He gathered ten swords of varying lengths from his armory and tied them in a deerskin. Then he gathered twenty of the steel lance heads and an equal amount of arrow points and rolled them in a skin as well. Then he chose one of his lesser bows and went back through the tunnel.
Again, instead of crossing the snake-infested slope, he went to the north along the flanks of the mountain and turned west along the top of the sandy ridge, coming back to the village from the north.
In his absence, Nikolus and the men of the village had succeeded in causing landslides in the loose rock above the road, closing it in several places. Aram spent three days with the villagers, instructing them in the making of lances, pikes and arrows and the use of swords. The bow he gave to Nikolus. He hunted eastward along the narrow stream until he found a stand of ironwood and showed them how to harvest good straight shafts for their weapons. Then, with the summer nearly gone, he bade them farewell, leaving them to harvest their crops while he returned to his own.
XXV
Summer waned and he set about to harvest his crops but his heart was not in the effort. He would occasionally collect a basket of fruit or vegetables and carry it into the granary but most often he would just sit on the bottom step of the south stairway staring with unseeing eyes at the hills to the southeast. There was a pain in him that would not diminish, a wound that did not heal.
One evening, as he sat on the step, numb to the delights of the last hours of a late summer day, Cree came twisting down out of the sky.
“Wolves on the avenue, my lord.” She said.
He stared up at her for a moment before comprehension pierced his brain. Then he gazed out along the broad avenue towards the east. “Wolves?”
“Two wolves, my lord. A large black wolf and a gray. They are coming toward the city.”
“Are there any others?”
“No. The valley is clear except for the two wolves upon the road.”
He drew his sword. “Thanks, Cree. Wait—have you seen Borlus?”
She sailed upward, calling her answer back to him as she flew away and there was a slight measure of disdain in her sharp voice. “The bears are in the foothills to the north. They are unmolested.”
With his sword drawn, Aram sat back down and waited on the wolves. When they came into view, he immediately recognized the black wolf as Durlrang. He did not know the other. Durlrang approached and bent his forehead to the ground.
“I apologize, master, for coming unannounced,” his harsh voice broke in upon Aram’s mind. “But there is urgent news for your hearing. This is my nephew, Leorg. He would speak with you.”
Aram studied the gray wolf that stood so easily before him. In places, his coat was tipped with silver and the fur on the underside of his throat was white. The handsome animal gazed back at Aram with clear eyes and a calm expression. Aram addressed Durlrang. “It is good to see you again, lord Durlrang. What is this urgent news?”
“Leorg will tell you, Master. It is he that brought the tidings to me.”
Aram turned his attention again to the clear-eyed, gray and silver wolf. The wolf bowed his head slightly and when he spoke, his voice was confident and full.
“There are lashers, servants of the dark master, searching out of the mountain passes far to the north, near the great valley that lies beneath the mountains of Ferros. They search for you and for the horses.”
“Lashers?” Aram stared at him. “How far away?”
“Far to the north, as I said. They have come through the passes to the northwest by the ruins of Firkesh. They search everywhere for you.”
Aram shook his head. “I’ve never heard of these ruins.”
“They are near the great passage through the mountains that goes toward the black tower of the enemy.”
Aram looked at him sharply. “You think of Manon as the enemy?”
It was Durlrang that answered. “Leorg has always been different, master. His mother gave birth to him near to the region of Kelven, in the vast forests that lie to the south of the great mountain. His mother left his father before the birth. It is said that you slew his father out upon the avenue six years ago.
“When he heard of his father’s death, Leorg came back to claim his place as lord of the western wolves. I met him and told him of you—the man who had come to change the world. Leorg said that his mother had spoken to him of such a man. He has always wanted to meet you.”
Aram studied the gray wolf curiously. “Why did you and your mother not share in the troubles and confusion of your people?”
Leorg met his gaze. “My mother was from an eastern people, near to the mountain of Kelven. The actions of my father’s people troubled her, so she went back to her own land for my birth. My father sought her but was unsuccessful. She is still there.”
“Why have you come back?”
There was pride in Leorg’s voice. “Because, like you, I am the rightful heir to a position of leadership. When Durlrang told me of your coming into the world, I knew the time had come to change the fortunes of my people.”
Aram nodded, surprised at the clarity of the wolf’s thoughts. “Alright. How many days will it take for the lashers to come southward into my valley, do you think?”
Leorg considered. “They are searching every old city, every ruined tower. They do not know where you are. They are still far to the north in the wide valley beyond the great pass. It will take many days.”
“Good,” Aram answered. “Then there is time to prepare to go out and meet them.”
The wolves stared at him. Leorg glanced at Durlrang who remained silent. The gray wolf shifted uneasily. “Meet them, my lord? But there are very many. I thought to warn you that you might avoid them or get help.”
Aram shook his head. “I will go to meet them. They must not come into this valley. How many are there?”
“Many. Perhaps as many as a hundred. Fifty or sixty, at least.”
“Are they searching together, in one group?”
“No.” Leorg answered. “They search the ruins, the forests, the valleys, and the hills in groups of five and six.”
Aram considered. “Still formidable, but perhaps manageable.”
“You’re not going out to face them, master, surely?” Durlrang’s eyes were troubled. “Not by yourself?”
Aram gazed back at him. “What else is there to do, my friend? I cannot let them harm the people of this valley. They must be faced in the wilderness before they can discover this place and bring their evil here.”
Leorg glanced at Durlrang, and then looked back at Aram. “I will help you, master. And there are many among my people who will fight with us.”
Aram considered that for a moment then shook his head emphatically. “No. Keep your people out of it. And you stay clear yourself. If you are leading your people into keeping the ways of Kelven then that is a bigger blow to the enemy than anything else that you could do.”
“But how will you prevail against so many?” the gray wolf protested. “Nay, master, but we will help you. If you die all is lost.”
For his part, Aram was tired of people telling him that his death would do irreparable damage to the world. And now, with Ka’en turned against him, there was very little reason to stay in the world, anyway. Still, he did not want to see the peace of his valley ruined by the presence of the vile servants of Manon. He looked at the wolves and smiled slightly but spoke firmly.
“Durlrang—you and your people stay out of it. If something happens to me, ally with the horses. Listen to Florm.”
Durlrang bowed his head. “I will ever do as you command, master.”
Aram turned to Leorg. “The lords of the air will aid me in knowing where the lashers are. Stay nearby with any of your people that you can trust. If you can make a difference when conflict comes, help me. If I am lost, continue on as you have and return your people to following the ways of Kelven.”
Leorg bowed his head. “As you say, master.”
“Good. Go—prepare
your peoples. There is much I have to do.”
The wolves bowed their foreheads to the ground and turned to go. Aram looked at Durlrang. “Durlrang.”
The great black wolf looked back at him. “Yes, master?”
“How is your foot?”
“It is good, my lord. Thanks to you, it healed well.” The wolf studied him for a long moment. “You remember such a small thing, master. It is not worth your trouble.”
Aram spoke carefully. “But you are worth my trouble, lord Durlrang. Florm, the lord of horses, told me that you would matter more than any of us could know before all of this is over. Remember that, my friend. And you, Leorg. It may be that in the eyes of the Maker you are both more important than I.”
The wolves looked at each other. Durlrang took a step toward Aram. “We will do our part, master. But please—stay alive.”
After bowing again, the wolves turned away and trotted down the avenue. At the pyramids, they parted, with Leorg going north and Durlrang going down over the hill toward the river.
Aram sat back down on the step. In his soul, there was despair. He had been training an army for just such an occurrence as that which was now come upon him. But all that was lost in the killing of Kemul. Thinking about it now, even though the man was dead, Aram hated him.
In challenging Aram, Kemul had brought about the ruin of everything that Aram dreamed of. Now, he would go and face his doom alone and likely die. He’d already decided that he would not call upon the horses to help him. There was no point in multiplying death. At least, if he died far to the north, Manon would be temporarily satiated. Ka’en and her people—and the horses—would have more time, perhaps even years, of peace and freedom.
He was surprised at how little he cared about himself. Without the hope of a life with Ka’en, nothing much mattered. Still, he wanted to spare those that lived in the valley he’d come to love, the birds and the bears, wolves, and deer. So, he gathered his weapons, his best bow and all the arrows he could find, with his finest sword, and prepared to go north to meet his death.
He slept for the last time in his room below the tower and looked out over his valley at sunrise. He would have liked to speak again with Borlus but the bear was nowhere to be seen. As the morning mist lifted above the valley, he gathered his instruments of war, descended the steps, and turned his face north. Just then Cree came down out of the sky.
“My lord, there are horses on the avenue.”
Aram turned in surprise and gazed eastward, into the sun. “Really? How many?”
“Two, my lord.”
Aram glanced up at her. “Thank you, Cree, you are ever vigilant. I am in your debt.”
She hovered for a moment, studying him with her shining, black eyes and seemed to want to say something, but then wheeled away without comment.
He placed his burden of weaponry down on the pavement and waited. In a few minutes, Florm and Thaniel came clattering up to him. Florm surveyed his pack and his pile of weaponry.
“It appears that you have travel plans, my friend. May I ask where you are going?”
Aram smiled slightly. “It is good to see you, my lords, but I cannot visit long. These are not the best of times.”
“Indeed. What has happened since last I saw you?”
“Much.” Aram glanced involuntarily toward the southeast, and then swung his gaze back to the north. “I am about to be invaded.”
Florm studied him a moment. “That is an odd choice of words, my friend.” The old horse stepped up and looked at him more closely. “There is something very different about you, my lord. Tell an old friend what it is that troubles you.”
Aram had long felt the need to unburden himself, and these horses were his closest friends upon the earth, so he sat down and told Florm and Thaniel about the killing of Kemul and Ka’en’s reaction to it. When he had finished he sat miserably silent and gazed unseeing out over the valley while the horses considered what he’d told them. At last Florm spoke.
“My friend,” he said gently. “You tend to see the world and its people as monolithic things, but it is not true. Among those allied with evil there are some who have their doubts, just as among the allies of right there are some with a tendency to evil.
“This Kemul of which you speak had plans that your coming put at risk. He decided for himself that his plans were more important to him than the general welfare of his people. His motives and his actions were wrong. He challenged you. You destroyed him. What else could you have done?”
Aram looked up at him in sorrow. “I feel no particular grief for him but if you could have seen the lady Ka’en’s face as she looked down upon what I’d done.” He drew a shuddering breath and looked away. “She was horrified.”
To his amazement, Florm chuckled quietly. “Of course she was horrified. Look, my friend.” The ancient voice grew solemn. “Aram, look at me, and listen. You are a dangerous man, strong, confident, and skilled in the art of killing. She knew this but was nonetheless stunned to see it validated before her eyes.
“I doubt if she had any feelings towards the dead man other than the general sensitivity that a woman has about such things. You have faced death so often and dealt it out even more often that you have no particular sensitivity to its occurrence. To you, it’s necessary work. But to her—someone who’d probably never seen a killing—it was horrifying.
“It does not mean that she admires you less. She just needs time to digest things. All will be well in the end, trust me. I have seen it before.”
Aram looked up at him with new hope challenging the despair in his heart. Could it be true? Could Ka’en ever forget that she had been a witness to such a barbaric act? But then he thought about how he’d left things with the Derosans and hope faded. He described the parting fury of his words and the harshness of his behavior toward them to Florm and the old horse snorted dismissively.
“But I agree with you. Their law is a despicable one. It assumes that the woman has no ability to choose in the matter. They needed an upbraiding and you gave it. But tell me, Aram, how will they survive without you? They will not. They need you—your leadership and your strength. Time will heal this wound. All will be well. Now, where are you going so heavily armed?”
Aram glanced northward. “There are several dozen lashers coming down out of the mountains looking for us—for Thaniel and me. I intend not to let them near my valley. I’m going to settle the matter before they get anywhere near here.” He looked at Florm curiously. “And why are you here, my lord, so late in the year?”
Florm was gazing toward the north and ignored the question. “Who warned you of the lashers?”
“The wolves. Durlrang and a wolf named Leorg.”
Florm looked at him in surprise. “That is an interesting thing, is it not?” He swung his head back to the north. “Well, we’ll just have to find a way to get past them.”
“What do you mean? Get past them? Why?”
“Kelven wants to see you.”
Aram sat very still and felt his heart jump inside him. “Kelven?”
“Yes. He wants to see you. He wants to talk to you.”
Aram’s eyes narrowed. “The god—Kelven?”
“As I said.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Who told you that, my friend?”
Aram hesitated. “I believe you did, my lord.”
“No, I said that he disembodied himself in the last great battle and that he has not walked the earth since that time. I did not say that he had died.”
“Durlrang stated it as an outright fact.”
Florm snorted. “He is a wolf, you know.”
“Meaning?”
Florm fidgeted in irritation. “Meaning that he and his people have not been on the right side of things for centuries. He believed what Manon told him but he was wrong. Kelven is alive—though trapped on his mountain—and he wants to see you. I come here under the most specific of orders to deliver you to him.”
“And I wou
ld not be so impertinent as to ignore such a summons, but—” Aram waved a hand northward. “I have a situation here that demands my attention.”
“Forget it, my friend. Kelven has sent for you and you will go to him. If you needed any further proof that you are the answer to his riddle, here it is. You must go.”
“But what about the lashers? I do not want them coming into my valley and disturbing its peace.”
Florm considered that for a moment. “The answer seems simple enough. It is highly unlikely that we can get past them entirely unnoticed. They will no doubt see us and pursue us and we will lead them away from this place. If we go now they will never find your valley.”
“Where is Kelven?”
“Upon his mountain—to the east.”
“East?”
Thaniel stepped forward. “Do you remember, lord Aram, asking me if there was something beyond the mountains to the northeast when we were near unto the sea?”
Aram nodded.
“Well, what you saw was Kelven’s mountain. It is immense.”
Aram stared at the horses in confusion. “If his mountain is to the east then why would we go north at all?”
“Because we cannot cross the sea and the mountains to the north of our land are impassable for horses.” Florm answered. “From what I hear, even you would find it a difficult passage. No, we must go north along the great road and then over the pass of Camber and turn east through Vallenvale by the ruins of Tiras. We have to go past the lashers. We can’t avoid them all but perhaps we can avoid a general engagement. Besides, you want them to go away from here, anyway, so it all works toward the same end.”
Aram looked northward, trying in his mind’s eye to see the distant and unknown places the horses described. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, I’ll go see Kelven. I’ll send Cree for the eagle, Alvern. Perhaps he will agree to be our eyes and make avoiding the lashers easier.”
Florm snorted again. “A moment ago you were going to take them all on by yourself.”
Aram grinned ruefully. “Before you came, my lord, I had no hope. Now, thanks to your wise counsel, I am not so anxious to die.”
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