Florm laughed quietly. “I am always telling everyone what an unusual man you are.”
Aram laughed in turn and turned toward the interior of the grove of trees. “Goodnight, my lord.”
“Goodnight, Lord Aram.”
Aram started a fire, using the flint, and curled up beside it on the ground. While he was considering the day’s events, his thoughts wandered to Ka’en and he fell asleep.
The next day, having gotten to know the city and cleared a decent path in his previous journeys, he made three trips to and from the pyramid, carrying one of the cumbersome crates each time. There were now nine bags of gold just inside the overgrown city where he could access it quickly and easily.
He slept well that night, tired from the exertion of moving the gold and on the next morning, he and Thaniel took leave of Florm, Ashal, and Jared.
“Jared and the others will come to you in a month’s time, perhaps less.” Florm said. “Unless you need them earlier. Use the Call, if you wish it, and I will send them on quickly.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Aram answered. He had put the two sacks of gold into his knapsack and flung it across Thaniel’s back in front of him. “Will you come later, yourself, my lord?”
“I will.” The old horse promised. Ashal leaned close to him and he chuckled. “I find that I must be more circumspect these days as well.”
Aram grinned and saluted them. “Until later, my friends.” And he and Thaniel turned toward the west and home.
Eleven
Two days later he and Thaniel climbed the slope above the tumbling stream that fell down the mountain and ran through the meadow where he had saved Florm from the wolves two springs before. They began to encounter deeply piled snow where it had drifted into the shadowed folds of the mountain. Aram always dismounted, walking across the top of the crusted snow and Thaniel used his great strength to force his way through.
Below the pass, they found the way completely blocked by a massive drift, which though softened by the sun, was nonetheless deep and substantial. Aram stood next to Thaniel and considered it.
“Have you ever seen a winter like this?” He asked the horse.
Thaniel let out a deep rumbling laugh. “Two winters ago, my lord. Winters like this are not uncommon. We had to wait out something similar to this while you were distracted in Derosa.”
Aram looked at him in surprise. He couldn’t be sure whether the humor Thaniel found in the situation was in Aram’s failure to understand that many winters were as harsh as the one just passed or the fact that he had been distracted by other interests in Derosa – Ka’en – the year before while the horses waited on him. It was the first time he’d seen a flash of anything other than somber attention to duty in the great horse’s attitude. He swept out a hand indicating the impassable berm of snow.
“Was it like this, then?” He asked.
“Very like this.” Thaniel answered. “Maybe a bit less – but then, it was later in the year.”
“What did you do?”
Thaniel laughed again. “We waited.” He answered. “I said that it would take a great deal of snow to stop me – well, that is a great deal of snow. I will try to push through it if you like, my lord, but it will take some time, and I would need the burrowing skills of a rabbit – which, sadly, I lack.”
Aram grinned and examined the vast overhanging bank of snow shutting them out of the passage between the peaks. It appeared that it would be much longer than Joktan had suspected before such a great amount of the remains of winter melted under the shy spring sun. He glanced up at the sun, just now crossing the line from morning to afternoon, and it was then that he remembered what it was that he bore on his back. Ruefully, he realized that Joktan had thought about using the power of the sword of heaven for just this purpose.
He glanced at Thaniel. “You will need to move aside, my friend, perhaps out on that point of rock there.”
Thaniel gazed back at him curiously. “My lord?”
Aram slipped the hood over his head and then reached back and slid the sword free. With the sun overhead, it felt like nothing in his gauntleted hand. Instantly, the sunlight found the blade, seeming to gather along its length, making it glow, and sending brighter rays of light back into the heavens, like lightning in a clear sky. He glanced again at Thaniel and then studied the slope under the mounded snow for the natural path of melting water, hoping there were no small creatures downhill from him and directly in the path of what he was about to do.
“I will join you on that point of rock in just a moment.” He told Thaniel. “For there is about to be a flood right here.”
After Thaniel had gone to safer ground, where he stood watching Aram curiously, Aram moved to the right side of the snow drift. He did not know how long the effect of the blade would last, or whether the melting of the drift could be accomplished in one thrust or a series, but he knew that he didn’t want to be standing under the overhanging bank of snow when the sword did its work.
Careful not to impact any of the rock of the earth on which the snow lay, he aimed the sword at a point near the bottom of the drift and slid it inward. Immediately the icy, packed snow of the drift sizzled and began to melt and rush down the slope below in an increasing flood. Aram withdrew the sword, jumped to the side, sheathed the blade, and ran up the slope to join Thaniel.
Thaniel was looking upward into the heavens.
“I wonder how far away that could be seen.” He said.
Aram knew what he meant. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but Manon’s tower is a ways over the curve of the world from where we are. He probably wouldn’t know what it signified if he saw it, anyway – I hope.” He shrugged. “Besides, I have business on the other side of that snow.”
It took two more punctures with the blade to free the pass, and both times Aram was more careful to shield the sword from the open sight of the sun, thus lessening the intensity of the bright flashes and in the process, discovered something. It was not absolutely necessary for the metal of the sword to touch the frozen drift. By aiming the blade, he could direct the flashes of power that resulted from the sword’s exposure to the sun into the snow, melting it from a distance. After the flood waters of the melted snow had drained away down through the trees to the east, he and Thaniel went up across the newly exposed rock, through the pass, and crossed over the summit of the saddle to the western slope above his valley.
Below them, beyond the pine-covered ridges and ravines that fell away from the heights of the pass, Aram’s valley spread out, green and beautiful, and the multi-colored city of his fathers gleamed like a jewel in the dark flanks of the mountain that rose beyond. As he gazed upon the sight, Aram felt his heart fill up; for the lush and lovely valley, resplendent with the green of spring, which he gazed down upon had become, fully and completely – and rightfully – his home. And he was glad to be coming home.
He and Thaniel started down through the tall, spreading pines, but before they had gone a half-mile, the voice of an old and trusted friend came down out of the sky and filled his mind.
“Lord Aram. It is you. You have returned.”
Aram looked skyward. “Lord Alvern? I do not see you.”
The eagle’s piercing laugh echoed in his mind. “And yet, my lord, as always, I see you.”
Minutes later, the great bird swooped down to hover on the wind a few feet above their heads. Aram raised his hand.
“Lord Alvern, my friend. You are well met.”
The eagle bobbed his golden head and spread his huge wing feathers to hold his place in the wind. “I saw flashes of light upon the mountain top and came to see what transpired. Was that you, my lord?”
Aram grinned self-consciously. “Where were you when you saw the flashes, Alvern?”
“I was hunting over the south end of your valley, my lord. They were very bright, like lightning, but there was no storm.”
Aram groaned. “You were right, Thaniel, I must be more careful.”
“Then it was you?” Alvern asked.
“It was, my friend. I was a bit foolish.”
Alvern gazed at him a long moment. “My lord, how is it that you are here already, on the pass above your valley? Did you not go to the mountain of Kelven?”
“I did, Lord Alvern.”
“But we did not expect you until spring.”
Aram grinned. “It is spring now, my friend.”
“But –”
“He came down through the mountains of Aram in winter, Lord Alvern.” Interjected Thaniel.
The eagle turned his attention to the horse, wondering, and Aram looked sharply down at the back of Thaniel’s head.
Thaniel chuckled. “They will be called your mountains forever now, Lord Aram; it can not be avoided. My father has renamed them.”
“I have not heard of these mountains.” Alvern protested.
“They are the mountains to the north of the high plains of the horses.” Thaniel answered him.
“Ah – the impassable mountains.”
Thaniel laughed outright. “To everyone but Lord Aram, apparently. He came through them in the midst of winter, and emerged alive onto the high plains.”
The eagle’s honey colored eyes gazed at Aram unblinking. “Truly, my lord,” the great bird said in amazement, “is there nothing you cannot do?”
Aram shrugged. “It was not as difficult as it sounds.”
The eagle continued to stare. “Not so. I have flown over those mighty rocks myself on occasion. It is a vertical wasteland. Not even wolves – nay, nor goats will venture there.”
Aram grew uncomfortable with the unabashed admiration. He met Alvern’s eyes. “What news, my friend?”
“It was a quiet winter, my lord.”
“I am glad to hear it. Have you flown over the southern plains?”
“Yes, many times,” the eagle answered, understanding the direction of Aram’s questions. “All has been quiet to the west of Derosa, though the grim lord’s hosts continue to build on the flat-topped hill south of Burning Mountain.”
Aram nodded. “And to the northwest, over the broad valley that leads toward the plains?”
“I’m sorry, my lord,” the eagle answered, “but I have not seen that country since you and the horses went north. If you wish, I will go now, and report back on the morrow.”
Aram hesitated. “I am loath to ask any more of you than that which you have already done.”
The great bird met his gaze. “I told you, my lord; I am at your service ever. I spoke truly. What concerns you about the west?”
“Thank you for that, Alvern,” Aram answered. “There is a village to the west of my mountain –”
“From which you escaped.”
Aram nodded. “The very one. I wish to know if the people there are unmolested.”
The eagle spread his wings further and lifted a bit on the wind. “I will go now and discover that which you wish to know. Please, my lord, allow me to say that I am happy to see your return. Did you find that for which you sought?”
“I did. Lord Kelven yet takes an interest in our affairs.”
For a moment, the eagle fell motionless and the wind nearly took him. “Lord Aram – you met Lord Kelven?”
“Yes.” Returning the great bird’s astonished gaze, Aram thought of the ruin of the once-majestic power that he had encountered on the mountain, and decided that benign deception was the path of honor. “I met him, Lord Alvern. He still cares about our troubles. He entrusted me with a mighty gift.”
“The flashes of light?”
Aram nodded and patted the hilt of the sword above his right shoulder. “They came from this. It may be that it will decide all our fortunes.”
The eagle blinked. “Lord Kelven is yet alive?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Aram nodded. “His powers are perhaps more limited in a way, but more potent in others.”
The bird caught the wind and lifted up. “The feathers of Silwing be blessed, but this is marvelous news. I have not flown the skies of the great mountain since the grim lord ascended it with his hosts and the firmament burned with the ruin of battle. I thought Lord Kelven dead and mourned him – now I find that he yet lives. Wonders abound since you came into the world, my lord. We are not without hope. I will go to the west and report back on the morrow.”
Alvern turned and swung into the sky, rapidly gaining altitude and went out of sight toward the west. Thaniel moved on down the slope. After a moment, the horse spoke, his voice quiet and uncertain.
“Is Lord Kelven truly still potent, my lord?”
Aram hesitated and then answered carefully. “I did not mean to deceive at the risk of harm, Thaniel.”
“I did not think it of you, my lord.” Thaniel stopped and swung his great head around. “I wish to say something, Lord Aram.”
“What is it, my friend?”
“My faith is not in a god of my fathers, whose power I have never witnessed. I trust in the Maker, of course, as all beings do. But my faith is in you, whose strength I have witnessed. Your path is the path of liberty for all life, and I will bear you to the end of it.”
Aram could see into the horse’s left eye. He stared, stunned. After a moment, he spoke carefully. “My friend, I deserve the faith of no one.”
Thaniel swung his head back forward and continued down the mountain. “I will bear you to the end.” He said simply.
By evening, they had splashed across the river, climbed the gentle slope to the pyramids by the juncture of the valley roads, and entered the avenue that led toward the city. Spring had come in full here and the green valley that rolled gently away to either side of the avenue was saturated with the sounds and smells of new life. The sun slid behind the mountain before they reached the city and the evening cooled as a sharp breeze came out of the south.
A lone hawk twisted down out of the sky and hovered on the wind. Aram looked up. It was Cree.
She gazed at him for a long moment with her tiny, bright black eyes.
“Lord Aram” – she sounded breathless – “I – we – all the people of the valley are most happy to see you return. We thought – perhaps – that you had abandoned us.”
He shook his head. “This is my home, Cree. I will always return here. I will never abandon you – or the people of this valley.”
She hovered, watching him as if there were something more on her mind, but said nothing. After a moment, he broke the silence. “What news, Cree? What has happened in the valley in my absence?”
“There are wolves in the valley, my lord.”
Aram nodded. “I know of them – they are here at my invitation. Where are they?”
“They reside in the hills to the north. The bear and his mate are there as well,” she said, anticipating his next question.
“And they are well?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Anything else of consequence?”
“Men came last fall, my lord.” She answered.
Aram stiffened. “Men? What men?”
She swiveled her small head and looked southeastward. “Men from Derosa. They came to speak with you.” She looked back at him. “There was a woman with them.”
His heart flipped over in his chest.
“She possessed the gift of speech.” Cree continued. “We conversed.”
Aram swallowed. “What did she say?”
“She said that they had come to express regret, my lord – that they owed you an apology.”
Owed him an apology? Aram turned his head and gazed toward the southeast. He was stunned. Ka’en had come here, to his valley, in answer to his deepest desire. And he had been gone.
“She is to be your mate, my lord?”
Aram snapped his head around and stared at the hawk.
“She wishes to be.” Cree said, matter-of-factly.
“What – how do you know?”
“She is a female. I am a female. We talked. I know. Is such a thing possible? Will you mate with a h
uman woman?”
Aram was momentarily taken aback by the abstract and confusing nature of the question but his stark interest in Ka’en’s presence in his valley shunted it aside. “What did you tell her, Cree? How did you explain my absence?”
“I told her all that had occurred – that the wolves had informed you of the lashers to the north, and that you had gone out to meet them, to protect the people of this valley. I also told her that the horses had summoned you to the mountain of Kelven; that you had gone away to the north and since that time I had not heard from you.”
“And what did she say to that?”
“She was most distressed by this knowledge. She asked when you might return. I did not know when you would return. She wanted me to take her to you but of course it was impossible. I could not answer her anything until Lord Alvern came back into these skies, and she had gone by then.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“She wished me farewell. She was very sad.” The hawk flicked her wings, hanging on the breeze. “She wept, my lord. As she went back into the south, she wept. My heart hurt for her.”
Aram turned and looked toward Derosa, far to the south, beyond the hills, and felt like shouting for joy. Ka’en had wept because of his absence – and perhaps out of fear for his safety. Despite his utter lack of experience in affairs of the human heart, he knew instinctively that only love and longing could make a woman as strong as Ka’en, the beautiful princess of Derosa, weep. Suddenly, his heart was lighter than it had been in a long time.
“The knowledge of her pain gladdens you, my lord?” Cree asked and the old familiar sharpness pervaded her voice.
He ignored her, gazing still toward Derosa, basking in the fact that Ka’en needed him and apparently loved him, as he did her. He was willing to risk much for his friends, and for the world in general – indeed, as Florm had once informed him, such was the destiny that he had found, though he sought it not – but in his heart and mind, his struggles gained remarkable significance if, ultimately, they were for her. After a moment, he looked back at the hawk.
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 17