Aram stepped through the door.
And out into a grand hall.
Halting in amazement, he looked around to examine these unexpected new environs. To his right, beyond the massive chamber of the hall, out through yet another row of impressive columns, there stretched a vista of rolling hills and meadows, verged by tall, deep forests of immense hardwoods and conifers mixed together that gradually rose toward the heights of great mountains.
He looked the other way, to his left.
More columns, and a courtyard or veranda, edged by carven stone railings that looked out over a wide, forested valley through the middle of which a lake with many inlets and bays glistened in the light of a sun which he could not see because of the ceiling of the hall arching far overhead.
A voice hailed him, yanking his focus back to his front.
“Lord Aram! Sir! You are most welcome in the House of Humber.”
The person that tendered this greeting appeared to be a man, except for the fact that his well-formed, handsome face was a bit too long and his eyes perhaps slightly too large. His hair was the shade of burnished copper, his skin bronze, and he bowed with a grace that belied the presence – and ungainliness – of human limbs.
“We have been expecting you,” this person continued. “Lord Humber would have welcomed you himself to his house but – thanks to your efforts – he is quite busy at the moment, in the great hall.”
A myriad of questions jostled up to the front of Aram’s mind, each urgently begging for resolution. The one that found precedence and subsequent enunciation was,
“You are not Lord Humber?”
The being chuckled at this and bowed once more. “Alas – no. I am Samel, but his humble servant. As I stated, he would have met you himself, except for the many that arrived just before you.” Samel swept one hand out to his right, toward Aram’s left and the vast veranda overlooking the lake. “If you will, my lord, as we await Lord Humber; there is another that desires an audience with you.”
Aram looked in the indicated direction and sucked in a sharp breath. Standing beyond the columns, in the light of the unseen sun, next to the carven railing of the veranda, was Joktan. The king was accompanied by a tall, beautiful woman, beneath a tree in full bloom adorned with countless pinkish blossoms.
Joktan and the woman smiled their welcome to him.
Astonished, Aram began to move that way. “I will gladly see Lord Joktan,” he stated; then he realized that he might be giving offense, so he halted and bowed to Samel. “By your leave, sir,” he said.
Samel held up his hands in genuine distress. “Please! – Lord Aram – you are not to address me thus. You must not bow to me.” As he made this statement, he himself bowed deeply. “I am your humble servant. Employ me to resolve any need that you may have.”
Aram gazed at him in surprise and chagrin. “I am not fond of being bowed to myself, sir.”
Samel smiled at this and stifled another chuckle. “As is well-known, my lord. As is well-known. Now go, sir.” He waved his hand again toward the outside. “I will be here should you find that you require anything.”
Aram nodded and turned toward Joktan and the woman. As he passed through the high columns and began to descend the steps, he came out into the sunlight. Sensing something odd about the light, he hesitated and looked up to examine the sky.
To his right, low above the wooded hills that rose above the lake, a huge orange disc was far down in the sky, either about to set or in the act of rising. With no knowledge of his environs, Aram wasn’t sure which.
But that great orb wasn’t the only source of light in the sky. Almost directly above him was another sun. This one was smaller and gave off brilliant blue light. And there was yet another “sun” in these strange skies. To his left, suspended in the firmament about halfway up the sky there shone a bright yellow sun, much like that to which he was used. This star was also much smaller than the massive orange disc to his right and was similar in size to the blue sun that was shining overhead.
The three very differently colored stars that lit the world of Lord Humber’s house were on a line, from east to west, or perhaps it was west to east. The result of this alignment was that no shadows were cast upon the ground, except perhaps beneath very large spreading trees or those trees that were clustered together.
“You will grow used to it,” Joktan said, and he laughed as he came toward Aram. The ancient king, looking very hale and hearty – even the gray was gone from his thick black locks and his beard – came to Aram and embraced him.
“Welcome home, my son,” he said. “Come – meet my queen.”
Holding Aram’s arm, he steered him toward the tall, slim woman standing at the railing.
She was fair, with skin like pearl, similar to Ka’en’s, and her hair was of a deep chestnut, also like Ka’en’s. When these unbidden, comparative thoughts of his wife struck him, Aram flinched and hesitated, causing Joktan to slow and look over.
“Are you alright, my son?”
Aram nodded, but did not speak.
After watching him for a long moment during which Aram tried to swallow his distress, Joktan took his arm once more and continued on toward the woman. “This is my queen, Kressia,” he said. Pride saturated his words, but it was also accompanied by something akin to regretful longing.
In response to this introduction, Lady Kressia smiled at her husband and then turned that smile upon Aram.
She seemed genteel, and was extremely beautiful in much the same manner as Ka’en. My ancestor and I prefer similar women, Aram thought, and another pang rocked him.
Gulping down yet another portion of unbidden sorrow, Aram inclined his head respectfully. “My lady.”
As Joktan went to stand beside her, she took the ancient king’s hand in one of hers and extended the other to Aram. “Come,” she said, “there is no need for such formality, Aram. You are mine, after all.”
Aram stared. “Yours, my lady?”
She smiled. “The child that Florm carried away from Rigar Pyrannis all those many years ago was my grandson, and you are descended from him.”
Understanding came, then. She was his direct ancestor, as much as was Joktan. Aram and his own parents – and theirs – had all come from this lovely woman, down through the many years and centuries. He took her hand and bent his lips upon it. As he did so, he felt the welling of strong emotion, and his eyes grew moist.
Lady Kressia evidently felt something similar. When Aram looked up, her smile had gone and her eyes had filled as well. “I am sorry for you, my son,” she said then, “and I wish…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Aram stared at her. “My lady?”
She squeezed his hand. “You are so like my husband, Aram, in so many ways. You and he both sacrificed much to see justice done upon the earth.” She moved closer to Joktan but kept Aram’s hand in hers. “You both left the one you loved most dearly to see that thing done that was necessary to do. Such acts require great courage and conviction, but also engender much sorrow – both for yourself and for others. I am sorry for you,” she repeated.
Aram met her gaze even as another pang seized at his heart. “I knew the cost,” he replied simply.
“I know this about you. And yet you went on, unto the very end.” She looked away, down over the splendid valley. “She is alone now. And I am sorry for her, too,” her voice caught, “for I know what such loneliness is like.”
At this, Joktan let go of her hand and placed his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer.
Aram turned his gaze away also, down over the sparkling waters of the lake and then he lifted his eyes to look beyond, toward the horizon of this new world. Though his thoughts in that moment were somber, full of sadness, still his eyes caught a strangeness about the horizon line.
Needing something – anything – to distract from his thoughts of Ka’en, he studied the distant horizon, trying to discern what it was that troubled his eye. Then he knew.
Those far away mountains that rose beyond the intervening landscape, silhouetted against the glow from the orange sun, were too far away. Either those mighty peaks were massive beyond comprehension, jutting above the curve of the world or – there was no curve to this world at all.
And then he understood. The world upon which he stood, lit by three suns – if not more – the place of residence of Humber, him who was Chief among The Brethren, was enormous, huge beyond imagining. Instead of going from view over the curve of the world, those vast peaks fading into the haze went from view due solely to the effect of distance. Because of its immense size, the curve of this planet was extraordinarily gentle.
Samel came down the steps behind them. Aram turned as Humber’s servant bowed and spoke.
“Lord Humber will receive you now, if you will, Lord Aram.”
Aram looked at Joktan and Kressia and then nodded. “I will come at once.”
As Samel turned away, the three of them followed. Aram looked over at Joktan and frowned. “I did not expect to be addressed as ‘lord’ in this place,” he groused.
At that, Joktan threw back his head and laughed and Kressia seemed amused, even as she blotted the moisture from her eyes. As his laughter trailed away, Joktan grinned over at Aram.
“You must get used to it,” he replied. “Other than Humber himself, you are the most important personage to ever come into this house.”
Aram stopped and stared and his frown deepened. “That cannot be,” he insisted.
Joktan’s grin faded as he nodded his head. “And yet it is. None here have ever accomplished anything like that which you have done.” He waved his arm about the beautiful, expansive grounds and towering buildings. “All here have been set free from the threat represented by the enormity of unbridled ambition coupled with monstrous evil – by your defeat of Manon.”
Aram held up his hand in disagreement. “I did not defeat him,” he argued. “I did nothing close to defeating him. I simply gave into his hand that which was the instrument of his destruction.” He shrugged. “In the end, I was nothing more than a courier.”
Joktan had made to move on, but at this he halted near the top step, looking over at him. His expression was somber. Aram stopped as well, gazing back at his ancestor.
“None else could have done – or would have done – that which you did, Aram,” Joktan stated with quiet certainty. “And how did you know that the Sword would destroy him? No one knew this, not even Kelven.”
Aram shook his head. “I didn’t know – until the end. Then I remembered that which Lord Kelven said – that the Sword was not meant to defeat him but to destroy him. And then I realized that it was meant for his hand all along. My sole accomplishment was in bringing it to him.”
Joktan nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “And therein we see the immense majesty of the Maker’s thoughts and his plans, for He alone knew that only a man would be allowed by the enemy to approach him so closely.” His brow furrowed. “I had come to believe that the reason the Maker intended a man for this task was just for this reason – that a man might get close enough to plunge the weapon into him – without arousing suspicion of a trick. Had any of the Brethren borne the weapon to his tower, Manon would have recognized it as arising from deviousness.”
He shook his head. “I should have known that Manon would not allow you to pierce him.” The frown went away to be replaced a look of amazement. “And that is why the Maker insisted that it be a man – only then would Manon let the bearer of the weapon into his presence, for he knew that his power would prevent an assault and he could wrest it from him and gain possession of that thing which he had come to lust after.”
Joktan looked at Aram with blunt admiration. “And all the deeds that you performed with that blade only made him want it the more – indeed, at the end he lusted after it almost blindly, and accepted it willingly from your hand, believing you to be a fool, little more than a pawn of the gods.”
“A pawn.” Aram smiled a rueful smile. “That is what I was indeed – a pawn.”
Upon hearing this, Joktan’s eyes grew severe. “No, not so. The Maker planned this from ancient times. He knew the mind of Manon better than the enemy knew himself. He understood that if a weapon appeared upon the earth, apparently imbued with supernatural power, Manon would come to believe that possession of it would at last render him invincible. And this was the Maker’s plan.”
He had looked away but now turned once more to face Aram. “All that was needed was a man strong enough and courageous enough to bear the weapon into the presence of evil – most powerful evil. That is what you did, Aram. Do not make light of it, for no one here will do so.”
Aram stared back at him for a moment and then he nodded slightly.
Samel, who had stood quietly at the top of the steps, listening to this discussion, now regained their attention. “Come,” he said once more. “I beg of you. Lord Humber awaits.”
They went back into the vast hall where Samel turned to his left and went deeper into the magnificent, cavernous structure that was the House of Humber. On all sides, as they walked, massive columns of pale golden marble rose up to the height of the ceiling. To the right side of the hall through which they passed, vistas of lush rolling meadows with copses of trees, thickly forested uplands, and distant mountains could be seen.
The other way, stairs swept down from the veranda toward the lake, beyond which the horizon faded from view into the haze of sheer distance.
Then the views out into the surrounding landscapes were cut off as they passed through a large archway and into another vast hall, enclosed on all sides. Far above, multi-hued sunlight streamed in through colored panes.
Here, there were many people.
Dressed in fine robes, they were all of a kind, slender, tall, well-formed, and beautiful. They were not human; this much Aram’s keen eye observed; they were creatures of a higher order. The males were clean-shaven, though most had long flowing hair of varying shades; most of the females wore their hair, also of different hues and lengths, in braids.
Every one of them turned toward Aram, Joktan, and Kressia as they entered the room.
Samel immediately moved to one side. Bowing, he swept his hand in a grand gesture toward the newcomers.
“Lord Aram has arrived,” he stated sonorously.
Aram felt chagrin and irritation rise in him at this flourishing introduction. Already uncomfortable at finding himself in such grand company, and in such a grand place, he had hoped to confer with Humber – who apparently wished to meet with him – in relative privacy.
But such was not to be.
The first of the gathered Brethren to separate himself from the company and come forward, Aram knew instantly.
He inclined his head as the god drew near. “Lord Kelven.”
Kelven halted some few paces away and studied him closely for a long moment. “I doubted you, you know,” he said.
Aram smiled wryly. “I doubted myself, many times.”
Kelven did not return the smile.
“I was wrong,” the god admitted freely. “And I have never been happier to be proved so.” He cocked his head. “You knew what was meant by Lord Humber’s instruction even when I did not.”
Aram frowned at him. “My lord?”
“That the sword would destroy the enemy simply by being delivered into his hand,” Kelven explained. “You understood this – while I did not.”
Aram shrugged and shook his head. “I did not understand it myself until the very end – when I remembered your words, my lord. Until that moment, I was striving with all my strength to pierce him.”
Kelven came forward then, and to Aram’s immense surprise, embraced him. “Welcome home,” he said. “I thank you.”
“It was nothing, my lord,” Aram replied, taken aback. “It was simply that which I had to do.”
Releasing him, Kelven stepped back. “Yes, we have come to expect such sentiment from you, myself but lately.” He studied Aram once
more for a long moment. “You paid a great price to free the world – indeed the universe – of the enemy’s malice.”
Aram glanced over at Kressia before answering. “I knew the cost,” he stated quietly.
Kelven did not reply to this but simply moved to one side and motioned with his hand. “Come, Aram – meet Lord Humber.”
As they went forward toward the gathered company of gods, Aram had little trouble knowing which of them was master of the fine house. They had aligned themselves in a wide semi-circle and Lord Humber stood in the center of this crescent.
The First among the gods was tall, with pale, almost golden skin, auburn hair, and eyes that were the color of polished bronze. He was clad in purple and his robes were lined with white. Next to him stood a female who was nearly as tall as he, also dressed in purple and white. Her skin was fair and her hair was reddish-gold and very long, done up in two long braids that hung down her front.
Aram approached until Kelven, walking next to him, halted, and then he halted as well and inclined his head in respect. “Lord Humber.”
Humber stepped back and to the side, holding out his hand. “Walk with me,” he said.
The company parted to allow Aram to walk through, and he and Humber went further into the palace. Humber was silent as they traversed along an opulently furnished hallway. Then they came into a circular room that opened to the right out onto a broad area paved with marble from which there led away in several directions, wide, paved roadways or pathways.
Facing this area, just inside the parameters of the structure itself, there was a raised dais. Humber turned toward this wide, paved area that stretched out beneath the sky and halted upon the dais. Folding his hands behind him, he seemed to examine the many pathways that radiated out from that broad area like the spokes of a wheel.
Kelven's Riddle Book Five Page 37