Kelven's Riddle Book Five

by Daniel Hylton

  It was then that Aram noticed the travelers. Far out along each of those pathways, there were many people, thousands. Walking singly, in pairs, and even in small groups, they were making their way from the House of Humber and toward the various horizons of this vast world.

  “They owe you much,” Humber stated, without explanation. His voice was deeply modulated, musical in its baritone aspect.

  Aram looked at him curiously. “Who, my lord? Who would owe me anything?”

  Humber inclined his head slightly, indicating the multitudes, some of whom were just now passing from view along the various thoroughfares. “They.”

  Aram frowned out across the lush landscape, puzzling over why strangers passing along those distant paths would be in any way beholden to him. “Who are they?”

  “They were the prisoners of Manon. Their souls were his captives. He swallowed the essence of each of them upon death and held them in thrall, drawing upon their life force to increase his own power.” His voice changed abruptly and grew harsh as he hesitated for a moment and then spat out a single word. “Despicable.”

  Aram studied Humber in silence and then dared to enquire. “They were set free upon his death?”

  “His dissolution, yes,” Humber said. The god looked at Aram. “You set them free.”

  After a moment, Aram cautiously shook his head. “The sword released them, my lord; I did nothing but bear it there.”

  Humber continued to gaze at him. “I have come to know you, I think, through the many reports that came to me. I see now what the Maker saw in you when He chose you for this task.” Without looking away, he swept his hand out over the countryside. “And that is why I released them – after I told them of him to whom they owe so much – without causing you to face those who benefitted from your actions.”

  Aram stared after the multitude. “Is my sister among them?”

  “She is.”

  Aram looked at him. “I would like to see her,” he said.

  Humber nodded. “And you will, in a short while. Your earthly parents live here, upon El-ilysia, in a village on the shores of the western sea. She is being taken there to join them. I need you to remain here with me for a time.” The god hesitated and looked away, studying the multitudes gradually disappearing into the distance. “I also thought, perhaps, that it might be wiser to let them have some time together before you visit them. Besides, there was difficulty in presenting you to her without the others knowing who you are as well.”

  Aram thought about that and then nodded. “I appreciate your consideration, my lord.”

  Humber turned and watched him for a moment longer and then indicated the interior of his house. “You cannot escape this, however. My brothers and sisters will want to know you, and speak with you, the Lady Elana – my consort – first and foremost of all.” A slight smile played around the corners of the god’s mouth. “We will dine, and then I will rescue you at a time appropriate, for there are others here that you will wish to see.”

  Without offering an explanation of this statement, he turned and went back through the house toward the great hall. After taking one last look out over the landscape, Aram followed.

  The dining hall of Humber’s grand house was situated on the side of the palace opposite the rolling grasslands, and looked out over the valley of the lake through high, floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Aram was seated on Humber’s right, next to Kressia and Joktan, and opposite Elana, the consort of Humber, who plied him in her gentle voice with many questions. To Aram’s surprise, this elegant goddess managed to draw him out, compelling him – unwilling though he was – to speak at length and without inhibition of Ka’en and his daughter, and of his life on earth.

  When they had supped on fruits and nuts, and delicately-flavored vegetables – there was no meat – and drank of something that Aram was fairly certain was wine, but of a much finer quality than he had ever known, the company abandoned the table for the veranda that looked down upon the lake.

  Humber stayed near Aram as one after another, the members of the company engaged him in conversation, though the Chief of the Brethren said little himself. Finally, he gained everyone’s attention and stated firmly, “Lord Aram has other friends here, in my house, with whom he will wish to commune. There will be ample time ahead of us to learn him better as he settles into his long home.”

  Thus speaking, Humber took Aram’s arm and guided him back up and through the house to the place where they’d stood earlier and watched the former prisoners of Manon stream away to the horizons. Reaching the dais, Humber then turned off to the right and made his way, followed by Aram, along a broad veranda that fronted that side of the structure. Eventually, they came to where steps led down from it and directly onto the grassy meadows that stretched away toward darkly forested hills and the vast high mountains beyond.

  Humber halted and pointed, stretching out his arm.

  “There,” he said simply.

  Aram looked in the direction that was indicated and immediately sucked in a sharp breath of gladness and amazement. Silhouetted upon a rise, perhaps a half-mile from where they stood, two horses gazed back at them.

  Florm and Ashal.

  “Go,” said Humber. “Greet your friends, but return here soon, if you will.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Aram answered, and he immediately went down the steps and began to sprint toward the horses.

  Florm and Ashal sped toward him, pounding through the tall grasses. He stopped upon the crest of a small rise as they came up. Aram wordlessly threw his arms around their necks, holding back tears as great emotion rose within him. Finally, unable to contain it longer, he sobbed.

  After a while, he stepped back and wiped at his eyes.

  “I am sorry, my friends,” he said.

  Florm arched his neck. “This is how you greet an old friend?” He demanded. “With an apology?”

  “Yes,” Aram replied. “Because I was not there for you when I was needed.”

  “Oh – I think I see.” Florm stared at him. “When the dragons came, you mean? You blame yourself for that?”

  “I wasted time examining the use of a new weapon at the fortress,” Aram explained. “Had I been there sooner, I could have slain them before they found you and Lady Ashal.”

  Florm snorted. “Even you, Aram, cannot be in all places at all times.” He lowered his head and spoke more gently. “You cannot be blamed, my great friend, for our deaths upon the earth. My spouse and I are together, never to be parted again. And I, for one, was ready to come to my long home. It is right and fitting that we are here now.”

  The great horse gazed at Aram and then shook his head in wonder. “As for you – Lord Humber has informed us of your deeds, of how you slew the dragons and then destroyed the enemy of the world. We are all amazed, as is everyone in that grand house.” He went silent for a moment, watching Aram.

  “It is you, my friend, that has given the most,” he went on. “As has your mate. Is Lady Ka’en alright?”

  Aram shook his head. “I cannot know the answer to that,” he said. “I left her in the care of her brother and your fine son.”

  Ashal’s large eyes went soft. “I am sorry for you, Lord Aram – and for her. It is a great sacrifice.”

  “I knew the cost,” Aram repeated for the third time.

  “Yes,” Ashal agreed, “I believe that you did. But she is paying that cost as well as you.”

  At this, another pang struck Aram’s heart and he closed his eyes in sorrow. “At least she is safe and free,” was all he could think to say.

  Silence fell between them for a while and then Florm, feeling the need to move the conversation elsewhere, lifted his head and looked toward the grand palace that dominated the skyline. After a moment, he chuckled softly. “Those in that great house do not know what to do with you,” he stated.

  Aram frowned at him. “Do with me? What do you mean?”

  “Your people – and ours – have been coming throu
gh the long doorway since time began,” Florm explained. “Most that come here settle among the towns and villages of this world into a life of peace and productivity. Others, after a time, go on to other worlds, where there are new and different, and perhaps more difficult, things to do. And some seek assignment into whatever tasks suit them – here, or on one of those other worlds.”

  He chuckled again quietly as he continued. “No one of your stature has ever come here, my friend, and they are at a loss as to protocol. They cannot simply assign you to this place, or that, or offer you any task worthy of your attention. Even Lord Humber is perplexed. It is said that they have sent a delegation to find the Maker and seek his counsel.”

  Aram turned around to look at the House. “The long doorway? That is what I came through?”

  “It is the passageway from life to life, through death’s shadow, when one leaves the world of his birth to enter into eternity,” Florm told him. “It is said the Maker constructed it with His own hand.”

  “Would that I could return along it,” Aram said softly.

  Florm was silent for a moment, then, “I understand, my friend, but it is a journey that is taken in but one direction, and that is from there to here,” the horse stated gently. “I am sorry, Aram.”

  Aram shrugged and repeated the words yet again, “I knew the cost.”

  “How is Thaniel?” Ashal asked him. “How was our son when last you saw him?”

  Aram turned and smiled at her as his eyes filled again. “Willing, as always, to bear me where I would, even if it meant that he would die with me,” he replied. “He wanted to go with me to face Manon, but there was no reason for him to do so. Besides, he is too large to go to the place where I met the grim lord, high up in his tower.” Aram lifted his gaze toward the distant mountains as his thoughts turned to his friend. “The world will need him in the years to come. I am glad he is there still.”

  Florm abruptly turned his head as a movement caught his attention. He looked to his right, to Aram’s left, at the forests that rose tall, deep, and dark at the verge of the grasslands. “Over there is someone who will be overjoyed to see your face, and to hear your voice.”

  “Who?” Aram pivoted that way also, curious as to who it was that had gained the horse’s attention.

  “As faithful a servant as you ever commanded, my friend,” Florm replied.

  Two wolves stood at the edge of the trees, a large black male and a smaller, gray female.

  “Durlrang,” Aram stated in wonder.

  “Go to him,” Florm suggested. “Lady Ashal and I will await you here.”

  The old wolf fairly quivered with joy when Aram drew near. After nodding to the female, Aram knelt and threw his arms around Durlrang’s neck.

  “It is good to see you, my friend,” he said, and his voice was choked with emotion.

  “And you, master,” the wolf replied.

  Aram leaned back and looked into his eyes. He shook his head. “I am not your master, Lord Durlrang – I am your friend. I was ever your friend.” He looked at the female. “Is this your mate?”

  “This is Reuning,” Durlrang answered.

  Aram nodded solemnly. “I am pleased to meet you, my lady,” he stated. “Your mate is one of my oldest and dearest friends. He saved my life upon the earth – and that of my lady – by the giving of his.”

  Reuning bowed her head over. “It is a great honor to meet you, Lord Aram. The winds of this world and the voices of its forests are alive with the tales of your deeds.”

  Durlrang laughed quietly. “Even the gods stand in awe of you, master.”

  Aram turned a severe look upon him. “Friend,” he said again. “I am not your master – I am your friend. And I have seldom been prouder of any other thing.”

  At this firm statement of Aram’s, Reuning turned a look of amazement upon her spouse. Aram saw it and nodded. “Oh, yes, my lady, Lord Durlrang had as much to do with bringing down the grim lord as any of us.”

  He turned back to Durlrang. “But enough of that which lies behind us. Are you content, my friend?”

  “I am, mast – Lord Aram. The woods here are dark and deep, and much to my liking,” Durlrang replied. “Lord Humber has given us permission to remain here if we wish.”

  “And will you?”

  Durlrang looked at Reuning and then turned his head to gaze into the lush darkness behind him. “We will,” he said.

  They talked for a while longer, and then Aram remembered his promise to return to the house. He embraced Durlrang once more as he took his leave. “I will return as soon as I may,” he promised.

  Florm and Ashal walked with him as he turned his steps toward the grand house of the king of the gods.

  54.

  Humber stood with his hands folded behind him, and pondered the problem before him, as he watched the man, Aram, renew his acquaintance with the horses and the wolf.

  For so long, the universe had stood upon the edge of civil war. Manon had made no secret of his desire to unseat Humber and challenge the Maker Himself, in order that he might be exalted as undisputed ruler of everything.

  Humber had grown wary of Manon’s power, which expanded to unimaginable proportions with every delving of the Grim Brother into forbidden arts. And the Maker – other than designing and issuing the command for the construction of the weapon – had seemed aloof, distant, as if He did not truly see the threat posed by His wayward child.

  And when the Maker insisted that the weapon He had designed be placed into the hands of a mere man, Humber’s doubts and unease grew. Besides, at the time, there was no man chosen to wield the weapon. Nor did one come along, though ever so diligently he was looked for. Upon the earth, centuries passed away. The power of the enemy expanded to the point where it was but a matter of time before he subdued all the earth and turned his attention to the stars.

  And still no man came that met the Maker’s criteria.

  Humber’s unease – as he found himself, century after century, reduced to a mere spectator – expanded beyond bearing. And as Manon grew in strength, without challenge, doubts about the Maker’s designs began to surface among the ranks of the Brethren. There were even a few that expressed the opinion that it had now become necessary to treat with their Grim Brother.

  Humber harshly put down all such suggestions even as his own doubts multiplied.

  And then – this man came.

  When Aram appeared upon the earth, the Maker sent word that a man had been chosen and it was time to make the attempt at ending the threat posed by Manon. Humber gave the instruction, and the Maker’s servants, the Astra, took Aram into the place of the weapon’s making, that he might seek to wield the blade.

  Even though Aram proved himself strong enough to wrest the weapon from the bosom of the star, Humber had worried. Loathe as he was to question the instructions of the Maker, he had nonetheless believed it to be a foolhardy plan. Unlike the rest of the Brethren, the king of the gods had suspected – though without certain knowledge – the real reason for the making of the weapon and what it would do if given into Manon’s hand.

  But Humber was prevented from passing along exact instructions for the weapon, limited to informing the man – through Kelven – that it was “meant to destroy the enemy, not to defeat him”.

  Then the man was abandoned to the tenuous wisdom of his own instincts.

  The weapon in hand, he was left utterly without guidance.

  To Humber’s great surprise, the man’s instincts had proved unerring.

  Forced to simply observe without interference, Humber had watched as Aram moved forward with the weapon in hand, always seeming to find the right thing to do, and doing it. He persevered even when doing that right thing endangered his chances of keeping his own dreams of a life of peace and quiet safe and viable.

  At the last, the man had faced his doom with courage and tenacity, astonishing the Eldest of the Brethren with his willingness to suffer ultimate loss in the destruction of evil.
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br />   Humber had watched in awe as the final moments of the Maker’s plan played out – awe not only for the sublime intricacy of the Maker’s design, but also for the courage and determination of the man who wrought its success.

  And now the man had come to him. What would he do with him?

  The universe was immense, with many worlds, and it was the Maker’s oft-expressed desire that all of them eventually fill up with vibrant life. Normally, then, when the inhabitants of Ayden that lived worthy lives upon that world came to the House of Humber, he made them welcome, and gave them to understand their options as free people. They stayed or moved on, as they would.

  But where would he put this man?

  No one of this man’s stature had ever arrived upon the shores of eternity.

  It was not that Aram possessed the strength or mental power of any of the Older Children – he was, after all, a member of the youngest race of the Maker’s creatures. It was that he had simply persisted in doing what was right despite knowing the enormity of the cost to himself.

  And in doing so, he had brought down the greatest evil to ever threaten the peace of the universe.

  Humber looked over as his consort, Elana, moved up beside him. The goddess met his gaze for a moment and then she also looked out at the reunion taking place upon the prairie before her home.

  “There is no purpose in fretting over this good man, my lord,” she said quietly. “His sorrow is too deep, and there is nothing we can do or say to assuage it.”

  Humber turned a frown upon her. “My house has no room in it for sorrow,” he stated in severe tones. “It is the destination that all people from Ayden seek to find, for here, in this place, is the end of sorrow.”

  Elana nodded. “In almost every case; this is true,” she agreed. “But it was not so with Kressia. Long she waited – in sorrow – for Joktan. It is the same with this man. His sorrow came with him through the long doorway, and it will not abandon him until she comes as well.”

  Humber’s frown deepened. “She?”