“You're the best medicine that has walked in here in many a day, my lord,” the surgeon said.
“Thank you for all that you have done,” Aram replied. “Will he walk again?”
“Now that he has seen you and begun to move back toward life, yes..., I'm sure he will. Nothing is broken. Much blood was lost and he requires nourishment, so if you can get him to eat something tomorrow, it would be very helpful. A body that size can't subsist on what I've been giving him in his water.”
Aram nodded. “I'll see that he eats tomorrow, even if it is but little.”
Aram was too stiff and sore to kneel again, but he looked at Thaniel's closed eyes, not knowing if the horse heard him. “Tomorrow, my brother.”
“Tomorrow,” came the quiet, strained reply.
29.
Hargur was moving a large, empty slave train southward along the road toward Elam when he saw the long columns tramping toward him. Stopping the caravan, he got down from the driver's seat and stood in the road as the columns divided and marched around him, going north. Spying Grull, with whom he had shared experience in the field, he motioned the sub-commander over.
“Where is the First?”
Grull dropped his eyes. “Vulgur is dead, Commander.”
This news stunned the Second of Manon's elder children and he stared open-mouthed at the sub-commander. After the initial shock wore away however, strangely, he found that the fact of his elder brother's demise did not greatly displease him. “Vulgur is dead?” He asked. “How?”
“He was slain in battle by men.”
“By men or by the man?”
“By men, Commander,” Grull stated. “We had the man surrounded according to the plans laid by the First, but the others slew him with arrows and lances even as we were seeking to overpower the man.”
Hargur narrowed his flat black eyes and growled deep. “Was the man also slain?”
Frightened by the recent events and the possibility of guilt being attached to him in some way, Grull lifted his gaze for only a moment in an attempt to gauge the Second's mood, but learned nothing. “I do not know, Commander. Perhaps he was slain, but I did not see it. When the First fell, the troops gave way and left the field and I could not rally them.”
Hargur's narrowed eyes widened into astonished discs of pure black. “The battle was lost?”
”I cannot say. We killed many, and they killed many. Then the First fell, and the army left the field. Whether there was victory or defeat, I cannot say.”
“But Vulgur was lost,” Hargur reminded him harshly.
“As you say, Commander. His body is in the wagons and will be taken to the Great Father.”
Hargur turned from him and watched the lean, hunched second children streaming by, flanked by long single columns of first children. After a moment, he looked back at Grull. “Who is in command here?”
Grull shrugged his great shoulders. “The First is dead, the Third has not been seen since he went into the east with the Great Father's spirit-thing, and the Fourth is at the tower of the Great Father.” He looked into Hargur's cold flat-disc eyes. “It seems likely that you are in command now, Elder Brother.”
Instantly, Hargur shook his head. “No, I cannot take command of this army without instruction from the Great Father. You will take the army north and report all that has occurred. You may say that you have seen me. If the Great Father wants me, he will send for me with instruction.”
Grull inclined his head. “As you say, Commander.”
“Go, then.”
Hargur stood in the road until the long dusty columns had swept past, and then he climbed back up onto the seat of the wagon. For a long while, he did nothing, just sat and gazed southward. Would the road ahead of his train of wagons be clear, he wondered, or would the victorious army of men be waiting for him somewhere along it?
Behind him, twenty miles or so, there was another route, longer by some miles, for it went westward through the land of Aniza before looping back toward Elam, but it would be safer if an enemy host held possession of the road to the south. Hargur had been given sole responsibility for bringing the female humans northward out of Elam and carting them safely to Morkendril.
Lately, the Second had been giving consideration to private thoughts that he was certain should not be entertained by a loyal son of Manon. Nonetheless, he had often pondered these dark thoughts and found it difficult to dispel them. Today, however, his only thought was that he would not like to meet the victorious army of the man of the east under any circumstances.
After another hour, when the Great Father's army had moved past and begun to recede into the north, he turned the wagons around and went back toward the turn-off to the alternate route.
30 .
Manon gazed at the vulture as it twisted its great wings back and forth and hovered upon the wind. Black anger arose within him and it was accompanied by something that felt disturbingly akin to uncertainty.
“Why was I not told of this sooner, Bezathog?” He demanded of the ancient bird.
“I must beg the forgiveness of Your Greatness, but eagles and hawks patrol all the skies to the south of Bracken. Since the battle and the slaying of the First, they have become emboldened and they prevented me. I found it expedient to fly as far around as the pass of the eastern mountains to bear my report to this tower.”
The grim lord's sapphire eyes narrowed to slits. “You are certain of this? Vulgur is slain?”
“I witnessed his dead body with my own eyes, Your Greatness.”
“How was he slain?”
The great bird hesitated. “I cannot answer this with certainty, my lord. I only know that he died upon the field of battle.”
Manon’s narrowed eyes glowed with dark azure fire. “And the man of the east – was he slain as well?”
“I am told that he was conveyed away from the battle. I think that he lived. Whether he continues to live, I cannot say. The skies above the southern plains have become dangerous for those of my kind allied to Your Greatness.”
Ignoring this, Manon demanded, “What of the army?”
“It returns north even now.”
“How many were lost beside the First?”
“Many,” the bird replied. “Still, but a small portion of the whole.”
The god turned and gazed with hard eyes down across the Land of Bracken, toward the distant plains. “Hargur is in the south,” he said, “traveling toward Elam. Send word to him that he is to leave the transporting of human women to another and come to me.”
“At once, Your Greatness.”
With a wave of his hand, Manon dismissed the vulture. After the enormous fowl sailed off, he continued to gaze toward the south, where the unthinkable had occurred.
Vulgur was dead.
Surprisingly, he felt a twinge of sadness, even remorse, despite the fact that he had long ago banished such feelings as they were connected to any of the lesser creatures, even those of his own creation. The strongest emotion which he did feel, however, was a sort of angry astonishment that mere humans could succeed in slaying the eldest and strongest of his children.
Perhaps, he thought, Vulgur had made a mistake in the heat of conflict, helping in some way to bring about his own destruction. But that thought was a seed that could not find fertile soil in which to take hold and sprout. The First had always been overtly clever, and dangerous; killing him would have been an enormous task, accomplished at great peril to whoever attempted it.
And that was the troubling thought.
If Aram's forces could learn to slay the strongest and best of his children, then much advantage was gone; the war was in danger of being reduced to a simple matter of strength against strength. Manon had no doubt that if he applied all of his power to the task, sent everything against Aram, his armies would succeed. But there would be a cost, soldiers would die, perhaps many. Elam to the south, which until the coming of Aram had been the focus of the grim lord's exertions, might then be tempted to fl
ex its muscle in an attempt to deny him the resources for rebuilding. Worse, its foolishly ambitious prince might resolve on open rebellion, if he witnessed Aram's success.
Such an event might force the grim lord’s hand, making it necessary for him to go out into the world himself and order things to his liking by the strength of his own power. This, he did not wish to do. He had no intention of exposing the true nature and extent of his strength, wasting it upon the insignificant denizens of this one world.
No, the true nature and extent of his power must be shown only at that moment when that prize for which he lusted, the throne of the universe itself, was within his grasp.
He turned away into the dark interior of his tower, closing the aperture with a motion of his hand.
Things were inevitably rendered different by the fact of Vulgur’s death; he must alter his thinking and his planning as well. Either Aram must be convinced to come to him, or he must go to Aram himself, as he had once done with Joktan, and destroy him with his own hand. For many reasons, he had come to believe that it would be better if Aram came to him.
There was, of course, another way to rid himself of Aram, but it would require the striking of a bargain with the Laish. The dragons could easily destroy the troublesome man. Such a move, however, would give those unpredictable beasts access to the Sword, which would lend even more uncertainty to the current situation. A better way was to convince them to slay his woman. Aram would be made to understand that her death was the act of the god, and this would undoubtedly bring him to the tower in an attempt to exact revenge. But if the dragons came to understand the true value that the destruction of Aram’s woman held to the Lord of the World – that this was in fact the “last kill” that he required – they undoubtedly would expect the release of their child in return.
That thought gave the god pause. He felt no uncertainty or hesitation about that which he would ask of them, but he had begun to doubt the end result of the bargain, the freeing of the dragon child. Abruptly, he wished that he had been more prescient in the creation of the second self that had gone into the south. He had made it strong enough to destroy the child if it became necessary, but a desire to preserve power had prevented him from giving it enough to destroy all the dragons were they gathered in that place.
He frowned at his self-doubt. He had sent no more of himself because he was not certain that he could destroy the child and there was no point in wasting strength. It had all been a bluff, anyway. The dragons, surprisingly, had believed it, seeming to recognize that this particular member of the Brethren was exceedingly strong, strong enough that it was not prudent to make a challenge when the life of their child was at stake.
For not the first time, the choice he had made in releasing the dragons troubled his thoughts. That act had been intended mainly as a demonstration of his growing strength to the Brethren. The dragons themselves he meant to hold in reserve, keeping them secret until such a time – and at need – he would use their fearsome power to overawe the princes and peoples of the earth. The coming of Aram, of course, had changed all that, altering his plans in ways not foreseen. Now, the dragons were embittered and recalcitrant, dangerously so. If released, would the Laish turn on him? He felt certain that he could destroy them – but at what cost to himself?
Now, at this moment, when he was almost ready to reach out and seize everything, he chafed at the possibility of anything that would cause him further delay.
While pondering these troublesome thoughts, Manon wound up and around the dark stairway that led to the platform at the top, where the sharp needle of his tower rose away toward the distant sky, where all his aspirations lay.
How could he make that which he would ask of them seem a bargain for the Laish as well? What could he give them beyond the life of their child that would turn this last request in his favor and convince them to move on to other horizons without presenting a challenge to his power? Must he resort to threatening their destruction or could they discover a common ground for reasoning?
For the moment, he could not see the outcome, and so he must not be rash. First, he must discover what exactly had caused the death of his eldest.
Bending his thoughts down through the darkness of the tower, he sent instruction to Soroba, in a room far below.
“Come to me at once.”
31 .
As Aram grew stronger and shed his swaths of bandages, he took an ever larger role in Thaniel's recuperation. After several attempts, he convinced the great horse to take an apple from his hand, and finally to stand on his feet which, despite Thaniel's immense strength, was a difficult thing indeed. Jared and Florm stood patiently to either side of the huge black horse for days and nights on end until Thaniel ordered them both away.
“I can stand,” he insisted. “I'm not an undernourished colt.”
“No,” Aram agreed, grinning, “you are no colt, but nourishment is not something you can claim either, my friend. I can count all your ribs with ease.”
“Then bring me some grass,” Thaniel growled.
Aram laughed and went to comply.
After he gained his feet, Thaniel grew perceptibly stronger, even though several of his wounds, especially the deeper gashes along his belly and flanks stubbornly refused to heal. These continued to seep foul-smelling fluids, causing the surgeons to engage in endless worried consultations. But at least his appetite began to return.
Watching Bertrain changing Thaniel's bandages and poultices one day, Aram observed that, “It will be awhile before you go anywhere, my friend.” Secretly, worriedly, he wondered – Will he ever?
“I’ll go anywhere you wish at any time, my lord,” Thaniel replied with a hint of his old stubbornness.
Aram met his gaze. After a moment, he nodded. “Alright – but for the moment, there is no place in particular where either of us needs to go.”
As for Aram, once his bandages came off, he healed rapidly as was his wont. Except for a streak of gray-white hair along the right side of his head where a lasher pike had taken the flesh and hair off down to the scalp, he began to look and feel his old self.
One mid-day, as he sat with Ka'en on the veranda near their room, sharing a private lunch, a voice came down out of the firmament.
Aram looked up. Palus, the eagle from the southern ocean, hovered above the eaves of the house.
“Palus! What news of the south?”
“Lord Aram, greetings. Do you remember the house where the man summoned you by the placement of red cloth?”
“Yes.”
“The red cloth has appeared.”
Aram froze. “What is its meaning, do you know? Is the town threatened?”
“I know not, Lord Aram,” the eagle replied. “There is a ship in the harbor, but it is a ship that often puts in at that port. I only know that the summoning cloth shows once more.”
Aram sat in puzzled thought for a moment and then looked up at the bird. “Thank you, Palus. If you find it possible, tell the man that places the summoning cloth that I will arrive in two days’ time.”
“Yes, my lord.” The eagle mounted up and wheeled away.
Aram stood and went to the rail, and then turned to look at Ka'en. “What does it mean, I wonder?”
Ka'en's features were grim with disapproval. “I wonder why it is that you have to go. Send Arthrus, or Dane. If there are no unknown ships, it cannot mean danger.”
Aram shook his head. “No, I must go. The placement of the cloth summons me and no one else. But who will bear me? Thaniel is not able now and I hate the thought of being borne by another.” He gazed at the floor for a moment, and then sighed. “Huram, I suppose.”
Ka'en stood. “Thaniel is mending and will recover with time. Tell me, Aram – why must you go to Durck? Why cannot you send another?”
Aram looked up and frowned at her. “As I stated, the cloth is meant to summon me, and I have to see to the reason for its placement.” He turned to gaze eastward, toward the hills. After a moment, he sig
hed again. “Yes, Huram will have to bear me, though it will seem strange. I'll leave at first light.”
“And I will go with you,” she said quietly, firmly.
He pivoted and looked at her. After a moment, his gaze dropped to her ever-expanding belly.
She shook her head. “I'm not so far along that I can't make a simple journey of two days.”
But then his mouth set and he met her eyes. “No,” he said, and it was delivered in a tone that left no room for argument. “It is two days there and another two days back again – and I don’t know why the cloth has been placed. It is possible that there may be danger. So, I will go with Findaen and Wamlak, and we will go quickly, discover what has caused Mullen to summon me, and then return as quickly. You will stay and guard your health and the health of our child.”
Her eyebrows arched as her topaz-colored eyes darkened. “Aren't you being a bit imperious, my love?”
He watched her in silence for a moment and then shook his head. “If you cannot see by now just how dangerous is the world beyond the borders of Derosa, then I do not know how to convince you of it. I must make this journey as quickly as possible and dispose of whatever matter has caused Mullen to send for aid.” Turning to look at the hills again, he emitted a sigh of exasperation. “What small thing could possibly be troubling Mullen? I have little time to spend on small affairs.”
“How do you know that this is a small affair?”
“I do not.” Aram shrugged. “But Palus stated that a ship that was well-known to him was alone in the harbor. It must therefore be a simple matter of commerce. There must be something which Mullen thinks requires my attention. He is undoubtedly wrong, which is why I must go quickly, without having to make allowances for the comforts of the woman I love, so that I may return just as quickly. There are more important things that require my attention.”
Sighing, she went to him and he enfolded her in his arms. “It's just that I despise the thought of you going anywhere without me just now,” she said, “especially since – the battle.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Four Page 21
