The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 14

  “What is this young man like? I mean is he worth all her sad looks and heavy sighs,” Aran asked wryly.

  Shrugging, Alissa carefully disentangled the burrs from the long dark tail, “I can only go on what Terea says and she has been singing his praises all day. What’s more it seems he has an Ability of sorts. At the moment he is on Glaive training to be a mage…”

  Aran frowned, “Did she mention his name?”

  Alissa looked up over Spirit’s rump, “Yes…she said his name was Kaled, the only son of a well to do merchant. It seems that his father is kin to one of the Old Families. He may be rich, but he is not nobly born and that is the main stumbling block.”

  Aran laughed, “I know Kaled…I met him whilst I was at Glaive.”

  “What!” Alissa was all astonishment.

  “Aye,” Aran shook his head at the vagaries of fate. “I agree with her, Kaled is a nice, sensible young man, although at Glaive he never breathed a word to me of having a girl back home.”

  Alissa shook her head in amazement, “So what can be done?”

  Aran removed Spirit’s bridle, and gently placed a rope halter on her head and led her over to the horse picket line. Alissa waited until his task was done, and walked back to help him with his saddlebags and gear.

  “She’ll have a wait ahead of her,” Aran said suddenly. “For if she really wants Kaled she’s going to have to be patient until he achieves the mantle and that will be years off. They will both be in their mid to late twenties until they will have a chance to wed.”

  Alissa, her arms full of bridle and saddlecloth nodded, “She seems happy to wait, and I understand he is of the same mind. Terea is only fearful that Ordac will marry her off to someone of his choosing before Kaled has a chance to return to Haulgard and present his suit.”

  Aran gnawed his lip, “I’ll see what I can do. However this matter is really in Archmage Maran’s jurisdiction. I can ask for Kaled to be given leave to visit Haulgard, but I don’t know what the customs and rules are that govern the novice mages.” Aran shrugged, “Kaled may not be allowed to leave Glaive until he is older and further into his training.”

  Alissa stopped and gazed earnestly at her betrothed, “Will you try anyway. For some reason I feel responsible for her welfare.”

  After a moment Aran nodded, “Aye we can but try. Perhaps Ordac will feel more inclined towards Kaled if he knows that the lad comes with the support of the Archmage and the High King.” Aran looked up and grinned, “Perhaps I can give Kaled some title or other once he is made mage.” He smiled, “How about Mage in Residence to the Council of Andur? I am certain Ordac would just love that,” he added grimly.

  Alissa smiled sadly, “Just speak to the Archmage. Perhaps Maran will have some idea of what can be done.”

  *

  Night fell suddenly and without warning, however the cook fires were well lit, and most had joints of meat turning on spits over them, the more perishable items of food being brought out of the sealed earthenware canisters and served to the hungry gathering.

  Aran despite being king, and the voices raised in protest, had declined the use of a tent and offered its use to a couple of the elderly Councillors riding with them. Aran instead had found a dry hollow protected from the wind by a copse of trees and had allowed Alem to arrange his bedding and blanket roll for the night.

  “Here is warm water for your wash my lord,” Alem said suddenly appearing with a large steel bowl full of steaming water.

  Aran threw off his cloak, and rolling up his sleeves, plunged his arms into the warm soapy water. Quickly he lathered off the dust and grime of the day.

  “Are you certain you will be all right out here my lord?” Alem asked anxiously looking about him.

  Aran laughed and nodded, “Of course…I am young and fit. A little rough sleeping will not inconvenience me at all.” He smiled back at his bondsman, “When I was younger Alem, my bother Sed and I would take many long hunting walks in the countryside around Leigh. I often remember spending many nights rolled into my old cloak with only the stars and Sed’s snoring for company.”

  “It dost thou well to remember thy roots and beginnings lord Arantur,” came a low voice out of the darkness.

  Aran straightened, “Master Cody? Is that you?”

  The blacksmith’s large frame loomed out of the night and he smiled when he saw his young friend.

  “Aye lad, I’ve been meaning to have speech with thee all day but Palor and Drek have kept me much occupied with talks about the trade.”

  Aran smiled broadly, “Drek I have already met, but Palor I have not yet his acquaintance. I remember that he is the keep blacksmith.”

  Cody nodded, and stamped the warmth back into his booted feet.

  Aran sat down on his blanket roll and indicated to Cody that he should join him at his small fire. Smiling, Cody hunkered down and with an audible grimace of complaint against stiff muscles, eased himself to a seated position.

  “I am sorry, I have not been able to speak with you much since your arrival at the Keep,” Aran stated suddenly, “This business of being king takes all my waking hours, and my time has not been my own since the coronation.”

  Cody shrugged, “It is no matter, for thy responsibilities to the province come before anything else. Besides…” and he paused to smile, “I hast been spending all my waking hours in the forge alongside Palor. He is a good man but he hast many things still to learn about the making and shaping of steel.” Cody looked up and met the eyes of his former apprentice, “Had not the Goddess called thee to higher duties Aran, thou would indeed have made a master smith. Thy skills greatly outweigh even those of the Andur’s Keep blacksmith.”

  Aran frowned and stared into the fire, “At Glaive I learnt I was a Metalmage Master Cody, however it has been many weeks now since I have worked the iron and steel.” Aran looked up, “…I miss it but now this other Ability of Warriormage has become paramount.”

  Cody leaned over and placed a large comforting hand on the younger mans’ shoulder, “Thou must use the correct tool for the job. For this war thou must be King and Warriormage. Perhaps in the future there may be a time of peace when thou canst return and settle the soul yearning for the steel?”

  Aran shook his head sadly, “Mage Trevan once told me that one could be either a king or a mage but never both. I did not fully understand at the time but I do now. The Abilities are jealous of time and energy. I know that whilst I sit on that throne and wear this sword I will always only be a halfway mage, that my understanding and control of my Abilities will be restricted by this other greater duty. Only once before has a crowned king of Andur given up the crown in favour of the mantle, and he had to wait until his son was old enough to sit upon the throne in his stead.”

  Cody met Aran eyes, and an understanding passed between them. Aran fully knew that Cody would stay silent on the subject of the Archmage. Holding out his hands to warm them over the fire, Aran smiled into their glowing depths.

  “So what are your plans when we return to Leigh, Master Cody? Have you another apprentice picked out yet?”

  Cody shook his head, “Nay lad, this is the matter that I had hoped to speak to thee about.”

  Aran frowned, “You know I cannot return.”

  Cody laughed, “I know that lad, and thou hast thine own lifepath and responsibilities now. However I do have a mind to ride with thee to war.”

  Aran looked up suddenly, his eyes filled with questions, “You mean to fight, Cody? What about your forge?”

  Cody arranged himself more comfortably on the ground and absently began picking at the long seed heads.

  “Long before thou wert born, and when I was only a lad of thine age, I too learnt my trade under a master blacksmith. I served under him many years, and when I could not learn any more he sent me to Sentinal to finish my apprenticeship under a master swordsmith called Jerad.”

  Aran looked up in amazement at that and habitually he fingered his dagger, immediately receiving t
hough his mage-sight the impression of the man and the making of the blade.

  “Jerad is now long dead,” Cody continued, “However, during those years I learnt how to fashion the steel into weapons of war.”

  Aran shook his head uncomprehendingly, “I have never seen you make a sword Master Cody. Did you utterly forsake those skills when you returned to Leigh?”

  The master blacksmith nodded, “When I attained the sword smithing skills, and set back upon my homeward journey to Leigh, I looked about me at the quiet peaceful countryside, and hoped in my heart that war would never come in my lifetime. I knew then and there that my blacksmithing skills were the only ones needed…I have not made a sword since.”

  Aran stared over the fire at the flame darkened face of his old master, “So now you intend to ride with us and keep our swords sharp for dealing out death.”

  Cody nodded, frowning a little at the hardness which had crept into Arans’ voice, “If thou wilt allow me lord?”

  Aran stared into the fire and Cody noted with concern the hard lines of tension and care which now seemed to have permanently marked his young friends’ face.

  “Do you think I could refuse you this Cody?” Aran said suddenly, harshly, angrily. “I must do this awful thing because I am king and Warriormage both. However you are a man of peace and learning, a master craftsman and a man who I have always considered as a father to me. Would you make this your choice, your decision? In Andur’s name I would rather you stayed safe in Leigh and tended your forge, but I see by your face that your mind is set on this. But why man…when you could be honourably out of all this?” he asked abruptly.

  Cody sighed and shook his head, “Because my lord, I could not be an honourable man if I did not. By the Goddess, I could not sleep straight at night for fear and worry about thee. What sort of man would I be if thou wert lying dead or dying on some battlefield whilst I stayed at home and slept secure in my bed. I would not be a man at all but some other, less worthy thing.”

  Aran nodded, understanding at last what drove his oldest friend. “Then keep yourself safe Cody.” he said at last, “And stay well away from those battlefields of which you speak. Not all who go to war fight and my mind would rest easy knowing you were back at camp working the forge and steel.”

  Cody smiled and clambered to his feet, “Lad, I may know how to craft the blade, but its use is a great mystery to me. Do not be concerned, for I will only fight if all else is lost, and the province lies open and undefended.” He smiled and looked down, “I must go for here now is thy manservant with thy dinner. Perhaps we may speak again on the road?”

  Aran nodded, “I would like that Master Cody…please search me out again.”

  *

  The Guard and those who journeyed with them ate simply that night on a stew of salted meat and vegetables, mopped up with bread fresh from the previous day’s baking. Aran supped with his friends, and for a time they gathered around his small fire and talked of the day’s ride, and the prospects for the morrow. Above their encampment the stars shone brightly, for neither of the two moons had yet risen, and the brilliance of the stars was not dimmed. Darven, with Kiaia’s assistance, was idly repairing a piece of tack which was starting to fray, and Alissa, lying on her back was trying to count the stars. Aran spent the quiet time gazing into the warm coals, and practising some of the hand-only aids to concentration that the Archmage had previously taught him. Before long they heard Captain Taran moving through the camp, calling the lights-out command. Immediately Darven picked up his mended girth strap, and helped Kiaia to her feet, and with a softly whispered, “Good night,” made their way back to their sleeping blankets.

  Unbuckling his belt, Aran shrugged off his heavy wool tunic, and crawled between the soft wool blankets in his hollow. It took only a moment or two for his body to discover the hidden stones, and only a moment or two more for Aran to find a comfortable sleeping position amongst them. On the other side of the fire, Alissa turned on her side, and threw her blankets over herself. She raised herself on her elbow and gazed across the embers to where her king and betrothed lay.

  “Are you comfortable Aran?” she asked quietly.

  Aran opened his eyes and smiled, “Yes, comfortable enough despite the lumps, but I can’t help but miss my soft bed…and this is just the first night of many more to come like this.”

  The golden haired young woman nodded, “I dare say that there will nights ahead when we will look back with fond memories of this camp, especially during the winter when we will be sleeping on a frosty bed.”

  “Then it is just as well that we have thick canvas goundsacks,” Aran replied with a smile, “Otherwise our winter camps will be very chilly indeed. I would not fret too much Alissa. When the weather worsens, we shall both share a tent, and the Guard are promised tents by the southern Legions, so I doubt we will lose a man to the elements.”

  Looking over, Aran saw Alissa’s answering smile then he heard her whisper, “Good-night Aran,” and pull the blankets closer about her.

  Aran lay back and looked at the stars. Directly above him marched the constellations of the Warrior and the Hawk. Suddenly a streak of light flashed overhead, and Aran saw a falling star plummet across the sky then fade before it reached the horizon.

  ‘The Goddess sheds a tear,’ Aran murmured to himself then touched his own eyes in the old custom of calling luck to himself after seeing such a thing.

  Turning on his side, Aran wriggled until there were no more sharp stones jabbing into his body, then closed his eyes and composed himself to sleep. The last thing he heard was the beginnings of a chorus of snores from over near the trees where the Councillors were sleeping.

  *

  Early afternoon of the next day found the column winding its way slowly down the hairpin bends of the plateau road. Most of the group had ridden ahead to prepare the overnight camp at the bottom of the plateau, with the remainder of the Guard lingering behind to assist the waggoners with their teams down the often steep incline of the road. Aran and Maran had pulled their horses off to one side, waiting for the last of the teams to pass them by on this the most perilous section of the road. Slowly, agonisingly, the teams of heavy horses inched their way down the road till at last, when the last rays of the setting sun were gilding the horizon, the last of the wagons came off the mountain. Seeing the lit cook fires ahead, Aran puts his heels to Spirit and with Maran only step behind, cantered down the road towards camp.

  *

  Once off the plateau, the column made better time and all, including the waggoners, kept the pace up at a brisk league eating trot. Conversation at that pace was difficult, so for the most part the column rode in silence with only the ring of horse shoes against the rocks to mar the quiet. The countryside off the plateau consisted of a featureless plain, vegetated entirely by prickly gorse, low acacia and the tufted, brittle grasses endemic to the region. Early in the morning they passed the intersection of the dirt road which led eastwards to Dawnfast.

  “The Dawnfast fyrd is already ahead of us lord,” shouted Captain Taran as he cantered past Aran on one of his sweeps of the column.

  Aran frowned in puzzlement and turned to the Archmage for clarification.

  Maran indicated the tell-tale evidence of horse droppings on the road and hastened to explain. “The fyrd is the levy, my lord king of a number of able bodied men in a village or town. They will be used as a second line of defence behind the main army if our lines and shield wall are broken.”

  Aran frowned again, “Have we levied all the towns and villages in the province Maran?”

  “Aye lord,” the Archmage replied, “It is law that when the province goes to war, each village and town must contribute sixty percent of its able bodied men-folk to the army. During this period there is also a lowering of taxes by sixty percent to compensate for the loss of the men-folk.” Maran looked about him and sighed, “At least being autumn most of the summer crops will be harvested by now so there won’t be famine this winter
.”

  Aran pursed his lips, “I lived in Leigh for years and never once heard of the fyrd.”

  Maran shrugged, “During the generations of peace it was never an issue and most forgot about the calling of the fyrd. When the messengers went out to the southern cities and towns to announce your coronation they also issued the call to arms…” Maran looked across at his young monarch, “Whilst you were still coming to terms with being the heir to the throne, the fyrd was being raised all across the province.”

  Aran’s mouth hardened, “So I would assume that the Thakur know already that we are marching to war against them?”

  Maran looked up and nodded, “They will no doubt have informers within our cities. By now they should be getting word of the raising of the province. My lord, although we may not come upon them by surprise, I believe however we are ahead of them in the march.”

  Aran’s mouth twisted sourly, “Then I expect that is the best that we can hope for,” he replied finally. “Although I rather wish we could have come upon them entirely unawares and ill prepared.”

  Maran frowned at the road, “We may yet have that option, lord,” he said. “We still have to meet with the Commanders of the southern Legions and work out the fine details of this campaign. If you think that an ambush will work in our favour then I believe the war council will try to work it into their plans. At the moment we have nothing more arranged than getting everyone together at Leigh…after that it’s in the hand of the Goddess, and the mind of the war council.”

  Aran gazed into the west, towards the distant, hidden Trident Range. “The one thing I am certain of is that my career as a soldier will be short. Sometime in the next couple weeks I must strike out for Thakur and take on this Warleader alone…”

  “Not entirely by yourself, lord king,” interrupted Maran hastily. “You will not be asked to undertake this journey alone,” the Archmage reassured him, “I assure you that there will be a handpicked group along to help you achieve this goal. No, do not think that you will have to do this alone. Always the mages of Glaive will be there to lend you strength and support.”