Kelven's Riddle Book Five Read online

  Thom hesitated and looked away for a long moment before turning back. “My lord – I have seen what can be done with that weapon you bear. But there are many miles and thousands of troops between us and the palace. They are not dragons, I grant you, but they are numerous, and their commanders, by and large, are loyal to Elam’s current High Prince.”

  Aram replaced his helmet, lifted the visor, and met Thom’s gaze. “No; they are not dragons. And if their commanders must be slain in order to avoid conflict with the men-of-arms of Elam, then I will slay them. I hope not to find such killing expedient. Nonetheless hear me, Thom. Nothing – and no one – will prevent us from going to the south. I assure you of this, captain. You must trust me on this point. We will go all the way to Farenaire. I only require that you do two things for me.”

  Thom studied Aram’s stern, cold countenance for a moment. And in that moment, he believed. He nodded. “Whatever you need, my lord – I will do.”

  “The first thing that I require,” Aram told him, “is that you protect the prince. I need Marcus to reach the palace alive and well. If ever we are assaulted and separated, if only by a few yards; look to his safety. Remove him far from any harm. Phagan and Norgen are both very fleet of foot and will get you both away quickly. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Thom affirmed, though a frown troubled his brow. “But what about you, my lord – if we are attacked?”

  Aram shook his helmeted head slightly. “I cannot be harmed, captain; you may be assured of this. You must understand this and believe it if you are to protect the prince.”

  Aram turned his head sharply and looked into the night as the brush moved and crackled in the darkness off to his right, but it was only a farmer’s ox going to the stream for water. Nonetheless, Aram remained alert for a moment longer, peering into the gloom.

  “And the second thing?” Thom inquired.

  Satisfied that there was no need for alarm, Aram looked back at him. “You are a captain of Elam, are you not?”

  “I was,” Thom corrected him. “Rahm’s takeover of the troops became too much for me, and I resigned.”

  “Were there others that felt as you do?”

  Thom frowned. “In the army? Yes – many.”

  “Did some of those others remain in service?” Aram asked.

  “Some, yes,” Thom replied and he shrugged. “Many have nothing else to do – or know of nothing else to do.”

  “So, then,” Aram persisted, “Rahm’s control of the army may not be as firm as he thinks?”

  Thom laughed. “Men like him are never loved – nor are they respected as much as they like to think, especially by the boys in uniform.”

  “That’s the second thing, captain.”

  “My lord?”

  “Once Rahm is removed and Marcus is on the throne, you must reorganize the forces of Elam,” Aram explained. “Find those that will readily accede to the altered order of things and place them in the various commands while removing those tied too closely to Rahm.”

  Thom stared. “You want me to do this? But I am – was – only a captain.”

  “I will decide what you are,” Aram stated bluntly. “You have been to battle and acquitted yourself with courage upon the field. Besides that, you have shown yourself capable of making sound decisions. And I trust you. The forces of Elam must have competent new leadership that is loyal to Prince Marcus. You must do this for me – and for him.”

  Thom felt a thrill go through him. “You are going to depose Rahm, are you not, my lord? And make Marcus High Prince in Elam? Marcus stated this to me, and I heard the rumor at the fortress, but now I believe that I hear the very truth of it from you.”

  “We are going to remove Rahm Imrid,” Aram confirmed, and then he continued on with the earlier conversation. “So – do you know of commanders that can be trusted?”

  Thom looked away again, directing an unseen grin of delight out into the twilight. But then, after a moment, he suppressed his emotions, considered Aram’s question, and nodded. “There are a few men left in the palace guard who, I think, can be trusted.” He looked back at Aram. “It’s as good a place as any to start.”

  Aram watched him closely. “You’ll do it, then?”

  “I’ll do anything for Marcus, my lord.”

  “Good,” Aram said simply.

  They slept on horseback that night in a stand of trees in a bend of the stream some distance off the road. After the discussion with Thom ended, Aram went silent. Other than to inquire as to how Marcus and Thom were enduring the ride, and to advise them to get what rest they could, he did not speak further of the events ahead.

  Before sun-up they moved back out onto the thoroughfare and continued on toward the south. As on the previous day, Aram spoke little to his companions, conferring almost exclusively with Alvern, high overhead. Neither he nor the great eagle, however, closed their communion to Marcus and Thom, so the two men were made aware of what was happening upon the road to their front.

  Aram made no effort to avoid traffic, for it was all of a local nature. None of it had any apparent connection either to Elam or to the grim lord of the north. Late in the morning, before the sun found its apex, they spied the mighty gates rising up before them. Aram turned aside into the shade of a copse of trees, and gazed south.

  They were close enough to see that the enormous gates were closed. Only a smaller aperture in the massive construct on the right was open, just enough to allow oxcarts and foot traffic to pass through. On the road, one lone oxcart moved toward them about halfway between their position and the gates.

  “How many people are upon the road close to the gates?” Aram asked Alvern.

  “There is one cart that comes toward you,” the eagle replied, “and one about to pass through which will move your way as well. Otherwise, there is only foot traffic to the south, but much of it goes away from the gates. None of it, I think, will come through to the north.”

  “Good.” Aram looked over at Marcus. “Did you hear?”

  Marcus swallowed and nodded.

  Aram’s gaze moved on. “Thom?”

  “I heard, Lord Aram.”

  “We will wait until the oxcart at the gates moves through and gets some distance along the road toward us before we move. I have no wish to involve the citizenry.”

  Marcus stared at him and dared to ask the question. “Just exactly what are we going to do, Lord Aram?”

  Aram indicated the distant wall. “We are going through.”

  “They won’t just let us pass, you know.”

  Without looking over, keeping his attention upon the gates, Aram smiled a small, grim smile that was hidden in the depths of his headgear. “I don’t intend to seek permission.”

  While they waited on the oxcart spoken of by Alvern to appear through the opening in the gates and come along the road, Aram studied the towers in the great wall to either side of the Gates of Elam. There were many men up there, moving around. According to Alvern, there were soldiers on the ground as well, manning the gates. And there undoubtedly would be Elamite officials of some kind, representatives of the throne, monitoring the traffic as it passed through.

  About a half-mile west of the gates, to their right, there was a massive arch in the bottom of the wall, through which a river flowed. And there were towers to either side of the stream also, but they were far enough away that Aram gave the men in them little thought.

  To the left, toward the hills, there was another tower, also about a half-mile distant, also too far away to accord any concern. Aram looked back at the gates. The cart had come through the small opening in the massive right-hand gate and was trundling slowly toward them.

  Aram watched it closely. As soon as it cleared arrow-shot distance of the towers, he meant to move.

  “What is immediately beyond the gates – upon the ground?” He asked Alvern.

  “There are several buildings, both large and small, clustered near the gates,” Alvern replied. “Men come from some of
the smaller structures to meet with those that pass through the gates.”

  “Soldiers?” Aram asked.

  “Yes, my lord. There are barracks to both sides of the road.”

  “How many men?”

  “More than ten, but less than a hundred,” the eagle replied.

  Aram nodded. “Manageable,” he said.

  Thom leaned forward and looked at Aram, indicating the gates with his hand. “You know that they can see us sitting here, my lord – do you not?”

  Aram kept his attention upon the gates. “It will not matter, captain.”

  Thom frowned at this and looked over and met Marcus’ eyes. Marcus raised his eyebrows but remained silent.

  The oxcart was now some way north of the gates.

  “It is time,” Aram said. He spoke to Thaniel and they went out into the road and the big horse cantered toward the south. Marcus and Thom and their mounts fell in close behind.

  About a half-mile from the gates, Thaniel halted and Aram looked back over his shoulder. “When the gates are open,” he said, “we will go through quickly. Once on the other side, Thaniel and I will turn and face the gates, and deal with any Elamite troops attempting to engage. The four of you will pass beyond us and go rapidly toward the south, out of the range of their archers upon the walls. Do you understand?”

  The two men nodded in affirmation.

  “It will be best to let the horses have their heads,” Aram continued. “Thaniel knows my mind and what I intend. He will instruct Phagan and Norgen.” He met each man’s eyes for a long moment. “I will not require your aid,” he stated plainly. “Your only duty is to get beyond the gates to a safe distance. I need the both of you to reach Farenaire unharmed. Do you understand this?”

  Marcus frowned but replied, “I understand.”

  Thom gazed back at Aram with his face set in lines of seriousness. “If there is trouble, I would like to be of service, my lord, if I may.”

  Aram watched him for a moment but then shook his head. “If trouble arises, do as I require; take care of the prince. But I think there will be very little trouble for us here. And remember to let the horses have their heads.”

  He turned away and glanced up at the sun, rising towards mid-day. There were a few puffy clouds here and there, but none close enough to that bright disc to hinder the work of the Sword. Without looking back again, he lowered his visor and urged Thaniel forward.

  “Let’s go.”

  Aram drew the Sword and extended it above his head, holding the blade’s fire in check as Thaniel picked up the pace and sped toward the gates. Its song arose and very quickly, under the undiluted influence of the sun, became a shriek of latent power.

  The driver of the oxcart, seeing a trio of armored men on armored horses bearing down upon him, abandoned the cart and dove for a nearby farmer’s ditch. The ox continued nervously on for just a moment before it, too, left the road and ran down the embankment into the fields. The cart’s wheels mired in a drainage ditch and it jolted to a halt, but the frightened animal broke its traces and galloped away to the east.

  Upon the walls, the soldiers of Elam had crowded next to the parapet on the near side, staring down upon the approaching horses. Some of those sentinels shouted warnings to the men on the ground. There were archers among the men on the walls and these troops began preparing to loose arrows down upon the road.

  About a quarter-mile from the gates, while they were still well beyond arrowshot, Aram swung the Sword in an arc along the top of the wall and released its power. Fire, searing hot and crackling, sizzled through the air, jagged and terrifying, just above the heads of those gathered there.

  On the instant, those helmeted heads disappeared, as if the parapet was abruptly abandoned.

  Giving the Sword a few moments to gather more strength from the sun, Aram then swung it back again the other way, this time grazing the top of that turreted stonework, causing smoke to puff and bits of stone to be dislodged.

  Then he lifted the Sword again and checked its fire, to let it gain power from the sunlight pouring down upon it. Thaniel drove hard toward the gates with the other horses right behind him. A hundred feet from the massive gates at the entrance to Elam, Aram lowered the weapon and pointed it at the gate on the right, toward the smaller opening, and unleashed the concentrated power. Flame leapt out and smashed into the right-hand gate, blowing a large hole in it next to the opening.

  With a groan, the enormous gate buckled and heaved and then bent inward, creating another gaping hole, this one between it and the gate on the left. Thaniel and Aram drove through, followed closely by the others. Beyond the gate, along the road leading to Elam’s interior, barracks and other official buildings crowded next to the thoroughfare. That stretch of road, however, was rapidly clearing of traffic and people as folk pelted off it to either side, away from the blasted gate and the huge metal-clad beast that pounded through the gap that had quite suddenly and with frightening effect appeared within it.

  As Thaniel spun and slid to a stop, Marcus and Thom and their mounts rushed past. Aram twirled the Sword over his head, letting the fire flow through unchecked, creating a vortex of flame in the air above him.

  No one stood to challenge the man in the black armor who was mounted on a fearsome beast and seemed to wield the power of lightning. The road and its adjoining walkways and alleyways quickly became empty as everyone within range of the Sword’s fire and howling song sought refuge.

  After a few moments Aram checked the flame of the Sword long enough to gather fire, and then he swung the blade at the top of the wall and released it, in case anyone up there still retained a shred of foolish bravado. Then he sheathed the Sword, pushed up the visor of his helmet, and stood tall in the stirrups.

  “Show yourselves,” he commanded.

  Other than a frightened face, here and there, that peered out at him for just a moment from a window or doorway back along the side streets and alleyways, no official or soldier appeared to ask him his business in the land of Elam.

  He glanced up at the wall, where two or three pairs of eyes peered above the turrets only to disappear again when his gaze fell upon them, and then looked around at the apparently abandoned buildings to either side. He could see no one but he had no doubt that he was seen from the shadowed interiors.

  He reached for the Sword and spoke harshly. “Whoever is in charge of this gate – show yourself to me at once or I will hunt you and burn you to ash.”

  After another few moments devoid of acknowledgement or movement, a sturdy man of medium height, clad in the blue and gold of an Elamite officer, stepped hesitantly into view, appearing from around a corner of the barracks immediately to Aram’s left. The man halted, trembling, near the entrance to the alleyway from which he had appeared, like a rabbit terrified of straying too far from the dark safety of its hole.

  Before the man could speak or Aram could ask his name, he heard Thom exclaim from behind him,

  “Jothan!”

  The man froze and stared at the mounted men beyond Aram. “Is that you, Captain Sota?”

  Aram turned in the saddle and looked at Thom as well. “You know this man?”

  Thom lifted his visor and nodded. “I trained him at infantry camp, my lord. Jothan was a good recruit – and I assume is a good soldier.” Then, as he noted the epaulets on Jothan’s shoulders, he corrected himself, “Officer, I should say. And a captain as well, I see. What are you doing here at the gate, Jothan?”

  Jothan slid his cautious gaze sideways to Aram for a moment before answering. “I am the officer in charge here, captain,” he told Thom. He hesitated again, once more looking warily at Aram. “Why are you here, Thom?”

  Thom indicated Aram with his gauntleted hand. “This is Lord Aram, Jothan – the king of the alliance of free peoples. He has come to change things in Elam.” Thom’s next words proved that Aram’s demonstration with the Sword had lain to rest any doubts he might have harbored about the intent and ability of the man he h
ad followed into Elam. “Rahm Imrid will be deposed, and Marcus, son of Waren, will be elevated. Gather your men, captain, and present them upon the road. Lord Aram will tell you all you need to know.”

  Aram watched Thom for a long moment, as if gauging the captain’s altered thinking and then he nodded his approval before turning back to the Elamite officer.

  “Do as he says – and do it quickly.”

  Jothan bent his body forward until it became almost a bow. “At once, sir – my lord – at once.” And he went shouting down the various avenues that ran off from the main road, calling his troops out to stand before the man who had just destroyed their age-old belief in the invincibility of the Gates of Elam.

  When his troops had gathered and had formed up in the road behind Jothan, facing Aram, the order was passed to the men atop the wall to lay down their weapons, show themselves, and pay heed to the words of the menacing stranger.

  Aram looked them over and then spoke.

  “Rahm Imrid,” he said, and his voice boomed out loud and clear among the buildings and echoed up along the vast ramparts of the wall, “is no longer High Prince in Elam. He is hereby removed and Marcus, son of Waren, sits in his stead.” He gazed at them through the visor opening of his black helmet. “Tell this to everyone you see and meet, and to everyone that passes through theses gates. Marcus, son of Waren, is High Prince in Elam.”

  He bent his hard eyes down upon Jothan. “Thom Sota is hereby elevated to the rank of general of the armies of Elam. In future, your orders will come from him, captain. Do you hear and understand?”

  Jothan swallowed and nodded, still recovering from the display of awful power and stunned by the abrupt alteration of the landscape of his homeland, wrought in but an instant by this strange and terrifying man with the fiery blade that was mounted on an armored beast.

  “I-I understand, my lord.”

  Aram nodded. “I will return alone within the week and will pass out through these gates. By the time I return, Marcus will sit the high throne and Rahm will be no more. You, captain, will remain at your post and attend to your duties. General Sota will contact you in due time.”