He pointed to his right, toward a broad area of open fields, now lying fallow in the early light. A slight smile touched his face as he looked up at Hargur.
“I don’t want to frighten these people unduly,” he said. “They will find it difficult enough to adjust to freedom in the days and weeks ahead, and it will not do for them to get a glimpse of you and the others. I don’t want them to encounter those that once ruled over them, if at all possible.”
Nodding his understanding, Hargur looked in the direction indicated. “The valley is not overly wide, master. If my companions and I move quickly, we may cross it in a day.”
Aram shook his head at this. “There are more villages between us and the far hills,” he said. “And they do not know the truth of the altered condition of the world. No,” he said again, and he pointed out the willows that lined the irrigation ditches. “I prefer that we cross it stealthily than with speed. If possible, I wish to be unseen.”
He looked up once more at Hargur. “Will you and the others bear wood for a fire? It may be that we must pass the night upon the open prairie.”
“As you wish, master,” Hargur agreed and he looked back up the ravine toward a stand of juniper. “We will return soon.”
“Hurry,” Aram instructed him. “I wish to gain those willows before full daylight.”
All that day, they moved carefully along through the limited cover of the willows that lined the ditches, making speed where they could, crawling when necessary, and even lying prone to remain hidden whenever the denizens of these cold northern villages came within eyeshot.
They crossed the river just after mid-day, slogging through the shallower current near where it fell gently across a gravel bar. By sunset, they were yet two or three miles from the hills to the south. Aram led them into the tenuous shelter beneath a wooden bridge.
As he started a fire, he looked around at them. “We’ll be on the move before dawn,” he said, “and try to get into the hills quickly where we can make better time.”
The sun was less than two hours in the sky the next morning when they at last left the open ground of the valley and moved up into the hills through the shelter of a ravine where the juniper and brush grew thickly, and a clear stream tumbled through the bottom.
Five days later, after climbing up the northern slope of those hills, they found the summit and began descending toward the south. Two days more and they stood on the crest of the lowest group of knolls and looked down over the long valley through which Aram had been transported all those years ago. By narrowing his eyes against flat light of the low-hanging sun, Aram could just make out the indication of the road that ran along the far side of the valley. He pointed directly south.
“Beyond those hills, there is another valley,” he said, and he looked at Hargur. “You passed through it many times as you moved along the road by the edge of the plains.”
Hargur nodded. “I know this country well, my lord.”
“When the road leaves that valley behind, and passes from the plains, it runs through a gap into the land of Cumberland.” He looked at Hargur once again. “As you know well.”
Hargur nodded.
“Do not travel upon the road,” Aram instructed him firmly, “but move upon the east of it, through the cover of the hills until you reach the high ground above the valley of the dry lake.”
He looked at Hargur once more until the lasher once again nodded his understanding.
“There,” Aram continued, “another road turns away from Cumberland toward the east and goes up the valley of the dry lake. Not far beyond, perhaps a mile or more, there is a place where it turns away to the south and goes up over the hills and down into the land of Wallensia. Have you ever gone there?” He asked Hargur.
The big lasher shook his head. “I know that road, but I have never gone into Wallensia,” he replied.
“You will follow it now,” Aram informed him. “Cautiously. I do not think anyone travels that road, but you will exercise every caution. Beyond those far southern hills, the road bends eastward alongside the River Stell as it goes into Wallensia.” He shook his head emphatically. “There are farmers there – former slaves – and I do not wish to have them see you and your companions. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master.”
Aram nodded. “Good. Where the road turns eastward along the Stell, you will abandon it, cross the river, and go toward the south, into the thick forests which you will see before you, next to the wooded hills that separate Wallensia from Elam. The city you seek is no more than two or three days journey to the south of that river, perhaps even less for you. It is there, next to those hills.”
He turned and looked at each of the lashers in turn, meeting each set of eyes. “Is it still your wish to go there?”
Hargur nodded at once, without consulting his companions, his gaze fixed eagerly upon the south. “If you will allow it, my lord.”
Aram watched him until the lasher looked his way. “I give you that city,” he stated plainly, “for as long as you and your companions live. None will disturb you there.”
Hargur hesitated and then tendered a softly-spoken question. “Are you leaving us then, master?”
Aram nodded and pointed toward the southeast. “My home is in Regamun Mediar – far away toward the rising of the sun. From this point, you will go south, and I will turn southeast. Thus far, I have slowed you down; you will make better time without me.”
Hargur’s gaze was fixed upon him. There was a hesitant sort of melancholy evident in the depths of his large flat eyes. “Will we see you again, master?”
“You will,” Aram assured him. “When I have once again seen my family, I will come to you and make certain that you are safe and well and unmolested.”
Hargur continued to watch him for a long moment, and then the big harbigur knelt down and kissed his boots, almost knocking Aram backward with his great horns as he executed the act.
“Get up,” Aram commanded him, taken aback by the action. “There is no need for that.”
Hargur rose and met his gaze. “There was need for me to do it, master,” he argued carefully and he bowed his massive head. “We will obey you always, master. Command us, and we will obey.”
Behind him, the other two nodded solemnly.
Aram reached out and touched Hargur on his thickly muscled arm. “Go carefully,” he said in a kind tone. “Get safely to your new home. I will come and see you as soon as I am able.”
“Thank you, master.” The big lasher gazed at him for another long moment, and then, followed by the others, he turned and loped away into the south, going from sight down along the bottom of a thickly wooded draw.
Aram watched the three lashers as they wound down that ravine toward the south and out of sight, and then he turned toward the southeast and began resolutely to put the many long miles that separated him from Ka’en behind him.
All that day he journeyed up and over the hills that fell away toward the long valley, always heading as directly as possible toward the black mountain –the very top of which he could barely espy far off to the southeast – and home.
When the sun fell down to sit upon the western horizon, he went to the bottom of a draw that wound more directly toward the valley. As darkness gathered in the bottom of the hollow, he found a stand of juniper, started a fire, ate, and curled up on the ground to sleep.
It was a restless night, cold, and he was obliged several times to get up and replenish the fire. Toward morning, as the sky began to lighten in the east, he tried to stir but found himself weary and cold, so he placed a bit more fuel upon the flames and curled up once more, waiting for the warmth of daylight.
As he napped in the morning chill, he dreamed that a wind came and blew upon him, whistling through the air like the wings of a great bird.
The light grew and he eventually rose up to sit by the remains of the fire. As he held out his hands to the heat of the diminishing coals, a voice spoke to him from the top of t
he stand of junipers, startling him, making him reach instinctively for his dagger.
“Why is it,” the voice asked, “that I find the king of all the earth sleeping upon the ground like a vagabond?”
It was Alvern.
Blinking his eyes against the first rays of the sun that were breaking above the slopes, Aram spied the eagle sitting on a dead branch high in the nearest tree.
He grinned in glad recognition.
“And why is it,” he replied, still grinning “that you refer to a mere vagabond as ‘king of all the earth’?”
Alvern bent a stern look upon him. “It is not within my bounds to reprimand someone of your stature, my lord, but I thought that we agreed that there would be no more of that,” he stated.
Aram waved his hands in deprecation. “I know what it is that I must do with the years that remain of my life,” he answered. “And I will do it with solemn willingness.” He looked up again. “Does that satisfy you?”
“It does,” Alvern replied.
The great eagle cocked his head. “How have you returned, my lord? All the world thought you dead.”
Aram frowned and ignored that question for the moment in favor of one of his own. “How did you know that I had returned?” He asked. “Or were you traversing these skies for another cause?”
“No,” the eagle admitted. “I came to find you. Five days ago, I was upon the high plains of the horses, conferring with Thaniel when two beings the like of which I had never seen appeared before us. They identified themselves as servants of the Maker and told us that you had returned to the earth and that we were to find you and bring you home.”
“So Thaniel knows?”
“He is on his way to you,” the eagle assured him. “He is no more than four or five days behind me, perhaps less. That horse is big and fast, and he is eager to see you.”
“And Ka’en?” Aram looked away for a moment and then looked back up at him. “Does she know of my return?”
“I sent Cree the Ancient in unto her – your lady will believe her more readily than any other,” the eagle replied.
“Believe –?” Aram’s heart sank upon hearing this. “Did she also think me dead?”
“I am sorry, my lord, but I arrived at the city after Findaen had informed her of the events at the tower. I sent Cree in to her immediately.”
Aram stood and looked toward the southeast in silence for a long moment. “And Thaniel is coming to me?”
“He is, my lord,” Alvern replied.
“How will he find me – will you guide him?”
“I have already informed the hawks of this region of your location,” the eagle assured him. “They will guide him to you.”
“Thank you,” Aram answered and he looked up at the great bird. “Will you accompany me then, as I journey?”
“I must beg the king’s forgiveness,” the eagle replied, “but I am under commandment of those even greater than you. The world must be told of your return, including the princes of all lands and your commanders – and I must confirm that the High Prince of Elam was found and prevented before he passed too far south into his own land.” The eagle looked down and studied Aram closely. “And then, my lord,” he said, “I am to bring something to you.”
Ignoring this last statement, Aram asked of the eagle, “Whose commandment are you under?”
“The creatures that told me of your return. I must, at their instruction, inform the world that you have come back to us.”
Aram frowned. “But why must the world know? I only wish to see Ka’en now. The world may learn of this in due time.”
“I understand this, my lord,” Alvern replied. “I understand the wishes of your heart. But your life is not your own – nor does it belong even to the Lady Ka’en. You belong to the world, now.”
Aram’s frown deepened. “Will you be at the city when I arrive?”
“I would not miss it for my life,” the eagle stated, and he mounted up and turned toward the southwest. “Until then, my lord.”
Aram, still frowning, raised his hand in salute. “Until then, my friend,” he replied.
Three days later, as the sun slid toward the edge of the world, Aram crossed the ancient valley road. A short time later, he stood upon the bank of the wide river, whose name he had never learned, that arose beneath the heights of Camber Pass far away to the northeast and flowed through the long valley. Though it ran low and slow, as did all streams at this late time of the year, it was nonetheless wide, deep, and formidable.
He looked upstream and then down, but could discern no place where the current shallowed as it crossed a gravel bar or other impediment in its inevitable progress toward the distant confines of the Great Western Marsh. Somewhere to his left, upstream, memory told him that there was a bridge, but did not inform him of how far away that ancient construct lay from his current position.
He had no desire to waste more time searching for an easy path across. Besides, this day had been fairly warm, and the evening had not yet cooled, whatever chill the water would impart.
He would swim.
As he stood in the tall grass above the muddy bank, trying to decide whether to disrobe and place his clothes inside the food bag to keep them somewhat dry as he crossed over the wide current, he abruptly felt a thrumming in the ground, as something heavy moving at speed.
Had the lashers returned?
He turned to look behind him, away from the river, and then downstream, toward the west, but saw nothing. He pivoted the other way and looked across the river, southward, even though he was certain that whatever approached would likely not make its movement felt through the broad slow waters.
He was wrong.
A large form appeared, out upon the open prairie beyond the stream, and it was coming toward him rapidly.
It was a shape he recognized at once.
Thaniel.
Forgetting his dilemma on how to get across the wide river, he stood still and watched the horse approach.
Thaniel reached the other side and drove down the bank and into the water without hesitation, plunging toward the near bank with great strides of his long legs. Aram stepped away from the bank as the horse surged through the slow-moving current.
Thaniel reached the shore, climbed to the top of the bank, came near, and lowered his head to peer into Aram’s face.
“Aram, my friend,” the horse said gladly. “It is you.”
Powerful emotion surged upward through Aram’s chest and into his throat, rendering speech impossible. He threw his arms around the horse’s head and leaned his forehead against him. Tears flowed unchecked down his cheeks.
After a while, he managed to choke out hoarsely, “I am very glad to see you, my brother.”
For a time then, neither of them said more.
When finally Aram released him and stepped back, the horse continued to stare at him, looking him up and down with frank and open amazement. “How are you here, my lord, my friend? I thought – nay, I knew – that you had died.”
“I did die,” Aram agreed, wiping at his eyes. “But the Maker sent me back.”
“Back? – from where have you returned, my lord?”
“From the long home of all our people,” Aram told him.
“You went to – you have seen the long home?” Astonishment saturated Thaniel’s voice as he tendered the question.
“I have. And I have returned from there.”
The horse went very still, and his breathing quickened, even more than that brought on by the labor of his long journey across the mountains and the intervening hills. He gazed at Aram in silence for a long moment, then,
“Did you meet with the Lord of All Horses while you were there?” He asked. “And his mate – my mother?”
“I saw your father and mother,” Aram replied. “And they send you their regard and wish you well.” He reached out and placed a hand on the side of the horse’s head. “But, Thaniel, my old friend – they are there, not here.” He paused
, and then spoke with deliberate solemnity. “I am standing in the presence of the Lord of All Horses. In your father’s absence, my friend, that burden falls to you.”
The horse stared back at him for some time longer, blinking his large, dark eyes. Then, he said simply, “I am overjoyed to see you, Lord Aram – I cannot adequately express my gladness.”
“No more than I am to see you, my brother.” Aram replied.
Thaniel swung around until he faced back across the stream. “Come, my lord,” he said. “Let me bear you home. Forgive me for arriving without the saddle. I lost it on my journey southward after your – after the battle. I cannot say where it might be now. The Call is gone as well. I am sorry.”
Aram mounted up. “There is no war before us now,” he said, “only a journey. I will not require the saddle.” He thought a moment. “But I do regret the loss of the Call.”
“I am sorry, my lord.”
“It is alright, my friend,” Aram assured him in quiet tones. “We will survive its loss.”
He grabbed a fistful of Thaniel’s mane and he and the great horse went back across the river, through the valley and then turned up along the edge of the hills toward where they would gain the road that climbed up and over that higher ground on its way to Aram’s valley, still many miles away.
Three days afterward, late in the evening, they swung down along the old road and gained the junction where it connected with the great north-south highway. Aram looked up at the western sky. The sun had gone, night came quickly on.
And they were yet two hours or more from Regamun Mediar. For reasons, he could not understand, he was reluctant – despite his need to see her – to startle Ka’en by arriving in darkness.
“Let us camp here, beside the road,” he told Thaniel, as he dismounted, “and go on in the morning. There is good water in this stream and grass for you along its banks.”
“We cannot go on to the city, anyway,” the horse responded, “until Lord Alvern comes.”
Aram looked at him sharply. “Why?”
“I am not to bring you unto the city until all is ready,” Thaniel answered.
Aram frowned with rising irritation. “What is it that is to be made ready?” He demanded.
Kelven's Riddle Book Five Page 42
