The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy (18 page)

It was some
consolation, Aran thought wryly, that the Archmage believed that he
would return alive from the war.

“But weren’t
repairs done?” Aran asked finally.

Maran smiled,
“Of course, the road was wholly repaired during Andur’s time, but
until now it hadn’t been such an issue. Especially since the
Council, who kept their hand on the province’s treasury, believed
that there would never again be a resident king at the Keep. Now
that the Andurian line is back at Andur’s Keep this road is going
to see a lot more traffic.”

“That’s if we
win the war,” Aran added morosely.

The Archmage
stared quickly at his king and nodded in agreement. “If we lose
then we won’t be here to worry about the roads…it will become
someone else’s problem,” he replied dryly.

“I’d rather it
were ours,” Aran commented wryly.

*

The day wore
on, and on the high escarpments of the plateau the wind blew very
cold indeed. It was not until midday that it came warm enough for
cloaks to be loosened, and slung behind saddles or onto the carts.
Aran’s stomach was audibly growling when Darven slowly cantered
back from one of his forward reconnaissances.

“There’s a
large flattish area with a stream half a league ahead my lord,” he
said without preamble, “I’d recommend we stop there for a meal.
We’ve been on the road since dawn, and the horses ought to be
watered soon, and I know the men will want a meal break.”

Aran nodded,
“I was just wondering when we’d stop.” He looked across at his
friend, “Half a league did you say? That will take another hour to
reach…have you scouted out a place for camp yet?”

Darven nodded,
and settled his horse which was irritably kicking at the sand flies
biting its belly. “There’s a reasonable camp a few hours ahead. If
we don’t dawdle at this next stop, we ought to reach it by sundown.
Tomorrow should see us start the descent down the plateau, and if
all goes well we ought to be off the Havart Plateau by tomorrow
evening,” he added.

Aran looked
ahead and along the road, “How soon to Haulgard?”

Darven grinned
and swung his horse around, “Two days once we are off the plateau.
We should be able to maintain a quicker pace on the coast
road.”

“There will be
a day lost in Haulgard lord,” Maran interjected. “You will be
required to formally meet the rest of the Council and of course
there will be a public ride through the city. Haulgard is the
capital and the citizens, I am certain, will be very interested in
seeing their new king.”

Aran nodded
deep in thought, “After Haulgard?”

Maran kicked
his horse into a faster walk, “A day to Helmsgard and a further day
to Leigh.”

Quickly
counting the days Aran glanced up, “Seven days…we ought to be there
by week’s end?”

Maran looked
over and smiled, “Right on time my lord. Barring accidents or
breakdowns with the wagons we will be in Leigh in good time to
rendezvous with the southern garrisons and Legions.”

*

The sun was
low on the horizon when the column from Andur’s Keep reached the
overnight camp. Aran swung off his horse and landed unsteadily on
the short springy grass, his muscles immediately cramping from so
many long hours in the saddle. Straightening, he gazed around. They
had come to a small valley amongst the high upland meadows. Dense
trees ringed the valley, providing an effective barrier against the
ever present winds. At one end he noticed a small stream and pool
and scattered about were enough level places for a tent or two to
be raised, and enough hollows in the thick springy grass for tired
soldiers to roll into their cloaks and blankets and sleep.

“This is a
good place,” Alissa had dismounted and walked from the centre of
the column to join Aran where he was standing. “We camped here on
our trip up from the south.”

Aran looked
around and smiled at Alissa’s windblown hair and rosy cheeks, “I’ve
not seen you all day…where have you been riding?”

Alissa glanced
back to where the Councillors were tiredly dismounting.

“With Terea,
she’s not a good rider and I’d promised that I’d ride with her
until we reach Haulgard.”

Aran’s
eyebrows lifted, “She bears you no ill favour then? I would have
thought that Ordac’s ambitious plan of a royal marriage will have
put her nose out of joint with you and me both.”

Alissa took
Aran’s arm and led him to a more private spot, “It seems that Terea
is happier than she admits with the outcome.”

Aran stared at
the young woman opposite him, “How so? Did she not want the
marriage after all?”

Alissa smiled,
and shook her head, “Don’t breathe a word of this to the
Councillors, but it seems Terea has a fondness for someone back at
Haulgard…a young man of quality and good family. However his rank
is not noble and she never dared broach the subject with her
father.” Alissa grimaced, “Ordac is an ambitious man, and he dreams
of aligning his house with another powerful one from amongst the
Old Families of Haulgard.”

Aran shook his
head in mute incomprehension, “I have never known so interfering a
man. Does he always think of his own welfare over his
daughter?”

Alissa turned
and began to unsaddle Spirit, “It seems so, however Terea doesn’t
think she’ll have much chance with this young man of hers, which is
if her father has any say in it.”

Aran lifted
off the saddle and wool saddle cloth and began to rub the dun mare
down with a scrap of cloth. Alissa went to take the cloth from his
with a murmured protest of, “You’re the king Aran…let others do
this.”

Aran shook his
head and took the cloth back and bent to his task, “There is much
for everyone to do Alissa. Allow me at least to tend to my own
mount.”

She nodded,
and absentmindedly picked the brambles from Spirit’s tail, “So can
anything be done for Terea?” she asked, “I mean you’re the King,
you could order Ordac to let his daughter marry who she
pleases.”

Aran paused in
his task and stared down the horse’s flank at Alissa, “And put him
more off-side than ever. Be reasonable Alissa, I can’t interfere in
a man’s ruling on his children.”

Alissa
shrugged eloquently, “Have it your way Aran, but I believe that
Ordac now plans to marry Terea off to some old widowed Councillor
back in Haulgard to get the alliance he so desires.”

Aran’s eyes
narrowed at that, and finally acceded to her, “I guess it is only
reasonable that I look to her welfare, I mean I did turn her down
in favour of you.”

Alissa grinned
wickedly at that and Aran went back to his self-imposed task.

“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.