Kelven's Riddle Book Five

by Daniel Hylton

  Aram’s attitude sharpened abruptly and his smile vanished as he indicated the interior of the tavern with one hand. “I am counting upon your service, captain, as always; and there is, in fact, something I would ask of you.”

  Keegan’s eyes widened at the sharpness in Aram’s tone, but he inclined his head. “Whatever it is, my lord, I will do it.”

  Aram’s smile returned; a smaller version of its former self. “You should, perhaps, allow me to ask it of you first – and then we will see.”

  Once they were seated at a table inside the dingy, dim-lit tavern, Aram sipped at his glass and looked across at Keegan. “There are two things that I would ask of you, captain.”

  Keegan, from whom the effects of the liquor had begun to dissipate, nodded solemnly. “I am at your service ever, my lord.”

  “The first thing I would require,” Aram went on, “is simple enough. I would ask that you and your ship be at Sunderland, in Lamont, two weeks from today, outfitted and prepared to take me and my company into Seneca.”

  Keegan nodded again. “I will be there, my lord. Sunderland is known as a free port, and Lamont has ever been more welcoming to my kind than those lands to the west – Elam, in particular.”

  Aram was watching him with stern eyes. “That, my friend,” he said quietly, “is the second thing that I will ask of you.”

  “My lord?”

  “You have profited by your service to me, have you not?” Aram asked him.

  Keegan frowned. “I have, my lord, but that is not why –”

  Aram waved this away. “Why do you serve me, captain?”

  The privateer looked down at the table for a long moment. Then he looked up. There was no hint of inebriation in either his tone or his words as he stated, “At the first, my lord – I confess – it was mostly out of fear of your strength and authority. But then, as I witnessed that which your strength and authority wrought in the regions of the world where they are recognized, it became something more.” He bowed his head. “I am your servant, my lord, not because of fear, or because of gold, but because of gratitude. Command me – I will do whatever you wish me to do.”

  “Then you will be a privateer no longer,” Aram stated firmly. “I want you to fly my standard upon the mast of your ship, captain.”

  Keegan stiffened, raised his head and stared. “My lord?”

  Aram smiled a solemn smile. “I must have someone that reports to me alone, who knows his way around out there, upon the broad sweep of the ocean, in whose integrity, judgment, and loyalty I may place complete trust.”

  Keegan continued to stare, his eyes wide. “I will not be a privateer? – ”

  “Unless you refuse my request, captain – no.”

  Dismay spread across Keegan’s face. He looked down at the table once more as he gave his hesitant reply. “It is my livelihood, my lord…..and…..has been my way of life since my youth.”

  Aram smiled. “I did not say, captain, that you must abandon the life and occupation of a free trader.” He leaned forward and spoke firmly. “From this time forward, all trade that moves upon the waters of the great sea must be free. No one nation may own the ocean, or tax the commerce that moves upon it. Each land may make and enforce whatever law it wishes to govern the ports of its cities, but the sea must answer to my law alone.”

  He leaned back and looked around at them all. “No one,” he said sternly, “will operate outside the boundaries of my law – and that law is that the sea is free – free from oppression like that which was until recently practiced by Elam, but also free from lawlessness.”

  His voice took on the weight of command. “No one may prey upon the ship or the cargo of another,” he warned them all. “Even as the ocean must be free; those that trade upon its vast waters must practice honesty and lawfulness.”

  He brought his hard, stern gaze back to Keegan. “Do you understand me, captain?”

  Keegan stared at him for a long moment. Slowly, the light of comprehension brightened in the depths of his eyes. “And you want me to enforce your law, my lord?”

  “Just so,” Aram affirmed. He smiled. “You may continue to trade, Keegan, and the payment that was promised you and Lubchek on the day Burkhed died will continue, for you and your crews. But from this day forth, you will fly my standard and answer to me. And for those that encounter your ships, it will be as if they met me.”

  He waited for a moment and then asked him, “What say you, captain?”

  Keegan continued to gaze at him. “All trade will be free?”

  Aram nodded. “Free and honest, captain, or I will take action personally to make it so.”

  Keeping his gaze fixed on Aram’s face, Keegan slowly nodded. “I will fly your standard proudly, my lord, and act as your agent in whatever manner you desire.”

  Retrieving the rolled-up standard from Hilgarn and handing it to the seaman, Aram said, “Then remove the blue and gray, captain, and fly this in my name.”

  And so it was that Captain Keegan, reared from his youth in the lawless society of pirates, and who had once served as mate for the fearsome giant Burkhed, went willingly into the service of the king. Before the last days of his life, he came to be known as the Admiral of the Ocean, the one man most trusted by King Aram the Magnificent in the enforcing of the laws of free and open commerce upon the great waters of the southern sea.

  By the end of his life he had also become one of the richest men in the world, for Aram made good on his promise to render one gold monarch for every faithful year of service. He never married, but there was a woman in Kolfaria in whose house he often stayed while in port in that land. This woman bore and raised up three children in the apparent absence of a father, all of whom were fair-haired and slightly-built like Keegan, and to whom, upon his death, he left both his ship and his fortune.

  After leaving Durck, Aram and his company went through Lamont, stopping to stay for two nights with Muray, whereupon, over many a late-night mug of ale, the captain and his monarch reminisced over the day that they met, when Aram and his Sword set on fire the gates of Lamont.

  Leaving western Lamont, Aram and the company crossed the mountains and came down into Sunderland, where Willar welcomed the new king and queen with as much fanfare as his wealth could supply. The elderly chief warder’s daughter, whose health had been failing for some time, had passed away during the previous winter. Upon learning this, Ka’en took his hand and mourned with him, and then she placed Mae into his arms.

  Willar looked down upon the child whose parents were his monarchs, his supreme lord and lady. As the little girl cooed up at him, and wrapped her tiny fingers around his, his tears dried, to be replaced with a look of wonder.

  He looked up at Ka’en, his faded eyes shining. “Thank you for this, my lady. My life is full now, complete; for I have seen the future of the earth, and it is bright indeed.”

  Late in the next day, as the sun fell close to the ragged, hilly horizon to the west, the mountain of Lamont rose up severe and dark before them and the gates of Condon came into view.

  A crowd was gathered at the gates.

  Foremost among them stood Jame, Vitorya, and Edwar.

  All three bowed low, and then the Hay of Lamont stood erect and spoke graciously. “Welcome, my king and my queen. Kipwing informed us of your imminent arrival. I am most happy to see you once again.”

  Aram nodded. “And you, my friend,” he answered. “Tell me – is there room at the Silver Arms for a group of weary travelers?”

  Jame’s face fell and he shook his head. “I am sorry, my lord. When Kipwing told of your arrival in the land and that you would come to Condon, the people streamed into the city from all around. There is not a vacant room left in the city.” He bowed his head. When next he looked up, it was to reveal a look of high good humor.

  “I am afraid, my lord and my lady, that you must be content – if it pleases you – with staying in my own house. The Great Hall of Lamont, after all, is as much yours as it is mine.”


  “We will be honored,” Aram returned.

  At this, Jame’s good humor abruptly vanished in favor of an expression of deepest sincerity. He shook his head with firm denial. “Nay, my lord,” he stated. “The honor that you do my house this day will hallow its humble halls forever.”

  He stepped aside and indicated the street that led up through the city beyond the gates. “Come in, my lord and lady, if you will.”

  The horses were released to graze upon the grassy slopes to the south and west of the city and the soldiers were quartered in the barracks with many of those that had stood beside them upon that barren ridge off to the northwest. Aram and Ka’en walked with their hosts up through the city toward the great house that stood on the highest hill. All along the way, the streets were lined with citizens who stared, wide-eyed and overawed, at the sight of the great king and his queen, accompanied by their own beloved Hay, his mother and her consort, moving on foot through the narrow passageways of their capital city.

  There were veterans of the Great Campaign in the crowd, easily recognized by their uniforms, worn with pride in the presence of their king, and in some cases, by the scars of injuries suffered in the Battle Before the Tower. Aram and Ka’en halted and spoke with each and every one of these men.

  Hours passed, so many that Ka’en was obliged, now and then, to accept offers of hospitality for her and Mae that were extended to her often along the route. Darkness fell and night overtook the earth long before they reached the house on the hill.

  After a late supper, as Aram and Jame once more walked the gentle environs of the Hay’s garden, the young man turned to Aram.

  “Lord Joktan is gone now, I suppose, my lord?”

  Aram nodded. “He has at last gone home.”

  “My garden will miss him.” Jame tilted his head back and looked up at the countless stars shining bright in the clear, black sky. “Your victory over the grim lord set him free, my lord.”

  Aram did not respond to this but simply looked up as well and stared out across the vastness of the universe. Much of that which had occurred in the past year had by this time dissolved into the deep well of misty memory, and taken on a dream-like quality. It sometimes seemed impossible to him that he had gone out there, somewhere, among those millions of far-away suns, and stood for a brief moment upon the shores of eternity.

  But he had.

  He had seen Joktan in the state of final contentment, united once again with the woman that he had, for thousands of years, loved from a distance, across the great divide. Kelven was there, too. And Florm was there with Ashal, and faithful Durlrang with his mate. They were there, and he was here, and that was as it should be.

  He was happy to let memories fade, and life to proceed.

  He dropped his gaze to find Jame’s eyes fixed upon him. As he could never be certain what was on the mind of the young ruler of Lamont, he waited in silence. After studying the face of his monarch, Jame looked away, down across the dark town, where, even at this late hour, light yet shone from many windows. Occasionally, from unseen courtyards here and there, raucous laughter floated up.

  “I told you once, my lord,” Jame said then, “that you had the look of a man who had been touched by the Maker himself. I confess to you that it is more pronounced, now.” He looked back at Aram. “I hear from many sources that you left the earth for a time, no doubt to wander mysterious, distant shores.”

  Immediately upon rendering this statement, Jame held up his hand and shook his head. Either he saw Aram’s expression darken, even in the tenuous light of the stars, or, more likely, his natural intuitiveness prevailed.

  “I would not presume to ask you to relate that which you have experienced, my lord. No doubt it would be beyond my ability to comprehend, in any event.” He turned his gaze away once more, but looked back immediately. “When first I saw you, Lord Aram, you walked into my hall bearing a weapon of unspeakable power, a sword with which you might have reduced this land to ash. Yet you exhibited only deference and politeness. I knew then that you were utterly unique upon the earth.”

  Jame looked up at the crown that rested on Aram’s brow, at the triangular edges gleaming in the starlight. He straightened up, dropped his hands to his sides and bowed deeply.

  “May your reign last long, my king,” he stated solemnly.

  Aram looked back at him in silence, and then he inclined his head. “And may I ever have the benefit of your counsel, my friend,” he returned.

  Jame looked at him with a peculiar eagerness brightening his eyes, even in the gloom.

  “Speaking of that, my lord –”

  “What is it, my friend?” Aram asked of him, when the young man hesitated.

  Jame glanced briefly away. “It’s just that I would dearly love to look upon your marvelous city.”

  “You are always welcome there,” Aram returned.

  Jame continued to gaze at him with a sardonic smile upon his young features. “It’s just that – well, it is a long way from here to there, my lord.”

  And then Aram understood. He nodded, smiling. “Thaniel knows you, my friend, and he knows his own people. When we are returned into the west, I will instruct him to choose a suitable companion for Your Grace from among his people and send him here, to you.” He chuckled. “Then you may come to visit with me whenever you like.”

  Jame bowed once more. “I will try very diligently not to be a bother, my lord.”

  At that, Aram grew serious. “I will always be glad to receive a friend,” he said.

  The company remained in the great house at Condon for another week, and then Aram reluctantly bade Jame, Edwar, and Vitorya farewell and they went back to Sunderland. Keegan’s ship, with the great crimson and gold standard of the king flying from the mast, lay at rest in the harbor.

  After one more night with Willar, which second visit raised the elderly gentleman’s sprits further; along with his standing in Sunderland – the king and queen have stayed with him twice – they boarded ship and prepared to sail for Seneca.

  The sailors rowed the ship out through the entrance to the harbor. Once upon the open sea, the ship was turned, and the great sail on the main mast unfurled, caught the wind, and billowed large and full. Keegan’s ship hove out onto the dark solemn blue of the deep and tacked eastward toward Seneca.

  Ka’en stood at the rail, gazing first toward the land that was slipping away to become a fine line of brown upon the northern horizon; and then she turned and gazed southward out across the heaving swell of the sea that grew a deeper shade of blue with every mile the ship drew away from the shore.

  There followed then nine days of novel experience. Ka’en watched in amazement as Keegan and his crew constantly worked the sails and kept the ship moving eastward, often angling slightly to the north and then to the south in order to make headway upon those occasions when the wind blew against them. While generally blowing favorably at their back, from west-to-east, it nonetheless sometimes came at them from ahead of the bow, seeming to do all it could to prevent them from making progress.

  As she marveled at the machinations of sailors and sailcloth, Ka’en observed to Keegan. “I don’t know how you do it, captain. It is almost like magic – the way you can sail into the wind.”

  Keegan grinned and glanced up at the snapping sails. “Aye, my lady,” he replied. “She is a capricious mistress, is the sea – and the wind is her consort. The trick is to dance to her tune as she works her will, and deceive her into helping you even when she thinks to prevent you.”

  Four days into the voyage, the southwestern horizon lowered and grew dark. A wide, tall, black band of cloud thickened upon that horizon, and the wind picked up and blew harder. The sea rose and fell with increased energy, and the ship heaved and rolled upon the waves.

  From the first, the horses had been quartered below decks, but as the weather worsened, Thaniel would have none of it. The great horse came topside where he stood in the middle of the main deck, hooves splayed wi
de, and his head low, staring glumly ahead.

  “This is no place for me or my kind,” he complained to Aram.

  Fighting his own measure of queasiness, Aram stood with his own feet planted wide apart and gazed the other way, toward the gathering storm on the southern horizon line.

  “No – nor for me,” he said simply. “Especially if that storm catches up to us.” He gained Keegan’s attention and pointed. “Will that come here?”

  The captain grinned. “Not likely, my lord.” He indicated the north, where the line of land along the horizon had increased both in width and height as the pilot moved the craft closer. “We’ll hug the shore as close as we dare, just in case,” he said. “There are some coves along here where we can ride it out if need be, but –” He pivoted and glanced back toward the southwest. “Big storms usually stay out over the deep water and blow on to the east without coming ashore along here. That’s why the Lost is such a dry place, you know.”

  In contrast to Thaniel and Aram, Ka’en seemed to enjoy the excitement provided by the wild, rough seas as she walked the deck eagerly; rather easily negotiating the rocking motion of the ship. She bore Mae bundled up in her arms as she turned her eyes, brightened by the thrill of it all, first this way and then that to gaze about her in exhilaration.

  Keegan’s prediction about the storm to the south proved true. Though it kept the seas churned up and foam-capped; over the next two days, the area of rough weather passed by them and gradually faded away over the southeastern horizon. Eventually, the ocean grew relatively calm once more, relinquishing its restless, frothy upheaval for the rolling, gentle heaving that was its wont.

  They were now sailing close to land which had taken on the green hue of Seneca. The mountains on that land’s western borders rose up and showed themselves, tall and greenish-black off to the north.

  Three days later, on calm turquoise-colored seas under a hot sun, the ship put in at Tollumi.

  As with Lamont, the leaders of Seneca had been notified by Kipwing of the imminent arrival of the king and queen.