Kelven's Riddle: The Mountain at the Middle of the World by Daniel T. Hylton

Author:Daniel T. Hylton [Hylton, Daniel T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781619149281
Publisher: BookSurge Publishing
Published: 2007-11-27T07:00:00+00:00

XVI

After he returned to camp, Aram tried to sleep, but found that the tense anticipation of the events to come on the morrow prevented it. The Glittering Sword had fallen into the west and was sliding beyond the edge of the world when he finally gave up on sleep and concentrated on forcing his body to be still so it could rest.

As soon as it was light enough to see, Aram ate a cold breakfast and eased down the crest of the ridge to the west to watch the movement of the enemy’s scouts. An hour past sunrise he saw them come, three or four of them, fifty yards apart, moving furtively but in a straight line from west to east, cresting the ridges and then disappearing for a time as each negotiated the narrow draws between. The nearest one would pass well to the south of him.

For a moment, he considered killing all of them with his bow, but thought better of it. Such an act might alert the main body to the fact that there was a threat on its northern flank. He did not want to sacrifice the element of surprise; it would be his best friend in the first minutes of the coming struggle.

After the scouts had traversed the ridge where he and the horses had camped and gone out of sight to the east, he returned to the horses. The main body would come into position down on the plains by mid-morning or early afternoon. It was time to prepare for battle.

Florm was grazing calmly on the western slope of the ridge but Thaniel and Jared were standing out on the top, looking stolidly toward the south. Aram went over to Thaniel.

“How are you this morning, my friend?”

Thaniel swung his great head around and focused on Aram. His large eyes were shining and black. “I am…tense. But I am ready. And you?”

Aram placed a hand on the horse’s shoulder and looked south. “Tense is a good word for it.” He drew a deep breath. “The enemy will be in position in a few hours and the scouts have gone by. We should prepare and go.”

“Then let us go.”

As Aram was armoring Thaniel, Florm came up and watched. After a few moments, he spoke.

“I heard you talking in the night, Aram. Were you praying?”

“No, my lord, though probably I should have. I met an old friend; a ghost who seems to show up every time I’m in duress.”

“A ghost?”

“Well, a specter, anyway.” Aram thought about it a moment and then shrugged. “Sometimes I see him, but mostly I don’t.”

Florm studied him. “Indeed. And did he give you advice?”

“Oh, yes.” Aram smiled slightly. “He is familiar with Manon’s methods and he seemed to think that we would not fail today. And he knows you, my lord—he called you ‘young Florm’.”

“I see.” There was an odd tone in the ancient horse’s voice that made Aram turn and look at him.

“What is it that you see, my lord?”

“How things really are.

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