“And these 'things' will aid us?”
“That is my hope.”
“And you saw the wolves?”
Marcus extended an arm, taking in the green woodlands that surrounded them. “They live in this forest. So said Aram.”
“The king you spoke of?”
“Yes.”
After a long moment, Thom nodded, though his sardonic grinned stayed. “What do I say?”
Marcus frowned. “About what I've told you?”
“No – to the wolves. With my mind.”
“So you believe me?”
His grin fading, Thom nodded, and abruptly grew solemn. “Until I've a reason not to. In all our long friendship, Your Highness, you've never given me a reason not to believe you.”
Marcus stood and looked north. “I'm not exactly sure what to say,” he admitted. “I've just been identifying myself, and saying that I want to meet with Lord Aram.”
“Lord Aram? You name him a lord?”
“I do, and when you meet him, you'll understand.”
“So this man is more than Rahm?”
Marcus smiled. “The horse that accompanied him stated that Rahm was merely a worm by comparison.”
“Then I really want to meet him.” Thom rose to his feet. “Which way?”
Marcus adjusted his pack. He looked north, across a deep, dark, wooded ravine at the forested hills beyond. “That way,” he said. “And keep trying to make contact.”
“How far are we going?”
“To the borders of Cumberland, at least.”
“Cumberland's three days away by foot, maybe four or five across terrain such as this,” Thom stated and he grinned ruefully. “I hope we have enough food. I like to eat, you know.”
A few hours later, after laboring over heavily wooded slopes and down through the deep ravines between, as they paused for lunch, several dark low-slung shadows appeared abruptly out of the gloom, startling them, causing them to jump to their feet in apprehension. Thom reached under his jacket and drew out his short sword.
An enormous, dark-coated wolf separated himself from the others and approached with a strange mincing walk, seeming almost to float across the forest floor, gazing at them with sinister yellow eyes.
“Are you Marcus, the man of Elam?” A harsh voice sounded in their minds, making Thom stiffen with shock.
Marcus swallowed, glancing around at the many dark shapes that appeared almost to meld into the gloom. “I am.”
“You seek counsel with our master – Aram the king?”
Marcus nodded. “Yes.” He moved his hand, indicating Thom. “This is my friend, who would like to accompany us.”
The wolf gazed at Thom for a moment and then turned back to Marcus. “It is far for a man to walk. Do you have food to sustain you on the journey?”
“We have food,” Marcus affirmed.
The wolf studied him for another long moment and then turned away toward the north. “I am Barcur, servant of Aram the Deathslayer. Come.”
Thom looked furtively over at Marcus. His eyes were very wide. “Deathslayer?” He whispered.
“I told you, Thom,” Marcus replied quietly. “The world is ancient and strange beyond the borders of Elam.”
14.
For three days, Aram roamed the valley and the lands beyond and to either side, ranging out onto the plains as far as he dared without risking contact with lashers from the slave villages. He went up into the high ground and the hills to the east as well, making sure that an attempt to flank him there could be accomplished only with great difficulty, but it was to the west that he went most often, riding and walking, for it was the ground beyond where he intended to place his left wing that troubled him most.
Beyond the rocky ridge that extended north from the wooded hills, forming the valley's western border, the plains held sway again. There were other extrusions here and there further on, encompassing other stream-riven vales, but none of the low places in between offered as good a ground to defend as the valley near the road.
The space of level ground between the end of the rocky protrusion and the banks of the stream demanded his attention daily. Walking back and forth between the stream and the end of the bluff, he suffered daily bouts of indecision. If only the stream ran nearer the bluff as it flowed toward the west; then the security of his left flank would be rendered an easier thing to accomplish.
The brook, formed by the rivulets from the hills to the south, joined with the larger west-to-east stream at this point, but instead of aiding in defense by cutting into the bank, simply gave Aram more to worry over. As it approached the larger current, the north-flowing stream spread out wide and separated into several sandy-bottomed channels. Further, the area of confluence would extend inside his lines and the soft sandy bottom would render movement difficult, especially in the confusion of battle. Had he more archers at his disposal, he could place them on the rocky high ground above in order to protect his left flank, but the few he had would be mounted with Wamlak and used across the field as dictated by events after contact was made with the enemy.
He finally decided that he would turn the left end of his line slightly, angling it back into the bluff where the two streams made confluence, and instruct Edwar to place a good-sized reserve in the rear there. Then he would place wolves on the high ground above. While this solution did not fully satisfy him, and doubts still lingered about how his men might behave in the face of the enemy, especially on difficult terrain, he nonetheless settled upon it. Once this problem was resolved, Aram began to feel an odd and urgent desire to engage in the coming struggle. Joktan had been right about that. He needed to begin to diminish Manon's strength.
And he would start right here.
Even if the grim lord's troops decided to avoid a struggle at this place, and tried to slip by him either to the east or west, he doubted that they would find such a maneuver feasible. To that end, while leaving his camp in the wooded hills, he and Thaniel roamed ever further eastward and westward. It soon became clear that there was no place to the east of the road that Manon's army would find attractive for maneuver, because of the increasingly rough nature of the ground, so he spent the next several days exploring to the west. Finally, he decided that it was likely that the enemy would either engage him at the road, or not at all. And he’d grown certain of one thing – the enemy meant to engage him. There was no other reason for Manon to send his army south.
By this time, Boman, Edwar, Findaen, and the army of the free peoples would be far down the valley of the dry lake. And there was now a cloud of dust to the north that grew daily. It was time to lead his men to this spot and prepare them to meet the enemy. Aram decided to spend one last night among the trees. As he stretched out beneath the stars he tried to keep his thoughts full of Ka'en and the coming addition to their life that would make them a family, rather than the grim task immediately ahead. Still, sleep did not come until deep in the night.
In the calm, pale light of morning, as Aram was rolling up his bedroll, Padrik appeared out of the morning dimness.
“The man of Elam has come, my lord.”
Aram looked at him. “Where is he?”
“In the hills south of the plains. Barcur brings him north even now.”
“Then let's go see him.”
“There are two, my lord.”
Aram frowned. “Two men?”
“Yes.”
“Who is the other man?”
“The man of Elam claims him as a friend, master.”
Aram nodded. “Alright.”
A few hours later they emerged from the gap into the bright morning sun where the wastelands of the dry lake valley gradually gave way to the rolling green of Cumberland. Padrik led them across the flat ground and up into the wooded hills to the south. A short way along a hollow that had a substantial stream running through its bottom, they found the two men resting in a small copse of trees surrounded by wolves.
The men stood and Aram studied them as
he dismounted. One was indeed Marcus, the prince of Elam, while the other was a man he'd not seen before, taller than Marcus and with a muscular build. His carriage struck Aram's experienced eye as being that of a soldier. Probably, the prince had brought along a bodyguard.
Followed by Thaniel, Aram entered the shade of the trees. He glanced once again at the taller man, noting his taciturn, slightly cautious demeanor, especially as Thaniel's massive bulk approached, and then he inclined his head to Marcus.
“Greetings, Your Highness.”
In return, Marcus bowed slightly. “My lord.” He turned and indicated the taller man. “This is my friend and companion, Thom Sota. He is also a trusted confidant.”
Aram acknowledged Thom, meeting the tall man's clear yet careful gaze and then, without preamble, he addressed Marcus.
“What does your High Prince intend toward us?”
“My apologies, but I cannot give you a certain answer, my lord,” Marcus admitted, in slow careful tones, “for not only am I no longer in his favor; I have, in fact, become a fugitive from his attentions.”
Aram felt his look harden at this. “A fugitive?”
Marcus glanced sideways at his companion. “He wants me dead – out of his way.”
Aram also looked at the taller man, who indicated his agreement with a slight nod.
“Does he think you wish to replace him?” Aram asked the prince.
Marcus looked surprised even as he shook his head. “I think not, but I am the last of my father’s family and therefore something of a complication. Also, he knows that my sentiments are aligned with those who disagree with him,” he replied, and then continued. “I can tell you, my lord, what I suspect he will do in light of all that has occurred, but it will be no more than conjecture.”
Aram studied him for a moment, reaffirming his original impression of the young man, and then nodded. “Tell me,” he agreed.
“I believe that the High Prince intends to do much mischief, my lord, but I do not think that you will be the target of any of it, at least for the moment.”
“Why is this?”
“There are problems for him in Elam.”
“What is the nature of these problems?” Aram asked, and he was careful to keep any note of eagerness from his voice. “Are there serious objections to his policies?”
Marcus inclined his head in assent. “And to his rule as well, I think. There are two or three of the Great Houses that have called home all their troops and have flatly refused to continue any participation in the conscription of young women.”
Pleased and surprised, Aram nonetheless kept his demeanor bland as he considered this for a moment. “What is the relative strength of these 'houses'? Do they keep men under arms – and do they intend rebellion?”
“I can't speak to their strength as intelligently as my friend can, but as to rebellion – I think not, unless provoked. I am on friendly relations with the head of the greatest of the houses and I think they simply intend to wait him out if they can, even if it takes a generation.” Marcus shook his head in grim fashion. “I do not think that Rahm means to play along with this strategy however. I believe that he will move to marginalize those that do not agree with him in whatever way he can, including the use of force. I get the distinct impression that he means to grip the land with a fist of steel.” He met Aram's eyes. “Which, of course, means that he will likely be too busy to trouble you. Besides, I think he would be pleased if you and the prince of the north were to weaken each other to his advantage.”
“A sound strategy,” Aram stated and turned to Thom. “How strong are the houses that object to the actions of the High Prince?”
“Perhaps a sixth, maybe even a fifth, of the military power of the land,” the tall man answered, and his voice was deep and confident, as that of a man who has learned to trust his own judgment and abilities. Thom paused for a moment and glanced over at Marcus. “Actually, I do think they might intend rebellion against the throne, especially if they're pushed. And if a few of the smaller houses – say Barra or Oakiel, or maybe Dullen, join in the effort then the numbers on the side of the rebels improve a bit.” He hesitated and stared down at the ground before looking up and meeting Aram's gaze again. “I admit though that those opposed to the throne would be scattered, for except in one or two cases their lands are not adjacent, which would allow him to concentrate on each one singly, thereby eliminating his opponents in detail.”
He continued to look at Aram with an odd, restless expression upon his face. Sensing that the man wished to say more, Aram remained silent. After a moment, Thom continued. “If the rebellious houses were to be aided by others from outside Elam, well then...”
Aram smiled grimly. “The alliance of free peoples will readily aid anyone that seeks to destroy the iniquitous arrangement that your prince has made with the grim lord. But I would counsel patience before the launching of any rebellion in Elam. There is an army coming even now down out of the north. It will be on the southern fringe of the plains in less than ten days' time. Before coming to the aid of like-minded people in Elam, I must first see to this threat.”
Marcus eyes went wide. “There is going to be a battle?”
Aram motioned with his right hand. “In the valley just north of the gap that leads to the plains, if I get my way of things.”
Marcus glanced sideways at Thom. “I would like to observe this battle, if I may?”
Before he could stop himself, Aram delivered his reply in a caustic tone. “I will be too busy to care whether or not we are observed.”
Marcus caught the dismissive tone and flushed. “I will gladly help, my lord,” he stated defensively and a bit angrily. “I have some training as a soldier, so give me a sword and –“
Thom stepped forward, cutting him off. “I have been a soldier all my life, sir. Though I've never been to battle, I am well-trained. The prince is too valuable to be risked in my opinion, but if you will arm me, I will gladly fight.”
But Marcus would not be dismissed. “I will fight as well,” he insisted.
Ignoring Marcus, Aram studied Thom. “We can use every good and willing man,” he agreed after a moment and then stated bluntly, “People die on battlefields.”
Thom nodded, but his eyes hardened. “Yes, I know. The thought of dying doesn't bother me; it's the thought of letting a good cause go unaided that I find intolerable. And I understand that I may die but I assure you this – whether I live or die – I will kill.”
Aram frowned at him. “What cause do you have to fight against the grim lord?”
Thom hesitated and his blue eyes grew dark, like the sky before a storm. “Marcus has told me your words about what happens to the girls that go north,” he replied. “My niece was one of those girls.”
Aram nodded with compassion and blunt decision. “Then I will give you the chance to avenge her,” he promised. “I'll find you a sword, and a pike if one is available. And you’ll need armor.” He looked at Marcus. “Your friend is right – you are too valuable to put at risk. You will observe.” Raising a hand to cut off Marcus' objection to this, he turned back to Thom. “I go east to meet my army that even now marches this way. If there is anyone you need to take leave of, you have but five days before I return to the borders of Cumberland.”
Thom shook his head. “My wife is too far away.” He looked at Marcus. “If we go into Cumberland, maybe we can dispatch a message?”
“Maybe,” Marcus replied doubtfully. “Although I doubt the wisdom of making such an attempt. But we can go and see.”
Thom turned to face Aram. His countenance was calm and set, devoid of expression. “I will be here when you return, my lord.”
“Alright,” Aram answered shortly, acknowledging both of them as he mounted up, and then he and Thaniel went back down the ravine to the road and turned east. Near sundown they found the army preparing to make camp. Findaen saw them coming and stepped out to meet them.
Standing by Thaniel’s head, he looked
up at Aram with the question written in his eyes.
Aram nodded. “We'll meet them north of the gap,” he said. “We should arrive ahead of them by two or three days, perhaps four.”
Five days later, after having gathered up Thom, who was waiting as promised and was given a sword and a pike, breastplate and helmet, and assigned to Donnick's troop, the long columns encamped along the edge of Cumberland's rolling prairie. They woke the troops early the next day, before morning broke in the east, for Aram had decided to push them through the gap and into the valley in one march. In the predawn dimness the army wheeled north and like an enormous sinuous serpent wound into the gap that led to the valley where Aram intended to make his stand.
The sun sat on the western horizon when the last of the troops exited the gap and began to settle among the trees across the forested slopes. In the fading light of day, Aram peered northward, but the enemy's dust, if it was there, could not be distinguished from the general haze of evening.
Morning brought a line of rain squalls that swept down out of the northwest which, while not severe enough to cause a great deal of misery to the soldiers, managed to wet the grass and settle the dust on the road. Aram and Thaniel rode out as the sky grew light in the east, crossed the bridge and went to the top of the rise, where they peered northward. As yet there was no sign of the enemy. With the blustery rain showers moving through, there would be no telltale cloud of dust to indicate the position of Manon's army, but as Aram considered this fact, he decided that it was a good thing. His green troops did not need to witness the approach of belligerent power.
Instead, Aram decided that what they did need was to get to know the ground where, in a day or two, they would endure the ultimate test, coming face-to-face with mortality. To that end, after breakfast Aram instructed the captains to form their troops into columns and march them to the northern end of the valley, where they spilled sideways into lines of battle.
As he had suspected, this maneuver did not go well. Duridia performed reasonably well, but they had the added space of the road and the verge beyond, into which they could stretch in order to un-bunch the line. Derosa formed up too far to the east, but even so, Lamont, coming up against the western ridge, and not leaving enough of their number in the rear as reserves, formed a ragged line indeed that pushed beyond the center, moving the smaller band of Derosans further to the right and into Duridia’s left flank. Aram sat behind all this activity on Thaniel and let the captains straighten and disentangle their lines without his aid. After all, it would be their task to do so on the day when all of this would matter.
Kelven's Riddle Book Four Page 12
