Thaniel was silent for a long moment. “I cannot see a flaw in your thinking, Lord Aram.”
“Look longer, my friend. If you can find none, then I want to do this before the fall comes and we are forced to attend to the harvest.” He thought a moment and then continued with an undertone of uncertainty in his voice. “However, if we are forced to maintain a siege through the fall and into the winter – ah, well, perhaps we should wait until spring, though I am loath to do so.”
“The new recruits can help with the harvest, my lord.”
Aram brightened. “Yes, you’re right, Thaniel. They are mostly farmers, anyway – or were.” He nodded slowly, gazing into the west. “We can do this, then, can we not?”
The horse was silent a moment before answering. “We still have very few men and not enough armor for those we do have.”
“Yes.” Aram agreed. “But we do, in fact, have more men now – almost a thousand, with the three hundred from Stell – and more armor is constructed every day. Besides, as we have seen, gray men are but fodder when confronted by a nearly equal number of determined free men; and you and I can handle a substantial quantity of lashers on our own.”
“This is all undeniably true.”
Aram watched him. “But —?”
Thaniel swung around and faced him. “There is no ‘but’, my lord. I am ready for this fight when you are. It will be easier to defend the plains when there is no legion of the enemy’s entrenched on Flat Butte. When do we leave?”
“You and I will go this very morning – as soon as I’ve had breakfast.”
Thaniel was genuinely surprised. “This morning?”
Aram laughed. “We need to go west and south along the river, my friend, and discover how we may move several hundred men and horses over to the other side.”
“Of course.”
Aram turned away. “I will return within the hour.”
He found Ka’en walking the veranda outside the door to his room. She turned in surprise when he climbed the steps.
“You’ve been out this morning?”
“Yes. And I’ll be gone most of the day, as soon as I’ve eaten.”
She stood very still. “Where are you going, Aram?”
He came close and took her by the shoulders. “On patrol – to look at the river.”
“Why?”
He leaned back and looked in her eyes. “We marry in less than two months – isn’t that so?”
She nodded, watching him closely.
“I would like it to be a peaceful winter.”
“And what does this patrol of yours today have to do with that?”
He smiled, but it faded quickly. She was not a woman to be easily fooled or manipulated. Once again, he would have to be blunt.
“There will be one more battle this year, my love, before we can spend the winter in peace.”
Her features remained calm, but there was no gladness in them, either. “The fortress on Flat Butte?”
“I am surrounded by extremely perceptive people.” He said.
“Don’t be casual with me, Aram, please.”
“Alright, then.” He said, watching her. “Yes, the fortress on Flat Butte. We cannot afford to let an army of the enemy camp on our doorstep. That threat must be pushed further west. I want Manon to spend the winter wondering what he is going to do about us, rather than the other way around.”
She kept her arms folded across her breast, even as he held her shoulders. Finally, she smiled slightly, though her eyes remained somber. “You’ll need a good breakfast.”
“I’ll get something cold.”
“No.” She said firmly. “You will sit while I make kolfa and potatoes. Then you can go.”
“I will sit, then.” He answered wryly, but in fact he was glad for the hot breakfast.
He and Thaniel went west as the sun rose in the east. By mid-morning they came to the banks of the Broad. The river was nowhere near as wide here as farther south but it was still nonetheless substantial, rising as it did mostly from a mammoth spring at the base of the green hills. It moved slowly between its banks here, and appeared shallower, but still too deep to ford.
They arrived at the river bank near the place where Manon’s army had built its temporary bridge two years earlier. The bridge was gone. Findaen and his Derosans had burned most of it; the rest had washed away in the ensuing floods. It had been a poorly constructed affair anyway. There was no sign of enemy patrols on the far bank. They turned south.
As they went southward across the plains, the river meandered generally toward the south as well, though its course looped away to the west and east at times. The ground grew less gentle, as if the river, over time, had cut through a region of higher ground, not hills exactly, but no longer plains either. There were folds in the ground, copses of trees, and even springs that erupted at the bases of gentle slopes.
As it passed through this region, the body of the river narrowed, and its current flowed more rapidly. Finally, there was mounded ground to both sides of the river that was high enough to qualify as low hills. The Broad wound back and forth between them. About midday, Aram and Thaniel halted on the top of one of these higher mounds of earth and looked down upon a deserted farm tucked up into a fold of the high ground east of the river – a house, a larger barn, and several small outbuildings in various stages of ruin and disrepair.
While low but substantial hills still dominated the near side of the river, beyond the wide stream, the plains had reasserted themselves; the ground was flatter, almost level. The river had broadened out here and slowed down. There were several low, grassy islands in the stream, separating the body of the river into smaller channels. The current riffled over rocks and gravel between the islands and in several places the water was so shallow that Aram could see the rounded stones of the bottom.
As he was studying this portion of the river from the heights, one of the mounted patrols from Derosa rode up and greeted him. It was Wamlak and Ruben and four other young men whose faces he recognized but whose names he did not know.
“Good afternoon, my lord.” Wamlak said, inclining his head.
Aram pointed. “Whose farm is that down there, Wamlak?”
Wamlak and Braska came up beside him and Thaniel. Wamlak gazed down the slope at the indicated buildings. “That is the farm of Dane Sekish, my lord. It was very fine, back in the day, and provided a lot of crops, which is why he was given some of the best bottom land in the valley when he came inside.”
“Have you ever crossed the river there, by those islands, Wamlak?”
“Me? No, sir, my lord. But Dane had land on both sides of the river – that is probably where he crossed when he needed.”
“Where is Dane right now?”
“Working his fields, I imagine. He has twenty acres of good leaf ripening on some bottom land in the valley near the Weser.”
Aram looked over at him. “Did you see anyone on the far bank today?”
Wamlak frowned. “No, my lord, and it’s strange. We saw foot patrols of gray soldiers everyday since we started, until the last two days – then nothing.”
“None at all?”
“No, sir.”
Aram nodded thoughtfully. “That is strange.”
He turned and looked southward, where the rolling grasslands faded into the misty horizon. “Are there any fords further south that you know of?”
Wamlak shook his head. “No, my lord. If you’re thinking of going across to the other side, this is probably the best place. South of this high ground the river slows down and grows deep and wide.”
Aram turned Thaniel northeast, toward Derosa. “Thanks, Wamlak. Be careful and keep your eyes open.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Aram went straight back across the undulating grasslands to town, and toward evening found Dane still at work in his allotment along the river near the center of the round valley in which Derosa was situated.
Dane saw him coming and stood up, straightening
his back. “Lord Aram?”
Aram walked carefully between the tall rows of dark green, leafy plants. As he wound his way between them, he noticed that many were beginning to turn yellow along the edges of their enormously elongated leaves.
“How does your crop look this year, Dane?”
The stout man looked around, and nodded with satisfaction. “It’s been a good year, my lord – enough rain, but not too much. It’ll be good leaf.”
Aram stopped at the end of a row where Dane had piled a mound of scraggly suckers that he had pulled from the bottom portions of the stocks of his crop. He watched the farmer closely as he spoke. “It was cool this morning, Dane.”
“It was.” The farmer agreed. “But you often get that this time of year. There’s plenty of summer left, believe me.”
“I need to know – as exactly as you can tell me, Dane – when the harvest will begin.”
Dane massaged his thick forearms with his meaty hands. “Which harvest, my lord?”
Aram frowned. “There is more than one?”
“Oh, yes.” Dane nodded and looked around him. “The leaf will be ready in three, maybe four weeks. The wheat, a week after that; the potatoes later.”
“So I have a month?”
Dane gazed back with narrowed eyes. “Are we going back to war, my lord?”
“Some of us are, Dane. But I don’t want to endanger the harvest and we don’t have enough armor for everyone, anyway. How many men will you require to harvest the leaf ?”
Dane stopped massaging his arms and his eyes narrowed further. “Are you thinking of leaving me behind when you go to fight, my lord?”
“I am. You and enough men to guarantee the harvest.”
The older man stood stock-still. “Lord Aram – please do not do that to me.”
“Leave you behind?”
“I wish to go with you.”
“We must look to the harvest while the army is away, Dane. Who better to leave that task with than you?”
“My lord; the old men and the boys can harvest the leaf, with the help of the newcomers; the wheat can wait until later, and the potatoes can stay in the ground until almost winter, if necessary.”
Aram shook his head firmly. “No, Dane. Though our numbers are few; we must still see to all things. Nothing can be left untended.”
“My lord —”
Aram held up his hand. “You are the best at understanding and working the earth – everyone I talk to says so. I can leave this task with no one else. Much of your help will be new and inexperienced with the crops grown in this valley. No, my friend, you will stay and see to the harvest.” Aram smiled gently. “It is as important a task as any. Now – the farm that sits in the fold of the hills where there are several islands in the Broad?”
Dane nodded. “It’s mine, my lord – or was. Why?”
“It will be yours again, I promise you. Is the river fordable there?”
“Yes, my lord. Especially this year when we’ve had so little summer rain. I’ve driven oxen across it many times in the past.”
“So men could wade across there as well?”
“I think so,” the farmer answered, “if it hasn’t changed over the years. I’ve waded the river there myself. There used to be three larger islands downstream, away from the others.”
“They are still there.”
“Good, my lord. Then you will want to cross just above them, at the upper end. That way, if somebody stumbles and falls into the current, they can make it onto one of the islands and work their way back upstream on dry land. I never lost an ox there in twenty years.”
Aram met the man’s eyes. “And you’ll see to the harvest?”
Dane grinned a rueful assent. “I’d sure like to help you kill another lasher though.”
“There will be more chances for that, my friend, I promise. Thank you, Dane.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The sun was setting, so Aram went back to the house and shared supper with Ka’en and the others in the hall. He was silent, thinking, planning, and not sharing in the conversation, and did not see the many glances that were directed his way throughout the evening. Later, as he walked upstairs toward the veranda with Ka’en, she stopped him in the hallway and looked up into his eyes.
“When are you leaving?”
He shook his head. “I have to see Arthrus in the morning – check on the progress with the armor. But whatever we do, we must do inside a month.”
“Would it not be better to wait until spring, when you’ll have armor for everyone and the men are better trained?”
He met her gaze without expression. “I think not. Look at the logistics of it, Ka’en. Whether we fight again this fall or not, we will be in better shape in the spring. I would rather see next spring arrive with the fortress on Flat Butte either in our hands, or in ruins. The initiative would lie with us then, not with him.”
She dropped her gaze for a moment; then touched him on the arm and looked up. “Go ahead on to the veranda, my love – I’ll bring the wine.”
Thirty Two
The metalworkers had been busy indeed. There were now three hundred and forty breastplates of armor, Arthrus told him, as well as one hundred and forty breastplates for horses and ninety helmets. Those numbers would all grow by approximately twenty percent over the next two weeks. Aram listened to this assessment with pleasure and then looked at Findaen and Donnick, who had joined him.
“We go in two weeks.” He said. “Use this time well in choosing and training those that will go with us.”
He would assault the butte with a force of four hundred men, more or less, of whom about a third would be mounted. It would be a force more than twice the size of that with which he had freed Stell. As far as the disposition of the enemy was concerned; there had been two forces of different sizes stationed at the fortress during the summer – one of approximately a thousand gray men and less than a hundred lashers, and one about three times that size. He would approach cautiously until he knew which one it was that he faced.
A few days before the army was to leave, he sent Durlrang, who stayed more with him now than with the wolves, into the green hills to fetch Shingka. The huge white wolf and her father met him and Thaniel at the stream in the middle of the valley that ran northward into the hills just outside the gate.
Aram knelt and looked into the white wolf ’s intelligent eyes. “What news from the west, Shingka?”
“None, master. We have seen no one for several days now.”
Aram frowned. “In the woods or on the plains?”
“Only slaves on the plains, master, no soldiers. And no one in the woods.”
Aram stood and gazed west, as if the very act of looking would grant him clarity to this puzzle. After a moment, he glanced down at Shingka. “Have you gone close to the fortress?”
“We seldom cross the valley of the rushing water to the east of the flat hill, master, but our ears have heard nothing, and our eyes have seen only slaves at work in the fields.”
Aram turned to Thaniel, mystified. “What are they doing?”
“I do not know, my lord. Our patrols have seen nothing, either, for many days now.”
Aram raised his eyebrows. “Maybe the grim lord has troubles elsewhere in the world, and the fortress is down to a skeleton force.”
“It is to be hoped.” The big horse agreed.
“Well, we will go and see. Alvern can look down and tell us what occurs.”
Aram turned back to Shingka. “We will leave on the first of the week. Durlrang will come with me. It will take our men two days, perhaps three, to march to the river, perhaps two more to approach the fortress. I want you and your people to watch the western flanks of the black mountain, Shingka. Once battle is joined – kill any that try to escape.”
The wolf bowed her enormous head over. “No one will escape, master.”
Four days later, four hundred and twenty men, one hundred and seventy of whom were mounted, marched
out from the gates of Derosa, heading southwest. Three days later, they came to the river crossing. Alvern watched ahead from the skies to make certain they were not seen or tracked by patrols of the enemy. According to his reports, nothing moved upon the plains between the butte and the waters of the Broad, confirming their enemy’s strange behavior of the last two or three weeks.
They camped that night on the lands around Dane’s old farm, and at first light went across the wide stream of Broad River. The crossing went well, as Dane had predicted; because there had been little rain for the last month, the waters of the broad stream moved slowly and seldom rose higher than a shorter man’s thigh.
Near evening of the fourth day, as the bulk of Burning Mountain rose high above the plain before them to the northwest, with the smaller Flat Butte but a few miles to their front, they prepared to camp, without fires. Aram sent Alvern on ahead, to look down at the fortress and see what was done by the enemy, and attempt to ascertain whether or not they had been spotted, though they had encountered no patrols.
As the sun sank toward the distant horizon, Alvern swooped down out of the sky and lit on the ground. The eagle folded his wings and walked stiffly closer to Aram, who looked at him in surprise. Alvern usually preferred some kind of height when the day ended, even if just the higher branches of a tree. For him to come to earth, especially at this time of day, signified the most unusual of circumstances.
Alvern glanced around at the assembled men and spoke to Aram. “The enemy are leaving, my lord.”
Aram stiffened and stared at him. “Leaving?”
“They left the fortress sometime today, evidently in a hurry. There is much equipment and supplies strewn around inside the walls, as if abandoned. They are camped tonight a few miles down the valley to the west, toward the dry lake.”
Aram continued to gaze at the eagle in puzzled amazement. “Because of us, or were they summoned elsewhere?”
Alvern returned his gaze for a moment. “Pardon me, my lord, but how would I know the answer to such a thing?”
Aram laughed. “I am sorry, my friend. But I am bewildered. Why would they leave? Is the fortress completely abandoned?”
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 53
