“Worse,” replied Aran, “It is good that the fighting never came this far to the East.”
Elsa nodded, and eyed him critically, “The beard is new and also you are thinner…” then she looked across and saw the others and smiled her welcome. “Wolf Leader Darven and Lady Alissa…I am very glad to see you all again.”
“And you,” Alissa replied courteously.
Elsa’s eyes narrowed as she noted Alissa’s fuller figure, and flushed face, but with a secret smile decided not to say anything premature.
Darven stepped up, “Kiaia…is she here?”
Elsa nodded, “Aye Darven. She had a touch of the vomiting sickness this morning so she is resting inside.”
She nodded to the door, “Go in and see her. She will be by the fire…”
Darven needed no second urging, he was inside before Elsa had finished speaking.
“And Dram and Sed?” asked Aran as soon as the door had banged shut.
Elsa smiled, “Sed’s back with us. I don’t know what you said to him, my foster son, but within a day of the army pulling out he was back at our door, all contrite and apologetic.”
She shook her head at the vagaries of youth, “He and Dram are out with the wagon doing deliveries.”
Aran smiled, “I’m glad he’s had a chance to think things over, sounds like he’s come to the right decision for everyone.”
Elsa nodded wisely, “Up to recently we have had no tidings of the war, and how things fared with you.”
She paused and her pale blue eyes darkened with remembered pain and her soil-marked hands twisted in bitter memory. “Then to make things worse,” she added quietly, “Sed’s been in an agony of self-doubt and horror that you might die without him being able to properly apologise for his hate towards you and ask for your forgiveness.”
“I forgave Sed a long time ago, mother,” Aran replied gravely.
Elsa shook her head as she thought of her son’s behaviour, “It has taken Sed longer to forgive himself.” She stared up at the tall, sun-bronzed young man with the grave face, and smiled in fond memory, “He was never like you Aran…indeed who could be? Not everyone is born to such high lineage.”
She smiled up at Aran, and he saw her eyes soften, “Dram and I saw the quality in you when you were a child but newly come to our home.” She sighed, “Even when we had our own son it was hard not to favour you over him. You have a presence about you lad…” she shook her ruefully, “I very much doubt that you would have ever been at home working a forge in a small farming town.”
“Great men may not always be found sitting on thrones,” replied Aran quietly, “The most honourable and finest man of my acquaintance works a forge in Leigh…and he does not have the blood of kings as his heritage.”
“Still blood shows Arantur,” Elsa insisted, “I doubt even Master Cody could have led an army to war, and then to go into Thakur itself to battle such an enemy…” her voice faded away in horror at the thought of having to do such a thing. She shook her head, pushing the uncomfortable thought away, “No ordinary man could have accomplished what you did.”
Aran’s eyes hardened imperceptibly as he recalled the terrible legacy of the Warriormage Ability and that the Thakurian Warleader herself shared his Andurian heritage.
‘Aye…blood did show…’ Aran mused bitterly to himself.
*
Later, they gathered in the large, immaculately kept kitchen to share an apple pie hot from baking. Although the fruit had been kept and dried from last summer’s harvest, the pie itself was sweet enough, and the mere taste of fresh home baking after many long weeks of rationed meals was like food for the soul. Kiaia, her belly already round with growing life, was ensconced happily on Darven’s lap, her arms tight around him, seemingly fearful that he would up and leave her again. Aran gazed at the Wolf Leader, and was inordinately pleased to see on his face an easing of the lines of strain and horror so familiar to them over the last few weeks, to be now replaced by a warm glow of love and joy at his impending fatherhood. By late afternoon they heard the unmistakable sound of iron rimmed cart wheels on cobbles, and sure enough, moments later the figures of Sed and Dram appeared at the back door with Boner, Sed’s tan and white terrier close upon their heels. Dram hurried to embrace Aran and welcome the return of his foster son from the war, but Sed hung back, unsure of his welcome or reception.
“It is good to see you again, brother,” Aran said quietly, holding out his lean hand in welcome.
Sed smiled, and nodded, and with a bit of coaxing from Elsa, finally bridged the distance and clasped Aran’s hand.
“You look thinner Aran,” Sed said hesitantly, “I hear you all had a hard time of it in the West.”
Aran nodded at his foster-brother, “Aye Sed…it was not so good.”
Sed glanced up at Aran, “Ever since that day in the Red Boar, it has haunted me that I never properly said sorry what I did and said.” His eyes lowered in uneasy embarrassment, “I have tried to make amends Aran, but I want you to know that I am truly glad that you have returned safe and well.”
Aran strove to speak, to reassure his foster-brother that there was no ill-feeling, but Sed spoke again.
“It grieved me that I was not a true brother to you, Aran,” he said, closing his eyes against the old pain. “A true brother would have accompanied you into Thakur and been the strength at your back…”
Aran smiled sadly, “I don’t hold that against you Sed, for that particular task was not yours to accomplish. I was the only one who had the dubious honour of finally going up against the Warleader.” Then he glanced across at his foster-father Dram and his eyes for a moment lost that background sorrow and pain, “But father, you taught me that it’s always the most important tasks that are the bitterest and hardest to accomplish. However in the accomplishing one gains rewards of spirit and soul.”
Dram laughed dryly as he pulled off his heavy boots, “Aye…I remember.” Then his dark eyes softened, “Do you remember the occasion for those words, my son?”
Aran chuckled, “Clearly! I was eight years old and the old cart horse Bee had just thrown me into the midden heap…it had been my first ride on her.”
“But you got back on,” reminded Dram.
“And she threw me off a dozen times more,” Aran laughed grimacing. “She was the most mean-spirited horse I’ve ever had the misfortune to ride, and my backside ached for days afterwards.” Aran added.
Alissa smiled, “Now you seem to spend half your waking life on horseback…that was a good lesson learnt.”
“I think I learnt many lessons that day,” mused Aran quietly, remembering.
*
They stayed until after dusk, talking about fondly remembered days of youth and childhood, and then as the shadows lengthened, and the sun neared the horizon, they spoke briefly of the war, and what they had done and seen in Thakur. As Elsa moved to light a lantern, Aran stood and stretched, indicating to the others that it was time for them to go.
“For we shall be continuing our journey come morning,” he explained to his foster-family. “I have been too long away from the Keep, and I have duties of government waiting on my return.
“You have indeed grown quickly,” observed Dram quietly, “And not just in height, you carry the burden of kingship well my son…”
Elsa nodded in agreement, however she privately worried about the lines of infinite weariness and sorrow that seemed to have permanently marred her foster-son’s young face.
“We shall of course be visiting,” she said suddenly. Then she glanced across to Alissa and smiled, “Especially in about seven month’s time.”
“What of Master Cody?” asked Sed, “Shall he be returning to Leigh?”
Aran nodded, “For a while only until he finds another man to replace him at the forge, for I have asked him to come to the Keep.”
Alissa’s eyebrows arched upwards, “We already have a capable blacksmith at the Keep. Why do we need another Aran?”
&nbs
p; Aran turned to Alissa with a smile, “I shall tell you later. I have an idea that I am still working on and I want to talk it over with Cody.”
Alissa nodded and shrugged.
“How will Kiaia travel to the keep?” asked Elsa worriedly. “I know she is almost three months into her pregnancy, but a fall from a horse would imperil both the mother and the baby.”
“Kiaia is a superb rider,” Darven assured Elsa, “If she finds riding difficult then she will ride with the supply wagons,” he added. “Do not worry. Kiaia will home by the end of the week.”
Aran reached across and clasped Dram’s hand, “Andur keep you well, father.”
Then he moved to hug his small-boned foster-mother, “You both are always in my heart,” he said quietly.
“Andur keep you well, mother.”
Sed stood and caught his foster-brother’s eye, “Do not worry over them Aran. I will be here to look out for them.”
Aran nodded, and clasped Sed by the shoulder, “Visit if you can, Sed, if you need to follow other dreams than what Leigh can offer you, then come to the Keep…I am sure we can find a position for you there.”
Sed nodded, “Andur keep you well, brother…”
*
Light, mid-winter showers greeted the Guard and the mages early next morning as they saddled their horses and lashed heavy oil-proof canvas over the gear on the supply wagons. Aran glanced at the dark, overcast sky and shook his head. He had hoped that they had seen the last of the freezing cold and wet, but it seemed obvious that winter rain was determined to follow them all the way back to the Keep. Pulling his spare cloak firmly about him, Aran quickly mounted the tall bay gelding given to him by the Legions, and gave the order to ride on. Turning his horse about, he watched as the rest of the company mounted, and then glanced across to see that Kiaia was firmly settled on one of the spare quiet geldings. The early morning, and the intermittent showers had kept most of the townsfolk indoors, but a good number of people had braved the weather to see their king and his company off. As they rode eastwards, their way was lit by townsfolk standing on the street edge, and leaning from upstairs windows all waving lit torches, and calling out kind words of farewell and luck upon the road. Fifteen minutes later they had passed the last house, and were on the road east.
*
On the fifth day out from Leigh, the company finally sighted the looming bulk of the Havart Plateau through the breaking overcast. Light showers had dogged their way all along the coast road, and the great walled cities and the surrounding landscape for the most part had been obscured by heavy low cloud and light misty rain. Luckily the road that skirted Andur Bay had fared reasonably well throughout winter, and there were only isolated spots of subsidence to slow the riders and their accompanying wagons. As the company looked up and saw the plateau and realised that home was now so close, they all felt keen to pick up the pace and press on. By dusk they had reached the foot of the plateau, and were busily preparing the overnight camp before attempting the long climb the following morning.
“If we take it slow then it shouldn’t be a problem,” said Darven to Aran.
Aran nodded as he warmed his hands by the small cook fire.
“We only have to worry about half a dozen supply wagons,” agreed Captain Taran as he stared contemplatively at the plateau now completely shrouded by the darkness of night.
“And most of the carts are now half empty. It shouldn’t be too great a strain on the wagon horses,” added Kiaia softly, “Especially if we distribute some of the personal gear that has been carried on the wagons across the other riders.”
“That’s a good idea,” replied Aran.
“Last time we passed this way the road was narrow but in reasonable condition,” said Alissa. “But I don’t know how it will be after all the rain this area’s been getting.”
“Then at first light I will ride ahead to check,” said Darven immediately. “I’ll soon find out if we have to contend with landslides and wash-outs.”
Aran nodded, “I agree…we need to know that the way is clear before the wagons tackle the mountain road.”
“I will be asking for some of the Guard to dismount and lend a hand with the wagons,” Taran said, “Their horses can be roped together and led behind those who are mounted.”
“We can help also,” said Mage Trenny, suddenly walking up to the group. “Hela and I have also been discussing the problem of getting the wagons up to the plateau and we think we have an idea which will help.”
Aran turned curiously to the two Weathermages, “And the Archmage doesn’t mind? I mean it’s not like it’s a problem we can’t overcome without mage assistance.”
“He suggested it,” replied Trenny, “Besides it will ensure a trouble-free passage for the wagons tomorrow.”
Alissa frowned, “How can weather-working get wagons up to the plateau? Do you intend to float them up there?”
Trenny laughed and shook his head, “No, lady Alissa that is beyond our strength, but your guess is very close. We remembered what the Warleader did at Thakur and believe we can do something similar.”
Aran frowned as he wondered what Trenny was talking about.
“We’ll be constructing protective flows of air around the horses and wagons,” elaborated Hela, appearing at Trenny’s side. “The flows won’t impede the upward travel, but it will support the wagons, keep them safely to the road and additionally it will take a lot of strain off the horses.”
Aran nodded, as he remembered how the Warleader had constructed similar but constricting flows of air around himself and his companions at the node.
“Sounds like it should work,” Aran said in some relief, “Although sometime soon I must start thinking about some kind of permanent way of getting baggage carts up and down off the plateau. With the Andurian lineage re-established at the keep the road is going to be in use a great deal more than it is now. The section of road coming down off the plateau is really too steep and narrow and the bends too sharp for my liking.”
“It could be widened, and perhaps graded less steeply,” mused Darven, “But it would need considerable Earthmage assistance with the construction and design.”
Aran shook his head in mock sorrow, “Everywhere I look Darven, I see things that need to be fixed. I think that the first few years of my reign will be very busy indeed.”
He turned and smiled at Alissa, “So much for a quiet life my love.”
*
The next day dawned fine and clear, with a moderate westerly wind drying the last dampness from the camp, and solidifying the patches of mud on the road. Aran stood and smiled as he breathed deeply of the fresh salt-laden breeze. It seemed several lifetimes since he had smelt the unmistakable tang of the ocean air, and he happily filled his lungs with it.
For the rest of the day the company laboured up the steep mountain road. Even with mage assistance it was still quite a job coercing six heavy horses into pulling their wagons up the steep and narrow road, and Theaua spent quite a bit of time talking to and encouraging the beasts. By mid-afternoon the whole company had safely reached the top of the plateau, and by then everyone had unanimously decided to continue on to find a suitable campsite for the night, rather than staying near the open and exposed plateau edge.
*
Talk around the campfire later that night was animated as everyone excitedly realised that by the end of the following day they should have reached the Keep. Aran too felt the heavy weariness of the last few weeks slowly lifting, as he heard the distant sound of waves breaking upon the rocks of the plateau far below, and smelt the unmistakable tang of sea air.
“I’ve missed this,” he said later to Alissa, as they lay warmly cocooned in their blankets and leather sleeping sacks.
Alissa smiled in the darkness, “What, sleeping outdoors? I thought you’d have had enough of it by now.”
Aran grinned, “No, I meant the sound and smell of the sea. Through all the weeks of exhaustion and horror of the war, it’s the on
e memory about the Keep that I never allowed myself to forget.”
Alissa stared up at the bright late-winter stars wheeling in the clear salt-tinged darkness of the plateau and silently agreed.
*
The next morning they all woke early, excited by the nearness of home, and eagerly anticipating seeing long-missed friends and the expected warm welcome by the Guard garrison. The mood of the group was happy and relaxed as each bend and turn in the road brought them all closer to familiar landmarks around the Keep. Aran rode quietly, reflectively, his senses lost in the cool, salt air, and the sound of the distant gulls and the wind blowing through the low heath and heather of the plateau.
“It’s been a long journey,” called out Archmage Maran riding up.
Aran pulled up his gelding, then drew back to ride alongside the Archmage on his bay mare.
“Aye Maran,” Aran replied quietly, “Soon we shall be at the end of it.”
“Do you believe it was worth it?” the Archmage asked his kinsman simply.
Aran fell silent for a moment then strove to speak, “In the long term, yes it was worth it…but too many things were lost in the gaining of it.”
The Archmage nodded glumly, “We guessed that many would die, we had hoped otherwise.”
Aran stared straight ahead, “I was not talking of the lives lost, Archmage.”
Maran’s face grew heavy with infinite weariness, “I know….” He sighed heavily, “Will there ever be true resolution between us Arantur?”
Aran stared bleakly at the wind stunted trees of the plateau and shrugged unhappily.
“Perhaps,” he replied finally, “Given enough time and distance.”
“Time I do not have,” said Maran quietly.
Aran shot his kinsman a hard, quick glance, “Are you sick?”
Maran shrugged, “Physically no…but mentally I am very tired. I have been too long on this world, and I crave the endless sleep of death. Soon I will search it out.”
He paused as if trying to find the right words then finally whispered, “This war has been difficult for me,” he grimaced, “For I have learnt things about myself and the human race in general that I’d much rather not have known.”
Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 32