Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 3

  “You’re almost twenty-three, Ka’en, and you father is old.” He stopped and gazed at her expectantly, as if the significance of his statement was clear and its logic unassailable.

  She raised her eyebrows and tugged again at her hand, trying to loosen his grip. She failed.

  “And what do these two facts have to do with anything?”

  “It’s time you chose a Prince, and married.”

  She knew where he was going with this and understood the nature of his intentions.

  He wanted – even expected – to become Prince.

  In Wallensia, for time out of mind, the principality had descended through the female line, with the current Prince’s eldest daughter choosing her mate and thereby anointing the next ruler. Kemul wanted to be chosen. Whether he felt anything for Ka’en was debatable, but he most certainly wanted to rule the town where his family had once been supreme, as well as anything that remained of the ancient land of Wallensia. Ka’en had known that he harbored these thoughts but had long hoped and believed that he would never find the courage to divulge them.

  She managed to keep her voice calm. “I will choose a mate – and a Prince – in my own time and way. My father is not yet at death’s doorway. There is time, and I promise that I will choose carefully.”

  His blue eyes blinked once, twice, and he seemed to expect her to continue. After a moment, when she said nothing further, he blurted out his greatest desire.

  “I want you to choose me.”

  At this, she pulled suddenly, with her might, and succeeded in freeing her hand from his grip.

  “The choice is mine, Kemul, not yours or any others.”

  His burly features darkened. “What better choice is there? You’re the daughter of the Prince, and my family has governed in Derosa for ages.” His eyes narrowed and he shook his head, confused by her inability to recognize the obvious. “You should choose me.”

  “I don’t love you.”

  Surprisingly, this statement had little effect on the man, except for a slight further darkening of his features. “Love has nothing to do with it, Ka’en. This is about duty and country. It’s about the future of our people.”

  She crossed her arms over her breast and faced him firmly. “It’s about who is best suited to rule after my father is gone – but for me, it is mostly about who I can love and live with for the rest of my life.”

  Kemul’s broad face lost its affectation of earnestness. He sneered. “And I suppose that person might be the ruffian from the woods? Oh, everyone knows that you spend a lot of time squirreled away with him.” He spread his hands angrily and yet pleadingly. “How could you choose some barbarian over one of your own kind? Everyone knows it should be me – everyone expects that it will be me.”

  His voice lowered and became threatening. “Come to your senses, Ka’en, before I am forced to do something to help you come to them.”

  She was not a woman to be easily intimidated. She took a step toward him, surprising him, and he moved back.

  “Have you forgotten who I am?”

  His face dissolved into an uncertain scowl. “Of course I know who you are. But – what do you mean?”

  “If you threaten me again – I’ll have you jailed,” she said fiercely.

  He was genuinely stunned at this and when he answered, his voice took on a pleading tone. “I wasn’t threatening you. Come, Ka’en, we’ve been friends since we were children. Don’t let some wild man from the woods come between us, please. Just – think about it.”

  She was still furious and returned no answer.

  After gazing at her for a moment, and when her anger did not diminish, his face set, his eyes grew hard, but he smiled ingratiatingly. “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. We’re still friends, right?” He put one hand out toward her, but then quickly retrieved it. “I’ll see you at supper, like always. Everything will be okay between us, Ka’en, I promise.”

  He watched her for a moment longer, hungrily, and then turned away and left the grounds.

  After that encounter, Kemul continued to take his place by her at supper, adding a measure of distress to her increasing frustration with the lack of progress in her relationship with Aram. Even after Aram and the others returned from the west, his time was entirely consumed by meetings with her father, her brother, and the men of the town in matters of defense.

  Night after night, she had to sit quietly, miserably, while Mallet repeatedly regaled the table with the tale of the killing of the lashers, and Aram’s time was usurped almost completely by others, while to her left, Kemul, who by now she secretly despised, sat like a sullen thundercloud, giving off periodic low rumbles of hatred.

  And then one night, Aram followed her into the hall.

  “Lady Ka’en?”

  She turned at the sound of his voice. “Yes, my lord?”

  He hesitated. “May I see you tomorrow?” He went on to quickly explain, though for her there was no need for him to do so. “It’s just that we’re taking a day of rest and I would like to see you, if possible.”

  It felt to her like a great weight had fallen from her shoulders. She sighed and smiled quietly, careful not to let her joy at the proposition spill over.

  “I would like that, my lord.”

  His eyes brightened and he inclined his head. “Tomorrow, then, my lady.”

  At that moment, Kemul and his companions came into the hall behind Aram. “Goodnight, Ka’en,” he said rudely.

  Aram spun toward him but after meeting Aram’s gaze for just a moment, Kemul turned on his heel and left the house.

  Aram looked back at her and she smiled into his eyes. “Tomorrow then, my lord.”

  “Tomorrow, my lady,” he agreed.

  Ka’en would never forget that which had transpired on the next day, the morrow in which she had placed such hope.

  About noon, dressed and ready for Aram’s visit, she had gone to the front of the house, onto the veranda that overlooked the courtyard and the main street of town.

  Someone yelled in the courtyard below. Though she could not catch the words, there was hatred in their delivery. She ran to the railing and looked down.

  Her heart went as still as night in deepest winter.

  Below her, Aram was on his knees, struggling to rise, holding his sword over his head in a defensive posture. Blood flowed in a dark, spreading stain down the left side of his shirt. Standing over him, Kemul had swung his sword above his head in preparation for a killing stroke. The sword descended; there was the clanging of steel against steel and then the sound of steel striking something a bit more yielding. When Kemul’s arm rose again, there was blood flowing down Aram’s face and the left side of his head.

  She tried to scream. A very small sound was all that came out, but it was enough to gain Aram’s attention. He looked up and his eyes met hers, and after the tiniest moment, those green depths grew hard and dark.

  Kemul’s arm began its descent.

  Ka’en did not see clearly what happened next, because the bulk of Kemul’s large body was positioned between her and Aram. But a moment later, Aram was standing on his feet, holding a sword smeared almost to the hilt with blood, Kemul’s sword had fallen to the side, and the stocky man had collapsed backward into a spreading pool of blood and gore.

  Going so quickly from the horror of watching the man that she loved about to die, to seeing him suddenly free from death’s threat was too much. She went weak and sick at her stomach, and felt as if she might faint. Glancing once more to make certain that Aram was standing upright and was alive; she turned then and fled the veranda, intending to go down and see for herself that the wounds inflicted on him by Kemul’s sword were not mortal.

  But the shock of the preceding moments was too much for her. She was stunned when something hard struck her forehead and had only a moment to be astonished that that hard something was, in fact, the floor, before she felt herself being pulled into a soft, quiet darkness.

  Later, when she had
regained consciousness and bathed her forehead in cool water, and had recovered a measure of composure, she went down to the front of the house to see what had happened in the aftermath of this terrible event. Findaen and her father were standing in the front hall with several of the leading men of the town. All had their attention focused on Findaen, who was speaking loudly, his voice layered with distress.

  “– no, I tell you, Kemul challenged him, claimed the right of duel. He even struck first, before Aram killed him. What? No, I don’t know what he’s thinking, but this is a disaster, I tell you, a complete disaster.” He looked at his father and shook his head from side to side quickly, in short, anguished movements, and then spread his hands wide. “So – what the hell do we do now?”

  Lancer answered his son quietly. “Tell me again, Fin, what did he say?”

  Findaen swallowed and blinked his eyes, and the words he spoke next closed around Ka’en’s heart like a vise.

  “He said he never wanted to see any of us again.”

  Ka’en stumbled off the bottom step of the stairs, almost falling again, and went quickly to Findaen, clutching at his arm. He turned to look at her, his face dark with anguish. Her breath came fast and shallow.

  “Where is Aram?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s gone; he’s gone.”

  Gazing out over the darkened plains, remembering that moment, and how it had struck at her soul, Ka’en felt her eyes well with tears.

  And now he was gone again. And once again she waited, without knowledge, without information, with no control over events that occurred at a great distance from her but that could touch her profoundly at the very heart of her being.

  5

  Darkness and emptiness.

  In all directions, up, down, and to either side, there was nothing to be seen. He felt that he ought to get up – unless of course, he were already up – onto his feet and go exploring; try to discover some clue as to where he was, and why he was there.

  He tried moving to his right, and then stopped to see if there was any sensation of real movement, as opposed to being imagined, and after a moment, thought that there was. So, he could move in the darkness, whether walking or floating, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. He could move.

  Alright, then, which way to go? Which way led him out of the darkness, away from the lingering pain, and into the light? Astonished by his recognition of the word and its meaning, he stopped for a moment and considered. Light. He remembered light, and missed its presence. Light would let him see, decipher shapes, help him go forward to – where? A deep longing for the presence of light overcame him as he thought about it and remembered its marvelous properties.

  Oh, for just one ray of light in this dark and lonely place.

  And then, as he stayed still and pondered, another longing came over him, amazing him with its ferocity and its sudden clarity. There was someone that he missed terribly – that he needed to see.

  A woman.

  Her.

  Her name was – Ka’en.

  All at once, he remembered her face, her astoundingly beautiful face, and her great kindness toward him, her gentleness. And though he could not recall having once cried in the entire course of his life, he broke down and sobbed with loneliness there in the dark, with terrible longing, missing her. And the missing of her was worse than the pain, reducing it to the level of a simple annoyance beside the awfulness of not being near her.

  6

  Stunned by the details of Aram’s furious departure from Derosa, Ka’en had climbed the stairs and fled to her room. It was only later, when she had calmed herself enough to think about things rationally, that realization began to dawn on her. Aram had misinterpreted her behavior on the veranda. He thought that she had been horrified by his actions and their results, rather than the result intended by Kemul.

  The more she considered it, the more she believed it to be true. Any other interpretation would put the lie to everything she had shared with Aram, every look, every word. No, this was what must be true.

  But Findaen and her father would not hear her.

  “I tell you, Ka’en, he was offended by our laws. I called him a barbarian once, in jest, but he said that’s what we were.” Findaen turned away and stared at the floor. “He holds us in contempt now. What will we do?”

  Lancer glanced up at him before returning his attention to his hands clasped in front of him. “Don’t despair, my son, I’m certain that with time, Lord Aram will reconsider his own words and return. He will forgive this, I’m sure.”

  “You didn’t see his face, father.”

  “No, but I’ve lived long enough to recognize the rashness of young men.”

  Ka’en stepped forward, her face pale and set. “We must go to him, father.”

  Lancer looked up, startled, and Findaen spun to stare at her.

  “He made it very plain that he didn’t want us following him.”

  “I know – but this is all my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Findaen’s features clouded over with suspicion.

  Lancer smiled tiredly. “How could any of this be your fault, my child?”

  Ka’en hesitated. “Because, father, I believe that Aram loves me. I – I witnessed the duel and he saw me on the balcony. I was very – upset – by what I saw. I suspect – I think that he may have misinterpreted my feelings about what happened.”

  Lancer gazed at her for a long moment. “You believe that Aram is in love with you?” Then he nodded. “I had wondered – his regard for you seemed to be of a particular nature.”

  Findaen stepped forward impatiently. “I can settle this – though how it will help us I cannot see.” He turned to Ka’en. “Of course he is in love with you, or was. He told me as much.”

  Ka’en’s hand went involuntarily to her breast as she gazed at her brother. “When, Fin – when did he tell you this?”

  Findaen shrugged. “When we went to his city; when we were going to the west in the summer. He said that he loved you since he first saw you.”

  She felt her eyes go wide. “All this time? All this time he has loved me – and he said nothing?”

  “Well – did you? Did you say anything to him?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know for certain how he felt.”

  “Great! Wonderful!” Findaen’s face flushed red with anger. “If you two had just found a chance to talk – all that time you spent together – we might not be in this mess now.”

  “Findaen.” Lancer’s voice rose with stern reprimand, and then he stood and looked at Ka’en. “Well, there is our answer, anyway.”

  Ka’en gazed back at him. “What do you mean?”

  “If Lord Aram truly loves you, my dear, nothing will keep him away.” He looked down at the floor and continued quietly, as if to himself. “We just need to give him time to think things over and he will return to us.”

  Ka’en shook her head. “But if he thinks I despise him –”

  Lancer looked up. “I’m sure he doesn’t think that, daughter. Give it time – as I said, if he truly loves you, nothing will keep him away.”

  Ka’en had not agreed with her father’s assessment; she suspected that Aram’s pride was deeper and stronger than any of them knew. Besides, though they knew very little of the world beyond the plains that lay to the west or the hills that surrounded the town, Aram was widely traveled and heavily involved in all those events that currently troubled the world. There was a very real danger that he might become concerned with issues elsewhere and forget them – never to return.

  Even she did not truly believe these thoughts that plagued her, but as the days and then weeks went by and Aram did not return, they grew into an abiding fear that gnawed at her heart and mind.

  Findaen continued to be sullen and morose, and the hurt of Aram’s parting words took root in his heart and grew into a deeply offended anger that expanded as the weeks went by and his friend stayed away. Lancer continued obstinately to
enunciate his belief that Aram would eventually return, but as time lengthened, his words were delivered with decidedly less conviction than before.

  Finally, Ka’en could stand it no more. She went into Findaen’s room one day and gathered some of his older clothes that could be modified to fit her smaller frame and the next morning she presented herself to her father, dressed to go into the wilderness.

  “I’m going to him.”

  Lancer stood, his breakfast forgotten, and gazed at his daughter. “You cannot do this, my daughter. His lands are far away and the intervening country dangerous. You cannot.”

  “Will you chain me to my bedpost?”

  “What? – no, of course not. Why do you suggest –”

  “Then I am going to him, if I must leave in the midst of the night and travel alone.” She raised her chin defiantly. “I am going to find Aram.”

  Lancer gazed at his eldest daughter with chagrin and uncertainty. He knew her well enough to know that when she determined to do something – which she actually did very seldom – that nothing could dissuade her. Also, there was the fact that she was the princess and had come of age. In her choice of a mate would come the identity of the next governor of these lands. Her wishes, therefore, carried a certain weight – which even her father must acknowledge – that no one else’s carried and consequently must be carefully addressed.

  He sighed, gazed at her a moment longer and then turned to Findaen. “Get men that you trust and take her to Lord Aram’s valley.”

  Findaen stood up and blinked his eyes at his father in disbelief. “But it’s already late fall, winter will be upon us any day now. You really want me to take Ka’en on a journey through the hills – now?”

  Lancer, still looking at his daughter, nodded. “Yes, I do. Take her safely, Findaen, and return safely, please.”

  The day was spent in preparation and they left the next morning, just after sunup. The journey through the hills was arduous and Ka’en suffered from the cold through the dark hours, though Findaen and his three faithful companions, Jonwood, Wamlak, and Mallet, kept a hot fire blazing through the depths of every night. But the days, despite her anxiety – and especially the men’s anxiety – over going into Aram’s valley and up to his city uninvited, were a novel delight.