Aram got to his feet and stretched. “I just remembered that I have apples stored in the granary from last fall’s harvest. Would you like me to fetch some?”
“Not tonight.” Florm said. “Perhaps in the morning.” He arched his neck, drew in a great breath of the fragrant air and expelled it loudly from his nostrils. Then he turned and went into the trees of the orchard, where he cocked a hind leg and lowered his head.
Aram retrieved his bedroll from the great porch and stretched out by the side of the wide avenue where he could look up through the branches of the trees and see the stars. He thought about all that Florm had told him and wondered if somewhere out among the distant suns and their worlds, the gods were still troubled by the works of Manon.
He thought about Kelven and his end, and wondered why the Maker had allowed the destruction of one of his children by another. Had the Maker tired of the strife among His creation? Had He perhaps gone away and started anew on other worlds leaving the earth to end however it would?
He considered himself, then. He’d asked Florm earlier what he could do; now he asked himself what he would do. Was it his destiny to oppose Manon on behalf of the world? Was he, in fact, the subject of an ancient prophecy? Aram frowned at that thought and dismissed it. He didn’t believe in such things. When the Maker created life, He gave it a free will to do what it would for good or evil. Aram could not believe that anybody was fated to behave in a certain manner by the words of ancient riddles.
Gazing out across the immense vaults of the universe, feeling the cool, rich breeze of freedom caress his face, he decided that if an opportunity arose for him to resist Manon in any meaningful way, he would seize it. For the sake of the free peoples of the world, including Florm and his people, and for all those that yet languished in the bondage of Manon, he would fight. Not for the sake of old, obscure riddles, but because it was right.
His chest tightened in an odd manner at the resolve of this decision and involuntarily, he thought about Findaen and his companions and how Lord Florm had stated that Manon “pressed upon them even now.” He resolved to go south as soon as his crops were in and see about the state of the people of Derosa. Then, finally, he slept.
Florm nudged him awake in the early morning.
“It’s a full day’s journey to get across the mountains, Aram. I need to put many miles behind me today.”
Aram sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Let me grab some apples and I’ll go with you.”
Florm stared at him. “Go with me? Why?”
“To guard you, of course.” Aram looked at him in surprise. “At least until you get over the mountains.”
Florm’s laughter rang in response. “My good young friend. You did indeed save me from disaster once, and I shall always be grateful. I understand your sense of protectiveness but I assure you I will be fine. I have gotten through several thousand years, after all.”
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Aram looked down at the ground in embarrassment. “I know you can take care of yourself—I didn’t mean to offend.”
“I’m not offended, my friend, nor am I surprised. You have become a great warrior with immense confidence in your own strength. A great warrior’s only true weakness is a failure to understand that others have strength as well. You have been alone for so long—don’t forget that you may sometimes have to depend upon others to do their part.” Florm glanced toward the eastern hills. “Besides, there’s no need to worry; Thaniel and Huram are coming to meet me, probably near the summit of the pass.”
“When will I see you again, my lord?”
“Not until spring unless you call me. In a couple of months, we will gather and go to our winter quarters in the south, near the lake. But I will visit you when the snow leaves the passes next year.” Florm looked at him closely. “I believe that you will miss me.”
Aram smiled slightly as he returned his gaze. “You are my only friend.”
“Ah, now that is certainly not true. Thaniel grows increasingly fond of you and holds you in the highest regard.” The horse answered. “And I would not underestimate the feelings of Durlrang the wolf—he is more important than you know. Then there are the men of the southern towns, whose friendship only requires a bit of effort on your part. And there is that bear over there.”
“Well, then, you are my first friend.”
“May it always be so.” Florm lowered his head a moment. “I really must be going. If you need me, call. I will come, even in winter.”
Aram blinked at the sudden stinging in his eyes and stiffly raised his hand. “Farewell, my lord. Go carefully and winter well.”
“And you, my friend.” Florm turned and cantered away down the avenue. Aram watched him until he passed the distant pyramids and went down the slope out of sight toward the river. Then he moved off the avenue among his crops and went to work.
The successive days grew shorter and cooler, leaves changed color and the fruit ripened and there were mornings when frost rimed the grass in the low places around the valley. Aram harvested his crops as they matured and stored them in the granary. The last vestiges of summer left the earth gently and the promise of a long peaceful autumn followed.
One morning, Aram watched as the bear tried without success to turn a large rock in order to get at the grubs underneath. On a whim, he went over and, when the bear backed cautiously away, took a long wooden pole and wedged it beneath the stone. Using a smaller rock as a fulcrum, he rolled the rock over, exposing the prizes beneath.
After Aram had retreated, the bear returned and eagerly dug the grubs from the exposed earth and shoved them in its mouth. Smiling and satisfied with himself, Aram went back to his work.
A while later, as he was lying on his back in the grass resting, he noticed the bear approaching his position in a series of hesitant, cautious movements. He watched the animal out of the corner of his eye and took care not to give any alarm. Florm had suggested that the bear was a “friend”. Aram decided to test this proposition by allowing the animal to get as close as it wanted.
Finally, when the bear was a mere two or three yards away, it stopped and lay down, resting its head on its enormous paws, and stared at him. Aram turned slowly and returned the gaze, smiling.
“What do you want, my friend?” He asked in a quiet voice. “More apples? You may have as many as you want—there are plenty for both of us this year.”
The bear lifted its head and looked into Aram’s face. “I want to…ask a thing.” It said and the voice inside Aram’s mind was low and slightly muffled, as if it came from a distance.
Aram froze, startled. He’d grown used to the fact that he could commune with horses and even wolves; he no longer considered it unusual. But Thaniel had stated that bears rarely used the gift of speech.
Regaining his composure, he pondered the bear’s words. “You want to ask a question?”
The bear was quiet a moment, then, “Yes.” It said.
Aram nodded slowly. “Okay. Ask what you will. I will answer if I can.”
“You…” the bear sat up and seemed to struggle with its response.
“Me? You wish to ask something about me?” Aram asked.
The bear blinked its small, narrow eyes. “Are you…god?”
Before he could stop himself, Aram let out a shout of laughter, startling the animal. It jumped to its feet and turned its body skittishly, as if in preparation for flight. Aram quickly held his hands out, palms open, in a soothing gesture.
“Take it easy, friend. You just surprised me, that’s all. It’s okay.”
Slowly, the bear calmed down and, after a few moments, returned to its sitting position on the grass. Aram turned to face it fully.
“You asked if I was a god?”
“Yes. You are god?”
“No.” Aram shook his head and smiled. “I am a man.”
The bear considered this and seemed unconvinced. “You are a man. But man is god. This is true?”
“No.” Aram rep
eated firmly. “It is not true. I am not a god. I am a man. Just a man.” He tapped his index finger on his chest. “I am Aram, a man.”
The bear gazed intently at him. “Aram…man.”
“Yes. Aram, a man.” He pointed at the bear. “Do you have a name? What are you called?”
Aram could hear the distant rumbling of the bear’s thoughts as it sorted the question. Then it focused carefully on him again and the answer came in the low muffled voice.
“I am Borlus.”
“Borlus.” Aram nodded with satisfaction. “That’s a pleasant name—and it suits you. Well, Borlus, you and I might as well be friends since we essentially share the same city. What do you say—friends? Do you understand this word?”
It took Borlus some time to digest this, and then he looked intently at Aram. “You and I, Aram and Borlus,…are friends.” It was a statement, not a question.
Aram nodded gravely, affirming the matter. “You and I are friends.”
“Good.” Borlus looked out over the valley for several minutes as if deep in thought. Finally, he turned back to Aram. “In the spring, Borlus will find a mate.”
He went silent and it took Aram a few moments to realize that he expected a response to his statement. He nodded slowly.
“You, Borlus, are going to find a mate in the spring. That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
The bear’s tiny eyes were serious. “Mate will live with Borlus in the cave?”
It was a question. Aram realized that in his clumsy way, Borlus was asking for permission. He smiled, even though he was unsure of whether his facial expressions had any significance for the animal.
“Of course,” he answered. “Your mate must live with you in the cave. Indeed, have a family. That cave is yours, Borlus, for as long as you want it.”
Borlus continued to gaze at him with an odd intensity until finally the silence became awkward. It was time for Aram to return to work anyway, so he got slowly to his feet and addressed the bear.
“Is there anything else, Borlus?”
Borlus stirred. “You are a good friend. Borlus is happy.”
Aram nodded, smiling and repeated the earlier words of Florm. “May it always be so.”
After that first awkward and clumsy conversation, Aram and Borlus became companions, the bear following Aram on his sojourns around the valley and staying near when he worked his small farm. They seldom spoke because it was such a difficult task for the bear, but Aram often reached out silently and ruffled the thick fur behind Borlus’ ears, something the bear seemed to enjoy immensely.
One afternoon, as they went southward along the face of the mountain, with Aram looking for material for spear shafts and Borlus digging under random stones for grubs, they were startled by the furious, high-pitched keening of a hawk and the sounds of conflict coming from a stand of trees to their front. Aram nocked an arrow in his bow and ran forward.
High up in a dead snag, a pair of hawks was plunging and diving at something just below the level of their nest. Coming closer, Aram realized that a large snake had managed to climb the dead tree and was endangering the nearly grown but still flightless offspring of the pair.
He slid to one knee and took quick aim. His arrow caught the serpent in the thick part of its body about a foot behind its head and it came coiling to the ground where he dispatched it with one sweep of his sword. Curiously, even after the head was severed, the body of the serpent continued to move, writhing and twitching. The hawks fluttered overhead, uncertain of the meaning of the sudden turn of events.
Turning from watching the odd behavior of the serpent’s body, Aram looked up at the hawks and decided to try communication. The conversation with Borlus had suggested the possibility that he could talk with any of the noble peoples of the world.
“I am Aram, a friend of Florm, the lord of horses,” he said slowly. “Is everything alright with your family?”
The hawks circled and came to rest on the branches of the snag a few feet over Aram’s head. A thin clipped voice broke in upon his mind.
“You are he that dwells in the city of kings.”
Aram nodded. “I am.”
“I am Willet and this is my spouse, Cree. You have saved our children, lord Aram. We thank you.’
Aram glanced up at the nest where two roughly feathered youngsters were peering over the sides. “Isn’t it a bit late in the year to be raising young? Winter is less than two months away.”
“This is our second brood.” Willet answered. “Do not fear—they will fly before the snow comes.”
Aram laughed. “It’s not my affair, anyway. By the way, this is Borlus, my friend.”
In the moment of silence that followed, the bear and the hawks considered each other but neither spoke. Finally, Willet turned to Aram.
“I thank you, lord Aram, for protecting my family. Is there any service I can render you in repayment?”
“There is no repayment required or desired.” Aram answered. “We must all work together in this valley to make it a place of peace and plenty. Be certain that I will defend you and your family at any time that such actions are necessary. You only need call.”
“Why would you, a man, take such an interest in us?” Cree asked, and her voice was sharper than Willet’s.
Aram looked at her. “Why would I not?”
She studied him but had no answer. Aram let the silence stretch out and then turned back to Willet. A thought had touched his mind again that had come unbidden several times in the last week.
“There is something you could do for me, if you would. Not as repayment but as the act of a friend.”
“Speak it, my lord.” Willet answered quickly.
“Do you ever fly over the green hills across the rivers to the south?”
“Sometimes.” Willet said. “But it is not our usual hunting ground. Why?”
Aram looked south toward the rumpled, forested high ground beyond his valley. The grassy hillsides had yellowed and there were patches of red and gold among the distant stands of trees.
“I want to know if there are men there. Men in leather and cloth, who hunt deer. If there are, I wish to know where they are so I may meet with them.”
It was Cree who answered. “My sister lives on the ridge above the sinking river. She and her mate hunt those hills. I can ask her.”
“I would be most grateful.” Aram said. “If it is not too much trouble.”
“I will be back before evening.” Cree answered. She leapt off the limb, climbed rapidly skyward and flew into the south.
Willet watched her for a moment.
“She will not be gone long and she will find you wherever you are in the valley when she returns, lord Aram,” he said, and then he went back up the dead tree to his young.
Aram studied the dead snake for a moment. It was about six feet long and black, with a pattern of yellowish lines crisscrossing its back. He remembered that Florm had said that serpents were aligned with Manon and he wondered if he should be cautious of the species. After moving the carcass out into the open where scavengers could readily find it, he and Borlus turned toward the city.
Just before sunset, Cree returned and found Aram resting on a rock at the edge of his orchard.
“I have news,” she said.
Aram watched her as she lit on a low branch of an apple tree.
“There are men in the hills to the south, four of them, hunting deer. They have been there for the past six days, and there are three more coming.”
Aram nodded. “Probably to help them with their take. They must have found success.”
“The four have had success.” Cree agreed. “But my sister, Frinna, says that the three who come look troubled and come with great speed. Also, there are clouds of dust to the southwest, they darken the sky. Something stirs out on the plains. Frinna thinks it is this that troubles the men who come with speed.”
Aram stiffened. “Cree, where are the four men who hunt?”
“A little wes
t of due south. The three who come will find them tomorrow.”
Aram was already moving toward the city. “Thank you, Cree. I must go. Borlus, come here.”
The bear rumbled over to Aram as the hawk circled up and away to the south. Aram grasped Borlus’ head in his hands.
“Listen my friend. I am going away. You must stay here. Lie low and trust no one that comes. But, if anyone does come, you must watch and tell me what is done here in my absence. Whatever you do, though, stay out of danger. Do you understand?”
Borlus growled in deep, troubled tones, but he answered. “Borlus understands. I will stay and watch the city.”
“And stay out of danger.”
The bear gazed at Aram with his small eyes. “Yes. Aram will come back?”
Aram grabbed a handful of the matted fur behind Borlus’ ears and shook the bear’s head gently but firmly.
“I will be back,” he said. “You be careful.”
XV
Early in the morning, as dawn was coloring the sky, Aram slipped out of the city, heading southeast toward the crossings. He was heavily armed, carrying as much weaponry as he could manage while still being able to move quickly and make good time. By noon, he was across the twin rivers and moving quickly up a draw on the south side west of the dilapidated roadway. He hoped to intercept Findaen or whoever it was that headed the hunting party before they returned to Derosa.
It was a clear day and when he topped the ridge and looked to the southwest above the trees, he saw immediately what Cree had been talking about. The far horizon, south of the rumpled hills, was fouled with the dusty evidence of great movement. Something indeed was moving out on the plains. Something substantial.
Aram examined the ground along the top of the ridge and in a few minutes found evidence of the three men going west from Derosa, but as far as he could tell no one had returned along the track. The men of Derosa, then, were still to his west.
He eased off the ridge top and moved west throughout the afternoon through the trees on the south side of the crest, watching and listening. Just as the sun was angling toward the western hills, an hour from sunset, he saw seven figures coming toward him.
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