Kelven's Riddle Book Two

by Daniel Hylton

  “He is a god, you know.”

  Nikolus’ eyes widened. “He is one of the ancient gods – one of those that made us?”

  “No.” Aram shook his head, wincing against the pain and stiffness in his head and neck. “I don’t know what your legends say, Nikolus, but Manon did not make us, nor did any of the gods – the Maker made our kind, and He made theirs as well. To Manon was given the governance of the earth, long ago, but he turned to evil and reduced governance to slavery. He may still be a god, but more than anything else now, he is the enemy of the world.”

  Nikolus looked toward the east, brightening with the coming dawn, as if he sought solace in the appearance of the sun. “How will we win this war, my lord – fighting against a god?”

  “Look at me Nikolus,” Aram said sternly. The young man complied, his features darkened with doubt. Aram spoke with quiet conviction. “Manon is a god, yes, but only a god, only a step above a man. An ancestor of mine almost defeated him once. Kelven did defeat him – at least for a time, and it has taken him centuries to recover his strength. We will win this war, this time. I promise you. Manon will not prevail. We will be free.”

  Nikolus searched his new lord’s eyes; after a moment, he seemed to find what he needed; the doubt drained away, his face set. “I believe you, my lord. But even if we do not win this war, I will fight with you. I will never again wear chains. Do you know what Manon did to my people, Lord Aram?”

  “I do.” Aram answered quietly. “It is an old and oft-told tale – one that must be brought to an end.”

  “Can you bring it to an end, my lord?”

  “We can, Nikolus, all of us together.” He studied the young man a moment. “If you don’t like farming, Nikolus, perhaps you would prefer to be a soldier. You have leadership skills – I have seen it. We need leaders.”

  Nikolus nodded. “I will fight for you, my lord. You may dispose of my abilities as you see fit.” He glanced again toward the lightening eastern sky. “Shall I awaken the people now?”

  “Yes.”

  Nikolus moved off toward the sleeping villagers and Aram went down to Thaniel, standing with his head down in the twilight. As Aram approached, the horse raised his head and looked at him.

  “Are you well this morning, Lord Aram?”

  “No, but I am rested a bit.” Aram answered honestly. “I will be glad to see home again.”

  Thaniel swung around and looked toward the valley floor, where cooking fires were being roused. “How long until we move?”

  “Not long. We’ll let them eat first.” Aram answered.

  “Will we go down the canyon this morning, my lord?”

  Aram shook his head. “No, not on the road. We’ll guard the bridge until the people are across the river and moving east through the hills. Then you and I will go northwest over the ridge and look down the road and into the long valley. If there is no imminent threat, we’ll act as rear guard for them until they get across the mountains to safety.” He gently rubbed his scalp near the gash in his head and looked toward the east. “How long before we see Jared and the others, do you think?”

  Thaniel watched Aram grimace as his fingers probed near the wound above his right ear. “Two days to travel from the high plains across the mountains into your valley, my lord. Another two days to here. You called them yesterday. We should meet with them no later than the third day from today. How is your head this morning, Lord Aram?”

  Aram nodded, thinking about the horses. “Good. Then these people will only have to spend two nights in the open, perhaps three. The women and children probably cannot stand more than that.” He pulled his long hair down over the raw wound and patted it gently into place. “My head still hurts, but it will heal.”

  Thaniel watched him for a moment longer, and then glanced away toward the villagers, eating and preparing to move. “Do you need to help them?”

  Aram shook his head. “Nikolus is doing fine.”

  “Learning to delegate responsibility, my lord?”

  Aram laughed and said nothing.

  A few minutes later, a young woman with long brown hair and dark eyes approached him and bowed low, a plate of food in her hand. She looked up at him timidly. “My lord, I was instructed to bring you a mealcake.”

  Aram smiled at her, marveling again at Nikolus’ efficiency. The young man seemed to forget nothing. “Thank you.” He told the young woman and when she had bowed again, and had gone, he sat down on a rock to eat. The cake was plain but warm and it filled up his stomach in a pleasant way.

  An hour later, the villagers had crossed the bridge, turned right up the slope into the sandy hills and were strung out in a long line leading toward the east. The men took turns dragging the poled transports, which to Aram’s alarm left deep ruts in the soft soil of the hills, pointing out the course of their route like so many arrows. They would be easy to track, and Aram had no doubt that Manon’s servants would shortly be assigned to just that task.

  The women walked alongside the men while the children were placed on the transports with the foodstuffs and sundries from the burned village. It was slow going and the morning had worn away before they had gone far enough to the east that the village passed from view. Aram and Thaniel turned aside and went to the northwest along a sandy ridge until they could see into the long, wide valley, and down the valley road. All was clear. For the rest of that first day, they went back and forth across the contours of the hills behind the people’s line of march, watching ever to the rear for signs of pursuit.

  Late in the afternoon, as the day waned away, Aram looked to the east up the rounded spine of the sand hills and saw a pair of hawks in the sky over to the right, circling high in the air above the river valley on the south. Nudging Thaniel, he rode ahead of the people and went down a ridge that dropped toward the river until he was almost beneath the circling pair.

  He looked up. “I am Aram, from the valley of kings. Do you know Willet and Cree from that valley, or Lord Alvern, the eagle?”

  After a moment, the hawks circled lower. They studied the man and horse for several minutes and then dropped down again to hover on the wind a few feet above Aram’s head. A thin, clipped voice broke in upon his mind.

  “We do not know of this Willet and Cree, but all know of Alvern, the son of Silwing. Are you he that Lord Alvern calls the enemy of Manon?”

  “I am. May I know your names?”

  “I am Rayha, and this is my spouse, Keen. How may we serve you, Lord Aram?”

  Aram inclined his head. “I am pleased to meet you both.” He waved a hand back toward the west along the line of hills. “I am moving the people from the burned village to safety beyond the mountains. Could I impose upon you to look, now and again, back along our track, and see if we are followed by servants of the enemy?”

  “We would be honored, Lord Aram.” Rayha answered. “We will inform you of anything that moves to the west. But Keen will nest within the week. How many days will you need our service, my lord?”

  “Two or three at most. If we are not followed in that time, the horses will come and we will be able to cross the mountains to safety. Is there anything I can do for you in return, my friends?”

  “Nay, my lord. We have heard of you and are honored to serve.” The two birds lifted up and flew over the hills to the west. Thaniel watched them go.

  “Lord Florm was right. You are Kelven’s heir as much as Joktan’s.”

  Aram closed his eyes and rubbed his right temple beneath the wound. “I will just be glad to be home, Thaniel, and spend a few days in my own bed.”

  Thaniel turned his head around and studied Aram with one eye. “Perhaps I should take you to the city now, my lord.”

  Aram shook his head and then drew in and let out a deep breath. “No, we cannot abandon these people. Jared and the rest of your people will be here soon enough, and then I will go home.”

  “It will do these people no good if you sicken and die of this wound, my lord.” Thaniel said, and
his voice was thick with concern.

  Aram opened his eyes and looked at him. He smiled slightly. “I am not going to die of this scratch, Thaniel.” He said, and then he frowned suddenly. “That reminds me – stand right there, my friend.”

  “What is it, my lord?”

  “Just stand there, Thaniel.”

  Aram dismounted and went to Thaniel’s front shoulder, where he undid the stays and lifted the metal plate. The puncture wound to the horse’s shoulder had closed, the skin around it puckered but pink. Aram glanced over at him. “That looks okay.”

  “You could have asked, my lord.” Thaniel said in disapproval. “I would have told you of my condition.”

  Aram retied the stays and rubbed his left arm. He grinned at the horse. “You would have said ‘it’s nothing’ like always.”

  “Yes, and it would be true.”

  Aram looked back up the ridge and then climbed onto Thaniel’s back.

  “I suppose we should go on ahead and look for a good spot to put Nikolus’ people for the night. How far is it to that spring where we camped?”

  “Too far.” Thaniel answered. “But there will surely be more in these hills.”

  They found a spring in a wooded fold of the hills where there was also a stand of juniper with enough dead limbs that the people would be able to have fires for warmth and cooking. It was a cool night, and the firewood barely lasted until the dawn. By the end of the next day, they had made it to the spring where Thaniel and Aram had camped a few days earlier. Rayha and Keen reported no signs of pursuit behind them.

  On the third day, just before midday, Thaniel lifted his head and looked up the ridge beyond the straggling line of villagers. He whinnied eagerly.

  “Horses, my lord.”

  Aram looked up across the hills and saw nothing, but then he heard it – the telltale rumble of many hooves, increasing in volume until it seemed that the sand hills would shift and settle downward beneath the pounding of the oncoming, thundering mass. A few minutes later, he and all the villagers stood in frozen astonishment as hundreds of horses appeared over the crest and swept down around them like the brown, white, and black tide of a turbulent ocean.

  Jared pounded up and splayed his hooves, sliding to a halt in front of Aram and Thaniel. Aram stared about him at the mighty army of horses. Nikolus and his people had grouped up in the center and stood huddled together in fear and amazement.

  Aram stared at Jared. “How many of you are there?”

  “We are all here, my lord – all who would fight. You blew three blasts on the Call; Lord Florm sent everyone.”

  “Our alliance cannot be hidden now, Lord Aram.” Thaniel said quietly.

  “No, it cannot.” Aram looked out across the shifting mass of horses, and suddenly he felt more cheerful than he had in days. “It’s fine, Thaniel. Let the enemy think what he will. I am tired of nibbling at the edges, anyway. We can no longer accomplish anything by subterfuge. We know what we must do – we know where we must go. It is time that we defined the struggle rather than to always surrender the initiative to Manon. It is time for open war.”

  “We still need an army, my lord.”

  Aram dismounted. “Yes, well, here is your half of it, my friend. Now there is only for me to supply mine. Come, Jared, there is someone you must meet.”

  He led the rangy brown horse through the crowd to Nikolus. The young man watched them come with amazement written on his features. Aram put a hand on Jared’s muscular shoulder. “Nikolus, this is Jared, nephew of the mighty Florm. Jared, this man, I think, might be your match, spirit for spirit.”

  The two appraised each other for a moment, and then Nikolus bowed. “I am pleased to meet you, Jared.”

  Jared lowered his head slightly and looked the man in the eye. “Are you a warrior, Nikolus?”

  “No,” the young man admitted, glancing sideways at Aram, “but I want to be.”

  Jared looked at him in silence for a moment and then came to a decision. “I will bear you,” he said, “if you will fight.”

  Nikolus drew himself up to his full height. When he spoke, there was a hard edge to his voice, as if he had been offended. “I intend to fight, sir, whether you bear me or not.”

  Jared swung his head and looked at Aram, his large dark eyes shining. “This is the man, Lord Aram.”

  “Yes.” Aram said, and he smiled. “I thought he might be.”

  Over the next hour, men and women were matched with horses, and Nikolus and Timmon worked to create makeshift packs for the foodstuffs and supplies from the village that horses could carry. It was almost three hours before all was ready to move, and the sun had dropped halfway down the western sky. Even at that, however, they made good time and evening found them walking the smoother surface of the ancient road that led up and over the ridge between the sand hills and Aram’s valley. By sunset they had crossed over the crest of the hills to the north of the black mountain and were down in among the timbered draws on Aram’s side, a half-day’s ride north of his valley.

  Rayha and Keen met Aram on the crest as he and Thaniel prepared to descend the eastern slope. The two hawks were accompanied by another pair, very much like them.

  “You are leaving our skies now, Lord Aram,” Rayha told him, “but Keen’s sister Sparra and her mate Shirwin will aid you until you reach the valley. Willet and Cree are known to them. You may call upon us at your need, whenever you come under our skies.”

  Aram raised his hand and saluted the hawks. “Your eyes have been invaluable to us, my friends. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “You have already done it, my lord.” Rayha answered, and without explanation he and Keen rose and sailed into the west.

  Sparra hovered on the evening breezes blowing up from the dark hollows. Her voice reminded Aram of Cree, with its sharpness and clarity. “Lord Aram, we will rest in these trees tonight and watch the road behind you on the morrow.”

  Aram looked up at her. “I am most grateful.”

  “It is nothing, my lord.” The pair of hawks caught the wind, turned and fLew into a grove of trees on the summit.

  Nikolus put his people in a small amphitheatre below the road that was populated with scattered fir trees. A spring rose from the ground below the bluff and tumbled down the bottom of the hollow. After making sure that everyone had traveled well, and that the many horses had found enough nourishment out on the open ridges, Aram went across the road into a small stand of aspens and lay down on his left side, pulling back his long dark hair to expose the wounded right side of his head to the cool night air. After a few moments, Thaniel pushed his nose into the thicket.

  “My lord, I am concerned about you.”

  “I’m fine, Thaniel.”

  “Not so, my lord.” The horse argued. “I have watched you. You worsen day by day and the flesh around your wound is red and swollen.”

  Aram lifted his head and looked at him. “Well, we will be in the valley by mid-day tomorrow. The people can go down the valley to the land that I have given them, and then I will rest.” He laid his head back, and repeated in a tired voice. “When everyone is safe, then I will rest.”

  Thaniel did not answer, but he remained standing outside the small thicket of trees until morning.

  At sunup, the people gathered their things, and mounted the horses, moving down the ancient road as the sun rose over the mountains to the east. They gazed about excitedly at the beauty and wonder of this new land, especially after turning south at the intersections of the two roads and going down the long ridge to where the wide green lushness of Aram’s valley began to open up before them. Nikolus looked back at Aram, his eyes shining.

  “It is a paradise, my lord.”

  “May it always be so.” Aram answered quietly.

  When the sun was directly overhead they passed the end of the grand avenue by the four pyramids and the people gaped westward at the majestic city of stone carved from the living rock of the mountain.

  “Who liv
es there, my lord?” Nikolus asked in amazement.

  “I sleep there sometimes, Nikolus.” Aram answered. “But no one may live there until the city has a mistress.” Aram had not expected to answer in such a manner, but he knew the words to be true as he said them. And he knew who it was that should be the ancient city’s mistress.

  Jared swung his head and gazed at the distant city, shining like a multicolored jewel in the sun. The rangy brown horse halted. “Someone is there now, my lord.”

  Aram tugged Thaniel to a stop in alarm. “Where, Jared? Thaniel – I cannot see them.”

  “It is true, Lord Aram,” Thaniel said. The horse stood stock still as he gazed at the city, two miles away up the long avenue. “It is the woman from Derosa, my lord; it is she who stood upon the field of battle on the day that you and I escaped death. She stands atop the wall.”

  Aram drew in a sharp breath and stared, but could not see what the horses saw. He turned to Nikolus and Jared. “Jared, take Nikolus and his people to the town near the crossing of the twin rivers. When the people are delivered safely, the horses are released to graze, but bring Nikolus back to me this evening.” He looked at the young man. “Nikolus, that town and its environs are yours – if it pleases you. Settle your people and return to the city tonight. Bring Timmon with you.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Answered Jared.

  “I will, my lord.” Said Nikolus.

  Aram and Thaniel turned away from the line of migrating people and the attendant herd of horses and galloped up the avenue toward the city. Aram stared at the approaching wall until they came close enough that details could be resolved by his eyes.

  The horses had spoken truly. Ka’en stood on the platform that extended from the center of the defensive wall sixty feet off the ground, one hand on the stone of the railing, the other upon her heart, watching him come up the avenue. Her face, surrounded by dark hair, gave the appearance of a pearl in the discreet light of the spring sun. Cree sat on the wall near her.

  Thaniel pounded to a stop near the orchard as four men came out of the trees. Aram leapt off the horse, reaching for his sword, but it was Ka’en’s brother, Findaen, and his three companions, Jonwood, Wamlak, and Mallet. Aram released his sword, letting it slide back into the scabbard.