“Goodnight then, my son.”
“Goodnight, my lord.”
The wolves arrived at dawn and together Aram, Thaniel, and Goreg and his band went west. At mid-day on the next day, Aram parted from the wolves at the end of the avenue, sending them southward into the green hills to winter among more amenable surroundings than these wolves of the high country had ever known. Leorg went with them to show them the way.
14.
Through the waning weeks of autumn and into the first days of winter, as the snow finally fell upon the pass to the east and then began to make its way inexorably toward the valley floor, Aram and Ka’en passed peaceful days and nights, often sitting up with Eoarl and Dunna into the wee hours. On these occasions, Mae was often passed from one pair of gentle hands to another. To Aram, it felt like family and like home.
He never talked of the spring and what it might bring and no one else in that company broached the subject. He did not send the emissary to Elam, intending to do so toward the end of winter. He wanted to give Marcus as much time as he needed to consolidate his governorship of Elam.
Then, one crisp mid-day, Aram went walking on the porch with Mae bundled up in his arms, to find Alvern there, preening his feathers.
The eagle looked up as Aram came out through the damaged arches where the last of the dragons had died.
Aram went toward him. “Lord Alvern – what brings you down to earth this fine day?”
“Forgive me for troubling your peace, Lord Aram, but I have news. Some time ago, High Prince Marcus of Elam requested that three horses be sent to him in Elam with the intent that they bear riders into Wallensia.” The eagle paused but when Aram tendered no response, he went on, “Findaen thought not to trouble you, my lord, so horses were found that had not chosen riders and were willing to make the journey.”
Alvern paused to run his beak along the tip of a wing feather. “The horses returned today with Prince Marcus and Captain Thom. They and three companions await you at the fortress, seeking audience. What shall I tell them?”
Aram pulled Mae close as a cool breeze freshened out of the northwest, frowned down at the ancient pavement of the porch for a long moment, and then glanced up at the sun, high in the southern sky. “Tell them that I arrive at the fortress by sunset tomorrow.”
“At once, my lord.” Alvern spread his wings and lifted up, accelerating away toward the green hills.
Aram turned toward the city to find Ka’en standing just behind him. As she reached out her arms to receive her daughter, she smiled softly up into his eyes. “I know,” she said, “you must be off again. But you will hurry back to us?”
He looked off to the north, scanning the sky for clouds. “It seems that I am never to be left in peace,” he grumbled, “until winter sets in with its strength and prevents travel.”
But then he sighed. “This summons from Marcus, however, cannot be ignored. If there is trouble in Elam, in the resolution of which I can lend him aid, then it will be worth my time. I will find Thaniel and go now, and be back in four days’ time, five at the most.”
Within the hour, he and the great horse had crossed the rivers and were wending up toward the top of the long ridge to the south of the valley. Once again, they camped near the spring where they had camped so long ago on the eve of that first battle. A few hours before morning, the temperature dropped sharply and the wind came out of the north and whistled over the crest, moaning as it moved down the long ridges, as if wounded as it went by the bare branches of the trees.
Aram started a fire and sat near it with his cloak pulled tight and tried to nap until the dawn. But when dawn came, the sun did not show, except as a wan ghost behind gray and thickening clouds.
The sun had passed through the middle of a darkly overcast day that promised a demonstration of winter’s strength by the time Aram and Thaniel swung around the vast array of tents and rode up to the walls of the fortress. Fires burned bright and hot everywhere along the avenues of that temporary “town”.
Wamlak was near the door at the foot of the stairs that led up to the war room, his cloak wrapped tightly to his throat. Torches were already lit along the stairway leading up.
The archer bowed. “Welcome, Lord Aram. High Prince Marcus and his company are upstairs.”
“How are things in the camp?” Aram asked him. “Is there enough food and fuel for heat and cooking?”
Wamlak nodded. “Dane brought the excess harvest north from both sides of the river and Arthrus’ boys bring wood out of the hills every day. There is no lack.”
“Good,” Aram acknowledged, and then he looked back as he started up the stairs. “Captain – be sure that the men working in the green hills know that there are wolves in those forests now – but that they are allied with us.”
“Yes, my lord, we know about them. We have already made contact. Their leader, named Goreg, looks much like –” Wamlak caught himself. His eyes went wide and he seemed not to know how to finish the sentence.
“Yes – he is Durlrang’s son,” Aram said simply. “Thank you, Wamlak.”
Marcus was seated at the table with Findaen, Andar, Boman, Edwar, Thom Sota, Amund Basura, Kavnaugh Berezan, and Olyeg Kraine when Aram entered. To his surprise, Suven the tailor was there as well. They all stood.
Marcus inclined his head to Aram. “Greetings, my lord; pray forgive me for disturbing your rest.”
Aram waved this away as he nodded to the other occupants of the room. Then he looked back at Marcus.
“What can I do for you, Your Highness?”
Marcus’ blue eyes were serious. “I will be as blunt as I have often known you to be, my lord. I have come, along with my Chancellor and my generals, to declare fealty to your banner, and renew to you our oath of fidelity. This oath binds to your cause, and to your command, the will of the people and the arms of Elam.”
The young High Prince bowed low before Aram and then straightened up. As he did so, he held out a rolled piece of cloth. “You are our king,” he said. “And ever will be. This is the standard of the land of Elam. I give it to you as a token of our fidelity, and as a sign that when you go to war, Elam and all its strength goes with you. Your standard will fly above the soldiers of Elam whenever we are upon the field. It will be placed upon each staff in superior position to that of my homeland.”
Aram gazed upon him, astonished at the clarity and fervor of the young Prince’s words. Briefly, he wondered if Joktan were truly nearby to witness this – and if this was what the ancient king had foreseen.
He reached out one hand to take the rolled-up flag. The other he extended to the Prince.
“I thank you, Marcus. The free peoples of the world thank you.” He turned his eyes upon the roll of cloth in his hand. “And with this, the whole of the world is at last united against tyranny.” Then, as Marcus’ words of intent registered in their fullness, he frowned at the youthful High Prince. “Upon each staff, Your Highness?” He shook his head. “I possess but the one standard only.”
In response, Marcus indicated Suven. “I am told that this gentleman understands its configuration.”
Aram looked at the tailor, treating the older man to a grateful smile, and then nodded in assent. “He aided Ka’en in the making of the standard that flies above this fortress.”
“Then if you are agreeable, my lord,” Marcus continued. “I will pay him to create as many more as are needed, based upon the pattern of the first.”
Aram shook his head. “If you really mean to do this, Your Highness,” he replied. “I will see that Suven, and anyone that aids him in this endeavor, are properly recompensed.”
With obvious temerity, but with his chin nonetheless lifted in determination, Suven stepped forward. “Forgive me, my lord,” he stated, addressing Aram, “but we did not discuss payment when the prince inquired as to my knowledge and my services.” He paused and dared to meet Aram’s gaze. “No payment is wanted. I am too old to go to war, perhaps, but I can yet render a service to
our cause. If you will provide me with the materials; I will gladly make a royal standard for every staff in Elam.”
He drew in a deep breath. “But to be as blunt as the High Prince – I will accept no money for my labor in this.”
Boman stepped up beside Suven. “I shall be blunt also, Lord Aram. Every flagstaff of Duridia will require a standard as well.”
“As will those of Lamont,” Edwar interjected.
“Seneca, too,” Andar said, and he grinned at Suven. “A lot of work for you, my friend.”
Aram frowned and studied the tailor. “Can you make so many over the course of the winter?” He asked.
Suven inclined his head in firm assent. “Yes, my lord. When I was approached about this matter, I took steps to engage every willing seamstress in Derosa. The royal standards will be ready before the spring.”
Aram’s frown took on a puzzled aspect. “When were you approached about this matter, my friend?”
Suven glanced at Marcus. “A week ago, my lord – when the High Prince first came.”
Aram looked around. “You all discussed this – and agree?”
He was answered with a grin and a nod from each. After a moment, he nodded his own head in reply. “That is settled, then.” He looked at Findaen. “Materials?”
Findaen’s grin widened. “Arthrus left for Durck three days ago.”
“I thank you all,” Aram said quietly. Then he turned once more toward Marcus. “As this seems to be a day for engaging in bluntness – may I inquire as to the extent of Elam’s strength of arms, Your Highness?”
Marcus glanced over at Kraine. “General Kraine is better able to answer that question than I, my lord. What is the measure of our strength, Olyeg?”
Olyeg inclined his head first to Marcus and then to Aram. “It is good to see you again, my lord. The men under arms in the land of Elam,” he went on, “number something more than eighty-two thousand, including surgeons and those that are trained to supply the men who do the fighting.”
Boman’s eyes went wide at this and Andar whistled low. Findaen came to his feet. “That makes our numbers almost one hundred thousand,” he declared in amazement. He turned to Aram. “With such a number, Lord Aram, we will match the grim lord man-for-man.”
Aram nodded briefly and turned narrowed eyes upon Marcus. “And your council – what do they think of this? I ask you to forgive the question, Your Highness, but you yourself told me once that you have laws that govern even the actions of the High Prince.”
“May I ask a question of my own first, my lord?”
Frowning, Aram nodded.
“Do you intend to go to war?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, in the spring,” Aram replied. “I mean to follow the snow into the north, push his armies to the foot of his tower and engage him there, and destroy him. I mean to end this in the coming year.”
A light came into Marcus’ eye and he nodded with decision. “Then Elam is at your command, my lord. But my Chancellor may tell you the particulars of the feelings of the council better than I.” He turned to Amund. “Chancellor?”
Aram looked at the eldest son of House Basura and his frown deepened. “What has happened to your father, Amund? Was he not Chancellor?”
Amund nodded. “I am pleased to stand in your presence once again, Lord Aram. Yes – my father was Chancellor. High Prince Marcus asked him to continue in that post but my father deferred out of deference to his age.” He hesitated and smiled slightly. “Also, as you well know, my lord, the last few years have been difficult times in our province. He wished to devote the years that are left to him in the restoration of our land’s peace and prosperity.”
He inclined his head. “Thanks to you, my lord, those difficult times have passed and my father may attend to the welfare of our people as it pleases him to do.” Looking up once more, he continued. “When my father declined to continue as Chancellor, the post fell by right of age and length of service to Leeton Cinnabar, but that worthy gentleman declined for much the same reasons as had my own father.”
He indicated Kavnaugh Berezan with one hand. “Which left Kavnaugh next in line – but, since he has had experience in the army; once he found that we were likely going to war under your banner, he opted for a position in the military. At that point, Marcus was free to choose whom he would. He chose me, and I accepted gladly.”
“I am pleased,” Aram replied. “Now – what of the feelings of the rest of the councilors? In particular, what does Bordo Bufor think of all this?”
To Aram’s surprise, this caused the men from Elam to throw back their heads as one and laugh aloud. As Amund regained control, he grinned at Aram. “For one thing – he is utterly terrified of you, my lord, as is everyone fortunate enough to witness your actions in the palace on that day. Would that I had been allowed to be numbered among those fortunate few.”
He gave himself over to laughter for another moment, and then went on. “Also, whatever his ideas for personal advancement upon the death of Rahm, they were put to rest when you produced Marcus in the hall. In the end, Bufor – like all the rest of Rahm’s closest allies, decided that their wealth and position were of much greater importance than any political aspirations they may have held. Bordo will be content to remain mayor of Calom Malpas, drink his fine wines, and enjoy the company of his foolish women – and continue to dress far better than anyone else in the great hall.”
Aram smiled and turned back to Marcus. “So there is no dissent?”
“None, my lord,” the young prince assured him. He hesitated and a look of wonder came over his face. “It is as if the whole of the land of Elam has awakened after a very long night that was filled with sinister shadows and darkest terrors.” Then his features hardened. “We have placed soldiers, battalion strength, at all the entrances to Elam and Cumberland, including the passages to Aniza and the gap into the plains at the end of the valley below the black mountain. The grim lord’s slave trains will never again enter our borders.”
“Well done,” Aram commended him. “But Alvern tells me that the hawks report no movement of slave trains anywhere along the roads leading north.”
Marcus looked relieved. “That is good news indeed.”
“I think Manon knows that we are coming to him – and he is drawing in all his power,” Aram stated. “He is preparing for the final confrontation.”
“So be it,” the young High Prince of Elam responded. Marcus seemed to have aged since his ascension and his new-found maturity was evident in that moment. He inclined his head. “Elam is at your command,” he said to Aram. “What are your orders, my lord?”
“One hundred thousand men will consume much food,” Aram told him. “If there is excess to be found, it should be gathered and laid in store for the coming campaign. And we will need oxcarts to bear those stores north that the army may draw upon them at need. I have money – will your farmers sell us what we need?”
Marcus held up his hand. “My lord, my people have since the beginning of time prepared for times of want. Every Great House has as much as a year’s supply of stores laid aside.”
Aram looked at Amund. “I remember that your father told me this.”
“The time has come that they are needed, my lord,” Marcus went on, “and since time of war is one consideration for this practice, the goods will be used for the purpose of feeding the army as it goes to war.” Marcus glanced at Amund and lowered his hand. “And since the children of my land have been made free from the threat of enslavement and transport into horror, the farmers and merchants – whose daughters they were – will gladly provide oxcarts for our use. There will be no payment sought or accepted.”
He inclined his head in respect. “I thank you for your offer of money, my lord, but we are all in this together and must all pay our share.” He straightened up and met Aram’s gaze. “I speak for Elam. We are at your disposal; lead us where you will.”
Aram let his gaze move slowly among the Elamite delegation, noting the s
ame conviction on every face as was evident on that of their High Prince.
He nodded and focused his attention once again on Marcus. “Meet me in Cumberland – with your army fully supplied for a six month campaign – when the trees of that land turn green with the departure of winter. I want to stand before the tower of Manon with all our combined strength by the advent of summer.”
Marcus bowed low. “Elam will be there, Lord Aram.”
“Thank you, Marcus,” Aram replied warmly.
They supped together and talked long of the campaign to come, while outside, the cold wind swept across the prairie though as yet it brought with it no snow. In the morning, Marcus and his company forded the river and went back westward while Aram and Thaniel bade the others farewell and rode northeast into the icy wind.
And finally, it snowed; though much more fell to earth in the valley to the north of the green hills than southward upon the plains of Wallensia. And with that storm, the winter came and life grew quiet. Eoarl, Dunna, and Cala stayed in the house with Aram and Ka’en. As the winter deepened and snow accumulated in the valley outside, Mae flourished at her mother’s breast, and they spent many pleasant evenings gathered close to the fire.
No one talked of the coming spring.
The winter passed slowly. Though it was not as severe as some that had been known in that valley, it was severe enough. All was calm and quiet and Aram was happier than he had ever been able to be.
Storms came and snow fell, followed by periods of sunny days, crisp and cold. It began to seem as if this time of peace and contentment would go on forever and never find an end. The old year turned into the new without anyone noticing.
Then one morning, as Aram slogged through the snow south of the avenue to bring Thaniel some of the apples that Arthrus had brought with him after Aram’s orchards were devastated by the dragons, the breeze arose out of the south. Rain fell from scudding clouds that scurried northward in short bands of sodden gray.
Aram stopped and looked about him at the low places where the snow had turned to slush and the ice on the scattered pools was becoming rotten. Then he lifted his gaze and looked southward, toward the green hills. Showing here and there among the gray trunks, there were bare patches of earth.
Kelven's Riddle Book Five Page 12
