Soon, and rather abruptly, the forest failed. The mighty trees thinned and refused to go further as the company exited their dark environs and entered the confines of the ancient city of Panax.
Ka’en looked around in amazement. “No one lives here? But – why?” She asked incredulously. “It is beautiful – not burned or crumbled or ruined at all.”
“It was abandoned because of the great evil perpetrated here,” Aram told her. “An evil committed long ago, by Manon and its compliant, decadent citizenry. No humans will ever live here. It now belongs to the last remnants of another race. At least that is my hope.” Speaking to Thaniel to slow, he ordered the column to a halt.
Cocking his head, he listened carefully into the empty streets and vacant avenues. No sound came to his ear. Had Hargur and his companions turned aside somewhere? Or had they been slain by men along the way as they journeyed out of the north? No – that latter thought could not be, for if it were so, word of it would have come to him. Raising his voice then, he shouted into the stillness. “Hello!”
No answer was returned to this greeting, but Hilgarn, a few yards behind, abruptly asked him. “What is this curious thing, my lord?”
Aram turned to look at him. The young standard-bearer was gazing to his left, down one of the avenues that led toward the center of the city.
“It appears to be some kind of cart,” Hilgarn said.
Thaniel moved back next to Hilgarn and Aram looked down the street. Upon the pavement, almost to the avenue’s intersection with the next lateral street, there was parked a very oddly-shaped wooden conveyance.
“Let’s go look,” he told Thaniel.
The cart was apparently newly made, for the wood bore no patina of age. There were but two wheels beneath a large square basket-like bed. Attached to the underside of the vehicle and extending in front of the cart were two long poles that were set wide enough apart and were long enough to accommodate an ox, yet were lacking in any obvious means of attaching traces.
Aram dismounted and examined the thing more closely. He readily determined that it was indeed of relatively new construction, and then he straightened up and looked around. No one was in sight. The cart was parked before a large, low building comprised of a single story that was set back from the street a ways and fronted by a square, flat area of grass. The walkway that reached back to the entrance to this building, unlike the stonework near the buildings to either side, had apparently been swept clean of debris, or perhaps it was rendered so by use.
Moving closer to the structure along the walkway, Aram examined the building. A new wooden door was set into the frame at the front, and new shutters framed the windows to either side; these were open at the moment, exposing a dark interior.
“Hello!” He called once more.
Again, no answer came, but an instant later, his ear caught the echoing of a sharp yet distant sound, arising from the gloomy woodland beyond the east side of the city. Going south to the next intersection, he looked eastward, toward the forest.
The edge of the city was less than a quarter of a mile away. Leading into the woods from that point there was a well-travelled path which had been recently cleared of brush and debris. Two or three of the larger trees had been cut down and removed. The tracks of a wheeled vehicle showed in the soil beyond the pavement where they had rutted the soft earth. These tracks led into the dimness beneath the great trees.
As he stared, wondering, the short, sharp sound came to his ear once more. Turning back to Hilgarn, he motioned for him to go back and join the others. “Stay with the queen,” he said. “I will return shortly.”
Drawing his sword, he went to where the track entered the forest and followed it into the gloom. As his eyes adjusted, he looked around in astonishment. A great deal of labor had been expended here. Tucked back into a side track, there was yet another of the odd, double-wheeled carts.
The sound came again, closer now, and it sounded very much like the striking of metal or stone on wood. Then there was a sharp, cracking sound that rose in volume and intensified, broken by the guttural voice of a lasher.
There followed a terrific Crash! This sounded to his front and off to the right, and was followed by silence.
He hurried forward.
A short way further on, the forest opened up into a clearing dotted with the stumps of great trees. On the far side of the clearing, three lashers were at work, clearing the limbs from a fallen giant. Nearby were two more carts.
“Hello!” Aram called once more.
Hargur, Bildur, and Pentar jerked erect and looked across the clearing at him. Upon the instant, all three came sprinting toward him.
Aram sheathed the sword.
“Master! You have come!”
“I have come,” Aram agreed, grinning.
He pointed back toward the city. “The queen and a company of men are with me. Allow me to fetch them and I will return.”
Aram and his company spent two hours with the great beasts, lunching in the clearing, admiring their workmanship, and deflecting repeated declarations of gratitude for allowing them to settle in the ancient abandoned city.
“And the presence of the tower doesn’t trouble you?” Aram asked at one point.
“No, master,” Hargur assured him. “To us, it is a reminder of your great kindness.”
“How did you acquire the tools for working in wood?” Aram wondered then.
In response, Hargur went over to the tree they had felled and returned with what was obviously an axe. The handle was made of wood. Attached to the smaller end, bound with loops of some kind of rough, woven twine, was a large piece of shiny black rock, sharpened to a fine edge on either of its sides which extended from the point where it was attached to the handle.
Aram ran his thumb along the edge, flinching as he drew a line of blood.
“What is this?” He inquired. “It looks of flint, but I have never seen a piece this large.”
“It came from the ancient tower,” Hargur said.
Aram looked up in surprise. “You took this from Manon’s tower in the city?”
Hargur shrugged. “It did not come easily.”
At this, Aram smiled soberly. “I am happy to hear that structure has some value beyond its intended purpose.”
Sitting there upon a stump in the coolness of the forest, gazing down at the sharp black edge of the axe, Aram abruptly thought of Timmon and Nikolus, up in the ruined city of the high plains, struggling to construct their bridge.
He looked up at Hargur. “Are you happy here?”
“Yes, master, very happy.”
Aram watched him. “I have something to ask of you,” he said.
“You may command anything of us,” the lasher replied.
Aram looked around, at the carts, at the fallen trees, and the abundant evidence of extensive labor. Then he met Hargur’s eyes.
“Will you leave this place – for a short while only – to lend aid to my friends? You can return immediately afterward,” he promised. He leaned toward the immense lasher. “By doing so, you will help the world to accept your presence, and let them come to see your being here as a good thing.” He indicated the cart standing nearby. “Workmanship like that would be prized by anyone, anywhere.”
He looked from one to another of the great creatures. “When the world comes to know of your ability to work in wood; perhaps you will have found your purpose.”
“We will ever do as you command, master,” Hargur replied quietly, as he lowered his head.
“Look at me, Hargur.” When the lasher had complied, Aram shook his head. “It is not a command, it is a request. Nay – not even that; it is a suggestion only.” He leaned forward once more. “You must live in this world with the rest of us, and I do not wish for you to be isolated, set apart, hiding in this great forest. Come; join with the world, my friend; be a part of us.”
Hargur blinked his flat, expressionless eyes. “But will the humans accept us, master?”
; Aram considered for a moment. “Not all,” he admitted. “At least, not at first. But the world will do as I require. In time, you will become as natural a part of the affairs of the earth as the rising of the sun and the ending of the day.”
Hargur kept his gaze fixed upon Aram’s face as he tendered a cautious question. “May I ask, master – what is this thing that your friends need of us?”
Aram lifted a hand and indicated the northeast. “They are building a great bridge across a deep chasm upon the high plains to the east of my valley.” He dropped his hand and looked at each of the lashers. “Your great strength – and your skill in shaping wood – will be greatly appreciated, and will be a great help in completing that project.”
He met each set of flat black eyes once more and then said, “I need this project completed by the end of the year. Without your help, that outcome is doubtful.”
Hargur glanced to his left, at Pintar, and then back to his right, at Bildur. “We will go,” he said.
Aram nodded. “Thank you. We will leave at dawn. Gather your tools, and food for a long journey.”
The next day they retraced their route back northward along the banks of the Stell, with the lashers loping easily along with them. As they passed the scattered villages, Aram made no effort to hide the fact that, trailing at the rear of his company, jogging behind the horses, there were three of those creatures that had once been overlords.
It was obvious to all that they were his servants now, a fact that would undoubtedly cause a measure of consternation and even some suspicion. In time, Aram knew, those great beasts would cease to be something feared, or even remarked upon. Eventually, he hoped, their presence upon the earth would be considered as mundane and as natural as rain falling from heavy gray clouds, or the blue of the clear skies that came after the storm.
Leaving Ka’en at Derosa, Aram took the lashers up through the valley, across the pass to the east, and over the grasslands to the encampment of men and horses south of the jungle surrounding Rigar Pyrannis.
He stayed long enough to get Nikolus and Timmon to accept the presence of the mighty beasts, to learn that they would harm no one, and come to an appreciation of their strength and skill.
Then he went back to Derosa, collected Ka’en and Mae and went southward into Duridia.
Boman and Lenci gladly opened their spacious house to Aram, Ka’en and all their company. For four days, they ate well, drank fine wine, laughed often and easily, and talked. No mention was made of the events of that far-off valley in the northern reaches of the world.
On the morning of their intended departure, Aram and Boman went out to find the street in front of the governor’s house filled in both directions with the citizens of Duridia, all of them anxious to get a glimpse of their king and queen. Among that throng were many veterans of the Great Campaign. It became immediately apparent to Aram that there would be no departure from Duridia that day.
For hours, Aram and Ka’en, accompanied by the Governor and his wife, moved among the gathered citizens, communing with many of them on whatever subject they desired.
At mid-day, Boman ordered the storehouses to be opened and an impromptu feast followed, prepared and devoured upon the main streets of Mandin. Later, casks were opened, and kegs were unplugged. The revelry lasted deep into the night. It was not until late the following morning that Aram and his company once again prepared to go to the east into Lamont.
While he waited for Ka’en to say her farewells to Lenci, Aram looked over at Boman. “Where was the border between Duridia and Wallensia in ancient times – do you know, Governor?”
Boman nodded. “There is a region of high ground,” he said, “now thickly wooded, several miles north of the wall.”
“I know this high ground,” Aram agreed.
Boman turned and looked that way. “It is said that in ancient times, there was a road that came down across the prairie with a way-station at the border. The road, if indeed it ever existed, is gone now, apparently swallowed up by the eternal grasses.”
He lifted his hand and extended his thumb over his shoulder. “Another road went westward through the mountain passes to Stell. The boundary was at the top of the pass. That road, though no longer paved with stone, is still in reasonably good condition along much of its length, as is the one that goes east out of Duridia, toward Lamont.” He looked at Aram. “You have travelled upon the road into Lamont, of course, so you will know it well.”
“Shall I rebuild those roads?” Asked Aram.
“My lord?”
“I mean to restore all of the ancient thoroughfares, so that commerce may travel easily throughout the land,” Aram replied. “Shall I rebuild your roads, Governor?”
“Why ask this of me, Lord Aram?” Boman looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You are king of all the earth, my lord. Duridia is yours as well, more than it is mine. You may do as you like, here, as in any other of your lands.”
Aram shook his head. “Not so, my friend. None are ‘my lands’. I do not intend to do as I ‘like’ in any nation of the earth, nor do I mean to meddle in the lives of people. The fall of Manon made us all free. My task, more than any other thing, is to ensure and safeguard that freedom – for all people.”
He looked up at the sun, shot a glance toward the house, and then looked back at Boman and asked once more. “Shall I rebuild the roads into Duridia, Governor?”
Boman smiled and nodded. “If you will, my lord. Duridia will do what it can to defray the cost.”
Again, Aram shook his head. “The kingdom was left a great fortune, for just such purposes as this. Nikolus and Timmon are opening the way to it even now, that it may come to Regamun Mediar.”
“Ah,” Boman reached into an inner pocket and retrieved a golden coin and held it forth where it gleamed in the morning sun. It was a monarch. “This would be a part of that fortune, my lord? You gave me this – and five others – when first we met, remember?”
“I do,” replied Aram, grinning. “You thought perhaps that I meant to try and buy Duridia’s friendship.”
“I apologize for that, my lord,” Boman said and he held the coin out toward him. “Will this – along with the others, which are stored within – pay Duridia’s part in the building of the roads?”
“No, I beg of you, Governor; keep it, and the others, here in Duridia,” Aram told him. “Keep them as a reminder of a friend’s clumsy attempts at diplomacy.”
Boman laughed and then looked at his king through shrewd eyes. “Diplomacy,” he said, “is perhaps the only thing at which you are clumsy, my lord.”
Aram held out his own hand. “Come to Regamun Mediar at any time, my friend. You will always find a welcome there.”
Durck, Lamont, and Seneca
The sun was upon the western horizon and the distant sea stretched away like strangely luminous black cloth when they crested the ridge above Durck and descended the road toward the tavern. A stout wind was sweeping down the channel that led to the left toward the open ocean, and the waters of the bay were choppy, covered with frothy white caps. Three ships lay at anchor in the bay, rocking with the tide. The nondescript blue-and-gray striped standard of privateers flew from each mast.
Mullen met them in the yard of the tavern, bowing so low as to risk falling upon his face. “Welcome, my lord and my lady!”
He shot a glance at the horsehead standard flying above Hilgarn before once more bending his stout body toward the ground. “Keegan tells us that a great many changes have occurred upon the earth, my lord, wrought by your magnificent self.”
“There is no need to wax poetic, Mullen. Where is Keegan?”
Mullen grinned sheepishly and indicated the interior of the tavern behind him. “Inside, my lord, with Lubchek and both their crews, trying desperately to put the place in order. We did not know you were coming. They have been here for weeks, spending every silver and copper in their purses. My casks are in danger of running dry. If Keegan’s last cargo had not been many barr
els of Lamontan whiskey, which he was willing to sell to me and is now buying back in prodigious amounts, I would have closed my doors long ago.”
He glanced backward, toward the dark interior as something crashed and broke against a table or perhaps the floor. “They are celebrating your great victory, my lord.” His sheepish grin widened crookedly. “As you might imagine, the place is a mess.” He turned to Ka’en and bowed again, deeply, shaking his head mournfully. “It is certainly no place for a mother and a child, my lady.”
“You put us up at your own home once,” Aram reminded him.
Mullen brightened. “And it is at your disposal now, my lord.” He grinned broadly and gestured up toward the house at the base of the bluff. “The door is open.”
Aram smiled as Thaniel turned away. “Tell Keegan that I will return within the hour to speak with him. He should make every attempt to be sober.”
“Yes, of course. As you will, my lord.”
After settling Ka’en and Mae in Mullen’s house and leaving the four young soldiers to guard her, Aram took Hilgarn, along with the flag he had commissioned of Derosa’s tailor, and went down to the tavern. This time, Keegan and Lubchek, with a sizeable cohort of wide-eyed sailors, awaited them outside the weather-worn central structure of the town of Durck.
The pungent odor of whiskey permeated the air, competing with the smell of sea and salt for supremacy.
Keegan bowed extravagantly. “It is good to see you, my lord. I hear that the wizard’s cannon was a vital – uh, was at least a small aid to you in your great victory.”
Aram treated the privateer to a rueful smile. “The gun helped us tremendously, captain,” he assured him. “And I thank you for your aid in finding it and bringing it to the army.”
“It was nothing, my lord,” and now his words held the added weight of sincerity as he straightened up and looked at Aram. “You are my king now, Lord Aram, and I pledge to you my honest and dependable service always. If ever I can do aught for you, my lord, you need but speak.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Five Page 46