Kelven's Riddle Book Two

by Daniel Hylton

  “No, Cree, I wish her ever to be happy, and never sad. But this knowledge – that she would feel a loss if I went away – it does gladden my heart.”

  She watched him, her small, black eyes shining. “It is a terrible thing to lose one that is loved. I know this loss; I have felt it.”

  He stared. “You, Cree?”

  “Willet is my second mate, and he is greatly loved. But there was another before who was lost. I witnessed his death. It was the work of men.”

  Aram nodded in sudden, compassionate understanding. It explained her suspicious nature and the sharpness of tone she had always used when speaking to him. “I’m sorry, Cree. Had I been there, I would have done everything in my power to prevent such an evil.”

  “I know this, my lord.”

  “Cree, how may I get word to her?”

  “To the woman?”

  “Yes.”

  Cree was silent for a moment, thinking. “There is a falcon. She lives in the hills to the southeast. Her mate died years ago. Her name is Inico. She is a hard person to know, but I count her a friend. The journey to Derosa would be nothing for her.”

  “Will she go?” Aram asked.

  “For you, she will go.” Cree answered.

  “For me?”

  “The tale of your deeds has gone throughout the land, my lord. All free peoples know you as one who may be trusted. It is a rare thing.”

  “She is right.” Thaniel interjected.

  “I am, of course.”

  Aram looked up at her. “Please, Cree, ask Inico to tell Ka’en that I have returned and will come to her when I can – though I must know about things to the west before I can do so.”

  “At once, my lord.” And though it was evening and the sun had gone behind the mountain, Cree angled up into the sky and went down the valley toward the southeast.

  “I am hungry, my lord.” Thaniel said. “May I take you to the city and then find supper among your fields and orchards?”

  Aram, his mind still filled with the news that Ka’en had come looking for him, answered absentmindedly. “Yes, my friend. Drop me here anywhere.”

  “I would never do such a thing, my lord.” The horse answered mildly, and he continued to the south steps below the wall where he deposited Aram at the entrances to his city.

  Aram walked up through the city, amazed as always by the splendor of the place that was rightfully his, enjoyment of its beauty deepened by revelation of Ka’en’s regard. As he went, there grew in his heart a longing to see the beautiful princess as mistress of this magnificent city, ruling over it at his side in times of peace and plenty. There were dark times ahead before such a dream could be realized, he knew, but this evening there was no room in his mind for any thoughts other than those of Ka’en – of loving her, holding her, and always having her near.

  He slept in his old room under the tower, where he deposited the sacks of gold in a corner under the bed, and woke before dawn. Unable to sleep further, he dressed and went out to the great porch to enjoy the morning. Below the walls, in the orchard, Thaniel grazed, enjoying the solitude of the early morning. The sun had not yet topped the hills to the east.

  “Good morning, my lord.” Thaniel said, without looking up.

  “Good morning, my friend.” Aram replied, and he meant it. This morning, more than any other in the course of his life, was a good morning; there was reason for hope. He believed Cree – Ka’en missed him, which, he dared to hope, meant that she loved him. There was now only to follow Sera’s advice and make Ka’en his.

  He went in and started a fire in the great hall, made kolfa, and stretched out his feet to the blaze, sipping at the strong, dark, steaming liquid, wondering how the day would go. If Alvern reported that all was quiet to the west, he would go to Derosa. His need for Ka’en, his desire to see her now topped his agenda. It was foremost. Unless an emergency arose, all else could wait until he saw her face again and heard her lovely voice.

  When the sun had fully risen above the hills to the east, he went again out to the great porch, intending to inform Thaniel of his desire to go to Derosa. Alvern was there, standing on the pavement like a small, angular man, cleaning his feathers with his powerful beak. He looked up as Aram came out through the archway.

  “I did not know that you were up, my lord.” The eagle said, almost apologetically. “After your many travels, I thought you might want to rest, so I went to the river for breakfast.”

  Aram smiled. “I would offer you a cup of kolfa, my friend, if you drank the stuff, and we could talk the morning away. What news of the west?”

  “There is a danger that approaches the village, my lord.”

  Aram felt his stomach muscles tighten. “What is this danger?”

  “I went west for some distance down the long valley road that the ancients made. There is a company of lashers coming toward the village along the dirt road that follows the hills.”

  “How far away are they?”

  “Perhaps two or three days beyond the village, no more.” The eagle answered. “They are coming quickly and steadily.”

  “Are you certain that they are not going to another of the villages of the valley?” Aram asked. There were several farming villages spread throughout the long valley. Manon liked to keep his subject villages located on the frontier isolated from one another, lest their inhabitants think of forming a society, which action might then be followed by resistance to his rule.

  “There are other villages,” Alvern agreed. “But they have passed several already. I fear that their destination is the end of the road.”

  It rang true. After what Aram had accomplished in that village the previous fall, destroying three lashers and killing the overseers; Manon no doubt intended two things – a discovery of what had happened to his servants, and retribution.

  Aram nodded, as his dream of seeing Ka’en again faded. He would have to go quickly. Even with Thaniel’s ability to cover ground at great speed, the lashers might very well reach the village before he and the horse could come to the aid of Nikolus Mathan and his people. “I must go. Thank you, Lord Alvern. Will you watch over the valley and Derosa in my absence?”

  The eagle bobbed his head. “I am ever at your service, my lord.”

  Aram turned and ran to the southern stairway of the great porch and bounded down the steps. Thaniel was still in the orchard with his head lowered into the dewy grass. He looked up as Aram sprinted into the trees, many of which were just now beginning to bud. Thaniel gazed at Aram expectantly as he chewed a mouthful of new grass.

  “Thaniel, are you ready for another fight?”

  “Always.” The horse answered matter-of-factly.

  “You will need to be armored, and we must go right away.”

  “Then let us go, my lord.”

  Aram spun and hurried back into the city to fetch Thaniel’s armor. After he brought it down onto the avenue, he went up to his room and retrieved the armor he’d been given on the mountain and dressed into it, except for the hood, which he put in his small deerskin knapsack. Then he looked among his bows for the best of those that remained. He found one that would serve, though it did not quite approach the quality of the one he’d lost in the mountains. He filled a quiver with arrows, hastily collected some food, filled his canteen, and returned to the avenue to fit the horse into his armor.

  It took almost an hour to suit up the great horse, lashing the various pieces of the black armor into place, including the headpiece, and adjusting them to the horse’s liking. Then Aram mounted up, took one last look around his valley, in which he had spent but one pleasant night, and he and Thaniel went out to the junction by the pyramids and turned north.

  He intended to go northward to the intersection of the great northsouth road and the road that led west over the spine of the ridges north of his mountain and into the long valley. Where that western road topped the line of sand hills that trended to the southwest, he would see if the condition of those hills would allow for t
heir use as a shortcut, bringing him to the village more quickly, hopefully a day – or a few hours – before the advent of the enemy.

  As the road rose into the jumbled foothills at the northern edge of his valley, however, they found that there were still patches of drifted snow in the deeper hollows on the northern sides of ridges. This worried him. If the sand hills were too soft to sustain Thaniel’s weight, they would have to go all the way westward into the long valley and take the ancient valley road, adding time and distance to their journey.

  Thaniel moved along in a ground-consuming canter and they came to the juncture with the western road just after the sun crossed the mid point of the sky. This western road wound through the foothills up to the summit of the ridge that was the diminished northern reach of the spine of the great black mountain. As they climbed, timber crept slowly out of the hollowed ravines and over the top of the ridge and thickened. By afternoon, they traveled through the shadowed hall of a great forest, pines mostly, with some dark firs mixed in among them.

  They crested the summit of the ridge by late afternoon and as they wound down through the foothills on the other side toward the long valley, the timber thinned quickly until the pines failed and there were only scattered clumps of juniper. At evening, as the sun fell toward the edge of the world, they came to the point where the line of rounded sand hills angled off and fell slowly toward the southwest. They had not seen snow in some time, so Thaniel stepped off the road onto the crest of the long ridge top and found the footing to be firm and trustworthy.

  They made another few miles before darkness forced them to stop for the night above a small spring that erupted in a thicket on the southeastern side of the crest. To save time, Thaniel agreed to wear his armor throughout the night. Aram made a minimal camp, while Thaniel went down to the spring and then grazed on the new grass sprouting in patches in the hollows. There was no wood for a fire so Aram ate a cold supper and stretched out. He wanted to be on the move as soon as it was light enough on the morrow.

  He was awake before the eastern sky grew bright enough to make out Thaniel’s huge dark bulk in the predawn gloom. He paced impatiently until it was light enough that he could make out the general shape of the landscape, then he broke camp, gathered his weapons, mounted on Thaniel’s back, and they moved carefully down the ridge top. Within a half-hour, they could see well enough to move more quickly. Though the horse’s hooves sank into the sandy soil; when asked, Thaniel replied that it caused him little trouble.

  All that morning, they went down the crest of the sand hills toward the southwest. By midday they could see into a narrow, twisting canyon to their left, on the south between the sand hills and the long dike that rose into the eastern foothills of his mountain, where flowed the beginnings of the small river that ran by the village of Nikolus Mathan and his people. They were no more than a few hours away from the village. Aram began to hope that they might arrive before the company of lashers.

  But then, as the sun sank into the west and the great long valley opened up to the north as the sand hills dwindled, Aram looked ahead of them to the southwest and saw black smoke billowing into the sky.

  Twelve

  “Do you see that?” He asked Thaniel.

  “Yes.” The great horse grunted, and without urging from Aram broke into a gallop.

  Ahead of them the black smoke thickened, rising high into the air, even as Thaniel ate up the ground and they grew near. Aram felt a tightening in his stomach. By all appearances, they were too late – the people of the village had been slaughtered and the village was burning. As sick as such thoughts made him, Aram vowed that they would not be too late to do something else – exact vengeance.

  The sun fell down the sky, slipping dangerously close to the horizon while Thaniel drove down the slope of the hills. Aram alternately watched the sun slide toward the end of the day and the billowing smoke ascend high into the heavens. At last they turned due south and charged down the undulating hills toward the river crossing above the village. The sun was still in the sky, though barely so; the horizon seemed to leap upward toward it with urgent hunger.

  Aram and the great horse topped a rise and looked down upon the village in the rounded valley across the river. Thaniel slid to a stop.

  The gates of the village and several feet of the main wall to either side of the gates were on fire, but the village itself had not yet been breached. There were four dead bodies outside the gate, one by the river and three more nearer the blazing walls. With a quick glance, Aram determined that none of them was Nikolus.

  There were eight lashers and four men standing in an uneven line in the open valley to the south of the bridge, watching the fire consume the wood. They seemed content to let the blaze do its work and then enter the village. Inside the walls, at the eastern edge of the village, as far away from the burning gates as possible, women, children and a few of the older men huddled together.

  In the angled main street of the village, Nikolus Mathan and about fifty men had formed a ragged line. Only about half were armed with the weapons Aram had left them the previous fall. The rest held long, sharpened poles. Nikolus carried the bow that Aram had given him.

  Perhaps because they were entirely intent on the blazing gates of the village, the lashers and their human companions had not yet seen Aram and Thaniel. Aram pulled the hood from his knapsack and slipped it over his head. Then he reached back and drew the sword of heaven with his gauntleted right hand. He held it out to the side, straining against the pull of the waning sun. Orange rays of flat sunlight flashed off it. The lashers looked up.

  “Come, Thaniel, my friend,” Aram said. “Let’s see what this weapon will do against these beasts.”

  Thaniel lunged forward, down off the sandy slope and splashed through the shallows above the long pool that ran beside the village. As he thundered past the walls and rounded the corner by the burning gates onto the flat open ground, Aram saw that the lashers had formed up to receive his charge, each great beast holding a long wicked-looking pike topped with a scything flat point of sharp steel.

  The men with them had dropped behind their larger companions and the lashers had formed into a tight group. They had heard of the techniques this same foe had used on their kind almost two years before on the plains of Derosa. As the horse and rider bore down upon them, they planted their clawed feet wide and raised their dangerous pikes in a bristling wedge. Aram had little doubt that those talons would pierce Thaniel’s armor as well as his own.

  He addressed the horse with his mind. “Go straight at them, Thaniel, as if we’re going to charge into them – I want them bunched together. I’ll hold tight. At the last moment, lunge to the left – and we’ll let the blade do its work.”

  When no more than a dozen yards separated the tightly clustered band of lashers from the charging horse, the beasts charged as well, quickly closing the gap into a small deadly space of rapidly diminishing ground. Manon had known that his minions would face their mounted adversary again and he had trained them for that eventuality. If the rider and his horse charged straight into their tightly packed, bristling company, they would take him down and destroy him.

  “Left, now!” Aram yelled at Thaniel, and as the great horse turned he grabbed the pommel of the saddle with his left hand and leaned toward the thrusting spears of his enemy. The sword pulled hard against his right hand as it tried to go westward to the sun.

  Thaniel pivoted sharply and ran left, but the lashers had developed momentum and the deadly spear points rushed at them. Straining against the sword and its own powerful urges with his right hand, Aram swung the blade in a wide, deliberate arc through the raised pikes of his enemies just as the steel threatened to deal injury to him and Thaniel.

  The sword sliced through the stout wooden shafts of the pikes as if they were no more than illusions born of a trick of the light. Aram did not even feel the sensation of impact. The blade began to sing, an unearthly humming that rose steadily in pitch and in volume.
Flashes of reddish-golden light jumped from it and sizzled along the trajectory of its arc.

  Several of the lashers screamed and two or three of them went down, whether from actual injury or because of fright, Aram couldn’t tell. Then they had cleared the clump of lashers and Thaniel wheeled, again without urging from Aram. The great black horse’s blood was up and he was a natural warrior; he meant to continue the fight whether or not he was asked to do so.

  Aram raised the sword, still straining against its longing for the setting sun, and straightened in the saddle as Thaniel turned to face their enemies. The lashers had opened ranks and were gazing alternately at the horse and rider and at their demolished weaponry. One was still on the ground, emitting a screaming roar of pain as it rubbed at its eyes. Several held their great clawed hands over the massive horns at the sides of their heads, evidently protecting unseen ears.

  Behind them, like rodents exposed to the imminent threat of a diving hawk, the four men who’d been with them were running for their lives down the canyon road. Aram refocused his attention on the clot of lashers. Of the eight, four had recovered somewhat from the shock of Aram’s easy passage through their line of weapons and had produced crossbows.

  Thaniel charged. Arrows leapt from the crossbows and sped toward them. Without waiting for help from the Guardians, Aram stood in the saddle, and holding the sword to his front, well above Thaniel’s head, leaned forward toward the approaching missiles.

  The sword was humming loudly now, almost like the storms that tore through the cauldron of fire in the place of its birth. Aram could hear it even inside the protection of the hood. Thaniel, strangely enough, seemed unaffected by the unearthly sound. Fire twirled around the blade, growing brighter and more violent by the moment, as if the sword gained strength from extended exposure to the sunlight.

  Aram glanced westward. The great red orb of the sun had slipped halfway down behind the jumbled foothills. It would be gone in minutes. He looked back to his front. As the arrows of his enemies flew into the influence of the blade, they were drawn in toward it, where they burst into flames and became ash.