Bringing up the rear of the long column were the stolid men of Duridia. Boman, just to Aram's left, was mounted on a horse named Stennar. Near him rode a young man by the name of Danold who bore the colors of that land, green like Wallensia's but with jagged black borders on either side and a broad swath of deep blue running across the bottom. Danold had been chosen as his rider by a dark brown horse named Dalen.
Out to the right of the column, off the road, were Wamlak and Braska with the small band of mounted archers. Nikolus and Jared, Ruben and Varen, and the rest of the cavalry, including a few men each from Lamont and Duridia that had shown a capacity for learning to ride quickly stretched out behind them. Leorg, Shingka, Padrik and the wolves moved unseen through the wooded hillsides off to the left, south of the main column. This campaign was to be Shingka's last foray for a while. In a few weeks she would give birth to her and Leorg's first children.
Durlrang, as always, padded along beside Thaniel.
Aram had arranged the army thus for its march into the west, foreshadowing its deployment when it reached the field. He intended that Lamont would comprise the entire left wing of the army, the Derosans would be to the right of the center, and Duridia would be its right wing. However the Elamite army disposed itself, he meant to anchor the left flank of Lamont against the southern hills, giving the cavalry room to maneuver on Boman's right.
Ahead of the column, every now and then, scouts from Elam would exit the hills on the army's left, stare for a moment at the advancing host and then scurry ahead toward the gap in the hills that led into the Land Beyond the Gates.
Aram sent a thought upward to Alvern, sailing the skies above.
“I assume they know we're coming?”
“Yes, my lord,” came the eagle's reply, “and they are very agitated.”
“What do they do?”
“They are attempting to form up. It appears to be a difficult thing for them.”
Aram smiled to himself and nodded. He had suspected – had hoped for – a certain greenness on the part of Elam's hosts when faced with the imminence of possible action. He only hoped that the greenness of his men would not become too obvious when it came time to form his own lines.
“Where do they deploy their lines?”
“Near their camp about halfway between the town and the gap, on the open ground, facing east.”
“Their flanks?”
“Unprotected, my lord, though their southern flank nears the wooded hills that curve into the southwest beyond the gap.”
Aram peered to his front. The gap between the hills was no more than a mile away now. Still, he could not make out the army of Elam, though scouts still tumbled from the hills now and then, stared wide-eyed for a moment and then turned and ran westward along the road.
Addressing Alvern again, he asked, “Do they send couriers back toward the Gates?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Are there reinforcements in that direction?”
“None that I see, but I will go and look.”
“Thank you, Lord Alvern,” Aram answered. “I want no surprises.”
“Should we send Jared and Nikolus ahead, to ascertain the enemy's disposition and his distance from the road?” Asked Thaniel.
“They are not the enemy just yet,” Aram reminded the horse. “No. Let's give them time to deploy. Alvern may not be adept with numbers but he is excellent at gauging distance. Remember, my friend, at the moment, there's no belligerence between us and them, and I'm not looking for a fight, but answers.”
“And if they're not disposed to talk?”
Aram shrugged. “We've often found fights for which we did not look. We'll plan for the worst in any event. We will form our lines just beyond the gap, keeping our supply wagons in the valley behind us. If they decide to fight, we will prepare to receive them and let them come.” Aram stood in the stirrups and gazed ahead, trying to see the line of men on the distant prairie. “Anyway, let us hope that they are willing to talk.”
“Yes,” the horse agreed. “For their sake.”
Aram smiled at Thaniel’s gruff assertion, but made no reply.
As the column passed between the hills and came out onto the open grasslands, where the road branched off toward the gap leading northward by the spring-fed pond, Aram led the army beyond that pool of water and into the prairie for a few hundred yards. The dark line of Elam's army was about a half-mile ahead, their helmets and lance tips shining in the sun. He signaled Edwar, who wheeled away, and the men of Lamont spilled southward, forming a line that grew and eventually touched the hills. Though accomplished fairly quickly, this maneuver was not done without difficulty.
Edwar had intended that his column would break toward the front by regiments, but the second regiment broke too quickly, its ranks jutting up against those of the first, forming a bulge that took some time to resolve. Taking its cue from the second, the succeeding regiments also spilled toward the front too soon, and then had to slide sideways in order to straighten the ranks and fill the gap between their left flank and the hills.
After the difficulties were resolved and Lamont was in place, Aram and Thaniel also moved southward, positioning themselves in front of Lamont's right flank and motioned for the men of Derosa to form up behind them. Then Duridia rolled out to the right in somewhat better order than had Lamont, Boman himself walking with each regiment and moving them into proper position. The Governor had a good feel for distance and as a consequence the Duridians experienced fewer of the problems of troops becoming bunched like those that had plagued Lamont's first attempt at forming up in the face of the enemy.
Then Duridia was in place in good order and the ranks of Aram's army stretched from the southern hills northward for about a mile, leaving a gap of perhaps a quarter-mile between them and the road that ran next to the hills. Into this gap, the cavalry rode and halted.
While the men formed up behind him, Aram gazed forward at Elam. The opposing army appeared to be deployed in three successive lines that stretched north-to-south for a distance of about half again more than Aram's own men. There was an odd line of demarcation on the opposing army's right, to Aram's left, where the blue and gold of Elam gave way to a smaller section of green and gray.
The commander of the Elamite Army, whoever he was, had deployed his men along the top of a low, grassy ridge above a small stream that meandered out of the hills to the north. Despite Alvern's condescending description of them, they appeared to have formed up in smart fashion and seemed ready for grim and deadly business should the day demand it. At the army's center and a short way in front of the lines, a small group of men were gathered on a knoll. Commanders, no doubt, receiving last minute instructions.
Were they instructions for a plan of attack, perhaps? An odd, unexpected thrill went through Aram's chest as he considered that his untested men might meet hostile steel sometime within the next hour. He had done all he could to prepare them for battle in the short time allotted; indeed, most of his soldiers were young and had taken to the training willingly and many expressed an eagerness to engage the enemy. But Aram knew from experience that no amount of training could entirely prepare a man for the shocking moment when steel rang on steel and blood began to spill onto the earth. That was the moment when character, courage, and conviction in the justness of the cause mattered as much – if not more than – training. It was the moment when men and armies were either hardened by the experience or destroyed by it.
By now, Aram's army was ready, also deployed in three lines, and Edwar, Findaen, and Boman had ridden their mounts over to him.
So far, Elam's commanders had made no movement, nor demonstrated their intentions in any way. They had simply stood a bit in front of their lines and watched the “barbarians” deploy.
Findaen looked over at Aram. “Now what?”
Aram leaned forward and stared at the small group of men gathered at the center of the Elamite army.
“Tell me,” he said by way of reply. “H
ow do we discover whether or not they are willing to talk?”
“Why not simply ride out there?” Suggested Edwar. “If we go out and the army stays, they will undoubtedly perceive our intent and advance to meet with us.”
“No.” Boman shook his head. “We should not ride. There are no horses on their side of the field. We should walk out.”
Aram considered this for a moment and then nodded slowly in agreement, even as Thaniel snorted with disgust. Ignoring Thaniel's display of annoyance, he replied. “I think you're right in this, but the horses will have to be represented. I'll walk and Thaniel will go out with me.”
“You're not going alone, my lord,” Findaen stated flatly.
“Nor should he,” Edwar agreed. “Just as with the horse people, every member of the alliance should be represented.”
Hilgarn came forward, hesitantly injecting himself into the group, causing Aram to look over at him.
“Forgive me, my lord, but Princess Ka'en instructed me most clearly that I and this standard should not leave your side.”
Before Aram could reply, Boman broke in. “That is good counsel, I think, Lord Aram. The colors of the allies may stay with the lines if Captain Edwar does not object, but yours should go forward. These people should know that we represent a united cause.”
After a moment, Edwar nodded in agreement. “I have no objection to this.”
“Alright,” Aram said. “Everyone dismount. We four plus Thaniel and Hilgarn will walk out and see how they respond. Thaniel will stay a bit behind, so that his size doesn't frighten them overmuch.”
He looked down at Durlrang and sent him a private instruction. The old wolf immediately turned and loped away toward the southern hills.
After the wolf left, Aram dismounted and looked around at the others thoughtfully.
“Every man here,” he said, “is better at conversing than I am, and Findaen is better than anyone. I suggest we go out with Edwar on the left, Findaen in the middle, and Boman on the right. Thaniel, Hilgarn, and I will come up a few yards behind you. If they decide to act aggressively, Thaniel and I will cover your return to the ranks. But if they are disposed to talk, then Findaen can speak for us. Is this satisfactory?”
“What are our demands?” Edwar asked.
Aram looked at him sharply. “Demands?”
“Sorry, my lord, poor choice of a word. What do we want out of this discussion?”
Aram looked across at the Elamite army and considered. “Mostly, we want them to stop sending their girls to Manon. Whatever else, that practice has to stop. And we don't want them attacking us from behind when the time comes that we go out to face the grim lord's forces. Other than that,” he shrugged, “nothing, I suppose, although an amicable understanding of some sort would be good.”
Findaen laughed. “I think we should pick one of those three and consider ourselves fortunate if they acquiesce.”
“Which one?” Aram asked.
As stoic as ever, Boman answered. “If they would just leave us be as we tend to our business with Manon and his beasts, then that would seem enough for now. If we are able to damage him when he comes south, then these people might be more willing to hear us on the other points.”
“I agree with Governor Boman,” Edwar responded quickly. Then, watching Aram, he addressed Findaen. “If they would just agree to us leaving each other alone for the moment that would suffice, would it not?”
Aram nodded at these suggestions but didn't speak.
Findaen looked at him. “Do you want me to mention the other things, my lord?”
“Not unless they come up in the course of the discussion. Boman and Edwar are right – if we can agree that neither of us will act aggressively toward the other that should be enough for now. I intend to stop their flow of tribute in any event, but I intend to accomplish that from the other end, if possible, and we can discuss that later as necessary.”
Findaen looked out across the field and drew in a deep breath. “Are we ready then?”
“We'll learn nothing standing here,” Aram replied.
The six of them went out over the gently rolling grasslands toward a small rise that appeared to be an approximate midpoint between the lines. Before they had walked a hundred feet, five men separated themselves from the opposing army and began to move toward them. Findaen and his companions arrived at the small rise first and waited for their counterparts a few feet short of the crest. Aram and Thaniel, with Hilgarn and the colors, stopped a few paces behind the others.
Two of the men that came toward them were obviously officers, for both were in uniform, one wearing the blue and gold of Elam, the other clad in green and gray. There were two color bearers; one that bore the colors of Elam and another that carried the gray and green of the officer on the left of the approaching group. It was the young man at the center that caught Aram's eye first. He was broad-shouldered and tall, with sandy-blond hair above an honest, open face, though at the moment his pleasant features were set in tense lines of uncertainty. This young man did not wear military garb; he wore the clothes of nobility.
Findaen also centered his attention on this young man. As the man came up and stopped a few feet away, Findaen inclined his head politely.
“Greetings, sir. I am Findaen of Wallensia. This is Edwar, Captain of the host of Lamont, and Boman, Governor of Duridia. Behind me stands Thaniel, a prince of the horse people and my own prince, Aram, son of Joktan, who has asked me to speak for him.”
The young man slid his eyes sideways for a moment to glance at the others as they were introduced. His gaze rested for a long moment on Aram and Thaniel while his look and his attitude became yet more cautious, and then he returned his attention to Findaen and nodded his head.
“I am Marcus, son of Waren, former High Prince of Elam, nephew of Rahm Imrid, now High Prince of this land. This gentleman to my left is General Edverch, Chief Commander of the forces of the High Prince. This man is Kitchell, Governor General of the Land Beyond the Gates, a friend and ally of Elam.” He paused for a moment, frowning. “Lamont, I know, but not Duridia. Joktan is a name that is also known to me, but the bearer of that name that is familiar to me is far too ancient to be the father of your prince.” He paused again, and then spoke in blunt tones. “May I ask, sir, why you are here? Do you intend an invasion?”
“No,” Findaen answered. “We have endured enough of those ourselves; we would not inflict such trials on others. We have no intention of committing aggression toward those who commit none toward us.”
“Then why are you here?” Marcus frowned. “Who has invaded your lands? It cannot be laid to our account, for we have acted aggressively toward no one.”
“I did not mean to imply it, sir,” Findaen replied. “No, Manon the Grim is our oppressor and our enemy – just as he is the enemy of the whole world.”
At this, the man Marcus had identified as General Edverch stiffened and spoke in offended tones. “Manon the Great is not our enemy – indeed, he is an ally of Elam. Surely you do not intend to make war on Elam's friends?” As the tall, thin man spoke, the nob of his throat bobbed with nervous convulsion.
Marcus held up his hand. His pleasant features gave themselves over for just a moment to a look of exasperation as he turned toward Edverch. “Forgive me, General, but ally is certainly too strong a word; friend may be as well.” He turned back to Findaen. “The High Prince of our land has a long-standing arrangement with Manon, the prince in the north, though as I stated the use of the words 'friend' and 'ally' may convey something more than the truth.”
Something in the man's tone as he spoke struck Aram's ear and he decided to force the issue that concerned him most. Remembering Joktan's advice where it concerned Elam and the suggestion that all might not be well in that great land, he moved forward, causing Findaen to look over at him and step aside in deference.
Aram met the eyes of the young prince of Elam.
The general air of the meeting, which until now had been tense but
not uncivil, seemed to abruptly darken with Aram’s move forward.
Marcus’ demeanor had been one of cautious diplomacy; now, as he gazed back at Aram, there was also an air of unmistakable wariness exhibited in his attitude.
Aram decided to ask the question without preamble. “This 'arrangement' that your High Prince has made with Manon – it is the reason that you send your young women into the horror of his dungeons?”
Governor-general Kitchell gasped and Marcus’ eyes widened in shock. “Horror? Dungeons?” He took another half-step backward as Thaniel abruptly moved up behind Aram. “What do you mean by the use of these words, sir? Our young women are given to the prince of the north because his land is in need of mates for the men of marriageable age in his lands.”
“Do you believe this?” Aram asked, a bit harshly.
Marcus was silent for a long moment as his eyes searched Aram's face, then, “It is what I have been given to understand,” he answered carefully.
“But do you believe it?”
Edverch drew himself up to his full height. “What right has this man to ask such questions of us? Beware of the words of barbarians, Your Highness, especially when they cast aspersions upon our friends. Manon the Great we know; we do not know these people.”
“You think to know Manon?” Aram let go a short, harsh laugh, and gave the man a look that caused him to slump a bit and look away, and then he turned back to Marcus. “I gave you no words, Your Highness; rather I asked you a question. Do you know what happens to the young women that you send north?”
Marcus swallowed. “We understand that they are given as wives to the men of the northern regions, where Manon governs.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Four Page 4