Aram reached up over his shoulder and closed the fingers of his right hand around the hilt of the sword of heaven and moved backward, intending to hide behind the huge beech. A twig popped beneath his boot. The lasher stopped eating, and turned his head sideways, listening for the sound to repeat. Aram did not move and tried not to breathe. If the lasher turned his great head even a few inches further he would easily see Aram standing behind him.
Aram had few doubts about his ability to slay the enormous beast, but if it became necessary to do so, the deed might not be accomplished before the lasher could raise a general alarm. In Aram’s and his companions’ exhausted condition, fighting their way northward through dozens of lashers and perhaps hundreds of gray men would be a perilous thing indeed, even with the undoubted advantage provided by the sword of heaven.
The lasher sniffed the air, twice, but its nostrils were clogged with the blood of its meal. After a moment, it turned its head the other way and peered into the woods on that side for a long moment. Then it turned back forward and hunched its shoulders again, and Aram heard the crunch of tiny bones.
He slid behind the massive beech. Once hidden from the lasher, he walked backward, slowly, keeping the tree trunk between himself and the beast. Durlrang was right; it would not be wise to start a fight, even one that he could end quickly, this deep in enemy territory. They could not risk discovery – for many reasons. Even if he, Thaniel, and Durlrang survived the battle to get clear, Manon’s servants around Stell would be warned. Aram greatly preferred to come back at a later date and surprise them utterly.
He found his way back to Thaniel, woke the horse and warned him quietly that they were not alone in the wood. Aram squatted in a patch of brush and watched the woods in the direction of the lasher. After a few minutes, Durlrang materialized quietly out of the shadows.
“He has gone back into the field, master.”
Aram nodded his gratitude. “That was close. Thank you, Durlrang.”
They moved cautiously the other way, toward the eastern side of the grove, which proved to be quite large indeed, and waited out the day beneath the trees next to the open prairie on that side. Aram studied the ground to the east and north as he waited.
To the east, the plain rolled away toward a distant line of low hills, beyond which, he believed, was the valley that led southeastward to Durck. If that were indeed so, then somewhere nearby there was a road leading eastward from the plains around Stell that went through those hills. But if so – then who was it that used that road? Who went to Durck from these lands to trade with the lawless privateers? There were no free people here. Then, the more he studied the ground to the east, the more Aram realized that he was wrong.
The hills he could see in the distance were a different range than those he’d stood upon when he had first seen the sea; those hills and the valley that led to Durck were further east. Beyond these hills lay the land that Arthrus had called Duridia, whose citizens had once been allies of the Prince, lying in a valley between Durck and the southern plains of Wallensia. So, there might be free peoples to the east, beyond Manon’s reach, who were relatives of the Derosans, and might therefore be convinced to join them. Sometime, very soon, he would go and see.
To the north, the prairie undulated away toward the horizon. There was a dark smudge just slightly west of due north that might be Burning Mountain, but Aram couldn’t be sure. To the northeast, however, there were the very tops of a hazy mountain range just pushing above the line of the horizon – no doubt they were the mountains around Derosa. Home. Ka’en.
While Durlrang kept watch, Aram and Thaniel slept again, waking before sunset to prepare to go on, as soon as the villagers and their captors went to bed.
About two hours after nightfall, they exited the trees and went east for about a mile before turning back to the northeast. They traveled unmolested through the night, rolling over the undulating prairie. Morning found them on an ancient road that ran from Stell toward the north, where the green hills began to rise above the horizon. Farther to the north, the black triangle of Aram’s mountain rose above them. Burning Mountain was in view back to the northwest, a slender tendril of smoke rising from its summit. Derosa lay a few miles ahead. Aram was starving – he thought of Ka’en’s potatoes, simmering in a pan, and his belly ached.
He grew tired as the day wore on but there were only scattered copses of trees here and there on the prairie. Thaniel was willing to go on, and Durlrang seemed tireless, so they went on. Aram dozed occasionally, clinging to the mane of the great horse as he galloped toward the northeast.
When the sun was still two hours in the sky, they topped a rise and saw, to the north across the Weser, a herd of grazing horses. Huram was just beyond the river, near the far bank. The great gray horse lifted his head, saw them, and whinnied eagerly. The ancient road ended at the river and they splashed across the shallows of the crossing and turned eastward toward the gate. Jared came pounding up to fall in beside Thaniel.
Aram rubbed at his tired eyes. “How go things here, my friend?”
Jared’s eyes shone. “We are ready for war, my lord.”
“Are you, indeed?” Aram glanced sideways at the eager brown horse.
“Yes, my lord. We have trained tirelessly. Nikolus is a natural.” Jared stated proudly. “As is Ruben.”
“Ruben, the slave – the former slave?”
“Yes. He rides Varen the Black. Varen says that Ruben rides as if he was born astride a horse. Findaen has appointed him a captain.”
“Good. Thank you, Jared.” Aram looked down at the wolf loping alongside. “Will you come home with me, Durlrang, or go into the woods?”
“If you have no further need of me, I will go into the woods, master.”
“You have been tireless on this journey, Durlrang, and a great comrade; thank you. I will talk with you tomorrow or the next day.”
As Durlrang veered off and went toward the hills, Aram looked skyward. “Lord Alvern, my friend, thank you. Without your eyes, we would have been lost many times.”
“I will ever be here, Lord Aram.”
At the gate, Aram dismounted and examined Thaniel. The great horse’s chest heaved from exertion and his head and neck were covered with flecks of foam. Aram frowned. “Are you alright, Thaniel?”
“Yes, my lord, but I am tired. I will sleep well tonight.”
Aram glanced west. The sun sat near the horizon to the south of the dark outline of Burning Mountain, a flaming orange ball. “Yes, Thaniel, sleep long and deep, my friend. I will do the same and consult with you on the morrow.”
As the horse moved away across the grass, Aram turned toward town. Hilgarn swung the gate wide and bowed. “Welcome back, my lord. How was your journey?”
Aram smiled tiredly. “Long, but instructive. Does anyone else know of my arrival?”
“I sent a runner toward town, my lord.” An odd look came over the young man’s face, as if he felt compelled to speak but was afraid of being intrusive or saying something improper. “The Lady Ka’en will know of your arrival by now, I’m certain, my lord.”
Aram’s smile broadened slightly and he clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’m grateful for that. Thank you, Hilgarn.”
Ka’en met him where the road curved around by the training ground. She was wearing a long dress that tapered close to her body, forcing her slim legs to take short quick steps, though she was almost running. Aram swept her into his arms and squeezed her tightly. After a moment, he held her away and looked into her eyes. “You look lovely, Ka’en. I am so glad to be home. I apologize for my condition – I am dirty and tired and I smell of the road.”
Her eyes danced with happiness. She nodded. “Yes, you do. Welcome home.”
“Have I missed supper?”
“You will never miss supper, my love, I promise. I will see to it while you get cleaned up. But you will need to eat in the hall. Everyone will want to know of your travels.”
He frowned. �
��Everyone?”
“I’m afraid it cannot be avoided.”
Aram was enormously tired and would have preferred to sup with Ka’en on the veranda, but she insisted that his presence in the hall was a thing greatly anticipated. When he got cleaned up and went down to the main hall, the room was filled to bursting with people. Lancer sat at his table near the back wall, along with Findaen, Mallet and his wife, Jonwood, Wamlak, Arthrus, and many others. There was wine on every table. The town seemed to be in a singularly celebratory mood. Aram looked around in surprise and slipped in to the empty chair next to Ka’en.
“It appears that I have come back just in time for something important. What is the occasion?”
“You.” She said.
“Me?” He looked around in surprise and found that every eye in the room was fixed on him.
“Their prince has returned.” She continued. “We are all of us always a bit afraid that you will go away one day and never come back. But, once again, you have returned, and we are glad – so this is for you. We’ve been planning – and waiting – for several days now.”
He focused his gaze on her beautiful face. “I will always come back to wherever you are, Ka’en.”
She took his hand, smiling, and despite the presence of a hundred pairs of eyes, laid her head on his shoulder.
Evidently, they had waited on him, for as soon as he was seated, food was served. After Aram had eaten, Lancer reached over and poured him a glass of wine, and then raised his hand to silence the room. He looked at Aram. “My lord, if you are not too weary, the people would like to hear of your journeys into the world and your thoughts about what you have seen.”
The room fell utterly silent. Aram sipped his wine and then began the telling of his trip west through the green hills to the burned village and thence across the sand hills to the edge of the great plains, and of his travels south by the land of Elam, and then back across the plains of Wallensia. The only thing he left out was any mention of the strange creatures that had flown against the face of the setting moon and had terrorized them in the ravine. He and Thaniel, Alvern, and Durlrang had not decided what to make of them yet, and he left them unmentioned.
When he had finished, Findaen looked at him wide-eyed. “You saw Stell, my lord?”
Once again, the room went very quiet. All eyes remained fixed on Aram. He nodded, focusing his attention on Findaen. “Yes, I saw the capitol.”
The room buzzed momentarily at his use of the word. Aram went on. “Several hundred people still live there, in slavery to Manon, perhaps several thousand in the region round about.” He paused then for a long moment and let his gaze sweep the room before coming back to settle on Findaen. He raised his voice. “It is where we will strike first.”
Findaen rose to his feet, seemingly impelled upward by an unseen force.
“You intend to free Stell?”
“More importantly, my friend, we will free its people.”
Findaen nodded slowly several times, watching Aram’s face. After a moment, seeing the calm intent in the eyes of his future prince, his own eyes narrowed and hardened. He raised his glass and looked around at the assemblage. “To the freedom of Stell.”
The room erupted. Every man stood, holding his glass up in salute to Aram’s words. After the tumult died down, Aram rose as well and spoke quietly and earnestly. “Yes. We will free the people of Stell and push back the frontiers of our lands all the way to the Broad River. I believe that we can use the banks of that stream as a defensible frontier. But hear me; we will be bloodied often in this fight. Some of us will be injured and some of us will die. The deaths of some are often the grim price of freedom for many, and it is a price we will undoubtedly pay. But know this also – we will prevail.” He reached down and poured his glass full and then raised it up. At the same time, he pulled Ka’en to her feet, to stand beside him. “Wallensia – all of Wallensia – will be ours again, and its people free.”
The roar that followed this statement was loud, long, and sustained, as if it would last the night.
Twenty Eight
The next three weeks, the heart of the summer, were spent in intensive training. Donnick, Findaen, Mallet, Wamlak, and Jonwood had done well in following Aram’s instructions in teaching the men the rudiments of the arts of war, as had Donnick’s cousin, Lestar Hayesh, a gray-haired man in his fifties who showed an aptitude for martial affairs that surprised even him; but now they needed to be melded into a cohesive fighting force.
This, Aram set about to do.
As the men trained, he worked with them but he watched them as well, and gradually confirmed Findaen’s choice of captains, finding his friend’s judgment on the matter sound. He divided the horses that were paired with men, of which there were about two hundred and sixty, into two units that would fight on the wings of the army. They would assault the lines of the enemy but they would also learn to seek every opportunity to flank the foe.
He put Findaen and Andaran in charge of the horsemen on the army’s right, and Nikolus and Jared in charge of those on the left. Wamlak and Jonwood would be captains under Findaen – many of Wamlak’s mounted men were also archers – while Erak would be a captain under Nikolus. And Varen the Black, it turned out, had been right about Ruben, the former slave; he would be the second captain under Nikolus, and would ride Varen.
Donnick was placed in charge of the army’s center and its main body of raw power – the pikemen. Serving as captains under his calm, deliberate command were Lestar Hayesh, Mallet, Alred, and Aberlon. There were four companies of pikemen of about one hundred men each. There was also a small body of archers – about thirty – that Aram would use to weaken the enemy line and to support the pikemen from a distance. He was disappointed that there weren’t more archers, but the use of a bow was a difficult task to learn – besides, only one man in Derosa had taken well to the art of bow construction, so that particular instrument of war remained in short supply.
He drove his army hard, watching them learn to wheel and turn in unison and move as a solid line across the plain while maintaining order. And finally, one day, there was no further reason for delay – it was time to put his army in harm’s way to be blooded. There was little else they could learn about battle without actually engaging in it, anyway. The time had come to fight. He felt an odd surge of excitement as he considered this decision even as his stomach tightened at the thought of casualties.
Aram called a council one morning two weeks past midsummer. There was but a month or two left for campaigning before most of the men of Derosa would be needed to harvest the crops. He had to use his army now. He caused tables to be set up under the spreading limbs of a large oak tree that stood on one side of the training ground. He meant to conduct his business under the open sky so that Thaniel and some of the horses and Durlrang and his daughter, Shingka, and Lord Alvern could easily attend. He would have liked Leorg to be in attendance, but that clever wolf was still off to the north, at the fringes of Aram’s valley, guarding the frontier. The captains, Findaen, Donnick, and Nikolus, came along with Findaen’s and Nikolus’ mounts, Andaran and Jared. Aram invited Huram as well. The secondary horse captains and their mounts and the captains of the pikemen were there also, along with Arthrus and Timmon. Lancer and Ka’en sat to either side of Aram.
Aram stood and without preamble began to describe his intentions. “The city of Stell lies across the river Broad just south of that river’s confluence with the Stell, which flows from the west. Most of the town lies upon the eastern side of the river. There are three bridges that span the river. Lord Alvern thinks that there are less than a hundred lashers in the town, and perhaps no more than a few hundred gray men.”
Alvern inclined his head slightly, and Aram continued. “Beyond Stell, to the west, there is a good road that travels toward the northwest through an open valley. This valley, we cannot hold and defend. So, we will take the town and burn the bridges, or save them if we can otherwise render them defensible.�
� Here, Aram glanced at Timmon. By the look that came into Timmon’s eyes, he could tell that the man was already considering possibilities.
“I intend to make Broad River our western border,” Aram continued, “so we will move all those that we can set free on its far shores back across the river to the eastern side. I intend to hold Stell, once we take it, but only that part of it that lies upon the eastern bank of the river.”
He turned to Lancer. “Are there any of our citizens, of which I am unaware, that have been involved in battle before, my lord?”
Lancer shook his head. “In my generation, the only major conflict that we have been engaged in was the one in which you scattered the forces of the enemy two years ago, Lord Aram. In years past there were random killings of farmers out on the plains, by lashers and gray men. Some of those families resisted and fought back but it was usually futile. For many years now, most of us have stayed behind the walls of Derosa.”
Aram frowned. “After the fall of Stell – there were no more major battles?”
“No.” Lancer answered. “When Stell was taken, the lashers and gray men seemed satisfied – we assumed that their master was as well. There was quiet for a long while. Then, during the last twenty years, small bands of lashers and gray men began attacking the outlying farms and gradually they pushed all of our people into Derosa. But there was no major conflict until the force that marched upon us the day that you came to our rescue.”
Aram looked around the table. “So, no one here has spilled blood in battle other than those that went west with me a year ago?”
Findaen met his eyes and shook his head. “We made a charge during the battle on the plains two years ago, but the enemy was already running for its life and we couldn’t catch them up.”
Aram nodded. “Well, the men of Derosa are good men – I have seen it. You will adapt to the rigors of war quickly. We are a small force and I don’t intend to push our men beyond what we can manage, especially at first. But the more people we set free, the larger our army will become.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 46