Kelven's Riddle Book Two

by Daniel Hylton

  “Do lashers see well at night?”

  “No one knows, my lord.” The horse answered. “I think not.”

  Aram turned back to Durlrang.

  The wolf anticipated his question. “I’ve never seen a lasher move at night, master, though I admit that my experience with their kind is limited.”

  Aram turned onto his back again and closed his eyes. “Describe the land to the northwest of the town to me, Lord Alvern, if you will, every village, every field, every path and ditch. I want to know what lies between the Stell and the Broad.”

  “My lord?”

  “I must memorize how it lays. I intend to go across that country and find the ford north of Stell and cross it at night – tonight.”

  “Ah. But the Broad is running full and deep, my lord, for it is still early summer, the ford will be dangerous.”

  “Is the river in flood?”

  “No, but the current is full and strong.”

  “But the river is shallower at the ford, is it not?”

  “Yes.” The eagle admitted. “But it is also much wider there because it is shallow. It will be dangerous.”

  “I can not spare three weeks to repeat the circuit of Burning Mountain, my friend.” Aram insisted. “I have seen what I came to see. It is time for war. We must return as soon as possible to Derosa. Unless you can see a better way across the river, we will use the ford.”

  The eagle was silent for several minutes and then began to methodically describe the countryside to the north of the Stell and west of the Broad, every village, every field, every irrigation and drainage ditch, every isolated copse of trees, and every open space. Aram, his eyes tightly closed, tried to see it from the viewpoint of the eagle and transfer that image to a man’s ground level view, occasionally asking questions, but mostly listening to the bird’s careful, calm description.

  Before the sun set, they went back west until they came to where the forest closed upon the banks of the river Stell. Three hours after twilight faded, and the countryside grew quiet except for the sounds of night insects, they slipped into the stream, Aram on foot, leading Durlrang and Thaniel. Once across, Aram turned back to the west in order to avoid the village that lay to their front between the river and the road. He led them cautiously forward, staying as much as possible to the soft, noiseless soil on the banks of irrigation ditches.

  This was familiar ground to Aram, though he’d never been in this part of the world in the course of his life. Manon’s designs tended to function the same way everywhere, square fields arranged as symmetrically as possible across the earth, giving no thought to the lay of the land or to individual ideas on how to raise crops. It was not an efficient system, especially since those that worked these square plots of land were deprived of its bounty, and often hungry, even when surrounded by plenty.

  Manon didn’t care. He meant to reduce all the peoples of the world to mindless slaves, field-tenders, working unimaginative square plots of earth for the benefit of his vast armies. He didn’t even care how well his system worked. If crops ever went thin, he simply starved those that raised them. Instead of guiding mankind to greatness, as had been given to him to do at the beginning, he meant to drive it into hopelessness and ruin.

  Every so often throughout the night, Aram would stop and listen in the direction of the huts that defined this village or that one. No light came from any, and no sound either, only dull listless silence. These people had not been in slavery as long as his had been, but long enough to have lost the joy of living.

  After skirting the fields to the west, he turned north. The night was dark, there was no moon yet, but he went confidently. Alvern had described the country well, and Durlrang went a few paces ahead, his able eyesight watching the night for unwelcome surprises. But evidently the lashers were asleep as well, for no one challenged them. About midnight they crossed a road running to the north and Aram led them into the fields on the other side, where he turned to the northeast.

  Once into the farmland directly north of Stell, on the flood plain of the Broad, he sent Durlrang out on the right flank, to watch for the huts of villages looming in the night, so that they would not stumble into one by accident. They passed one, then another, and then a third. Finally, as a gibbous moon rose in the east, they passed the fourth and turned toward the river. The banks of the river here were comprised of soft earth as they rose above the dark current. Only the great root systems of the trees that lined the water kept the river from consuming the land. Aram kept Thaniel and his great weight to the left, away from the river bank so that he would not crumble the soft bank and plunge into the dark water, while he and Durlrang watched for signs of the crossing. The moon made for a clearer view but also meant that, if there were any lashers wandering the night, they would be more easily seen.

  Finally, at a place where the bank curved away from the river and the trees grew scarce, he heard the soft sound of rippling water and the moonlight fell on the crests of shallow waves in the stream. He studied the disturbed water as long as he dared while the night wore away and finally decided that this was indeed the ford. They went down the bank, found that the shore of the river was strewn with smooth, rounded rocks of all sizes and that it slanted gently into the shallow water near the shore, and they waded into the current. The water was cold, surprisingly so, for spring had passed and summer had arrived. Twenty feet from the shore, the water rose to Aram’s knees while ahead of him the broad stretch of the river went out of sight into the darkness, despite the half-light from the rising moon. The far bank was lost in gloom.

  The current ran heavier and the water rose higher. Durlrang ceased trying to wade and began to swim, the current dragging him away downstream even as he pulled for the opposite shore, and Aram found that it was all he could do to remain on his feet. Even the tall and mighty Thaniel struggled against the force of the onrushing water.

  Carefully, easing his feet forward across the rocky bottom, and leaning hard upstream against the swift current even as the level of the water rose higher, Aram continued, though his mind was filled with doubt. Had he missed the ford? Was it still further upstream? Several times he considered going back, but Durlrang was already lost from view down the river – Aram could no longer see the wolf ’s dark head bobbing in the current even with the aid of moonlight, and it seemed that every time he thought of turning back, the current of the river would moderate a little and a measure of confidence would return.

  Then, as he moved confidently across a shallower section of the rocky, underwater bar, his feet slipped off the rocks into deep, quick water and the current took him. He went completely underwater and came up flailing and gasping for air, coughing liquid from his lungs. There was no longer a bottom to the river beneath him. Behind and to the right, he heard Thaniel grunting with effort as the great horse was also taken in the deeper portion of the river. The current had him and was carrying him rapidly downstream – toward the town. Though Stell and its guarded bridges were two or three miles away, the current was moving more quickly than it had appeared and in the east, in the darkness along the horizon, the sky began to take on a hint of pink.

  “Aram!” Thaniel’s urgent call rang in Aram’s mind.

  Aram turned to look behind him and with the help of the spare moonlight, could just see the horse’s head rising above the dark current. Thaniel was moving toward him.

  “Are you alright, Thaniel?” Aram asked, gasping against the water in his throat and the pressure of the current on his body.

  “Yes, my lord, I am fine. Come to me and take hold of my mane – I will pull you to the other side.”

  “No. Better that we each go alone than that I hold you back. I am fine, Thaniel. But we must make the other shore before we are carried into the town.”

  “I am the better swimmer, Lord Aram.” The horse answered urgently. “Let me help you.”

  Before he could answer, Aram found himself caught in the pull of a fast-moving, downward-dragging undercurrent in th
e water. The force of the river was terribly strong; he struggled to make headway against it, failed. The only guidepost he had was the soft pale promise of morning to the east, seen only occasionally when his head bobbed to the top of a wave crest. The undertow took him under, released him, took him under again. He twisted and turned, fighting blindly in the power of the water, trying to suck in a breath only when his head broke the surface, often missing his chance, coming desperately close to filling his lungs with water.

  Finally, the current slowed, eddied, and the undertow released him. Gasping, choking, he twisted in the water, trying to get his bearings, found the moon, found the east. The river was calmer here. To his left, the dark head of the horse rose above the darker water. Thaniel seemed to be drawing further away as Aram slipped downstream.

  “Aram,” the horse called desperately into the night, “where are you – come to me.”

  “Alright.” Aram gasped. His legs and arms felt heavy, and his muscles were beginning to cramp. “I’ve had enough of this. I’ll swim to you.”

  The horse turned toward him. “I see you, Aram – I’ll come to you.”

  At that moment, the body of the river overturned itself, churning with the force of a maelstrom. Caught in the suddenly frenzied, heavy current, Aram was pulled under and took water into his lungs. Blindly, he fought toward the surface, and a few moments later, his head broke through. Coughing and choking, he looked around, but there was only darkness everywhere.

  “Aram, where are you?” Thaniel’s voice sounded desperate.

  “Here, Thaniel, here.” Aram answered, but the words meant nothing in the gloom. Aram wasn’t even sure that the horse could find him using mindspeak, and he did not dare shout aloud with enemies nearby.

  “I cannot see you, my lord.” Thaniel answered.

  Using muscle and sinew that was rapidly approaching uselessness, Aram rotated his body in the water until he found once again the dim glow of pink in the east and despite pain and aching in all his limbs, began pulling himself through the water toward it.

  “I am swimming toward the eastern shore, Thaniel. My position is downstream from you. You can help me when we get near each other.”

  The current had slowed somewhat again; he was evidently in deeper water, but beneath the dark surface undertows in the current pulled at him. He found that his bow, slung over his head, interfered with his ability to swim.

  This fact alarmed him for two reasons. First and foremost, he needed to get to the eastern bank of the river as quickly as possible and the bow and quiver made moving his arms in a systematic fashion difficult. But this was the best and finest of his remaining bows – one of the first he’d made that worked so well. He’d lost one in the impassable mountains – even better than this one – he hated the thought of losing another. At the last, reluctantly, he slipped it from his head and let it go in the dark river. A short while later, out of desperate necessity, his good steel sword from Regamun Mediar followed it, sinking down into the deep. Aram felt like sobbing at the loss of two such fine companions, for both of these weapons had been with him for years, the sword for most of the war with the wolves.

  Now, he had only the sword of heaven as excess weight, but as it was sheathed, it didn’t bother him greatly, and he settled in to work hard at reaching the opposite side of the river. His strength, already depleted by his struggles, waned even further as he kicked and strained through the heavy current of the river. It was hard to tell if he was making progress. As his head bobbed above the current now and again, he saw clearly that the sky was growing dangerously lighter to his front even as the moon overhead began to decline toward the west. In all directions, the river seemed endlessly broad.

  “I am ashore, Lord Aram,” Thaniel said out of the gloom to his front, “and Durlrang is here also. I could not find you in the water. If you can hear me, stay strong – you must be close. I will come for you if you will guide me.”

  “I’m coming.” Aram gasped, and kept pulling at the water. Ahead, the sky lightened with frightening speed, but after a while the current grew less and then he found himself twisting in a backwater. His hands found mud and he pulled himself with quivering muscles onto a sloping bank, where the tall dark shapes of trees rose up into the gloom. There was another large, dark, square shape in the pre-dawn gloom near him also – a hut. He had come dangerously close to town.

  Once out of the water, he turned and stumbled northward along the river, sodden and chilled, and exhausted. Something cold touched the back of his hand and he jumped, startled.

  “It is I, master.” Durlrang fell in beside him. “The horse is ahead. He searched the bank near where you and he last made contact and I came farther south, in case the current took you far. I am happy we found you.”

  Aram glanced toward the east. The sky had lightened to the point that he could see the rumpled shadow of a distant line of hills against the brightening sky. They needed to hurry. When they had joined back up with Thaniel, Aram decided that speed had become more important than stealth; he climbed up on the horse’s back and they went straight toward the east, looking for the limits of the fields in that direction. Finding the open prairie beyond the fields, they turned left, toward the northeast and home.

  The sky had lightened to the point where they could make out details in the ground around as they hurried toward the coming day. Sunrise was less than a half hour away. Aram began to anxiously watch the land ahead for signs that they approached another village. Alvern had said that there weren’t many on the eastern bank but that there were some, and they would no doubt be controlled by lashers, especially on this side of the river.

  After a while he saw a dark mass rising from the undulating plain on his right – a large grove of trees. The grove did not have the tended appearance of an orchard. A stand of wild forest. Beyond those trees, the sky brightened.

  “Thaniel, do you see that grove of woods?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go there.”

  They raced into the trees, going deep into the cover of the woods before they finally stopped. Aram dismounted and fell to the ground. Durlrang came close and Thaniel dropped his nose down close to him. “Are you alright, my lord?”

  “I will be.”

  The ringing of a gong sounded suddenly in the expanding light of the pre-dawn, away to the southwest, and then sounded again. A few minutes later, closer, another sounded, very near, just out on the open prairie beyond the trees. Then it rang a second time, too.

  Lying on his back in the dim woods, Aram listened to its reverberations die away. “It seems that we may be here for the day, my friends.”

  “We should be relatively safe in these trees, my lord.” Thaniel answered.

  Aram glanced over at the wolf, a dark shape in the gloom. “Are you strong enough to stand watch, Lord Durlrang?”

  “I am, master, the river was not difficult for me. You and Thaniel may rest – nothing will disturb you, I swear.”

  Aram turned onto his side and fell asleep. When he awoke, hours later, the sun was above him; dappled light filtered down through the canopy. Thaniel stood nearby, his head down and his eyes closed, his legs and belly caked with dried mud. He could not see Durlrang. It was only then that he discovered that, along with his bow and his good steel sword, his pack had also been lost in the river crossing, though his canteen still hung from his belt.

  He had water then, but no food. It was no great matter; after nightfall, they would continue on to the northeast. Derosa was surely no more than two days, perhaps less, away. He looked up through the trees and sent a thought skyward.

  “Lord Alvern – are you there?”

  “I am here, Lord Aram. You are in a large patch of woods near a village on the road. I spoke with Durlrang this morning. Are you well?”

  “Yes – I am well. What lies ahead to the northeast?”

  “A mile beyond the village that is near you, there is a stockade across the road, with a gate at the road, guarded by one lasher
and several gray men. The stockade is perhaps a mile wide, stretching away across the prairie to both sides of the road. It touches the river at its western extremity.”

  “Can we go around the end of it to the east?”

  “Easily, my lord.” Alvern answered. “It seems to exist for the purposes of early warning only. It appears new, probably built since you scattered the army on the plain before Derosa two years ago.”

  “What lies to the east of it?”

  “Open prairie only, my lord.”

  “How close are we to the village?” Aram asked.

  “The fields run up to the very edge of the woods.”

  “How far away is the gate of Derosa?”

  “One night, one day – or two days, my lord.”

  Aram got unsteadily onto his feet. His muscles twitched and jumped from the previous night’s exertions. Stiffly, he eased westward, through the wood toward the open ground beyond, intending to examine the surrounding country for himself. Just as he stepped around the massive trunk of a large beech, Durlrang’s voice pierced his mind like a bolt.

  “Master – stay still.”

  Aram froze. Durlrang lay in the shadow of a patch of leafy underbrush a few yards away, but he was not looking at Aram. Instead his attention was directed to Aram’s front, toward the field. Aram turned his head slowly and looked.

  The broad, leathery back of an enormous lasher, matted with short, course, black hair was but a few feet away, so close he could almost have reached out and touched it. He must have been more tired even than he thought to stumble into the reach of such a formidable enemy. Aram lifted his eyes. The massive head, topped by the overhanging horns, moved slightly as if the lasher were talking, but he could hear no sound except an occasional crunching noise, like gravel moving against itself in a stream bed. The beast’s massive shoulders moved, too, but his arms were out of sight, wrapped around to his front.

  “He is eating a small animal.” Durlrang whispered inside his mind. “Please, master, move quietly away.”