“The weapons are already in crates, Timmon.”
The man laughed and spread his hands wide. “Well, then it is a simple thing. We need only to fasten them to the horses. I will need poles and rope.”
“Poles I have in abundance.” Aram answered. “They grow everywhere along the edges of the valley. I have no rope.”
“There is plenty of rope in Derosa.” Findaen said. “Perhaps Timmon and I could go to Derosa and fetch it –” He paused, glancing at the horses standing at the other end of the table. “We would need help in carrying that much rope back with us, however.”
Aram looked up at Huram. “Perhaps my friend Huram will aid these men in finding those horses with which they are compatible and assign others to go with them and return with the rope?”
“As you wish, my lord.” The horse answered.
“There, Timmon, you will have your rope in a few days. You will go with Findaen to fetch it yourself.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The man answered. “Then all we will need are enough poles to attach the crates to the horses.”
Jonwood stood then and Aram looked at him in surprise for the man usually was silent and did not like attention. “My lord, if Timmon will tell Wamlak, Mallet, and I what it is that he requires of these poles – and if you will show us where they grow, we will see that they are cut, stacked, and waiting when they return with the rope.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Aram nodded in approval. “You have a head for logistics. Timmon will instruct you before he leaves. As for the poles, there are several stands of stout saplings growing along the banks of the river beyond the end of the avenue. I will show you and help you cut them.”
The quiet man hesitated, and his eyes flicked for just a moment in Ka’en’s direction. “If it pleases you, my lord, let us handle this. Your time is too valuable, and we will have nothing better to do.” He sat.
“You are very kind, and I thank you.” Aram nodded at him and then held up a hand, gaining everyone’s attention. “Here is what I want to do. I want to train the men and horses on the plains before the walls of Derosa. There is plenty of grass for the horses there. I want men to be found that can be trained in the making of spears, bows and arrows. Then we must discover which of the men are compatible with horses and will ride and which will use the pike or the bow.”
Findaen leaned forward. “We have already separated the men of Derosa into bowmen and pikemen, my lord.”
“When?”
“Over the winter, when there was little else to do. We continued with the training just as you taught us.” He indicated the slim, dark-haired man sitting on his side of the table, at the end. “Wamlak’s father, Donnick, has been appointed drillmaster.”
Aram smiled in glad amazement. “Well done, yes, well done. Then it only remains to match men with horses and continue with the training. There are some tactics that I would teach to all of you, however, that I have only recently learned. First to those of us here, then to all the men we now have; eventually – hopefully – to a great many more.”
He turned to Leorg. “To you, my friend, I give the care of the frontier – not only when we are gone, but always. We are vulnerable to attack from the north and northwest. How many people do you have in the valley?”
“Seventy-three adults, master.” The gray wolf answered. “But, master, we will train and fight alongside you as well.”
Aram nodded. “Yes, you will, my friend. But for now I need your people to be ever vigilant in watching all the passes to the north and northwest so that we are not taken by surprise. When we go to war – and we will – then you and your people will go, too.” He looked into the wolf’s clear eyes. “Tell me, my friend, do you commune with hawks?”
Leorg looked over at Willet. “Often, my lord, they will not talk with us.”
Aram addressed the bird. “If trouble comes, Willet, I must have immediate access to the knowledge that we are endangered from the frontiers, wherever I may be at the time. The wolves will likely gain that knowledge first but your people will be quicker at getting it to me. Willing cooperation between all our peoples is an absolute necessity.”
Willet glanced at Alvern and then bobbed his head once. He spoke stolidly. “All the hawks in this valley will commune with Leorg and his people from this day forth, my lord. All hawks answer to Lord Alvern. If you are absent when trouble comes, he will know, and then you will know quickly.”
“Communication is paramount.” Aram repeated, and looked thoughtfully at the eagle. “How many of your people are there in these skies, Lord Alvern?”
“In this part of the world, my lord, there is only me.”
Aram gazed back at him, stunned. “Has it always been so?”
“No, my lord. Once, long ago, there were many eagles in the world – several in these skies. There are very few anywhere, now.”
“May I ask why this is so?”
Alvern blinked his eyes once and gazed at Aram a long moment before answering. “They were killed, my lord, long ago.”
Aram felt his chest tighten. “How – why?”
“Eagles,” the great bird answered quietly, “of all peoples in the world, were closest to Lord Kelven, riding his winds, doing his bidding. Manon knew this, and that we could see whatever he did anywhere in the earth from our posts in the sky. He knew that when war came, our kind would ally with Kelven, giving Kelven an advantage. There was no question on this matter. So, long ago, before anyone suspected his dark purposes, Manon called for a gathering of eagles, supposedly with the blessing of Lord Kelven.
“While they were there, circling in the air about his tower, he employed dark powers and caused a thin wind to come out of the north, spilling the lift from their wings, causing them to plummet to the ground, where his men slew them. I and a very few others survived. There are more eagles in the world now, but it is likely that there will never again be as many as the Maker ordained.”
Aram stared at the great bird. “Lord Alvern – you survived this gathering?”
“Yes.”
“Before the great war?”
“Yes.”
Aram felt the chill of sudden shock. “My friend – how old are you?”
At the far end of the table, Thaniel spoke of his own volition for the first time that morning. “He is by far the oldest person in this room, my lord, perhaps in the whole of the world.”
Everyone gazed at the eagle, wide-eyed. “Pardon me, my friend,” Aram persisted, “but how old?”
The eagle returned his gaze. “I was born in the time of Arphaxad the Great, son of Ram. It is the portrait of Arphaxad that appears on your money. Silwing the First was my father.”
Aram shook his head slowly, astonished. “I had no idea, my friend. Everyone here owes you the greatest of deference. You must be the oldest living thing on the earth.”
Alvern laughed quietly. “Nay, my lord. There is one other as old as I am, very near by, and there are the gods, of course, who are ancient indeed, and there are trees in Seneca that have been alive since the beginning.”
“Tell me, my lord,” Aram said quietly, “how did you survive the gathering of Manon?”
“I did not attend.”
“You suspected his evil intent?”
“I did.”
“How many others of your people survived?”
“Few. My own spouse was among those who perished. Though I begged her to stay, she went. Hers was the most trusting of souls. Of those living now, there are some who dwell in the reaches of Farlong, and a few by the southern ocean. Not many.”
“Are there no young born into the world?”
“Some, but we are not a prolific people.”
Aram looked down at his hands, folded upon the table. He shook his head slowly. “My friend, how will I ever ask you to do anything for me? Beside you, I am like a witless child.”
The eagle’s eyes hardened and he spoke sharply. “Do not do this, Lord Aram.”
Aram looked up in surpr
ise. “Do what?”
“Cede your authority.” The eagle fixed him with his golden eyes. “Men have always been lords in the earth. The other noble peoples have always allied with them. It is the same now. Our respective ages mean nothing. You will command me and I will obey.”
Aram stared at him. “It will be difficult to command anything of you, Lord Alvern, knowing what I now know.”
The eagle turned to face him fully. “Lord Aram, may I speak frankly?”
“Of course.”
“Whatever else age imparts or does not impart, it imparts this one thing for certain – experience. Experience begets knowledge, and knowledge begets understanding. It is true – I have known the great kings of men – the kings of the earth – all but one. Of them all, Joktan was the greatest. But you, my lord, are better than he, and he knows it. When this is done and peace established, you will be king, and all the earth will know that you are the greatest of them all. History will record the truth of my words.” The great bird swept his fierce gaze around the room, meeting every eye, and then brought it back to rest upon Aram.
“I have finished speaking, my lord. You will command, and I will obey.”
Aram gazed at him for a long time in silence. No one else spoke. Finally, Aram stirred. “I am honored to know you, my friend.”
The bird inclined his head. “You will command, my lord, and I will obey.”
Aram met his gaze for a moment longer and then looked around at those assembled. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Is there any other business?”
The men continued to stare at Alvern in awe. None spoke. The silence stretched out. Finally, Findaen turned to look toward the fire pit. “The kolfa’s gone cold.” He said.
That broke the moment; Aram chuckled. “Perhaps you should make another pot.”
As Findaen got up and moved toward the front of the hall, Nikolus raised his hand. Aram looked at him. “Yes, Nikolus?”
“My lord, as I told you once, I don’t want to be a farmer, and there are other young men of my people that feel the same way. We have no wives or families. We wish to fight.”
Aram laughed quietly. “I remember, Nikolus. When Findaen returns with the rope, and we go to Derosa, all that wish to go with us, may.”
He looked around. “Anything else? No? Alright, we all know what to do. Huram, when you are finished, will you return to the city? I would like to find an old friend this afternoon.”
The great gray horse inclined his head. “I will return.”
Aram grasped Ka’en’s hand under the table and turned to Leorg. The wolf returned his gaze expectantly, and anticipated Aram’s next question. “My lord, do you know the cave beneath the overhanging rock beyond the bluff in the second stream to the north?”
Aram nodded. “I know it.”
“Borlus is there.”
Aram smiled. “Thank you, Leorg; you are clever as always. That was my first question. But there is another.”
“Anything, master.”
“I wish to speak with Durlrang as soon as possible. Can you get word to him?”
“Yes, my lord. It will take but a few days. May I go now to send word of your wishes?”
“Please, if you will. Thank you, my friend.”
The wolf bowed his head over and touched his forehead to the ground, and then looked up at Ka’en. “Goodbye, my lady.”
“Goodbye, Leorg.” Her voice wavered as she spoke. Aram glanced at her but she kept her gaze averted, watching Leorg leave the hall. She had been quiet since the demonstration with the sword and his attendant speech.
Gorfang rose as well, bowed his head over to Aram, and then gazed up at Ka’en for a long moment with a curious expression in his dark eyes; then he also turned and followed Leorg from the hall.
After making kolfa, Findaen left with Timmon and Huram. Thaniel and Jared went out of the city to graze and the two birds were only too happy to get out from under the roof of the great hall, Alvern going east toward the river and Willet back southward along the mountain to the grove of trees where Cree was on the nest. Nikolus took his leave as well, intending to walk back down the valley to the new town. Aram visited with Mallet, Wamlak, and Jonwood for a while, and then he and Ka’en left the men of Derosa to settle into their temporary lodgings in the great hall.
Aram led Ka’en out into the main street of the city. The carven walls and spires of the beautiful multi-hued city rose around them. Walking up the street with Ka’en on his arm and with the sun rising toward midday illuminating the astonishing workmanship of his ancient ancestors, Aram felt that he was able to appreciate the city’s beauty truly for the first time – because Ka’en was there. He smiled down at her.
“This is your city now, my love. Which house will you choose?”
She gazed around and up the mountainside at the mansions that rose in splendor toward the heights and then brought her eyes back to his face. The expression in their depths surprised him; it was one of grave seriousness and solemnity. He realized suddenly that she was trembling, though it was a warm morning. He pulled his arm free and put it around her slim shoulders.
“Are you chilled, Ka’en?”
She shook her head slightly. Her eyes never left his. “You must tell me the truth, Aram.”
Surprised by her words, he turned to face her fully. “The truth? About – what, Ka’en?”
“Are you going to die?”
He took a step backward and frowned. “Why do you ask this?”
She bit at her lip and seemed to want to look away, but could not. Moisture seeped into the corners of her eyes. “I must know, Aram; you must tell me the truth. Will you die when you face Manon? Is that to be your fate – to die, making it mine to be alone?” She stepped close and reached out and put one hand over his heart. “Speak the truth – do not lie to spare my feelings.”
He stared at her and anger began to rise unbidden in him. He shook his head, trying to ward off the emotion. “I don’t lie, Ka’en – about anything. Do you really think I would toy with your feelings?”
She pushed harder at his chest. “And did you think that I do not speak with my father? He told me, Aram, of those things about the history of the world that you told him. I know that your ancestor, Joktan, died in single combat with Manon. And now you tell me that such a confrontation is also your goal.” Her eyes streamed tears but there was fierceness in their depths. “Will you go to your death to try to avenge his? Is that what all this is about?”
He pulled away from her hand and stepped backward a second time, his anger deepening. Why would she ask such questions of him? It now appeared that everyone in the universe, including the woman he loved, had doubts about his character and his motives. He could shrug it off when it came from others, even gods, but not from her.
And how was he to know of the moment of his own death, anyway? Such knowledge – if it could be known – lay with the Maker of all things, not with him. He pivoted and walked several paces along the street and stood for a few moments with his back to her.
He was at a complete loss as to how to handle the situation in which he now found himself. He and Ka’en had just declared their love for each other; the last thing he wanted was for there to be doubt, or the harshness of anger, or a lack of trust between them. And yet he felt angry, doubtful, and harsh – and betrayed by her apparent lack of trust in him. The more he thought about it, remembering his own words from earlier that morning, he understood her fear, and why it existed. Still, he resented the implications of her question and he wondered if she could understand that.
Of all the people he’d ever met, only she could confuse and distract him like this; make him feel vulnerable, susceptible. With everyone else he was in control of himself, and usually of the situation, as well. Not with her. He knew why it was – he loved her desperately, and he needed her to think well of him. He wondered if she could understand why her question, as important as its answer was to her, could anger and hurt him just by being asked
in such a way – framed to suggest that he might be anything other than truthful with her.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, waiting for his anger to dissipate. Then he turned to face her. She had not moved.
“Ka’en – what if the answer was yes?”
She started crying and clasped her hands to her breast. “It is?”
“No. How could I possibly know when I am to die?” He shook his head angrily. “But what if it was? What would you do, then – run from me? Go away and not see me again?”
“Never.” She shook her head slowly, gazing at him with glistening eyes. Her voice quavered. “But I am out of my depth here, Aram. I am not one of the great and noble people of the earth. I’m just a woman who loves you.”
He frowned at her. “And I am just a man – and I love you.”
She shook her head again, firmly, with conviction. “Not true. You are something more – much more.”
He spread his hands wide in exasperation. “But you know my story, Ka’en. I was born into slavery – and had to work my way up to being just a man. I told you every detail of my life – and I didn’t lie about that either!”
“Aram, please don’t be angry with me.” She wiped her eyes and took a step toward him. “I love you dearly. I want to be your wife. But I feel lost – I feel that I am caught in the floodwaters of a wide river. I don’t know where I’m going, and I can’t see either bank. I love you,” she repeated, “and I will never leave you. But this is too big for me.”
She lowered her gaze to the intricate stonework of the avenue. “I heard what Alvern said in there – about you being a great king. It’s true and everyone knows it – especially me; I’ve always known it.” She looked up. “And there is that sword that you carry. It is a thing of magic, Aram – of unearthly power. It appears to possess the power of the Maker Himself. Lord Kelven would not entrust something like that to a mere man. And then you talk of facing Manon. I know what happened to Joktan, and I know what happened when Kelven faced Manon – you told me yourself. I’m afraid that you will die and then I will be lost. But even if you succeed and live – how will someone like me stand beside such a man?”
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 26