of those stores with them?” Aram asked.
“As I told you, Lord Aram,” Marcus affirmed.
“So there are six months more laid up in the storehouses of Elam, are there not?”
“Yes, my lord – what –?”
Aram nodded shortly. “I want to buy as much of it as you will spare – if you will sell it to me.”
Marcus frowned at him. “As I stated before, my lord, the army may have it all.” He shrugged, though his frown stayed. “It must be rotated through the stores at the end of each year anyway – only grain crops may be held over for any length of time; the rest is returned to the fields each winter – and the farmers of my homeland are already into this year’s planting. So – you may have it all, my lord. We need no payment.”
Aram shook his head. “It is not for the army,” he said and then hesitated, looking out over the plains, “though, of course, we will have to replace that which we distribute as we go north.”
“Distribute?” Marcus asked.
Aram swept his hand around the village, taking in the plains beyond as well. “These people are starving, Your Highness. Manon took their food-stores after the end of last year’s harvest. I suspect that we will discover that it is the same with all the people of the plains.”
Marcus’ eyes widened. “Is he abandoning his slaves? Why would he do such a thing?”
Aram shrugged. “Apparently, he feels that he will have no further use of them – one way or the other. Also, it is likely that he intends to distract us, and slow the movement this army; perhaps weaken us by means of that distraction.” Aram met the eyes of the young prince. “Which is why I need you to do something for me – if you will, Marcus.”
“Anything, my lord.”
“I mean to keep these people alive, if at all possible – give them food and seed to plant from the stores of the army. I would like to replace those stores from Elam’s surplus.” Aram looked at the young prince closely. “A voice of authority will be required to bring the stores out of Elam in order to replenish that which we will disperse to the people of the plains as we go north. Your voice, Your Highness.”
Marcus stared. “You want me to leave the army?”
Aram shook his head. “Only for a while, Marcus – only as long as it takes to give instruction to whomever you entrust with the task of gathering the extra stores and bringing them out of Elam.” He smiled at his young friend. “I promise not to leave you out of the action, but I need this done. I will not allow these people to be lost. As we go north, I will have Arthrus distribute that which we can spare, saving enough to get the army to the tower and feed it there for two weeks.”
He leaned toward Marcus and spoke earnestly. “The army must not lack, either. Take whatever men you need. Find Dane and take him with you. He is very good at such organization – tell him it is my wish. Will you do this?”
Marcus looked around at the ruin of the ancient town, noting here and there the emaciated citizens shuffling back toward their respective huts. His frown left his features, his eyes grew sad, and he nodded. “I will see it done, my lord.”
After Marcus left, Aram turned to Wamlak. “Nikolus and his cavalry are back at the middle of the column?”
Wamlak nodded. “As you instructed, my lord.”
“And your mounted archers? – where are they?”
“With the cavalry.”
Aram looked westward, out across the wide vastness of the plains. “There are many villages out to the west,” he told Wamlak. “I want you to gather extra supplies of food and take your mounted men, swing to the west of the column, find those other villages. Pass this same instruction along to Nikolus – tell him to divide his cavalry, sending Ruben out as well. Between the three of you, you should be able to find and save many.”
He thought for a moment longer and then shook his head. “You cannot save them all,” he admitted. “The plains extend far to the west.” He turned a severe gaze upon the captain. “I want you to go no farther to the west than a day or two from the main road and this army. It is yet cool here and you will be able to carry little in the way of shelter. Leave what food you can with whatever villagers you discover and return. I want to see Nikolus, Ruben, and you every third or fourth day.”
Wamlak looked west, out across the seemingly endless rolling prairie, still brown and tan with the freezing stain of winter. “Is there fuel for fire out there, my lord?”
Aram nodded. “Some. There are willows along the smaller streams and trees by the larger rivers. Why?”
Wamlak looked at him. “I don’t mind going without shelter, my lord – as long as we can start a fire each night. We can go much further west, if you like.”
At this, Aram shook his head immediately. “You cannot carry enough food for such long journeys – for yourself or to do the villagers any good. And we must retain enough to feed the army.” He fixed his gaze upon the western horizon and thought for a moment longer. Then he shook his head once more. “Take as much food as you can carry – leave an extra portion with the westernmost village every second day and then return quickly. Instruct the villagers to send word to the west that people are to migrate eastward toward food.” He sighed deeply. “Whatever we do, we cannot save them all,” he said again.
Wamlak nodded his understanding and turned toward the rear, but Aram stopped him.
“Manon may move against us,” Aram told the captain. “If word comes of this – I will send an eagle, probably Lord Alvern, to find you and Nikolus. Keep your mind open. Pass this along to Captain Nikolus.”
“Yes, my lord.”
As Wamlak pounded away to the south, Matibar and Yvan wheeled away as well. “I will go along, my lord, if you agree.”
Aram thought for a moment and then nodded. “For now, captain. In ten days, however, we will begin to accustom the men to forming lines of battle. I will need you with the army then.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
17.
It was the same with all of Manon’s former slaves, all the way along, as the army marched northward. Their food stores had been raided before winter, and all were starving. In some villages, where the wisdom of rationing had not prevailed, or perhaps where hope had been surrendered entirely, death was widespread.
In a few villages, not a soul had survived.
Bodies were often stacked in an unused hut – unburied due to the weakness of the survivors and the hardness of the frozen ground. With temperatures rising, Aram gave instructions to his commanders to send details into the villages near the road and properly dispose of the dead.
Aram grew deeply disturbed at the amount of death they encountered as they progressed northward along the eastern edge of the plains. Unwilling himself to take the time from the army or from his main order of business in order to roam off the road to the west, across the vastness of the plains to seek out every village, Aram instructed Wamlak and Nikolus to go ever farther into the west. In doing so, it became necessary that the mounted men ignore those villages nearer the road.
To bring a measure of relief to these, Arthrus was instructed to gather a contingent of willing men and oxcart drivers and go a day west of the army, help whoever he discovered, and then return. Before going south with Marcus, Dane calculated the stores needed by the army for two months. All the rest, Aram surrendered to Arthrus and the cavalry for use in their mission of mercy.
Ten days north of Cumberland, they camped near the southwestern edge of the hills that separated the valley of the river that flowed by the field from which Aram had fled the bonds of slavery and the long valley to the north along whose southern slopes he had been transported.
A broad-topped, gentle-sloped ridge extended for several miles out into the grasslands from the verge of these hills. It was suitable ground for Aram to begin teaching his army to deploy.
The next day, while Aram and Thaniel stood upon the top of another small yet higher ridge that jutted out from those same hills, observing, the various commanders of the army worked at forming a line of battle across the plains. On this day, Kavnaugh Berezan’s half of the Elamites were being deployed to the left – on the western wing of the army – while Olyeg Kraine’s were lined up on the right, east of the Duridians and Lamontans, who formed up at the army’s center. Mallet and the Derosans anchored the eastern flank.
It did not go well.
Aram had placed a post in the ground about two miles west of the road, signifying the point that represented the middle of the left flank of the army, where Elam would deploy west of Duridia. The Elamites formed up well enough for the first several hundred yards of their triple-ranked line of battle. Then, all semblance of order dissipated. When the second division of Kavnaugh’s half of the army came on line, they spread too thin, causing the third division to expand completely through the ground meant to be occupied by Boman’s force of Duridians and all the way to the post, nearer the road, that Aram had driven into the ground to signify the center of the army itself.
Donnick went to work, re-aligning the troops of Elam, so that Boman could deploy in the center, and then Edwar and Lamont came on line. Once General Kraine’s half of Elam began to form, there was more work for Thom Sota, who, soldiers later claimed, invented an entirely new vocabulary of curses that day.
The difference in experience between the men of Elam and the eastern troops, all of whom had seen battle at least once, was obvious. Three hours passed before the commanders were satisfied. Then Matibar and his Senecan archers filed into position behind the main body. For the moment, Aram left the gun on the road, although Boleson and Javeir, the two horses that had volunteered to move the gun upon the field, were hitched to it in place of the oxen and they and Timmon practiced moving it forward and back, and angling it slightly left or right.
The cavalry was not on hand to participate.
But the infantry was the spine of the army. If the spine could not form and hold, it mattered little what cavalry would do, anyway.
Aram glanced up at the sun, already nearing the apex of the sky. He wanted this day to be restful, for he intended to drive the army north on the morrow. Rather than making the men repeat the entirety of the maneuver, he instead had the army move back twenty paces and then return into position. Hopefully this would give the men at least a rudimentary feel for how they would form up when it mattered.
When the men were on line for the second time, Aram rode down and faced them, letting Thaniel move slowly along the line in each direction while he examined what his army would look like to the foe.
An hour later, he sent them to their tents, to eat and rest, and to tend to any physical difficulties brought on by ten days
of hard marching.
For ten days more, they tramped steadily northward. Word came down from Alvern that there was still no sign of Manon or his forces, anywhere upon the road that verged the eastern edge of the great plains all the way north to Bracken.
Nikolus, Ruben, Wamlak, and Arthrus continued with all diligence to seek out and aid the people of the plains, scattered across the vast grasslands to the west, where spring was just now beginning to replace winter’s gold with a hint of green.
Often, their reports of what they found were so disheartening as to cause Aram to pace back and forth outside his tent deep into the night, venting his silent despair into the chill air.
Just south of the river that flowed out of the long valley, Aram ordered the army deployed once more. On this occasion, after casting about in indecision, leaning first one way and then the other, Aram decided to have the army reverse its order of deployment, with Kavnaugh upon the right, and Mallet upon the extreme left. For until he examined the ground on which they would face the forces of the enemy, the ultimate configuration of the army was in doubt.
Despite the efforts of the commanders, this attempt at forming lines of battle went worse than the previous, ten days earlier. Once again, Aram let the army stand on line for a half-hour and then sent the men to rest.
The next time, ten days north of that great stream, near the jumbled line of hills that marked the northern verge of the long valley, things went somewhat better. Ten days after that, it went so smoothly as to quell Thom Sota’s penchant for colorful language. He was even heard to grudgingly admit, “That’s fine, boys, just fine.” Aram watched with growing satisfaction. His soldiers were gradually evolving into veteran campaigners.
Their thoughts were becoming focused on the task ahead, and this translated into camaraderie and order, which in turn would ultimately help them to stand and face the enemy’s steel.
Northward across the plains, as they entered into country where winters were ever harsh, the incidence of disease, starvation, and death increased among the villages of those in thrall to Manon. Alvern received word that Marcus had succeeded in filling another wagon train with food and was even now coming northward through the gap in the hills near Cumberland with all speed.
Kelven's Riddle Book Five Page 15