But even one coin was enough to make a man rich beyond fathoming. With just one or two of these golden discs, any man could rightly be a lord in any society on earth outside of either his master’s or Aram’s influence. Surely such places existed and might, with effort and determination, be reached one day. In the end, after much mental anguish and casting about, he decided that Aram would probably not miss two, so he took them.
He hid these under the roots of a large tree that grew above the sinking river to the south of the city. Often, as he sat under this tree, he would smile down at his hidden cache. Someday, he, too, would be a lord somewhere. Maybe even a king. The stolen gold would make it so.
For now, though, he was impelled to remain in the valley.
His master required it.
More than a year earlier, a most astonishing thing had occurred in Flinneran’s life. One day, as he wandered along the sinking river, avoiding the rest of the townsfolk who were busy harvesting their crops, a large black bird with a bald head like raw flesh had descended out of the sky to hover in the air above him. After it secured his attention, the bird spoke to him.
The voice that pierced his brain felt like a bolt of fire.
“Are you a faithful servant of him who is named Aram?” The voice asked.
After mastering the stupor that accompanied amazement, Flinneran studied the bird for a long moment without tendering a reply. In that moment, as he stared into the cold gaze of the great vulture, he perceived that it was no spy of Aram, the supposed “lord”. No – this creature’s allegiances lay elsewhere.
With someone very distant but very powerful.
Someone who was no friend to the former slave who now imagined himself a king.
Someone who was a rightful lord.
“No,” he answered finally, truthfully. “I am no servant – faithful or otherwise – of the man named Aram.”
The bird’s small, sharp black eyes studied him. “My master,” it stated after a moment, “can make of you a king, for he is the lord of the whole earth. He is named Manon the Great, in whose service you once labored. He will reward you thus if you will pay proper obeisance, and do his bidding. The tasks he will appoint you are small and of little consequence when compared to that which he will grant a faithful servant.”
So, this creature served him who once had held both Flinneran and Aram in thrall, in whose slave wagons they had been brought eastward. Flinneran studied the bird for a while longer, pondering the opportunity, studying its various facets, many unseen and unknowable. “Will these tasks,” he asked finally, “work to the detriment of the one named Aram?”
“That will be the purpose of each of your assignments,” the creature assured him, as it languidly flapped its wings, riding the breeze. “And the rewards will be commensurate. How shall I report of you to my master?” It inquired.
Flinneran thought of his gold, and of how he would put it to use were he to be granted a kingdom somewhere by the rightful lord of the world.
Deliberately, Flinneran bowed low to the giant bird overhead. “You may tell him that I will pay obeisance and will serve him honestly and truly.”
“Manon the Great will be most pleased.” The bird flapped again, riding higher. “You will watch for emissaries of my kind, and for serpents, who serve him as well. Accomplish the tasks to which you are set and the time will come when you are properly rewarded.”
Flinneran held up his hands to prevent the bird’s departure. “Wait! Serpents?”
“Do not fear,” the bird replied as it dropped lower for a moment. “Those people serve my master well, and as fellow servants will become your allies. You will have to endure a bite in order to understand their speech, but it will cause you no lasting harm. The rewards will make any hardship seem small.”
“When will I receive this bite of which you speak?”
“Tomorrow.”
With that, and with mighty strokes of its wings, the bird mounted up and flew into the west, disappearing into the firmament below the broken flanks of the great black mountain.
The next day, as he sat beneath the tree by his hidden treasure, a large serpent with a black and yellow diamond pattern marking its back crawled out of the undergrowth and glided toward him. He stiffened with fear and revulsion. As he held his breath, watching the snake slide closer, he reminded himself that the vulture had told him of the necessity of being bitten in order to communicate with the servants of his new master.
The snake came close to his lower leg. Flinneran thought of the promised rewards and swallowed his terror. For just a moment, the large serpent lifted its head and looked right at him, flicking its tongue in and out, in and out.
“Go on, if you must – do it!” He hissed through gritted teeth, and trembling, he pulled up the leg of his trouser to expose the flesh.
Without hesitation the serpent opened its mouth wide and struck forward, imbedding its fangs in his leg. Sharp, intense pain shot up the length of his leg, through his torso, and into his brain. For a moment, the world went strange, and his eyesight failed, his surroundings became fuzzy and indistinct. He closed his eyes while the world reeled and fought against the dizziness and nausea.
Gradually, things righted themselves.
“Do you understand me, human?” A distant, muted voice inquired of him.
Flinneran opened his eyes and looked down along the length of his leg. Just below the edge of the pulled-up trouser, there were two small bloody impressions. He looked at the serpent, now coiled up a few feet away. The muted voice had come from it.
“Yes,” he said. “I understand you.”
“Good,” the snake replied as it uncoiled its body and slid back into the shadows of the undergrowth. “You will be contacted by me or by others of my kind as the master requires.”
The appointed work had started almost immediately and consisted mostly of relating to either vultures or serpents whatever he knew of Aram’s doings, of his whereabouts, of what he said, or what was said of him by others.
To that end, Flinneran began to spend more time around his fellows, even helping in the fields with the work he detested – just enough that folks began to think he’d altered his way of living and over time became less cautious in his presence. He complained about having been bitten by a serpent and even showed the two little white scars as proof, warning the others to avoid the species. He had two purposes in mind with this warning; firstly to defray suspicion of himself, and secondly to discourage others from prowling the countryside, especially up along the flanks of the mountain where it was most likely that he would make contact with his new comrades.
So far, his work on behalf of his distant master had seemed to be satisfactory. But as time passed, and the number of appointed and completed tasks mounted without tangible reward for his efforts, his impatience grew. His gold remained hidden, unused, and his head began to itch for the feel of the encirclement of a crown.
In the meantime, he continued his surreptitious exploration of the city of stone. He didn’t think of it as Aram’s city now – it was, as was everything else in this part of the world, the rightful property of Manon the Great.
His master, until such a time as Flinneran took up his gold and moved to a far land, beyond the reach of anyone who could claim mastery over him. As the days went by and demands upon his time and energy mounted without sign of the promised compensation, he found that the thing that kept him in place, and doing the bidding of Manon, was a fervent desire to see harm come to Aram.
So, he stayed and labored faithfully at the appointed tasks, understanding clearly that all things in this valley rightfully belonged to his distant and unseen master. Nothing belonged to the usurper – the former slave who called himself “Lord”.
Therefore the city was, in effect, more his than Aram’s. He wandered it at will.
One day, as he searched among the higher streets of the city, he found an opening going back into the living rock of the mountain itself. Perfectly level and st
raight, it delved deep into the darkness. There was some light along the way, coming down out of shafts cut high into the rock, but since the passage appeared to go straight onward, deep into the heart of the mountain, he couldn’t be certain that the light would hold. Leaving his discovery, he went down to the great hall where Aram kept a supply of torches, found two of the biggest, and then went back up to the tunnel.
A few hours later, having descended the rope ladder at the other end, he stood above the foothills and gazed eastward at the distant field, now abandoned, where he and Aram had been brought, long ago, to produce food for the legions of the lord of the world. The sun was far down in the west; he would either have to spend the night there, or go back through the long passage in utter darkness of subterranean night. And his torches were nearly spent. He decided to sleep there, in the cave at the foot of the ladder.
It did not matter the hardship, he now had a means of exiting the valley without being seen. Several times he’d wandered the foothills to the north of the valley, along the ancient road, looking for a means of stealthy egress in case his master, who he had discerned dwelt in the northern reaches of the world, ever summoned him. But wolves always shadowed him as he roamed among those hills. He never saw them, but he knew they were there, patrolling at the behest of Aram, and he could feel their eyes upon him. They ruled those forests but they never came into the city, so they would not know of the passage through the mountain. They wouldn’t follow him here.
He was very careful on the return trip the next day, sneaking down through the byways of the city, pausing often to watch and listen, making sure no one knew what he’d found.
That had been six months ago, in the winter. And with that discovery his impatience for elevation to eminence – or an escape, with gold in hand, beyond the horizon to new lands – grew.
Now he sat once again in the shade near his treasure and watched, fascinated and hopeful, as a serpent slid toward him, winding its sinuous body around rocks and over the roots of the tree above the sinking river under whose spreading branches he waited. He was not afraid. Although he’d never spoken with this particular serpent, a large, wide-bodied black and yellow creature with a triangular-shaped head, he had talked with others of that species many times.
At the first, when he was initially approached by the huge black vulture and asked to submit to the service of the Lord of the World, his conversations had mostly been conducted with that bird or others like him. Now, because of the recent activities of Aram – the “prince” – and his allies, the skies overhead of late had become too dangerous for their kind. For most of the past year, the envoys of Flinneran’s benevolent and powerful but unseen master far away over the curve of the world had been serpents.
The snake stopped and coiled itself tightly, resting its broad head on a curved section of its body. “The master wants you to bring him a thing,” it said in a strange, muted voice.
Instantly, Flinneran’s ears perked up. “Bring him something? I will get to meet him at last?”
The snake processed this but made no comment. “The master wants you to bring him a thing,” it repeated.
“What? – what thing?”
“A thing of the woman.”
Flinneran frowned in confusion. “What woman?”
“The woman of the man with the sword,” the serpent replied.
Those words brought understanding with them. Flinneran nodded. “Aram’s woman.”
“Yes, that is his name.” The muted voice agreed.
“Where do I find the woman? She does not live in this valley and I have not seen her in some time.”
“She dwells in a town three suns south and one sun east of this place as a man walks,” the serpent replied.
Flinneran stared, confused. “Suns?” Comprehension broke in upon him before the snake could answer. “Oh – you mean days, don’t you? So it’s three days’ walk south and one east, right?”
“Yes,” the creature confirmed after a pause. “Cross the river to the south and turn east for one day; then go south through the forest. You will find the town where the woman dwells in a valley between the hills. She is a princess. She will no doubt dwell in a large house.”
Flinneran immediately detested the idea of spending several nights away from his bed. The opportunity to meet his distant and powerful master, however – and to bring grief upon Aram – trumped his revulsion of labor and inconvenience. He watched the snake for a long moment, bemused. “How do you know all this?”
After attempting to digest the question, and perhaps finding it too subtle, the serpent replied simply, “The information is sound.”
Flinneran laughed. “I’m not doubting the information.” Then his laughter trailed off and his frown returned. “But what thing in particular am I to bring to the master?”
The snake was silent for a moment as it pondered the new question and then made its quiet reply. “The Lord of the World requires something that the woman has touched – a thing that will contain her essence.”
“Her essence?” Flinneran stared in confusion but then brightened with understanding. “Oh, her scent – something that will hold her scent – yes?”
Again there was a lengthy silence from the serpent but then, “You are correct, it is her scent that is required.”
He thought for a moment. “Like an article of clothing?”
“Perhaps; that is for you to choose,” the serpent stated. “The thing that you bring to the master must contain the essence of the woman. I will only advise you to choose well.”
Flinneran’s ears perked up again at the turn of the phrase “bring to the master” but he tamped down his excitement, nodded, and waited for the envoy to say more. But the creature was silent and began to uncoil its body in preparation to leave. “Anything else?” Flinneran asked. “What do I do with this thing containing the woman’s essence after I have it?”
“You bring it to the master.”
Flinneran frowned again. “Where is the master?”
The snake halted its movements and thought for a long time, organizing its thoughts, a process that seemed to stretch out interminably, until Flinneran was nearly bursting with impatience. Only the size of the creature and the sinister aura that it exuded aided him in holding his tongue.
Finally, the snake spoke. “You will take the thing containing the essence of the woman along the north road that leads from this valley into the mountains. After you pass beyond the influence of the man with the sword, the wolves will meet you and take you to the master.”
“But – the only wolves I know are in league with the man,” Flinneran protested. “And many of them are in this valley.”
“Those are but a few of the wolves of the world,” the serpent corrected him. “And they are misguided. Most of that people are in service to the master.” The snake finished with uncoiling its body and spoke one last time as it began to move away. “When you have the thing of the woman, go north into the mountains along the great road. Servants of the master will meet with you and take you to him.”
“And then I will have my reward?” Flinneran called after the creature.
The reptilian emissary of the grim lord paused. “The Lord of the World is all-powerful. No gift that he would deign to give unto you is beyond his capacity.”
When the snake had slipped from sight back among the brush, Flinneran leaned back and closed his eyes for a time, pleased with the assignment despite the expenditure of time and energy that it would require of him.
At last.
At last, he would meet the powerful Lord of the World, whose bidding he had done in many small ways, hoping to be rewarded with a larger role in the affairs of the earth. And now that hope was about to be rewarded.
He opened his eyes and looked across the river at the tumbled green hills. Three days south and one day east, the snake had said. So – at least eight, maybe ten days of sleeping under the stars, depending on how successful he was at finding the town, locating where
the woman resided, and then breaking in undiscovered to steal an object which bore her essence.
It would be a difficult journey with unpleasant sleeping arrangements, but in the end it would be worth every hardship and difficulty.
He stood and looked upstream toward the town. He wasn’t overly concerned about the wolves following him and discovering his intentions here, in the southern extremity of the valley. By all accounts, and in accordance with his own experience, they mainly, perhaps exclusively, patrolled the hills to the north and seldom, if ever, came south. But he realized that he must find a way to avoid the attention of people. Most of them thought him strange and disliked him – a feeling which was mutual – and distrusted him. But by and large, they also ignored him, even when he spent time with them.
After considering it, he decided that he would simply leave his house early of a morning, angle westward – most of the fields were on the east side of town – and then make for the river and follow it back eastward, upstream to the crossings, being careful to stay hidden below the bank. Unless there was traffic moving between the valley and wherever it was that Aram resided in the south, which occurred seldom, it was likely no one would see him leave. He glanced up at the sun, just now sliding past mid-day. Abruptly, and for the first time in his life, he found that he was in a hurry – anxious to get on with something that would require the expenditure of energy.
Rising to his feet, and turning toward the town and his hut, he made his simple plans; store enough food for several days in a small pack, spend what remained of this day in his hut, out of sight, resting, and then slip away at dawn. Suddenly, as he walked and thought about his impending good fortune, he felt a thrill of excitement go up his leg. He was about to embark on his greatest – and maybe final – assignment before the day of recognition and reward for his service.
Kelven's Riddle Book Four Page 29
