Kelven's Riddle Book Two

by Daniel Hylton

  Findaen bowed, his normally pleasant face knotted with anxiety. “My Lord Aram, I apologize for the intrusion into your valley. But we felt that our offenses of last fall had to be amended. The falcon sent word to Ka’en that you wished to see her and of course we could not let her travel alone through the wilderness.”

  “Your offenses?” Aram gazed at Findaen in wonder. “Your offenses? But it was I that slew a citizen of your city before your eyes.”

  Findaen nodded in assent, his face still solemn. “Yes, my lord, and though you rightfully despised our ancient law – it is barbaric and foolish, as you said – in fact, you killed your rival by virtue of that same law that he used in challenging you. My father the Prince has made this point clear to everyone.” He looked at Aram hesitantly, his eyes wide and troubled. “My lord – are we still your friends?”

  Aram felt a great weight slide from him as he stared back at the copperhaired, handsome young man from the town beyond the hills – the man whose sister Aram loved. In answer, he strode to Findaen and embraced him. Then he stepped back so that he could look into his eyes. “My friend, you are like a brother to me. I am very happy to see you again. If any offenses need to be forgiven, they are mine.”

  Findaen shook his head in protest, but his features relaxed and he smiled for the first time. “My lord, we are at your service, as always. We will follow where you lead and you may negate any of our laws that you wish. Do not cast us aside because our ways are sometimes foolish. When you go to war, we must ever go with you. Is this not wisdom?”

  “Cast you aside?” Aram frowned at Findaen. “Never. It is not in my power to do so. Nor is it my wish. I was the one that was very foolish, Findaen, and I am sorry. But if you will, let it be in the past. We must all of us look to the future.” He nodded toward Mallet, Jonwood, and Wamlak, and then glanced up the stairway toward the top of the wall. He could not see Ka’en. Turning back, he motioned to Findaen to join him near Thaniel.

  “Thaniel needs to be relieved of his burden of armor – he has worn it for many days now.” He looked at Thaniel. “My friend, could –?”

  “Go, Lord Aram,” the horse cut him off, “do not make her wait a moment longer. I will guide Findaen in the removal of my armor.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” Aram glanced at Findaen, who stared at Thaniel in astonishment as the voice of the great horse sounded in his mind. Then the young man gathered himself, looked at Aram, and inclined his head toward the steps leading up. Aram quickly and solemnly shook hands with the other three men of Derosa and turned and bounded up the stairway to the top of the great porch in front of his city.

  Ka’en had crossed the bridge from the wall to the porch and stood awaiting him, a hundred feet away. She was wearing a long, startlingly white dress that fit close to her body, and delicate shoes. For just a second Aram found himself wondering, oddly enough, if she had traveled all the way from Derosa in such clothing. Cree sat on her shoulder, but when Aram appeared, the hawk sprang up and flew toward the south, turning her head to gaze at him with her shining black eyes as she passed. Aram glanced at the bird, who said nothing, and then he looked back at Ka’en. He stepped toward her.

  “My lady.”

  She gazed at him with her large brown eyes, unmoving, her lovely face frozen like that of an alabaster statue, her expression unreadable. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She seemed not to breathe.

  He took another step. “Ka’en?”

  She moved her head slightly and made a small noise in her throat like the cry of a tiny bird. Then she ran toward him, her feet flying across the stone pavement. Quickly, he went to her and caught her, pulling her to his chest, holding her so tightly that after a moment, she gasped for air. He loosened his grip and looked down at her. Her lips were parted, and her eyes streamed tears as she gazed up at him, but in their rich, topaz-colored depths there was immense relief and joy and – love.

  They were filled with love for him. As he looked down upon her profoundly beautiful face and saw the true nature of her feelings reflected in her eyes, his heart swelled until it seemed that it would burst from his chest.

  “I was afraid –” she said, but she could not continue.

  “I know.” His doubts and inhibitions gone, he pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. She smelled of wildflowers in a high meadow on a rain-drenched day. The wonderful nearness of her made him suddenly dizzy and he swayed and stumbled, almost tripping her. Quickly, he grasped her slim shoulders, holding her upright as he found his footing, but she stepped backward and gazed up at him, frowning. She saw his blood-matted hair and her eyes went wide.

  “Aram – you are hurt!”

  “Not seriously.” He smiled reassuringly, though he still felt unsteady on his feet. “It’s nothing.”

  She put her long, tapered fingers on his face and made him turn his head. Gently, she lifted the matted hair. He felt her stiffen.

  “Oh, Aram.”

  “It’s nothing, Ka’en.”

  She looked at him, and there was distress in her eyes. “How did this happen?”

  “There were lashers on the road, west of Nikolus’ village. One of them got in a lucky stroke.”

  Her voice was suddenly firm. “Where is your bed, Aram?”

  He frowned down at her. “In the room under the tower. Why?”

  “Because you are going there now, so that I may cleanse this wound of infection, and then you will rest until you are well.”

  “I have things to do, Ka’en.”

  “No.” She answered. She pulled him toward the city. “Where is this room under the tower?”

  He hesitated. “It’s not fit for a lady.”

  She turned and looked up at him. “If it is fit for you, then it is fit for the woman that loves you.”

  These words stopped him, spoken as they were with such natural ease and the ring of unimpeachable truth.

  “Do you love me, Ka’en?” He wanted to hear her repeat the words; to make the long-held dream an iron reality.

  She stepped close to him and slid her arms up and over his shoulders, clasping her fingers at the base of his neck. She looked into his eyes and her own were wide and solemn. “I love you with all my heart, Aram.”

  “How – when did you – know?”

  She blinked away the tears that started at the corners of her eyes. “I think that I loved you from the beginning – when first I saw you. But then – when you left Derosa after – when you went away and did not return; that’s when I knew for sure. I found that I could not live unless I could be near you.”

  His whole world seemed to rotate over then and slide into its proper orbit. He closed his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. “I love you, Ka’en.”

  She kissed him then, and though he had no experience in the matter, he let his instincts guide him. As their lips met, he clasped her to him in a sudden and urgent surge of joy and wonder.

  Finally, he released her, and she stepped back. She took his hand and turned toward the city. “Come, my love, let me care for you.”

  He led her up through the city to his room under the tower where he removed his weaponry and stacked it in the corner. The sword of heaven he slipped beneath the bed in its sheath. She made him lie on his left side on the bed while she knelt beside him and examined his wound. As her fingers touched and probed the damaged flesh near the wound; rather than pain, he felt a strange and wonderful tingling descend over him and infuse his whole body, softening the accumulation of so many difficult and painful miles and hours. Then, finally, he surrendered to exhaustion, and slept.

  Fifteen

  He stood alone in a valley filled with death; the smell of its presence overwhelmed him, the metallic pungency of blood, and the odors of other, fouler execrations. The air was thick with acrid smoke and black cinders, like burnt feathers. Above him, so near that they seemed touchable; the skies were heavy, dismal and dark. Everywhere about him lay the tangled, mangled bodies of men and horses,
lashers, gray men, and wolves; the produce of a great struggle. The blood of the dead thousands had turned the soil of the valley floor into countless acres of dark red mud.

  Before him rose a massive tower, black and smooth, soaring upward to a terrifying height where, far above, it ended in a sharp point like the fang of a serpent. Impelled by irresistible compulsion, he walked toward the tower. He did not remember drawing it, but the sword of heaven was in his hand. Its blade glowed dully; the smoke-wreathed skies blocked the sun’s power, and kept its rays from touching the metal.

  As he approached the tower, a door opened in its side a hundred feet above the dark plain with its piled bodies. There was no balcony or stairway below or to the side of the opened door, only black smoothness all around. The door swung inward and disappeared into the darkness inside the tower. Aram stopped, gazing up at the opening, an empty black rectangle in an even blacker structure.

  Then the darkness in the opening changed; a pale green light, the color of scum in stagnant water, began to emanate from an unseen source further inside. Like luminous smoke, it sent sinuous, coiling tendrils out through the doorway, reaching out, feeling the air with blind fingers, dissipating in the gloom.

  Manon stepped into the opening.

  He appeared as he had that day on the plain, clad in long flowing robes, tall and thin. The skin of his face and head was smooth and absolutely hairless. The evil green light came from him; his body was infused with it. The god smiled, meeting Aram’s gaze. After a moment his black eyes dropped to the sword.

  “Ah,” he said, and his voice had an oily quality; the words seemed to slide off his tongue and drip from his mouth. “I see you have brought me that which I most desire.”

  He stretched out his right arm and a thin, almost skeletal hand appeared beyond the end of the sleeve. The sword began to rise toward him. Aram tightened his grip, but the sword pulled against his gauntlet, as if it wanted to go into the hand of the god.

  Manon looked again into Aram’s eyes and again he smiled. “Give it to me, Aram, without resistance, and I will not only let you live, but I will honor you like a son, in ways beyond your imagining.”

  Aram did not answer as the struggle with the sword intensified. Manon stretched forth his other hand, palm outward, and pressure began to build against Aram, like an unseen wave of a slow but deliberate ocean, pushing him away even as the sword pulled toward the god’s other hand.

  He grasped the sword with both hands, gasping with exertion.

  The sword pulled away from him with implacable force.

  It was too much.

  The sword leapt from his grasp and sailed upward, a gleaming arrow flying toward the blackness of the tower.

  Manon’s attention shifted away from Aram to the shining blade ascending toward him. The pressure on Aram lessened, and then failed completely; he was free. He ran toward the tower and tried to leap up and catch the sword, but it had risen beyond his reach. Blindly, he stumbled onward to the side of the tower and beat against it with his fists, cursing the evil being in the tower above.

  “Aram!”

  He froze in horror as a beautiful, beloved voice called to him across the darkened plain. Ka’en was here – in this hellish place?

  “Aram – wake up!”

  He spun and there she was; standing just a few feet away. Bright light surrounded her; the dark plain with its many dead and its black tower was gone. He stood in his room, beside his bed, facing her. He was dressed only in the shirt and trousers from the mountain. His armor had been removed, as well as his boots and the gauntlets from his hands.

  Carefully, she approached and touched his arms with her cool fingers. His arms hurt terribly. He looked down at them. The muscles were knotted as if he still struggled with the sword. He stared at Ka’en, and tried to adjust to the reality of her presence and his room; but he was still partially lost in the dream and the feeling of desperation remained.

  “Ka’en. Where is the sword that I brought back from the mountain?”

  “Beneath the bed, just as you left it.”

  He flung himself down, knelt by the bed and looked under it, confirming the truth of her words. The sword lay quietly in its sheath; just beyond it lay the two sacks of gold coins. Closing his eyes tightly, he drew a calming breath, and the remnants of the dream faded. He rose and sat on the bed and breathed slowly and deeply as he massaged his aching arms. Ka’en sat beside him and gently brushed her fingers through his hair away from the wound, which had been bandaged.

  “You were dreaming, my love. A bad dream; that’s all it was. No one else has been in this room or touched anything. Certainly not the sword – Thaniel told me what it is; I would have defended it with my life.”

  He looked at her with the terror of the dream still in him, and answered that last statement with a fervor that surprised her. “Ka’en – you must never defend anything with your life. Nothing. You are too precious. I forbid it.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “You forbid it?”

  “Yes.” He spoke carefully, earnestly. “Forgive me, Ka’en, but I mean it.” He looked down at the floor as he struggled for the proper words. “I never found the courage to tell you this until now – but I loved you from the first moment that I saw you – the night of the feast in your father’s house. But it’s more than that. You give meaning to me, Ka’en. Everything I have done – everything I do, and everything I will do – is done so that I can have a chance to live in peace with you.” He met her eyes. “You must never risk your life for anything. If I ever lost you, then I would be truly lost as well. My life would mean nothing.”

  “But I feel the same.” She protested fiercely. “I would face anything to protect you.”

  He shook his head, trying to order his jumbled thoughts despite the wild desperation that still lingered; the words tumbled out. “Ka’en, you must hear this. You cannot protect me. Where I was just now – where I must go, you cannot go. War has come, and I mean to push the frontiers of that war back from our doorsteps. I mean to take it to Manon. I must know always that you are safe, out of danger, for my mind to be clear. Otherwise, I and all those with me are put at risk. Do you understand?”

  “So I cannot risk my life even to save you?”

  “Not even for me.”

  She kissed him. “You may forbid anything you like, Aram, except for that. I will answer you with your own words. My life would have no meaning without you in it. You are my life.”

  He gazed at her, drawing slow, deep, calming breaths, and slowly shook his head in wonder at her words. “How did such a thing happen?”

  She frowned. “What thing?”

  “This.” He moved his hand, indicating the two of them. “You and me. I have wanted you to be with me more than I have ever wanted anything – and now here you are. And you say you love me.”

  “I do love you.”

  “Then the Maker has been kinder to me than I deserve.”

  She laid her head against his shoulder. “And to me.” She said.

  He turned and put his lips to her hair and decided to hazard the question that, above all others, he needed her to answer. “Ka’en?”

  “Yes, my love?”

  “Can we be like Florm and Ashal – I mean – will you – be my mate?”

  She laughed. “Do you really have to ask?”

  “Yes,” he answered, “I do.”

  “Well, then; I will.” She smiled up at him. “It’s called marriage, you know.”

  “What is?” He looked at her quizzically for a moment, and then he comprehended and laughed. “You must think me a barbarian.”

  “I know what you are.” She answered softly.

  She slipped her arms around him and he held her close for a long time, enjoying the nearness of her and the quiet. His head still ached, but the pain was duller, less than it had been, and his vision was clear. He closed his eyes and leaned his cheek into the fine, soft hair on top of her head. As far as he was concerned, time could have stopp
ed at that moment, and never started again. After a while, though, he opened his eyes and looked out the window. In the broad green valley, it was a bright morning.

  “How long was I asleep?” He asked.

  “Two days and three nights, my love.”

  He leaned back and gazed at her in astonishment and chagrin. “Three days have passed since I came home?”

  “Yes. You were very ill. You worried me terribly.” She brushed her fingers across his forehead. “But your fever broke last night. I should inform Thaniel. He has done nothing but pace back and forth across the pavement out front.”

  He stood suddenly, looking around for his boots. “Three days! Ka’en, I cannot spare three days. What news from the northwest, if any?”

  She produced his boots for him, and stood watching him as he pulled them on and began collecting his weaponry. She had known that the peace of the morning could not last; nonetheless, she regretted the loss of it. She sighed. “I knew you would ask. Alvern flew that way two days ago and reported back this morning. He said that a company of lashers came to the village that was burned and went up on the hillsides above it.”

  He looked over at her. “And they found the tracks, didn’t they? Are they coming here?”

  She shook her head. “Alvern said that they went back down the valley road to the west. Oh – and there are two wolves. They came yesterday.”

  “Did you speak with them?”

  She nodded. “With the one, yes. His name is Leorg. He is a beautiful animal.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Only that you need not worry about surprises from the north and northwest. His people are watching the roads and the woods.”

  He stopped and looked at her. “He did that – without instructions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He nodded, satisfied. “I knew that I could trust Leorg. The other wolf – who is he?”

  She shivered involuntarily. “His name is Gorfang. He is a bit – spooky.”