After dinner, and promising to join Lancer for breakfast, he walked her to her room. She glanced up at him as he trudged silently beside her.
“What troubles you, my darling?”
He shrugged his shoulders in irritation, angry with himself and feeling – for reasons he could not remotely fathom – angry even with her.
“I don’t know, Ka’en.” He glanced down at her. “It’s just that – there’s too much distance between us now.” He stopped and looked around, waving a hand. “We’re in your father’s house, where I am only a guest; I hardly got to speak with you all evening, and I – I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He trailed off, gazing at her glumly.
She frowned as she looked both ways along the passage, but her lovely eyes twinkled. “Maybe it’s this hallway.”
“What?”
“This hallway.” She said innocently, her expression serious. “We always seem to have trouble in this hallway.”
In spite of himself, he felt his mood begin to lighten, but he was still – rightfully, he thought – annoyed. “I know what you’re trying to do.” He growled.
She folded her arms. “Do you?”
He nodded gruffly, trying hard not to smile, trying to hold on to what he considered to be his justifiable anger. “Yes.”
She stepped close, looking up into his eyes. This time her mood was genuinely serious. “You’re just jealous, Aram.”
“Jealous? Of what – who?”
“Of my time, just as I am of yours. Don’t you think that I would rather be with you than with all those people? But I told you, Aram; a princess of Derosa comes with a lot of attachments. It can’t be helped.”
He started to answer but she put a finger on his lips, silencing him. “It’s not late, my love. I can fix this.”
He frowned at her, suddenly afraid of what she meant by the statement, and yet hoping that she meant exactly what it was that he thought she meant; but she saw the look in his eyes and shook her head, smiling. “No, my love – you cannot come into my room – nor will I come into yours, until we are married. Go out onto the veranda, and I will join you in a moment.”
“The veranda?”
She was already walking away, but she smiled back at him. “I will join you in a moment.”
He went out and prowled the veranda, feeling better about things despite the frustration of the evening and wondered what she intended. He was standing on the northern edge, looking out over the moonlit fields to the west when he heard her delicate steps on the porch and the tinkle of glasses. He looked around.
She had brought wine. As he came up, she handed him the bottle, set the glasses on the table, and sat down. She smiled up at him. “You said once that some of the most pleasant times of your life were spent here, sharing a glass of wine with me.”
He nodded, pouring the wine. “And I meant it.” He hesitated a moment before he sat and smiled ruefully. He nodded his head toward the interior of the house. “I thought that you meant something else in there – for just a moment.”
She sighed and tipped her glass to her delicate lips. She gazed out over the countryside, flooded with the light of a gibbous moon. “I know. But my father will not make us wait long, Aram.” She frowned over at him as he sat down. “You do understand, don’t you, that it will take some time, though. Lancer’s daughter cannot just be handed off in a week or so. Everyone – certainly all of the women – will want to be involved.”
She set her glass down and took his hand. “Aram, can you wait?”
He stared into her eyes, topaz jewels reflecting the ambient light of the moon and stars. “How long?”
She hesitated and gripped his hand tighter. “Weddings are traditionally held in the spring, before planting, or in the fall, after the harvest. Everyone is too busy in between those times, over the summer.” She was silent a moment. “The spring has passed, Aram.”
He stared at her in dismay. “I have to wait until the fall to be with you?” His stomach tightened at the thought of it.
“You may ask my father about it tomorrow when you speak to him. But he has his own difficulties with the matter. Aram, the taking of a son-in-law, one who will be the new prince, is a very involved matter.” She squeezed his hand again. “My father has burdens enough, my love. It will only be a few months. You will be busy – I will be busy. Can we not do this in the tradition of my people?”
He tipped his glass up, watching her, and then slowly nodded. “Alright,” he said, “I won’t trouble your father with my impatience. And I will be busy – that is true.” He leaned toward her and looked deep into her eyes. “But in the fall – you are mine.”
She blushed, meeting his gaze for only a moment before she looked away. “I won’t make you wait a minute longer, I promise.”
Aram rose early on the next morning and had a cup of kolfa on the porch with Findaen as dawn colored the sky over the hills to the east and the farmers made their stolid way into the fields below. Aram longed for the old familiar camaraderie that had once existed between them, but Findaen was in an uncharacteristically serious mood. He leaned on the rail, sipping at his steaming cup, and glanced over at Aram.
“I’m very happy about all this, my lord.”
“Can’t you just call me Aram?”
Findaen raised his eyebrows and smiled, but he shook his head. “No, I can’t, my lord. It would not be proper.”
“I don’t care about what is, or is not proper, Findaen.”
“I know – but everyone else does. As they should.”
“Can’t we just be friends?”
Findaen looked at him, his eyes wide. “Of course we are friends. We always will be friends. Brothers, too, soon.”
“Friends don’t call each other lord. Brothers certainly don’t.”
Findaen laughed, his good humor bubbling to the surface. “I’m sorry, my friend, but they do when one of them is, in fact, a lord.”
Aram turned to face him, leaning on a post. “It just seems like there is – a gap – between us, Findaen. Is it there because of my foolish words and actions last year when I left? Or is it there because I killed Kemul?”
Findaen’s eyes widened again. “No, of course not.” He frowned. “You really don’t know why there is – a gap, as you put it?”
“No.”
Findaen burst out laughing then, slapping his knees as he gave himself over to merriment. Aram smiled in spite of himself as he watched. After a moment, Findaen regained a semblance of seriousness as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Sorry, Lord Aram, my friend. I once called you a barbarian. I apologize for that, by the way, but you astonish me.”
He chuckled, almost breaking out into laughter again, but regained his composure with an effort. He fixed Aram with a serious gaze. “Lord Aram, I am your friend – I will always be your friend. And I will be very glad for you to become my brother. Ka’en is a wonderful person – the two of you deserve each other.” He turned and looked toward the east as the first bright rays of the sun shot into the sky. “But, Aram, my friend – Lord Aram – you are already lord of the free peoples of the earth – we all gladly acknowledge this – and soon you will be my prince as well.”
He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the porch as a servant approached to summon them to breakfast. Findaen waved him away and looked back at Aram. “You are the lord of men, horses, wolves, eagles, and hawks. You have been to the mountain of Kelven, a place of mystery and legend. When you return, you bear a mighty weapon – one that is not of the earth.” He paused a moment, watching Aram closely. “Did you know that the horses call you ‘the man who changes the world’?”
“I have heard this.” Aram acknowledged.
Findaen smiled slightly. “Andaran told me. They believe you to be a man of legend – the answer to an ancient riddle of the gods. And I believe it, too, now. Aram; you will always be my friend and my brother. But first, my friend, my brother, you will always be my lord.” He turned so that he could see the fields, coloring with
the sunrise, his expression for a moment much more serious than was his wont, and then the moment was gone; he smiled again as he looked toward the house. “Breakfast is ready; we should join my father.”
Nineteen
Ka’en did not present herself at breakfast and Findaen ate quickly and then excused himself, intending to see about the disposition of the weaponry they’d brought from Regamun Mediar. He asked Aram if he had any orders for the men or horses. Aram glanced at Lancer. “Only that whoever watches the gate should keep his eyes open for the appearance of Durlrang and his wolves. I am to be notified at once when they come. Tell the men that I will join them later, Findaen.”
“Yes, my lord. I will personally inform the gatekeeper.”
Lancer rose and went to the doors of the dining room, shutting them after his son had passed through, and returned to his seat. He looked across the table at Aram.
“You will marry Ka’en?”
“If it pleases you, my lord.”
Lancer nodded. “It does.” He glanced at the hilt of the sword rising above Aram’s shoulder but quickly lowered his eyes to Aram’s face. “I am happy for her – and for you. I am glad that it is you that will be her husband and the prince of my people.”
Aram frowned at that. “But you will still be the prince, my lord, will you not?”
Lancer sighed. “I am old, Aram, and I am tired. I miss my wife. I will be only too happy to pass the responsibility on to someone as capable as you.”
“But I will be away much of the time, my lord, at war. The frontiers must be pushed back to the west, and we must remove the threat of the fortress on Flat Butte.” Aram spread his hands. “Besides, I have no experience at administration. I can not match your skill in such matters.”
The older man frowned. “You intend to push back the frontier? And attack the fort?”
“Yes, my lord.” Aram nodded decisively. “I do – as soon as the men and horses are ready. There is no advantage for us in delay. We must begin to turn the tide of war in our favor.”
Lancer’s eyes strayed back to the hilt of the sword. Aram caught the look and reached back, removing the weapon from around his neck, but leaving it sheathed, and laid it on the table between them. He held up his hand in caution. “Please, my lord, do not touch it – it is very dangerous.”
The older man’s eyes widened. “You found it, then.”
“Yes.”
Lancer’s gaze remained on the sword. “Findaen told me of your demonstration in the hall of your city. He was astonished by the power of this thing. It is the weapon in the riddle?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you find it, Lord Aram, if I may ask?”
“On Kelven’s mountain – or, rather, near Kelven’s mountain. He helped me to recover it himself.”
Lancer looked up in amazement. “You spoke with Kelven?”
Aram nodded calmly. “I did.”
“Can he help us?”
Aram indicated the sword. “Only so far as this, my lord. It is all he can do. But it is enough. The rest is up to us.”
Lancer frowned. “What must we do?”
“Much.” Aram looked at his future father-in-law without emotion. “But mostly, we must raise and equip an army large enough to clear a path to Manon, so that I can face him alone. This sword will destroy him.”
Distress entered Lancer’s eyes. “You – must face Manon?”
Aram nodded.
Lancer stood and gazed down at him in dismay. “Lord Aram, since we last talked, I have educated myself further as to our enemy. Ka’en talked with a hawk – a remarkable thing, that – in the valley, who knew much. Manon is a god, powerful beyond imagining. He has been alive since before the foundations of the world were laid. He possesses power – magic, some say – that cannot be fathomed by man. And you talk of facing him alone. I fear that he will destroy you.”
“Perhaps. I think not.”
Lancer shook his gray head even as he returned slowly to his seat. “But what of my daughter?”
“I love your daughter.”
“And you will make her a widow.”
“I don’t intend to die.”
“No one intends to die, Aram,” Lancer said. “But it does happen. If you face Manon, it will almost certainly happen. Did you not learn the lesson of your ancestor, of which you, yourself, told me?”
Aram inclined his head deferentially. “My lord, Joktan’s challenge was an act of desperation in a different time and place. And Joktan did not possess this weapon. This sword is not of the earth – its power arises from a higher source; and it was created for one purpose – to destroy the enemy of the world. In order to accomplish its purpose, I must face Manon. It is what must be.” Aram waited a moment to let the older man digest this, and then went on quietly. “We cannot simply defend. We will inevitably lose in a war of attrition. We must attack, and attack again. His forces must be reduced so that I can face him.”
“And Ka’en?”
“I will return to her.”
Lancer shook his head. “This sword may be as powerful as you say – I know not. But if you stand before Manon, I fear that it is not likely that you will return to her.”
“What would you have me do, my lord, if such be the case? This is my fate. Will you deny me your daughter’s hand because of it?”
The Prince met his gaze. “Send someone else. There are many brave and strong men among my – rather, our – people. If the first fails, we can send another.”
“No, my lord.” Aram shook his head. “Only my hand may wield the sword. It is a condition of its being in the world. Besides, even if another could wield it and he failed, Manon would then have the sword, and we would be finished.”
“So, if you fail, then Manon gets the sword and we are doomed.”
Aram spoke quietly. “If I do not try, my lord, the world is doomed anyway, and soon. Manon’s strength grows daily – I have seen it. The time is near when he will unleash his might across the face of the earth.”
Lancer looked down at the plain metal scabbard, lying quietly on the table, the simple hand guard of the sword extending ten inches or so beyond the end of the sheath. “What does it do besides melting stone?”
“You mean, what will it do to Manon?”
Lancer nodded.
“I don’t know.” Aram admitted. “I assume that if this blade enters his body, he will die.”
Lancer let his eye wander along the length of the sheathed blade. “So, this is the weapon with which a man kills a god?”
“Yes.”
“And you know this for a fact?”
“It is what Kelven told me.” Aram shrugged. “I believe it to be so. I will attempt it and we will see.”
Lancer’s features dissolved into lines of doubt. “And if you fail?”
Aram leaned across the table toward the older man. “My lord, a year ago I told you of Kelven’s Riddle – and of the sword of heaven. I promised you that I would find it. I kept that promise. I have found it. Here it lies. There are those in high places that have told me that it will destroy our enemy. I have no choice but to believe it and you must believe it, too.”
Lancer frowned at him. “What people in high places?”
“I cannot divulge their names; they are secret. But they are higher than Kelven.”
Lancer’s eyebrows slid up his forehead. “Higher than a god? Who are such people as these?”
Aram looked directly into his eyes. “I have met their kind but a few times, my lord, but Lord Kelven himself said that they were greater than he. I have witnessed their power myself, and it is beyond imagining.”
“If their power is so great – why don’t they destroy the grim lord, and make an end of it?”
“Because that is not their task – it is mine. It was decided at a level higher even than theirs that it must fall to a man to destroy Manon. I was chosen to be that man. So it is to that end that they gave me this sword.”
Lancer studied him quiet
ly for a moment, his eyes wide and bright with astonishment. “It seems that you have been far since last we talked, Lord Aram.”
“I have.”
“You want to marry my daughter.”
“I do.”
“And you will go to war?”
“There is no choice for me in that matter.”
Lancer sighed. “No, I suppose not.”
Aram gazed at him evenly. “May I marry Ka’en, sir?”
Lancer didn’t look at him but gazed down at the sword lying on the table between them. He nodded. “Yes, of course, Aram. Ka’en loves you. I would not deny you even if I didn’t approve – and I do approve.”
“I love her.”
“I know.” Lancer nodded again, still gazing at the sword. “And you will make a fine prince.”
“I don’t have time to be a prince, my lord – not just now.”
Lancer sighed deeply and looked up, meeting Aram’s gaze. “I suppose that I could act in your stead. Long ago, when Wallensia was greater than it is today, there were high chancellors, who did the prince’s business. I will act as your chancellor.”
“I would rather that you remain as prince, my lord.”
Lancer shook his head. “This is a time of war. You are a man of war. You will need the trappings and the treasure – such as it is – of Wallensia at your disposal. You must be prince.”
“About the treasure of Wallensia, my lord.” Aram reached down and retrieved the bag of gold coin, placing it on the table. “I ask permission to place this into the sum of that treasury.”
Lancer stared at the bag and then met Aram’s eyes as he reached toward it. “May I? I know what is in this bag – Findaen told me, but I would like to see it for myself.”
“Do with it what you will, my lord.” Aram nodded. “It belongs to you now, if you will accept it.”
“No, Aram, it belongs to the people.” Lancer tipped the gold out onto the table and gazed at it in wonder. He picked one of the discs up and turned it over in his hand. “There is one of these in Ka’en’s dowry, Lord Aram. It was meant to impress her new husband.” He laughed suddenly. “I doubt that you will be impressed.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 30
