“I love her.” Aram stated flatly as he stared out the door.
“I know, my lord,” Findaen answered quietly. “And it will work out. You’ll sort it out like you do with everything else.”
Aram’s face darkened as if a cloud had settled between him and the sun. “This affair is not the same as fighting lashers, Findaen, and it can’t be settled with a sword stroke.”
“There’s an ancient saying,” Findaen replied. “Perhaps you’ve never heard it. ‘All is fair in love and war’.”
“Does she love me then?”
“I believe so.”
“But you don’t know.”
“But I believe so.”
Aram sighed and moved toward the weapons they’d collected. “Alright, then, I’ll sort it out later. For now—let’s collect the men and go see what Manon is doing in the west.”
They carried the cache of weaponry down to the others and matched the swords with soldiers. Mallet and his big cousin elected to carry lances and short swords. Wamlak’s eyes shone when Aram handed him one of his best long bows. He ran his hand over the stock.
“This is wonderful. What kind of wood is this, my lord?”
“It’s ironwood,” Aram answered. “It grows along streams in the hills to the north. There may be some near Derosa. I’ll show you how to make one when there’s time.”
Each man collected a pack and filled it from Aram’s stores of fruits, dried meat, and meal. Then, as there were still several hours of daylight remaining, they left the city and moved southward along the flank of the mountain. At the river, they angled eastward to the upstream crossings below the ruins of the ancient farming community.
Sunset found them in a copse of trees below the top of the main east-west ridge by the spring where Aram had camped with the wounded Thaniel a year before. Aram sat quietly while the men talked around a fire and the stars came out and filled the sky.
In order to make better time, Aram decided to go westward across the plains rather than along the wild ridge. Two days later, they reached the plains just to the west of Derosa and turned west, traveling at the verge of the forested hills. The plains rolled away to the south in an immense green expanse, watered in plentiful fashion by the many streams and small rivers that emanated from the wooded hills to their north. Abandoned farmsteads of the Derosan’s ancestors were tucked into every hollow.
For five days they moved purposefully west until they reached the Broad River, a wide, shallow stream of clear water a half-mile or more across. The bridge built by Manon’s army was still intact. Depending on what happened in the days ahead, Aram thought that it might be a good idea to destroy it and fortify the near side of the river. When he mentioned this matter-of-factly to the others, they stared at him in wonder that they themselves had not considered such an option.
Findaen rubbed his chin ruefully. “Thank the Maker you’re here, my lord. It was obvious to you in a heartbeat. We never even thought of it.”
Jonwood pointed west across the river. “We encountered the patrol on the road about a mile further on.”
“Alright.” Aram nodded. “Then we’ll stay near the hills after we cross and move forward with caution.”
Once across the river, they eased northward toward the green hills through the tall reeds and grasses that grew in and among the shallows that bordered the wide stream. Near sunset, they came upon an amazing sight. At the base of limestone bluffs at the edge of the hills, the headwaters of Broad River rose out of the earth in a massive, rolling, blue-green spring; a huge pool of deep water that surged from the hidden depths of the world as if all the rain that fell on the green hills in a year and seeped down into the earth made its way to this spot before erupting from the ground in an astonishing display. The men stared in awed silence at this marvel for as long as they dared and then moved around the vast roiling pool and into the timbered hills beyond.
That night they camped in a thick grove of trees within sight of Burning Mountain, a tall, conical, black rock rising out of the plain to the southwest, much taller than the green hills and surrounded by smaller and very rough versions of its immense self. On its southernmost flank there was a flat-topped butte with steep sides jutting up out of the plain. Even from that distance they could see that it swarmed with activity.
There was no fire that night and Aram insisted on each man taking a watch throughout the night. In the morning they eased farther up into the hills and moved westward through the trees. At noon they came upon a sizeable stream tumbling quickly down out of the hills to the north.
It plunged rapidly southward at the bottom of a rocky, steep-sided canyon and they were obliged to go even further to the north in order to find a good crossing. The country became rougher and more thickly wooded as the green hills curved southwestward toward Burning Mountain.
A little further and they came out on the top of a ridge above a sizeable, lush valley filled with tall conifers mixed with hardwoods. From below them arose the sound of tumbling water and from the other side of the valley came the sound of work, steel against wood and the shouts of men. Occasionally, they heard also the deep-throated voice of a lasher.
Aram spread the men out along the ridge in a defensive position and told them to stay put and remain quiet while he and Findaen went ahead. The two men eased down through the tall, thick woods toward the sound of the stream. It was a good-sized stream and fell in a series of falls from pool to pool toward the south. Thick ferns covered its banks. They found a narrow place in the stream and waded across.
The sound of axes and the familiar cursing of overseers drew very near. Aram motioned to Findaen that they should get prone and crawl as they went forward. Easing west and south they came at last out on the crest of a rocky ridge among tall conifers and looked across at an open area that had been cleared of trees. Into this area, from the south, ran a road.
The trees had been cut from a gentle slope comprising several acres. Above the road, slaves, chained in pairs, worked under the watchful eyes of four overseers and one lasher, felling the tall trees, while others stripped them of limbs and loaded the logs onto wagons. There were about forty slaves in all.
Aram and Findaen watched for awhile, then went back to the others and moved cautiously southward along the ridge until they could look out over the plains. The expanse of Burning Mountain rose above them with the bulk of its mass just to the south of due west. The road from the clearing wound out of the trees on the ridge opposite and meandered through the broken foothills about the base of the mountain and then climbed toward the flat top of a black, steep-sided butte, almost due south of their position.
They were close enough now to see the flurry of activity and plainly see its purpose. A fort was being constructed on top of the butte. Tall walls of timber nearly surrounded the heights of the cliffs. Where the road wound up the less steep, but still rough, northern side of the butte, there were tall gates in the walls through which it entered the fortress.
On the plains just to the east of the butte and to the south, fields had been turned and the dense green of row crops cut vivid swaths across the prairie. Rows of small huts were being constructed before their eyes. Out on the plains in every direction from the butte but mostly to the east and south, small parties of armed men roved back and forth.
It was a large operation. Aram could plainly see that Manon had come to stay. The purpose of everything in view was of an obvious military nature. It was intended to be a stronghold from which his armies could launch operations to the east toward Derosa and to the south toward the sea. Aram could see plainly that Florm’s worst fears were being realized—Manon’s strength had grown and was waxing toward its apex.
He felt his heart grow cold within him. When he’d heard that Manon was constructing something on the western frontiers of Derosa, he’d hoped to discover an outpost, a temporary foothold, intended solely as a launching point for another assault upon Derosa. This was something completely different, a very large footprint;
the first of many Manon obviously intended to impose on the southern plains.
From his tower in the far north, he was reaching out now to lay hold on the whole world. And he meant to control this part of it with the same iron fist that had governed the plains further north and west where Aram had spent his youth. Manon was mobilizing and if he were unchecked, Derosa and the seaside cities to the south would soon feel the full measure of his tyranny.
Findaen looked at him with rounded eyes. “What do we do now?”
Aram glanced up and down the line of men. He saw shock, even awe and a touch of raw fear, but no cowardice. These farmers had resolve. They would at least attempt whatever he asked of them. He looked back out over the plains and the flat-topped butte with its new and ominous construction.
“We can’t hope to fight this host on open ground, not now. We can’t even confront it,” he said. He watched the tiny dark figures of the distant scattered patrols moving slowly across the plain and then he turned and looked back up the timbered valley toward the sound of the men felling trees. He smiled grimly at Findaen. “But maybe we can wreak enough havoc to divert their attention away from us for awhile. Buy some time.”
Findaen gazed out over the massive works of their enemy and then looked at Aram through narrowed eyes. “Time to do what, my lord?”
“To raise and train an army.” Aram answered.
“And where will we get this army?”
“From among your farmers, Findaen.”
“Seven hundred farmers is not an army, my lord.”
Aram smiled. “They are if they are mounted. One man on an armored horse is worth at least ten of Manon’s foot soldiers. Next spring the horses will come and train with us.”
“So the horses are really willing to bear us into battle?”
“Yes.” Aram nodded. “But there is much to do—armor to make, and the men and horses must learn to work together—they can’t go into battle untrained. And training requires time—time, it appears, that Manon does not plan to give us. So, we must force the issue—make him more cautious.” He moved back deeper into the woods and turned up the valley. “Let’s go see what we can do to disrupt his plans.”
He led the small group of men back up the ridge until they were opposite the workers. Instructing all of them to leave their packs and move quietly and deliberately, he led them down through the valley and up to the crest of the small ridge where they could see the road and the open area.
The day was waning and the last of the four wagons were being loaded. As they watched, overseers chained the workers together and two of them drove the last wagons southward out of the clearing. The remaining overseers and the lasher then marched the slaves in the same direction.
When they were gone, Aram told the men to stay while he went across and examined the road and the work area. Cautiously he went down the road for a short distance. After it left the clearing toward the south, the road entered a thick wood. The trees were not as tall and big as those being harvested at the western and northern edges of the clearing and they grew closer together. Low brush abounded beneath the trees and bordered the road on both sides. Consequently, there was good cover to either side of the road for men who wished not to be seen.
The road wound across the wooded slope for about a mile before it exited the forest upon the spine of a rocky ridge. From there it went generally southward toward the distant flat-topped butte. The mass of Burning Mountain rose to the right. Halfway between Aram and the unfinished fortress, the wagons and the line of slaves were just entering the shadow cast by the mountain.
The sun was on the horizon when Aram returned to the men. He led them back across the wooded valley and beyond the eastern ridge. There, in a small bowl below the crest, there was a clear spring seeping from the ground. Aram examined the area in the dying light.
“We’ll camp here. Tomorrow we’ll watch and make our plans.” He studied the men. “Findaen, Alred, and I will take first watch—about three hours—then Jonwood, Aberlon, and Erak next, followed by Wamlak, Mallet, and Dane. Wamlak, wake me before dawn.”
Wamlak nodded and Aram studied the darkening sky. “As soon as it is dark enough that our smoke can’t be seen, we’ll start a fire and eat but we won’t keep it through the night just in case someone decides to wander these hills.”
The night passed without incident. The sky was just beginning to pale in the east when Wamlak touched his shoulder and Aram came awake.
“It will be dawn soon, my lord.”
Aram nodded in the gloom. “Let’s have a small fire and make up some of Findaen’s kolfa—and maybe cook a hot meal of wheat cakes for everyone before it gets too light.”
By the time the sun topped the hills to the east behind them the nine men were spread out along the crest of the small ridge northeast of the clearing, watching and waiting. An hour later they heard the sounds of wagons and the men, the overseers, and the lasher came into view.
There were six wagons. The day’s work began. As soon as two of the wagons were filled with logs, about midmorning, two of the overseers climbed into the seats and drove them away while the other two overseers remained behind. The lasher stayed at the bottom of the clearing, striding back and forth along the road, watching the men, the overseers and the woods around him.
The overseers driving the wagons made three trips throughout the day. When they came back into the clearing after the third trip, they stayed until the end of the day when all the men and wagons left for the fortress just as they had on the previous day. Aram had seen all he needed to see. Since they could not risk attacking the fields on the plains below the fortress, this was the next best place to wreak havoc on Manon’s operations. It was project’s weakest and most vulnerable link.
That night, back in the natural bowl below the eastern ridge, he laid out for the men what he expected of them on the morrow. He looked around at the men carefully and liked what he saw reflected in the low light of the fire. These men might be farmers as Findaen said but they were tough enough to be turned into warriors.
Next to Findaen sat the short, stout, and capable Jonwood with a stubble of red beard on his serious face. Beyond him were the lean, dark, and clever Wamlak, and the slight, quick-moving Erak, with his tangled mass of blond hair. Mallet and Aberlon were near copies of one another—large, barrel-chested, and muscular with square jaws and pug noses.
Dane was older and round-shouldered and looked like what he was—a farmer, but his son Alred was tall and athletic and had the build and temperament of a soldier. These were good, dependable men and Aram felt a secret pride as he looked at them. They were the core of what might one day be a formidable force. It was a beginning. And tomorrow, they would be initiated. He stood up, gaining the men’s attention.
“My friends, what we see out on that butte and the prairie beneath it is the coming of evil. It is the same evil that pushed your ancestors from their homes. And now it is come in force. If Manon succeeds in constructing a fort from which to assault our lands, it will mean death and chains and slavery for us and for those we care about. It must be stopped and we must start now.”
He studied the faces reflected in the firelight. “Have any of you killed a man before?”
The men looked at each other and Wamlak shifted uncomfortably. “I think I brought a soldier down with my bow on the day of the battle, but I’m not sure.”
Aram nodded. “Well, we are going to kill tomorrow. You must understand this and prepare yourselves. I will handle the lasher but you will have to help with the overseers. None must escape. Our lives and our futures depend upon this fact.”
Jonwood glanced around at his companions then looked at Aram. “What about the workers—the slaves? What do we do with them?”
Aram considered that a moment. He really did not want to deal with the complications represented by a large group of slaves, and yet, he himself had been in slavery once and he believed fervently that all men should be free. But he also knew that some had been
in chains for so long that they would fear the uncertainties of sudden freedom more than the sure oppression of their current masters.
He thought for a moment longer before answering. “We will set them free, of course—if they wish it. But I’ve known slaves before. Some of them will not know what to do with freedom and will wait for their masters to come for them.
“Whatever I say to them tomorrow, don’t dispute it. If some or all of them wish to remain in their servitude, it may present an opportunity to deflect Manon’s thinking in a way that will make him cautious and buy some more time.”
Alred frowned into the fire upon hearing this and then glanced at his father. Aram saw the look. “Speak your mind Alred.”
The young man looked up uncertainly. “I—I was just wondering why anyone would not want to be free.”
Aram looked slowly around the circle of faces. “It’s hard for men who have never known slavery to understand how the spirit in a man may become so broken that he no longer trusts the concept of liberty, but it happens. Trust me, I have seen it.”
He let that sink in and then continued. “Here’s what I want to do. Before the workers arrive at the clearing, I want all of you except Wamlak and myself to be hidden on either side of the road to the south. After the first two wagons are loaded and leave the clearing, Wamlak and I will kill the lasher. When the overseers run—and they will—the rest of you will ambush them on the road. Neither must escape. Any questions or suggestions?”
Wamlak looked up. “How will we kill the lasher, my lord?”
“With our bows.”
“But he is armored, is he not?”
Aram nodded. “With standard leather armor. Our ironwood bows are more powerful than those you are used to, Wamlak. Just aim for the biggest part of him and pull back with your might. Our arrows will penetrate, I assure you. It will take both of us to bring him down, but we will bring him down.”
Kelven's Riddle: The Mountain at the Middle of the World Page 35
