Kelven's Riddle Book Two

by Daniel Hylton

  Aram stood in the middle of the thoroughfare, numb, gazing after them. Men flowed past him on either side, excitedly telling their families about all that had occurred, finding their various ways home or to the bar. Aram felt utterly alone; more than that, he felt a need to be alone. Though Joktan had prepared him well, and though he was completely convinced of the need to prosecute the war against Manon, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that there were five men of Derosa that were not coming home to those that loved them because of a decision that he had made.

  For a moment, he considered going out of the gate and into the deep woods of the green hills. Then, he thought about going even further – all the way home to his valley. In the end, after turning down numerous offers of drinks at the bar, he went to Lancer’s house, avoiding the front entrance – others would no doubt inform the Prince of all that had occurred – instead going around to the east and climbing the exterior staircase up to the veranda, where he collapsed into a chair. As soon as his legs were relieved of the weight of his body, he found that he was very tired. In moments, he was asleep.

  Thirty One

  He awoke to find the veranda in darkness; night lay over the valley. There were candles lit on the table near him, and Ka’en was in the chair beyond them. He sat up.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  When she turned his way, her eyes appeared moist in the light of the candles. “You looked so worn that I couldn’t bear to disturb you. I’m sure you needed it.”

  “Aberlon’s mother?”

  “Very sad. Very – lost. Mallet and I stayed with her a while, until her daughter came.”

  Aram looked away, out into the dark valley. “I’m sorry, Ka’en.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About Aberlon – that he died. The others, too. And Hilgarn is terribly wounded.”

  “None of that is your doing.”

  “I took them to war.”

  She turned toward him, her voice and manner firm. “Stop it. You can’t win this war alone, Aram. They all went willingly, because they believe in the fight – and in you. Mallet told me how Aberlon died. Had he stayed in line, he might very well be alive now.”

  She stood and went to the railing, her slim figure, dressed in white, seemed to glow against the darkness beyond. After a moment, she turned and looked at him. “It’s near midnight, and do you know what most of this town is doing?”

  “No. What are they doing?”

  “Celebrating, Aram. Celebrating a great victory – a victory that for once they all had a part in. Aberlon’s death, and Draker’s, and Lackar’s, and Hilbrad’s, and Hollan’s – and Hilgarn’s injuries – they are all sad affairs, for us all, and especially for their families.” She left the rail and came and sat next to him, taking his hand. “But, Aram – Stell is free, as you promised it would be. The ancient capitol of our people is no longer under the heel of the enemy. The liberation of Stell has been a dream for two generations, but now, because of you, it is reality. This is a great day.”

  She shook her head, and for the first time in hours, laughed quietly. “More whiskey has been drunk in this town tonight, toasting the freedom of Stell, than has been consumed in a year. And you did this great thing, my love, but more importantly, they did it, too.”

  He rolled his head and leaned into her shoulder; she grasped his head with both her hands and held him tightly. As always, when he was with her, everything in the world seemed to be as it should.

  After a moment he said. “Findaen met a woman.”

  She pushed him away. “What?”

  He nodded and managed a slight smile. “That’s why I left him to manage things there.”

  “What is she like?”

  “Skinny, ragged, but kind of pretty – nothing like you, of course.”

  “Does father know?”

  “Oh, I think that is for Findaen to tell, when he is ready – don’t you?”

  She gazed into his eyes a moment. She sighed. “You are right. And we probably shouldn’t tell Jena, either. Keeping secrets is not one of her strengths. So, he really met a woman?”

  “I think so, yes. He looks at her the same way that I look at you.”

  She pulled him back to her breast. “Do you want to go down there tonight – with the others?”

  “Down where?”

  “To the hall.”

  “No.”

  “Nor do I.” She said.

  After reporting to Lancer, who seemed younger and more vital than he had in years, Aram spent the next several days engrossed in military business. The first order of that business was to visit every family that had lost a loved one in the fight for Stell, including Aberlon’s mother who, as Ka’en had said, still seemed very “lost” at the loss of her only son. He visited the injured as well and was overjoyed on his third visit to Hilgarn’s house to find the young soldier sitting up, with color in his face, proud of the part he’d played in the battle, and even prouder of the visit from his future prince.

  Every able man with an affinity for working in metal, no matter how slight, was assigned to Arthrus and Jamarth to facilitate the making of armor. Soon, the open field around the workshop was full of men working makeshift forges and pounding steel. Jamarth, cleverer even than his father, had devised a system for making helmets in three sizes, all of which had an adjustable catch at the back, rendering the three sizes useful in fitting many different sizes and shapes of heads. Mallet’s, of course, would have to be custom-made, but he showed little enthusiasm for wearing a helmet, anyway, so the matter wasn’t forced.

  Aram also organized mounted patrols of six men each to leave every two hours for the western border. The wolves were back to watching the woods, but Alvern was still to the south, in the skies above Stell, to watch over Findaen on his return north, so Aram needed eyes on the ground to watch the plains to the west for signs of the enemy’s intentions.

  Each patrol of six men and horses traveled west along the edge of the hills to the river, where they turned south and followed the river for about twenty miles before turning eastward and coming back on the ancient road. The last patrol left four hours before sunset, giving it enough time to complete its mission and return to Derosa before dark.

  One morning two weeks after the battle of Stell, as the sun rose toward midday, Aram went down to look southwest across the plains for signs of Findaen. The horses were gathered in one herd down near the river and Aram saw two familiar forms standing apart, facing them.

  Florm and Ashal.

  Overjoyed at the coming of his ancient friend, Aram sprinted down across the grasslands to join them. As he came up, Florm turned to welcome him, and Aram noticed that he looked healthier, more robust than he had in the spring.

  Aram bowed his head. “Lord Florm, Lady Ashal, it is a great pleasure to see you both.”

  Florm chuckled with pleasure. “Lord Aram, my young friend, I am told that you have set the world on fire.”

  “On fire?” Aram raised his eyebrows even as he smiled broadly at his old friend. “Hardly, my lord, but we have had some adventures since last we spoke.”

  Ashal stepped forward. “I hear, at least, that you no longer go forth alone – that comrades in arms go with you. That is an improvement.”

  Aram bowed his head to the queen of horses. “I listened when you spoke to me of these things, my lady. Yes, there are many warriors that go into battle with me now, the first of these being your great and fine son.”

  Florm swung his head around and looked at Thaniel for a long moment, and then addressed Aram again. “There are three reasons that we have come, Lord Aram.”

  “My lord?”

  “The first is that we promised to come, and so we have. The second is to inform you that, except for those stallions with mates that will foal in the spring, the horses will stay here, with you, until the end of all these things.”

  Aram felt his eyes widen in surprise. “Thank you, Lord Florm.”

  “The third is
to ask for your permission for my spouse and me to remain in your valley for some time. It is a pleasant place, the winters are generally milder than on the high plains, and most importantly; though I can no longer be in the midst of things – the wolves took more out of me than I had perhaps realized – I still would like to be close to things. What do you say?”

  Aram was deeply pleased. “My lord, I will be honored for you to share my home and I will be especially glad to have your wisdom so near at hand. I will be married myself, in the fall, and Ka’en and I intend to live in the valley as well.”

  “Good, yes. Thaniel told me of your happy fortune, my friend.” Florm’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps my son will find the same happiness someday soon.”

  Aram glanced at Thaniel. He hadn’t known that Thaniel was not mated and had never inquired into the horse’s personal affairs. There was no reaction to his father’s statement, however; the great black horse was as quietly stolid as ever. Aram looked back at Florm.

  “My lord, will you and Lady Ashal stay here on the plains this evening or go back to the valley?”

  “ We intend to stay here tonight and go back across the green hills to the valley in the morning.”

  Aram received this information gladly. “I would like you to meet Ka’en.”

  “I would be honored to meet her, my friend.” The ancient horse answered. “And I believe that the lady Ashal would insist upon it.”

  Aram spun away. “I will return momentarily.”

  The two most ancient of all horses were immediately taken with Ka’en as she was with them. She and Ashal became surprisingly close in the course of a few hours, although Aram was not astonished by that fact – they were both gentle, intelligent souls, and though Aram did not know whether Ashal had daughters, Ka’en, he knew, had not had a mother for most of her life.

  Florm had one more piece of news to give Aram. As they stood with Thaniel watching Ashal and Ka’en stroll by the river, Florm chuckled low and looked at him. “Your army grows, I hear, Lord Aram. So does that of your allies.”

  Aram returned the horse’s gaze curiously. “My lord?”

  “Since the wolves of the high plains no longer molest us – thanks to you – births among my people have increased many fold. Soon, within two or three years, as the young ones begin to mature, there will be many more horses to bear men into battle. That is a fine thing, is it not?”

  Nodding gladly, Aram nonetheless smiled ruefully. “That is wonderful news, my lord, but once again I see that my people are in danger of falling behind yours. Yet more allies are needed from among the ranks of men.”

  “They will come, my friend,” the old horse assured him, “or you will find them.”

  Four days after that pleasant interlude, as Aram was once again gazing anxiously into the southwest as the sun crossed the meridian and slid toward the horizon, Alvern’s voice dropped down out of the sky.

  “Do not fear, Lord Aram, Findaen and those with him are but a few miles from the gate.”

  Aram squinted up into the warm heavens. “Welcome back, my friend.”

  “It is good to be back where the waters are clearer and the fish more easily seen.” The eagle answered, invisible in the depths of the sky. “I grew very tired of the muddy river.”

  “Thank you for all that you have done, Lord Alvern.”

  “It is nothing.”

  An hour later, several oxcarts – at least a dozen, in fact – a few horses and a long column of men appeared out of the rolling plains, coming into view at the turn of the river. Aram brought Ka’en from town and together they waited near the gate.

  Findaen drove one of the oxcarts, with the horse, Andaran, walking beside. The woman from Stell sat with Findaen on the seat of the cart. He got down, bowed self-consciously to Aram and helped the slim girl down from her seat. She was dressed in somewhat better clothes now than before; and she kept one hand on Findaen’s arm as they approached.

  The slim woman glanced quickly at Aram and smiled shyly at Ka’en.

  “My lord – Ka’en, this is Ella.” Findaen said.

  Aram smiled warmly at Findaen. “Welcome home, my friend.”

  Ka’en stepped forward and took Ella’s hands in hers. “You have such a beautiful name. Welcome to Derosa. We are so glad that you have come.” She looked at her brother. “Welcome home, Fin. Come; let us all go to my father’s house. Ella and I will walk ahead.”

  Aram watched Ka’en with surprise, seeing her for the first time in her capacity as the princess of Wallensia. He had always appreciated her great beauty and elegance; now, for the first time, he was witness to her grace and stately presence in welcoming a stranger to her father’s gates.

  As the two women walked toward town, Aram grinned at Findaen. “It appears that you won two victories in Stell, my friend.”

  Findaen returned the grin sheepishly and his face reddened. It was the first time that Aram had seen him flustered because of a woman; even the intrepid and bawdy proprietress of the public house in Durck had not had such an effect upon his friend.

  Aram turned and looked out at the column of men slowly coming to a halt on the open plains before the gate.

  “How many?” He asked Findaen.

  “Almost three hundred decided to join your army, my lord. The rest either had wives or other reasons to stay, but I told them that they will be supplied with weapons and expected to defend the frontiers there.”

  Aram nodded. “For now, we must find housing for all of these men and make certain that our food stocks are sufficient.”

  “We brought food from Stell, my lord.” Findaen said, indicating the wagons. “There was more than enough there since it will no longer be going to feed Manon’s armies. And they are expecting a good harvest in the fall.”

  Aram turned and gazed at him in appreciative surprise. “Well thought, Findaen, and well done. Alright, then, we only need to resolve the issue of housing.”

  “They can live in camps for a while,” Findaen answered, “as long as the weather stays warm. Maybe we can put them to work building their own barracks.”

  “I suppose,” Aram agreed reluctantly, “but I want them to train and be incorporated into the army as soon as possible, too.”

  “They can do both, my lord – with part of the day dedicated to each task. They are not needed for our harvest and won’t have anything else to do. They have been slaves all of their lives; it will take time for an appreciation and understanding of freedom to sink in, anyway.”

  “Yes – you’re right.” Aram turned to look after the women, disappearing around the bend in the road toward town. “You had better get up to the house. I’ll put Donnick to work taking care of his new charges.”

  It was late in the day when Aram had finished greeting the young men from Stell, arranged for their temporary quarters to be established to the southwest of the training ground, and seen to it that the food stuffs brought from Stell were properly stored. By the time he got to the house, Lancer and his two daughters, along with Findaen and Ella, and Nikolus, were seated together on the eastern veranda.

  Ella, it turned out, was gentle and sweet-natured, and every bit as mad about Findaen as he was for her. Ka’en and Jena had found finer clothes for her and even Aram had to admit to himself that she was very nearly beautiful – at least as pretty as Jena, though exceedingly thin.

  With a new and interesting distraction in the house of Lancer, Aram was able to spend the next week helping Donnick, Lestar, Mallet, Wamlak, and Jonwood organize the new troops, folding them into existing companies in order to more easily assimilate them. As former slaves, they were by and large submissive, but as it slowly dawned on them that their new condition of freedom was actual and permanent, like all young humans, they began to enjoy the sense of a fuller life and to express themselves in various ways. Once again, Aram realized that the disparity between the numbers of young men and young women could not remain unaddressed for long or troubles of a different sort would arise.


  One morning, as he was up before the dawn, walking the veranda, he noticed a distinct chill in the air, though it was still ostensibly summer. Below him, in the pre-dawn twilight, many of the farmers heading into the fields wore jackets over their shirts. Without waiting for Ka’en to wake and join him, as was his wont, he went down the steps, through the town and out onto the cool prairie as the sky behind him lightened toward the new day. Thaniel saw him come and walked over to join him.

  Together, they stood gazing out over the grasslands, looking west. After a few moments, Thaniel swung his head around.

  “What are we watching for, Lord Aram?”

  “It’s cool this morning.”

  “Yes,” the horse answered, “it is. Why do we look into the west?”

  Aram glanced sideways at his friend. “Manon will know by now what happened at Stell.”

  “There is no doubt of that, my lord.”

  “He will want it back.”

  “Yes.”

  Aram gazed westward across the rolling sea of grass. “I’ve been thinking that I would like to turn his eye elsewhere – take his attention away from the southern plains – and at the same time, remove a threat from our doorstep.”

  The great horse looked westward as well, across the dim prairie where the horizons were still lost in the shadows of the retreating night. After a moment, he looked back at Aram.

  “You want to assault the fortress at Flat Butte, my lord?”

  “Actually, I intend to draw them out and defeat them on the plains.”

  “They may not come.”

  “True.” Aram agreed. “Then we will lay siege to the butte, set the slaves free and take their food supply. We can stay all winter. They will come out or they will starve.”

  “Manon will send reinforcements.”

  Aram shook his head. “I will send the wolves to the west of Burning Mountain, before our intentions are known, with instructions to kill anything that moves on two legs. Unless he has other means of learning what occurs so far from his tower – which he may, I admit – we will do our best to keep him blind as to what happens.”