“Oh, Aram. What happened?”
He looked again toward the others, finding them all busy, and beyond earshot. “I think he would have killed me right there – which he could have done easily – and taken it, but he would have had to destroy the fellring and leave the sword unprotected, thousands of miles away from him. Plus, I think he suspects the presence of the Astra, and knows that they would move it beyond his grasp.” He shook his head. “He needs me to hand it to him, and he invited me to go to him, no doubt with that end in mind. He doesn’t fear it – he wants it.”
Her eyes, if anything, grew wider. “He asked you to go to him?”
“He said his armies would stand down, and let me pass.”
“It’s a trick, Aram, a trap.”
He nodded. “Probably. But – it would mean an end to the war, at least for the moment. And maybe I could surprise him. Maybe I could resist his power long enough to get close and put the sword to use, and end everything.”
“No.” She sounded terrified at the prospect. “No, my love, it’s a trick. It could not be so easy as that.”
His smile was tired and uneasy. “That was my first thought. Still –”
“Maybe he doesn’t understand its power.”
Aram sighed. “No, he knows how powerful it is. That’s what unsettles me. He knows that this thing is not from the earth, yet, rather than fear its bearer, he desires to see it brought to him. He either knows that he can wrest it from me, or he thinks he can.” He sighed again, deeply. “After my experience back there, well, I don’t know, maybe he can…”
“What happened in that cave, Aram?”
“I’ve told you.” He frowned in exasperation. “Does there need to be more? Just what I told you – he wants me to go to him.”
She laid a gentle hand on his sleeve. “Don’t be angry with me, my love, but there’s something you’re not telling me.”
He stiffened with anger, but then checked himself and folded his hand over hers. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ferros was there, too.”
“Ferros?”
“Yes. Evidently, he intends to keep his word every time I go underground. But there’s something else.” He turned his head and again calculated that the others wouldn’t hear, before looking into her eyes and speaking low. “There’s a dragon in that cave – it’s why the fellring is there. It’s a child, I guess; it’s in an egg, or something. Ferros was furious; he and Manon had sharp words.”
He shuddered slightly, causing Ka’en to lean closer. “I could feel it, Ka’en – their anger. It was palpable, physical. It weighed me down, made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.” He shuddered again, stronger this time. “If a god can affect the very atmosphere around him – how will I resist that? – and what can a man possibly do to affect him?”
“That’s why you can’t go to him.”
He fixed her with hard, angry eyes. “Then the whole issue is in doubt, isn’t it, for that’s all I’ve wanted to do since I acquired this weapon – go straight to him and drive it into his wicked heart.” He spread his hands wide. “But if he can knock me to my knees with just his thoughts and emotions, well –”
“I don’t want you to go there anyway, ever.”
“Stop it!” He spoke more harshly – and more loudly – than he’d intended. Glancing at the others, whose discrete attention was now centered on them, he sighed and met Ka’en’s eyes. “I’m sorry for that. But not going to his tower to face him renders everything else pointless, doesn’t it? I mean – what are we doing all this for?”
“You can defeat his armies – make him weak,” she answered. “With the sword, and with allies, you can destroy all of his armies and isolate him, leave him to sulk, or whatever gods do when their power is gone.”
He watched her for a long moment, wanting to believe her words, trying to see her suggestion as an ultimate solution. Then, after a moment, he shook his head. “No. All we would do is delay the world’s torment for a while, as Kelven did so long ago. No,” he said again, “Manon must be destroyed – it’s why the sword is here. And I must find a way to do it.”
Ka’en’s eyes suddenly overflowed with tears. “I wish that sword had never come to you – that you had never gotten it,” she corrected herself.
He watched her for a moment, anger and frustration knotting his brow, and then he closed his eyes and leaned against Thaniel’s flank. “You told me once that all of this was too big for you. Well; now I know how you felt. It’s too big for me, too.” He straightened and looked up at the darkening sky, and his gaze grew cold. “Why can’t the gods solve their own issues? Why does it always fall to us, when we’re not strong enough to resolve them? – and it’s our people that suffer.”
Ka’en’s eyes had gone wide at this desperate outburst. “Aram – please, don’t say that it’s too big for you. You frighten me.”
Thaniel, who until this moment had endured their private conversation in awkward silence, swung his head around and looked at Ka’en. “Your husband is a strong man, my lady, but a man nonetheless, and he bears burdens that the gods themselves cannot sustain. Sometimes his great strength will ebb but he finds it again anon. Do not fear – this will pass.”
For just a moment, Aram felt the flare of irritation at the horse’s candid judgment of his state, but then he sighed and reached out and pulled Ka’en to him. “Forget it for now. Thaniel is right – I’m just tired and shaken – it will pass. We will worry about all of this later.” Still holding her close, he turned toward the others, glancing toward the west, where the sun had abandoned the sky. “Let me free up Thaniel and Huram – you go over by the fire. We’ll make camp, eat, and sleep. There is still far to go, and you need to be rested.”
Later, sitting in the warm glow of the fire, Aram startled his companions by relating to them all that had transpired at the mouth of the deep darkness, and finished with these words, “– you should all know that my faith in the course I have chosen to prosecute this struggle has been shaken. I don’t want to talk about it further tonight – we are all tired and have far to go – but think on these things, and talk about them; I will welcome any thoughts or advice you may wish to give.”
At that, the camp fell into somber silence. Overhead, a thin overcast crept out of the south and blunted the stars.
Dawn came slowly, the clouds had thickened overnight, and the sun’s position in the firmament could be resolved only as the least dim portion of a dim, gray sky.
As the road went on, curving slowly towards the southeast, the landscape remained unaltered – the road cut through broad areas of rocky uplands that, to the south, grew to rather formidable heights, and then it swept through wide, level valleys, through many of which small streams meandered in large channels. Occasionally, in small pockets among the clustered hills, ragged juniper began to appear, though upon their stunted trunks dry, dead limbs far outnumbered the branches sporting green growth. Prickly trees and brush still held sway.
The mountains to their front grew in height and mass, but seemed to come no nearer; the lost stretched away before and behind. Off to the north, far away, broken mountains, like razor-edged teeth, peeked above the distant horizon. Kipwing flew low, beneath the thickening overcast, and they often saw his dark form, sailing above the wild country to the north.
About midday, as the horses drove through another broad region of rocky hills, Aram looked back at Findaen. “We’ll stop for a bit of rest at the next river valley.”
At that moment, Kipwing’s voice came down out of the sky and pierced Aram’s mind like a bolt. “Lord Aram – something comes.”
Startled by the obvious anxiety in the eagle’s voice, Aram drew the column to a halt and looked north. “Kipwing says that something is coming,” he told the others – unnecessarily, for due to the urgent tone of Kipwing’s announcement they had all heard the bird’s voice.
“What is it that comes?” Aram called back.
“Something I have never seen.
It comes out of the north – out of the depths of the lost.”
“Describe it.”
The eagle was silent for a long moment. “It is very large, my lord – larger than any beast I have ever seen; larger than a shrinn, certainly, larger even than one of the grim lord’s beasts which you slew at the mountain – though the shape of its head is similar to theirs, but it moves on four feet.”
“Is it going to water, or hunting perhaps?” Aram asked. “In which direction does it move?”
“Toward you, Lord Aram.” Kipwing’s words were tinged with distress. “It stops and sniffs the air, now and then, before it moves on – always correcting so that it moves more directly toward you. I believe that it hunts you.”
Aram felt jagged ice form in his veins and dread fill his heart. Since the encounter with the gods in the dark cavern of the previous day, his spirit had flagged and he did not trust his courage. “Can we outrun it?”
“I think not. It moves with speed that I believe even the horses cannot match. The broken ground seems not to impede it at all.”
Aram’s insides grew colder at these words, and in an endeavor to shake the mounting fear, he immediately took stock of his surroundings. To the north of the road, the country was rough and broken, with rocky, shallow ravines running eastward, toward another, and as yet unseen, river channel. To the south of the road, the hills rose higher, and a short way further on, there was a small rounded knob at the foot of an even higher, rocky hill.
He pointed at the top of the rounded knoll. “There – we go there.”
Below the hill, they dismounted, and the horses and the humans crowded onto the summit of the knob. Placing Ka’en at the back – a rising fear for her safety prevented him from answering the look in her widened eyes – he arranged the others in a semi-circular line, facing north, and interspersed, man and horse, man and horse.
“Draw your swords,” he commanded.
He slipped off Thaniel’s back and looked at the wolves. “Go,” he said, “stay out of danger, but let me know when this thing gets close.”
Glancing at the sky, he saw that the clouds had grown thick enough to threaten rain, and had dropped lower. To the east, it had swallowed the upper slopes of the distant mountains. He looked north.
“Where is the beast?”
Kipwing’s voice came, close and worried. “No more than a mile distant, my lord – and I was correct; it does hunt you and your companions. Since you have halted, it moves more cautiously, but comes steadily toward your position. It will come within view momentarily.”
Aram strained his eyes, peering northward, and within moments saw a bulky, dark shape slip over the crest of a ridge about a half-mile distant. It was just a glimpse, but he had an impression of a large, misshapen, horned head topping a vast muscular body. At the sight of it, his thoughts darkened further and fear welled deeper in his bones.
“You have no knowledge of this thing?” He asked Kipwing.
“I have never seen its like, Lord Aram. But then, I never fly this far east, and have never looked upon the heart of the lost, from whence it comes.”
Thaniel moved up beside him. “You should get up onto my back, Aram. Whatever this thing is, it is enormous. You will need my assistance in facing it.”
Aram nodded. “Perhaps. Let’s see what it is, first. It may be best if I’m afoot. I have the sword, after all.”
“But there is no sun today,” the horse protested.
“That will blunt its flame,” Aram agreed, “but will take nothing from its power. Be patient until we face this thing.” He started to pull the hood over his head but decided against it. The day had grown gloomy as the clouds lowered and thickened, and he couldn’t afford even a slight interference with his vision as he faced the unknown. He glanced over at the horse. “Whatever happens, my friend – protect Ka’en.”
“As you said, Lord Aram; let’s wait and see the truth of this beast,” Thaniel replied. “It may be that it will be frightened of such a large company as ours.”
“It is upon you, master,” Durlrang said suddenly, as from the sky Kipwing’s words echoed with similar warning at the same instant.
And the lie was instantly put to Thaniel’s hope.
The monster that came around a corner of rock by a small hillock north of the road was enormous – fourteen or fifteen feet tall at least, though all four of its feet, massive and clawed like a lasher’s, were upon the ground.
Just beyond the edge of the road, it stopped and examined them.
Aram drew the sword, and stepped in front of Thaniel.
The beast’s head was as big as a horse’s midsection, with massive, ribbed horns that curved down and swept out to either side, flat and sharp. Its broad nose was elongated and curved downward, like a lasher’s, and it showed long, vicious teeth as it emitted a low growl that reverberated inside Aram’s head. The gray body, tinged with a greenish cast, was heavy, looped with sinew and knotted muscle, with equally muscular arms and legs. Indeed, it appeared that the coiled muscles beneath that gray-green skin strained to burst through.
Aram met the beast’s eyes, and there, all similarity to a lasher ended. Where a lasher’s eyes were round, flat, unblinking, and black, the beast’s eyes were slightly ovoid in shape, and were the color of rusted iron, orange-brown, nearly red around the black pupils. Bright intelligence shone out of them – no, not intelligence; it was something much less approachable yet infinitely more dangerous – cunning.
Aram moved to position himself between the beast and his companions on the knoll, motioning Thaniel to stay behind him.
“You need me in this fight, Aram,” the horse insisted.
“We’ll see – stay back,” Aram answered shortly.
The beast dropped its hindquarters to the ground and studied Aram and then lifted its gaze to the group behind. After a moment, its attention returned to Aram, and Aram sensed its thoughts, and knew that it understood – that the man with the sword was its only real challenge.
Though he instinctively knew that this beast was an adversary, he reached out with his mind, looking for any sign of welcoming intelligence; but there was nothing. It was like listening for echoes from the depths of a well in the deep of a still, cold, and empty night.
The beast rose abruptly and sidestepped to its right, Aram’s left. Aram moved to keep himself between it and the company behind him. The sword hummed softly, but there was no flame; for the sky had lowered further and the day grew darker. The sun had slipped past midday and was sliding down the sky; Aram knew this because the blade exerted a westward tug upon his arm.
The beast stopped again, and sat down, and again it alternately studied Aram and the group behind him. Meeting the monster’s calculating gaze, Aram saw raw, ravenous hunger in its eyes. And he saw that it realized that, while the man before him with the strange blade was very likely dangerous; if it could somehow get past this man, there would be an easy feast.
The beast glanced momentarily upward as Kipwing circled low overhead. Aram sent a question into the sky. “Are there more?”
“Forgive me, my lord?” The eagle sounded strained and confused.
Aram’s own nerves twitched and jangled beneath his knotted muscles as his mind fairly shouted his question to the sky. “Are there more beasts – or just this one?”
“I have seen only this beast, but I will go now and look for more.”
During this exchange, the beast cocked its head, watching Aram; then it again looked skyward.
Does it understand us? Aram wondered.
“Who are you?” He asked aloud. “What do you want of us?”
Something flickered deep inside the rusty eyes, but there was only thick silence in response. The beast abruptly rose again, feinted to its right, and then lunged to its left, covering many yards of ground in three or four strides.
Aram, shocked by the rapidity and astonishing acceleration of the beast’s movements, quickly changed direction and inserted himself again between
it and his friends. In doing so, he ran headlong into Thaniel, who had also responded to the beast’s tactic. Ducking under the horse’s great neck, he moved out in front again.
“Get behind me, Thaniel.”
“You need me for this, Aram,” Thaniel argued. “Get on my back and let’s charge – drive it away or kill it.”
In answer, Aram studied their monstrous assailant, its size, and obvious strength, the length and fearsome sharpness of the claws on its appendages – and the awful length of those appendages. Then he shook his head. “It would kill you before I could get close enough to use the sword. No, Thaniel, this is my fight. It can’t reach me except by passing this sword, which it cannot do – and this blade will kill it.” He went silent for a moment, watching the beast.
“Which,” he continued, “I think it knows.”
The wolves circled at a distance, growling and stiff, but even the ferocious Shingka seemed to understand that this thing possessed strength and speed far beyond any of them.
The beast lifted its massive head, turned toward the east, and sniffed the air, blowing great blasts from its nostrils, as if it caught the scent of something tastier and easier to manage somewhere off in that direction. Then it lowered its head, and without looking at Aram and his companions, moved off purposefully eastward, staying to the north of the road. Aram moved with it, easing down off the edge of the knoll, relaxing slightly, and breathing a sigh of relief as the beast seemed intent on quitting the stalemate.
Abruptly, it veered south and in a frightening burst of speed, shot across the road and into the brush and rock to Aram’s right, angling for the eastern side of the knoll. Too late, Aram saw his mistake.
On its northeastern side, immediately behind Aram, the hillock broke over sharply into a steep, rocky incline, but to the south of this steeper ground, on the knoll’s eastern slope, there was a longer, gentler, narrow sort of path – a flat-topped ridge – that led directly to its top, toward those huddled on its crown. By following the movements of the creature, Aram had placed the broken, steep side of the knoll between him and the small company crowded on its top. Worse, the massive beast now had a clear path up the gentle ridge straight at his friends, while he was forced to scramble up the steep, rocky angle to get between them and danger.
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 39
