“Of course, my lord,” the innkeeper answered. “I will go with you to see you settled.”
In the morning, they parted from the sailors, whose ship had delivered goods for Derosa that Arthrus or Dane would soon come and collect, and then Aram drew Mullen aside.
“Thank you, Mullen.”
The droopy eyes widened in surprise. “My lord?”
“For the use of your house – that was kind of you.” Aram looked away and down over the town toward the harbor before bringing his eyes back to Mullen’s face. “This town – this port is important to me, and you have it well in hand. I thank you for that, most of all.”
Mullen shrugged. “You heard Keegan, my lord. It’s your town now.”
“No,” Aram corrected him, “this town belongs to the people that dwell here. The law is mine – but the town is yours.”
The innkeeper gazed back at him for a long moment. “You’re an unusual man, Lord Aram.”
Aram smiled. “So I’ve been told.” He looked up toward the east, where the first rays of the sun shot above the broken horizon. “Continue as you have, Mullen; call me at need.”
“Thank you – I will.”
“Farewell, Mullen.”
“Farewell, my lord.”
Leaving the town and going up through the gap, the company gained the heights and went north along the now-familiar road. An hour later Kipwing came down and circled above them.
Aram looked up. “Yes, Kipwing?”
“My lord, there is nothing unusual or suspicious in the countryside round about. I understand that these skies look down upon your homeland?”
“Yes.”
“May I go ahead of you, and find my grandfather? I am most anxious to see him. If I do find anything suspicious on the way, I will return and warn you at once.”
Aram smiled. “That will be fine, Kipwing. Go – and give my regards to my friend Alvern.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The day, though cool, promised to warm as the sun climbed above the eastern hills. Before midday, they had crossed the low ridge and come down onto the plains below the Weser and the approaches to Derosa. They were almost home. Far ahead, just above the horizon, the dim outline of the green hills began to peer above the undulating grasslands. Those hills were gray yet, green would come sometime later.
The sun had crossed the meridian and angled westward when a familiar voice dropped out of the heavens.
“Welcome home, Lord Aram.”
Aram looked skyward gladly. “It is good to be home, Lord Alvern – and to hear your voice again. How are things?”
Alvern answered with his customary bluntness. “There is an army north of the gates of Elam, in the Land Beyond the Gates.”
Aram felt his guts convulse. “How many lashers?”
“None, my lord.”
This surprised Aram. “Gray men only?”
“There are no gray men with this army.”
“Is it not an army of Manon?”
“Nay, my lord, it came out of Elam.”
“Out of Elam?” Aram’s surprise deepened, even as the tightness in his guts relaxed a bit. “What does it do?”
“Nothing, it waits and watches,” the eagle answered, “but its commanders look eastward, toward Derosa, and send scouting parties into the hills to the east and up the valley toward the mountain where you slew the grim lord’s army.”
Aram turned in the saddle and looked back at Findaen. “Why would Elam be interested in us?”
It was Thaniel that answered. “Perhaps the grim lord’s power over them has grown. Maybe this army is positioned to protect his slave trains.”
Aram considered that statement and nodded at its logic, but before he could answer, Alvern spoke again.
“I have sent hawks close to these commanders, to hear what they say. It seems that the High Prince of Elam has lately grown concerned that there are ‘barbarians’ upon his borders, and has sent this army to seek them out.”
“And we are the barbarians.”
“So it would seem, my lord.”
Aram felt the tightness re-enter his insides, and ice came with it. “Does anything come from the north?”
“No, my lord. Nothing moves in the north. There is yet snow across much of the northern reaches of the world, from Bracken southward into the plains.”
“And this Elamite army is interested in us, in the east, and not the north?”
“Its commanders look eastward,” Alvern repeated.
“How large is this army?”
“Many hundreds, my lord – many thousands.”
The tightness and the ice sharpened. Aram looked down at Thaniel. “I must go and look upon this army that has come out of Elam.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“As soon as is possible.”
“Of course,” Thaniel replied. “Do we need our friends?”
In answer, Aram looked back at the sky. “Lord Alvern – if you will – go into Duridia and seek its governor. His name is Boman. Tell him that my need has arisen, and will he come?”
“At once, my lord.”
From Huram’s back, Ka’en looked over at Aram, and saw the change in his demeanor. In the course of a few minutes, her husband had once again become fully a man of war. Sadness filled her at the sight of it. She had been a bride but four or five months now, but those months had been the most thrilling and satisfying of her young life, for she had spent them with him, traveling through exotic, albeit often treacherous, lands. Now, once more, he would go away into danger, and into the distance, and she would be alone with her fear for him.
But there was one thing more. Something new and wonderful. A secret. She had planned on telling him when they were home and alone, in the quiet of their room. Now, probably, it would have to wait, at least for a while. For the moment, he needed no further distractions.
47
Aram crouched below the brow of the hill in the shadowy shelter of a copse of trees just now turning green with the advent of leaves, and gazed out upon the army of Elam encamped on the rolling prairie of the Land Beyond the Gates. The center of the encampment appeared to be positioned about halfway between the distant town and the small lake that lay against the wooded hills to the north, just to the south of the road where Aram and his soldiers had first attacked the slave trains.
The army of Elam, he admitted to himself, was an impressive sight.
The troops were being drilled in companies of about a thousand or more, marching and wheeling in perfect unison. All but a few were clad in blue and gold armor; the others, perhaps three thousand, wore green and gray. Helmets shone and shields gleamed in the bright sunshine of spring. There were, he estimated, approximately fifteen-to-twenty thousand men tramping and turning on the grasslands below.
He looked over as a shadow materialized out of the woodlands and resolved itself into Padrik.
“Scouts come, master. We can kill them if you want.”
“No,” Aram shook his head. “I’ll move back. I don’t want them to know about you and your people just yet.”
“As you wish.”
Sending a thought out to Durlrang, who had been keeping watch just down the slope, Aram turned and moved eastward through the thicketed trees quickly and silently. Thaniel waited a few hundred yards east and beyond the ridge top to the south. The big horse was simply impossible to hide among the scant cover provided by the nearly bare-limbed trees.
Finding a timbered ravine, he climbed up through it to the head of the draw and crossed the summit of the ridge to the south. Slipping over the top of the ridge he dropped below it and worked his way down to where Thaniel waited. He mounted up and they turned eastward, staying down slope, thereby avoiding the eyes of the patrols that the army of Elam had sent into the valley of the dry lake.
Aram had seen all that he needed to see. For more than a week now, the Elamite army had showed no sign of breaking camp and advancing toward the east, upon Wallensia. According to the reports
that had come to Alvern from the low-flying hawks, Elam had sent these forces forth in order to discover the truth of those things that had occurred upon its northern borders and gain intelligence of the “barbarian” threat.
But what did this mean, exactly? What did the High Prince of Elam intend to do about the “threat”? Would he eventually send the army eastward to seek out the “barbarians” in an attempt to eliminate them?
Or – and this gave Aram some dark thoughts – was this army waiting for the arrival of a reinforcing contingent of Manon’s troops? The grim lord, Aram believed, would not let his defeat of the previous fall stand. No, Manon would undoubtedly send another force southward. There was no question but that he had used the winter well, pondering the reasons for his army’s destruction and developing new strategies to deal with the threat posed by Aram.
Perhaps the army of Elam was an integral part of whatever new strategy he had devised. Perhaps the grim lord had at last demanded more of Elam than just the use of its young women.
Or was there something else at work? Maybe – and hope flickered faintly at the thought of it – a rift of some kind had occurred between Elam and Manon. But if that were true, why did the army look eastward and not to the north? All of its actions so far indicated an interest in the east, not the north. Elam’s rulers knew precisely in which direction the grim lord’s capitol lay – they had sent their young women along that road for years.
No, Aram must put aside hope and face the hard truth of it – whether in conjunction with the forces of the grim lord or separately of its own accord, Elam intended some kind of mischief where Derosa was concerned.
The more he thought on it, the more Aram hardened toward confronting this army, and discovering Elam’s true intent, and at the same time perhaps learn the nature and depth of that land’s alliance with Manon. Lamont would be on the plains inside of three weeks, and Boman had sent word back with Alvern that he would come to the gates of Derosa in eight days or less. So, very soon, Aram would have an army of his own. Though not quite comparable in size to the one wheeling and marching upon the grasslands behind him, it would nonetheless be large enough and strong enough to take the field, especially with the advantage granted it by the presence of the Sword of Heaven.
“Does the army move, or does it yet stay?” Thaniel asked him.
“It stays,” Aram answered, “though it continues to send scouts eastward. There are some behind us now.”
“You should let the wolves kill them,” the horse growled.
“Not yet,” Aram disagreed. “I don’t want them alerted until Lamont and Duridia have come.”
He and Thaniel reached a point where the broad leafs began to thin, interspersed now with juniper and an occasional pine. Here they turned to the north again, re-crossing the ridge and descending another hollow until they found its rock-strewn outlet into the valley. Findaen, Wamlak, Ruben, Mallet, and Jonwood, with their mounts, awaited him there, for this ravine lay about a half-mile beyond the farthest extent of the Elamite patrols.
Findaen turned from watching the valley. “Any change?”
Aram shook his head. “None. They remain where they are, and I can see no evidence that they will come this way any time soon.”
“So what do we do?”
Aram looked around at his friends, meeting every set of eyes.
Dismounting, he motioned for everyone, men and horses and Durlrang, to gather close. “If Manon sends an army from the north,” he said, “we will know for a certainty that it means us ill will. I don’t know what the army of Elam intends toward us and I would like to discover the intentions of one army before there are two. When Lamont and Duridia arrive, our forces will be more than ten thousand strong, beside eight hundred horses, and more than three hundred wolves. It is my opinion that we would be more than a match for this army, despite its fine appearance.”
Jonwood grinned savagely. “So we fight, then.”
“If that is their intent, yes,” Aram affirmed. “I intend to give them a chance to talk first.”
“Do they wait for the forces of the grim lord?” Findaen wondered.
“Who can say?” Aram replied. “I would rather learn the answer to that question now, than when it is too late.”
“Do we go to confront them then?”
Aram nodded. “If they do not move upon us, then yes.”
“And would they consider such an action on our part an invasion?”
“That does not come into it,” Thaniel spoke up. “Aram is descended from kings – he may go where he will.”
Ruben grimaced. “They will undoubtedly not view it that way, Thaniel.”
“I care not,” the horse answered.
There was a moment of silence and then Aram said, “We won’t go straight at them, anyway. It seems reasonable that the valley of the dry lake is neutral ground, and I doubt we will get very far down it with more than ten thousand men and horses before we are discovered. And then we will deploy and perhaps get them to talk.” He shrugged. “And if they are not inclined to talk, then we will know how to act.”
He looked at Wamlak and Mallet. “You haven’t said anything.”
Wamlak shrugged. “Mallet will do whatever you say,” – Mallet nodded at this – “and as for me – what choice do we have in the matter? Manon desires our destruction and Elam gives him its daughters. We cannot afford to let known enemies join forces.”
“I agree,” said Thaniel.
Mallet nodded again, and Ruben said, “Yes, so do I.”
Jonwood and all the horses assented to this thinking as well. Aram looked at Findaen, who met his gaze openly. “As Wamlak stated, my lord, there is no choice. If this army and an army of the grim lord join forces and move upon us together, our situation will quickly become desperate. Let’s confront the one, however the issue is resolved, and then we can worry about the other.”
“Alright,” Aram agreed. “We will present our thoughts to our allies when they come. They are stronger than we are, however,” he warned, “and they may have other ideas. They may hesitate at confronting Elam.”
“These “allies” are come very late to the fight, Lord Aram,” Mallet growled. “You decide what we do, not they. They can follow – and fight – or they can go home.”
“You’ve seen what we face, my friend,” Aram answered gently. “We will need our friends.”
“We have you – and that’s always been enough.”
Aram shook his head. “No; not if Elam joins with Manon against us. And tricks will no longer suffice. The enemy knows me now, and knows what I have in my possession. I’m afraid that it will be a straight fight from now on – force against force. We will need our friends,” he repeated.
Thaniel looked at Mallet. “I agree with you, but I think these men are not fools, and they desire freedom. They will learn to follow Lord Aram, or they will meet with bitter failure. One battle and this lesson will be taught – and learned.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Aram looked around. “Are we in agreement, then?”
There was unanimous, silent assent.
“Alright, then let’s go and prepare, and then we’ll see what our allies have to say on the matter.”
They went eastward through the hills until they passed the lava flow, and then gained the road and went southward around Flat Butte and turned eastward across the plains. Before long the profile of the fort being constructed by Nikolus and Timmon upon the hill above Dane’s farm began to rise out of the prairie. Though not finished, the structure’s exterior walls, comprised of stout vertical timbers sunk into the ground, were in place. Just below the top of these walls, but close enough to the top that a man of average height could peer over, there was a walkway running completely around the interior. Soon, they could see the figures of men working on this walkway.
Just as they were crossing the river, Alvern’s voice came down.
“Many men on the southern plains, my lord.”
“North of Duridia – or to the east near Durck?”
“North of Duridia,” answered the eagle. “There are groups of many men coming toward the north, with many wagons.”
“How far away?” Aram asked.
Alvern, when he answered, sounded a bit exasperated. “You always task me, Lord Aram, with questions that are beyond my skills. However, my grandson is here –”
The next voice was Kipwing’s. “The army of Duridia is five to six days away, Lord Aram, and Lamont approaches through the hills to the east.”
Silently, Aram rejoiced. Turning to Findaen, he said, “Duridia has come and Lamont nears the plains.”
Looking back into the sky, he said, “If you will, Lord Alvern, direct them to come to the fortress that is being constructed on the banks of the river.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Kipwing said, “May I have your leave, Lord Aram, to bring word of this to my young friend, the lord of Lamont?”
“Of course.”
Seven days later, Duridia arrived, moved along in steady, efficient order by its stolid governor. Aram stood on the parapet and watched three columns of men and wagons snake across the prairie toward him with growing satisfaction. They were marching four or five abreast, maintaining good rank and unbroken files as they came toward the fortress.
Aram turned and looked the other way. Upon his orders, for more than a week now, Dane and several men had been taking oxcarts into the green hills, gathering deadfall, and cutting up dead and fallen trees, reducing them to firewood. Bringing these loads of wood southward onto the rolling prairie, they had created hundreds of stacks of firewood, ready for use by the men of Duridia and Lamont. Also, in the storehouse beneath him, constructed just inside the eastern wall of the fortress, Derosa’s excess provisions had been stored, and more was coming from Stell. Also, the arms from Regamun Mediar were being brought and stacked by Arthrus and ten other men, with the aid of thirty willing horses.
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 53
