Amund moved to one side and indicated the tall stranger.
“Father – this is Lord Aram, Prince of Wallensia, Marcus’ friend from the east.”
Heglund met the stranger’s eyes, and looked upon his countenance, and found himself surprised. When seen up close, Lord Aram appeared to be younger than he’d expected. The kingly man’s whole demeanor, however, was that of confidence and competence, as if he’d been hardened with experience far beyond his apparent age. Worn with worrying over the immediate future of his people, Heglund felt hope arise in his heart simply with the advent of this man on his porch.
Elam’s former High Chancellor had never addressed another man as “lord” in the whole course of his existence. Even Rahm Imrid’s elder brother, Waren, though held in high regard when he sat the throne, had been addressed only as “Your Highness.”
But now the word slipped out as naturally as if he’d used it always.
“Welcome to our house, my lord.”
The man that was unquestionably something more than a “barbarian king”, paused, inclined his head, and returned politely, “Thank you, sir.”
Then, abruptly, he pivoted to lean out over the railing and glance up at the sun before bringing his piercing eyes back to Heglund.
“The sun is still well up,” he said. “I would like to see the front lines, sir. Forgive my bluntness. I do not mean to offend, but Lord Alvern tells me that the enemy draws near – so there is little time.”
Though Aram’s immediate desire to look upon the disposition of the enemy fit well with Heglund’s first impression of him, he was nonetheless surprised by the strange man of the east’s blunt impatience. His own sense of relief at the presence of a man whose strength and expertise might prevent their destruction, however, negated all other considerations. “But of course, my lord,” he replied. “I can see that you are a man of action.”
Then, as the unusual nature of Aram’s words registered, he frowned and looked at his son. “Lord Alvern?”
Amund smiled. “Alvern is an eagle, father, one of the ancient noble peoples. He has been watching our land at Lord Aram’s direction for some time now.”
Heglund felt his eyes widen at this astonishing statement, and the scholar in him was aroused to full attention. He stared at Aram, who had turned away and was looking west. What manner of man commanded the obeisance of eagles? He opened his mouth to let loose the flood of questions congregating on the tip of his tongue, but then closed it again. Though chafing to learn more of this strange man and his authority over the noble peoples, he instinctively knew that today was no time for satiating curiosity.
As Aram turned back, Heglund inclined his head politely. “There is much I would like to ask you, sir, much I would like to know. But for now, I will simply ask this – will you help us?”
Aram had glanced once more at the sun, but now he brought his sharp gaze back to Heglund’s face. The tall lord seemed surprised by the question. “Yes,” Aram said. “At your son’s request, I have come to drive the enemy from before your walls.”
Heglund heart leapt at the confident manner in which his greatest hope was answered by this man, but then he frowned at the small group that accompanied him and cast a quick glance toward the woods. “Just the few of you, or are there more?”
“Lord Aram has brought with him eight hundred mounted men, father.” Amund replied.
“Mounted?” Heglund stared. “Are they all borne by horses?”
“Yes – all,” Aram answered. Once more, he glanced up at the sun. Then he asked again, “May I see the disposition of your men, and that of the enemy, or do you require more assurance of my intentions? I tell you plainly that I seek nothing that is not mine – not land nor treasure. If you require proof of the validity of this fact, I will do what I can to give it; if not, I would seek your leave to pass through the city to the west that I may look upon the lines of the enemy.”
Heglund watched him for a long moment, met his son’s eyes for another moment, and then shook his head. “I require no assurance, my lord.” He indicated his son. “Amund will show you to Tobol, our second city. It is nigh on thirty miles to the west. General Kraine is in command there, but on my instruction, he will bow to your judgment.”
In response, Aram shook his own head. “No,” he stated firmly. “He is here, and will know better than I how things stand. He is in command and should remain in command. We will consult.”
Pleasantly surprised by this answer, Heglund inclined his head. “As you will, my lord. You have my leave to bring your men through the town.”
But again Aram shook his head. “Thirty miles is no distance for a horse, and as I said, my men are all mounted. There is no need to move them closer until I have seen the enemy and am ready to strike. My troops will remain inside the forest for the moment. I think it best that the enemy knows nothing of our arrival here. Alvern and his kin will watch from the skies for spies of the enemy; but still it is best to keep it secret from any who need not know.” He glanced around at his companions. “My captains and I are few, as you stated yourself. Even though we will be seen to be borne by horses, we are not many. The presence of so few, if it came to the ear of the enemy, should not excite excessive suspicion.”
Lord Aram’s eyes hardened. “I would rather that it not come to his ear, for I mean to surprise him.”
Heglund nodded with understanding. “As you will, my lord. I am not a military man, so I will leave all in your hands and Olyeg’s.”
“Thank you, sir.” Aram turned to Amund. “I would like to go west as soon as possible.”
“Then let us go,” Amund replied.
Aram started to leave but then stopped and looked back at Heglund. “I will report to you this evening, sir, as to my plans – once I’ve seen the ground where we will meet the enemy.”
Heglund inclined his head respectfully but made no reply. As he watched the tall man walk away toward the wooded uplands, he had the distinct feeling that a change had occurred in the world. Only a few hours before, Rahm Imrid had seemed monstrous and his ambitions irresistible. Now, as Marcus had once told him, when compared to this man of the east, the High Prince of Elam seemed but a worm by comparison.
53 .
After they’d collected their mounts, the seven men again emerged from the trees, astonishing the townsfolk once more. Most had seen the two horses that had come for Amund almost two weeks earlier, but this sight – that of armed men borne at a canter through the town by the once-mythical beasts of legend was a sight that no one seeing it would ever forget. The barbarian king from the east, who was named “Lord Aram”, according to whispers emanating from servants in the Great House, appeared ignorant of the stir he was creating. His eyes looked straight forward along the street leading to the western gates and he seemed to notice none of the hundreds, even thousands, that gaped at him.
In truth, Aram was communing with Alvern and Kipwing, high in the skies above him, listening to the eagles’ account of the lay of the countryside to the north of the town. This open country of mostly farmland was the ground through which, based upon that which he would soon see before the walls of Tobol, he intended to lead his small army west.
Despite his seeming distraction, Aram did notice the town and its citizens, and once again felt the pall of anxiety that lay over all. This was a populace steeped in dread of coming events. As the horses and their riders passed, however, some of the townsfolk seemed to lose a bit of their fear as they gazed upon the cadre of armed men. These rough-clothed, hard-looking, and fierce barbarians mounted on their magnificent steeds, though few in number, nonetheless brought with them the tiniest kindling of renewed hope.
Once through the crowded city and into the open, Aram urged Thaniel and the horses to increase their pace. He was anxious to get to the front even as he listened to the eagles. Beyond the gates of Sevas were vast, rolling expanses of farmland, fertile and well-tended, with substantial houses and large barns. By all appearances, the people
of Basura were an industrious lot. The countryside reminded Aram of the land of Aniza, far off to the northwest, except that here there were yet people working the earth, and the earth readily gave up its bounty to those who labored over it.
The road leading westward through this land was not made of stone, like the ancient thoroughfares in the east, but was well-constructed nonetheless. The roadbed was raised and banked to eject rainfall, and was ditched on either side. A layer of small rock, like stream gravel, covered the surface of the road. Over time it had become imbedded into the soil by the traffic that passed along it, rendering it as a kind of pavement.
Leaving Sevas, they passed through several small villages. At the center of each of these smaller settlements were places of business, where merchants serviced the needs of the farmers dwelling roundabout. Occasional streams passed underneath the road, most of them flowing from south to north. Stone bridges arched over these intermittent streams, well-built and solid. The more Aram saw of Basura, the more he was impressed with the people Prince Marcus described as his nearest friends in all of Elam.
Before an hour had passed, a substantial city began to take possession of the horizon.
Tobol.
As they neared the city, the traffic thickened. People on foot or in oxcarts bearing their possession were moving away from the coming troubles. The people of Basura had become refugees in their own land.
On this, the eastern side of Tobol, the walls had not yet been raised to a finished height and workmen labored at completing them. Aram frowned at this on-going effort. To his fierce and pragmatic mind, encasing a city in walls when the enemy that had gathered before it was numerous and easily re-supplied was like constructing one’s own tomb.
The traffic thickened as they passed through the unfinished gates and entered the city and became even more hectic inside as hurrying people jostled one another to gain access to the road leading eastward. Aram spoke to Thaniel, causing the horse to slow in order to give folk time to get out of his way, but he nonetheless kept straight on up the middle of the street, parting the crowd to let him and his companions pass. The road became a sort of main street which ran directly and straight through the heart of the city. As they passed through the larger buildings at the city’s center and into its western half, Aram looked ahead and could see the newly constructed gates imbedded in the wall where the street ended. Traffic grew lighter on this side of the city and Thaniel once again hastened forward.
Below the gates a small group of men in uniform turned, startled, as the horses and riders pounded up.
Amund swung down off Huram, held up his hand and addressed an older man that stood at the center of the gathering of officers.
“Olyeg – forgive me, General Kraine – this is Lord Aram, the leader of the army from the east that confronted Edverch on the plains of Cumberland in the spring.” As he spoke he moved the upheld hand and indicated Aram.
The general acknowledged Amund’s greeting and his introduction of Aram with a curt nod of his head. He watched Aram dismount and then moved away from his companions and came near to where the stranger from the east stood with Amund. The older general met Aram’s gaze openly. After a brief moment in which he studied the newcomer, he smiled a grim smile. “I heard rumor that you were coming, sir. Believe me, you are most welcome. Your reputation precedes you – I will gladly defer to your judgment.”
Immediately Aram shook his head. “No, General, I am not here to take command of your forces but to aid you in driving the enemy from your front.” He glanced up at the walls where curious soldiers gazed down upon them. “Would you be so good as to show me how things stand before your walls?”
Surprised by Aram’s deferential tone, Olyeg nodded shortly and pointed the way to a door set into a rounded structure which was itself set into the body of the wall. “The stairs are there.”
The stairs wound upward, lit by small square windows cut into the city side to let in natural light. Upon the other side, looking out to the west, archers manned small cubicles fronted by vertical slits cut into the stonework. At the top, the stairwell opened onto a landing just below the parapet which was gained by use of a wooden ladder. Aram quickly climbed up the ladder, went onto the parapet, and looked both ways along it. The main body of the wall was about eight feet wide and was crenelated on its western side, to give the men manning it a measure of cover from the weapons of the approaching enemy. To the north, the wall ran for about a half-mile, where it turned sharply back toward the east. To the south, it extended for perhaps twice that distance before also angling sharply eastward.
He went to the western edge and looked down. Immediately in front of the walls of the city, a small stream ran to the north in such a nearly straight line that it had the appearance of being artificially constructed. A low stone bridge, now partially dismantled in order to render it unusable to the foe, arched over the stream where the road led out from the gate and ran on to the west. In the muddy bank on the near side of the stream sharpened poles, aligned in rows and tilted toward the enemy, had been imbedded into the earth. Even as Aram watched, soldiers were putting more of these in place, some with wicked-looking spikes attached to the upper part of their shafts, into the shallow waters of the stream itself.
Aram looked over at General Kraine who was watching him closely. “You caused the ruin of the bridge?”
Kraine nodded. “It was my first order of business.”
“Good,” Aram replied approvingly. He leaned out and looked southward along the wall. Between the angled poles and the walls a trench had been dug. Men were positioned in the trench which extended into the south far beyond the southernmost limits of the wall, but they were deployed rather thinly, as were those men stationed atop the wall. After studying these preparations and finding nothing in his experience that would lend to improvement, he turned to Kraine.
“I can see nothing that I would do differently,” he told the general, who looked pleased for just a moment, but quickly reverted to stoicism.
Aram looked again along the thinly held lines of Basuran troops. “How many men are at your disposal?”
“Just above eight thousand,” Kraine answered.
“And the enemy?”
“We’re not sure. Twice what we have, probably – fifteen thousand is our best guess.”
Aram nodded. “So – you can defend but cannot make an assault.”
“I hope we can defend,” Kraine admitted and watched Aram closely as he replied. “In any event; that’s how I see it, sir.”
Having satisfied himself as to the Basuran preparations, Aram looked to the west, seeking the disposition of the enemy.
Beyond the stream open farmland with scattered copses of trees, houses and barns, and dirt lanes running away from the main road took possession of the countryside, granting the enemy no way to approach the city without doing so in full view and range of fire of those upon its walls. The ground rose slightly on the far side of the stream and rolled gently away toward the west. Other than clumps of willows winding along the banks of streams even smaller than that which ran before the city’s walls, there was nothing to impede the movement of a large body of forces. The troops of the throne of Elam could be clearly seen. They were deployed in a long line that stretched from a substantial farm holding, barely visible off to the south, to within a hundred yards of the thick trees that lined the banks of the river in the north. For the moment, the enemy troops displayed no intention of approaching the city.
The enemy’s forward positions were about five hundred yards distance, far beyond the reach of the strongest archer’s arrows. Now and then, as Aram watched, an enemy archer would slip through the fields and wriggle along the irrigation ditches as near to the city as he dared. He would then quickly send an arrow flying toward those men working in the stream and manning the trench before retreating rapidly back to the west. Most of these missiles fell far short but some came close enough to harass the Basurans working along the banks of the stream.
The main body of the enemy was positioned further west, their tents set up along a line running parallel to the walls of Tobol. Cooking fires sent desultory smoke up from scattered blazes and the distant sound of raucous laughter erupted here and there along that far away line of men. As his gaze roved back and forth over what he could see of their disposition, Aram realized that Olyeg Kraine’s estimation of the enemy strength was very likely accurate. A sudden thought made him turn to the general.
“I was told that the enemy is being reinforced. Do you know this to be true?”
Kraine drew in a deep breath. “We have spies – a few – among his men, and they tell us that ten thousand more men are coming up from the south even now.”
“How long before they arrive?”
Kraine shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
Aram turned away to look once more into the west, ostensibly to observe the enemy, but as he did so, he sent a thought up into the blue to the waiting minds of the eagles.
“There are reinforcements coming up from the south toward this position,” he told Alvern and Kipwing. “I need to know how far away they are and when they will arrive.”
‘I can see them now, my lord,” Alvern replied, startling Aram, and he spoke aloud.
“Where? Where are they?”
Kraine looked at him curiously, frowning. “Who – the enemy reinforcements? As I said, I don’t –”
“Forgive me,” Aram interrupted him, and he pointed skyward. “The question was not directed at you and I need not have spoken aloud. There are eagles in the skies above us and they are reporting on the position of the enemy’s reinforcements.”
“Eagles?” Kraine’s eyes grew wide. “Eagles – are reporting to you?”
“I’ll explain in a moment,” Aram assured the general and turning away toward the west, he directed his thoughts once again to the sky. “Kipwing – how far away?”
Kelven's Riddle Book Four Page 45
