The Lord Son's Travels (19 page)

Elenna's
ears caught this.
 
Something about
the sickness in the town bothered her, and this seemed to fit with it.
 
"Can I see the new
grindstone?" she asked.

"This
way, my Lady," one of the women motioned.
 
Elenna urged the men to also follow as she tagged along
behind her guide.
 
Adrien didn’t
understand her sudden interest in the gift, but let Elenna take the lead.
 
The town, as was tradition in this area,
kept one large grindstone for all of the families to share.
 
This village kept theirs in a small hut
behind the inn.
 
The woman proudly
demonstrated its features, glad to change the subject from the horror down the
road.
 
Elenna stroked the rough
surface of the metallic rock, which was about a foot in diameter and roughly
hewn.
 
She glanced around again at
the residents of the village.
 
The
sickest members were by far the wives of the town.
 
The men had not followed far behind, though.
 
She turned back to the grindstone, and
moaned in horror as the pieces fell together.

“What
is it, my Lady?” the old man demanded.
 
Elenna motioned violently for the men to keep their distance from her
and the grindstone.

“Elenna!”
Adrien demanded in concern as he pushed his way through the crowd.
 
She cried out a warning to stay
away.
 
Her expression unnerved him;
he though she was becoming sick herself.

“Is
there an unused well or a deep cave nearby?” she demanded of the citizens.
 
“Adrien, keep away!”
 
She pushed him back forcefully as he
reached toward the grindstone..

“My
Lady,” the old man started forward, his concern evident in his tone.

She
shook her head violently.
 
“Answer
me!”

One
of the goodwives finally responded, pointing to the north.
 
“There is an old well in that field
yonder that dried up several years ago.”
 
This was enough for Elenna.
 
She tried to lift the stone herself, but it was far too heavy for her to
budge.
 
She howled in
frustration.
 
Adrien grabbed her
arm, demanding for her to stop and explain.
 
Brendan followed his lead, reaching for her other side.

Elenna
paused in her efforts, panting from exhaustion.
 
“Don’t touch it, Adrien!
 
I don’t know how much natural immunity you people might
have.”

He
leaned over her, demanding, “What are you doing?”

“The
stone, its poison!” she snapped angrily.
 
“Its what made these people sick!”

He
shook his head, “Elenna, how do you...”

“It’s
fucking radioactive!” she hurled back, unmindful of the gasps of their
watchers.
 
“It will kill everyone
if we don’t get it contained!
 
We
need a box to put it in.
 
Lead is
best but I'll take any thick metal for now.”

Her
violent outburst shocked him into obedience.
 
He repeated her demand for a metal container to carry away
the stone.
 
Several of the crowd
raced away; returning several minutes later with a iron-plated chest.
 
Without any other choice, Elenna
grudgingly allowed several volunteers from the village to help her lift the
grindstone into the chest. They dragged the heavy box to a nearby wagon, which
the local men used to haul the load to the deserted wellhead.
 
Working together, they heaved it over
the edge of the well.
 
Elenna
sighed with relief when she heard the thump of its landing muffled by what
seemed a great distance.
 
She
finished to look up and see the citizens of the village staring at her
incredulously.

“It
was poisoned,” she declared in a harsh voice.
 
She glanced down at her own hands, then at her
companions.
 
“We need to wash up
now,” she added in a softer tone.
 
After a moment of silence, one of the men offered her the use of the inn.
 
They rode back into the town in stunned
silence.
 
She motioned for her
companions to follow her to the inn, storming directly through the front door
to the kitchen.
 
She found a big pitcher
of water sitting by the sink and called to Adrien to first stick his hands
under the flow.
 
As she poured, she
urged him to keep soaping up and scrubbing, even when his hands had turned red
and inflamed from his efforts.
 
He
obeyed when he saw the expression in her eyes.
 
When he and Brendan had both rubbed their hands clean, she
switched positions for her turn in the wash.

“What
was wrong with the stone?” Brendan asked as she scrubbed furiously at her
skin.
 
She stared at her reddening
palms, watching the flow of water over her fingers.

She
didn’t look up as she answered.
 
“Did you know there are certain types of rocks that can make people
sick?”

They
didn’t.
 
“Well, there are some
kinds of rocks that are very poisonous.
 
The grindstone was made of one especially dangerous type.
 
Someone did that deliberately; whoever
this Lord of the Southlands is, he had to know what contact with that stone
would do.
 
I doubt whoever carved
it is still sucking in air today.”

Adrien
leaned back against the sink next to her.
 
“You think this Lord of the Southlands is responsible for the killings
at Nest-of-Ravens?”
 
She nodded
softly.
 

A
portly man stuck his head through the door, introducing himself as the mayor of
the town.
 
“This gift was meant to
hurt us?” he asked in horror.

“It
was meant to kill you,” Adrien declared.
 
He set down the empty pitcher.
 
Elenna dried her hands on a towel then followed the mayor and her
companions into the sitting room.
 
The mayor seated himself on a overstuffed upholstered chair, while
Adrien and Brendan settled on a wooden bench.
 
Elenna refused a seat, but paced anxiously across the room,
still subconsciously rubbing her hands.

The
mayor leaned back, twiddling his fat sausage-like fingers.
 
“Who would want to kill us?” he
demanded dumb-founded.
 

“I
don’t know yet,” Adrien replied.
 
His eyes glowed darkly with anger at this new turn of events.
 
He thought of the little children he
had seen on the green with their parents, and was thankful Elenna’s knowledge
had saved them.
 
He didn’t
understand about poisoned rocks or other such wizardry ideas, but all the same
he was glad the stranger had been there.
 
For all the trouble she caused him, he thought, watching her furious
stomping to and fro, she was useful.

Brendan
asked, “What can you tell us about this Lord of the Southlands?”
 
He didn’t understand what had happened
either, but he could understand that a cruel mind had been responsible for the
killings at Nest-of-Ravens and the attempted ploy here, and he was not going to
let him go unpunished.
 
He turned
towards Adrien, and knew the same thoughts were foremost in his mind.
 
This was their first good clue of the
forces they were up against, and they would not lose it.

The
mayor shrugged.
 
“I had not been
told of any new nobility.
 
He
simply appeared that morning unannounced with a band of warriors at his side.
 
I did not speak to him at all
privately; he only made his introduction, presented the stone, and left
directly afterwards."

“What
was his appearance?” Brendan asked.
 
Elenna had finally calmed enough to take a seat and contribute to the
discussion.
 
She listened
carefully, her green eyes focused on the old mayor.

“He
was young, with dark hair and eyes.
 
He wore a bright shade of blue as his color.
 
His smile was odd, I remember.
 
He seemed too happy to be fulfilling such a formal duty such
as this.” the mayor’s eyes clouded over at the memory.
 
He shuddered.
 
“I also recall his greeting was most strange.
  
It felt as a recitation.”

Elenna
inquired, “What did he say?”

“Let
me see if can recall the words correctly.”
 
He bit his lip in concentration.
 
“Please allow me to introduce myself.
 
I’m a man of wealth and taste.
 
Strange words, I thought.”
 
He noted the way the young woman’s face
flushed then grew pale again.
 
“Are
you well, my Lady?”

“I’m
fine,” she returned too quickly.
 
She clenched her fists tightly.
 
Brendan thought that she looked as if she might fly right out of her skin.
 
He tried to catch her eye, but she instead
focused tightly on their interviewee.

He
shrugged.
 
“We live in terrible
days, that a person would want to hurt so many.
 
Thankfully, you came and saved us.
 
We can’t thank you enough.
 
But we can offer you a meal.”

“That’s
unnecessary,” she answered before Adrien could speak.
 
She also refused to meet his eyes.
 
“We must travel on before the night comes.”

“I
see,” the politician replied politely, surprised by their refusal.
 
“Though of course you are welcome to
stay and partake in our gratitude.”
 
One glance from Elenna allowed Brendan to voice his appreciation but
also turn down the offer.
 
Adrien
remained silent as the mayor escorted the party back through the center of the
village to their mounts.
 
A few more
words passed, then the company was on the road again.
 
Elenna hurried them on, urging them to shorten their
good-byes and speed the horses.

When
they had left the village behind them in the dark and picked up their elf
escort, Adrien asked if they were ready to stop for the night.

“No!”
was Elenna’s violent response.
 
She
asked for a few more miles between themselves and the valley.
 
He consented, and they rode almost to
the rise of the moon.
 
Finally, the
horses were too fatigued to go on, and Adrien insisted on stopping for the
night.
 
Without a word, Elenna slid
from her seat and disappeared into the woods.
 
When the camp was set up and dinner cooking over the fire,
Brendan slid up to Adrien and voiced his concern.
 
The other man agreed, and they split up to search the forest
for their lost companion.
 
Adrien
found her sitting in the dark on the banks of a small creek, humming a sad tune
and gazing into the myriad reflections of moon on the water.

“What
have you not told us?” he asked as he took a seat beside her.
 
She didn’t speak at first.
 
He leaned forward to note the tracks of
tears running down her cheeks.
 
“What is wrong?”
 
She tried
to stifle the sob that rose from her throat but failed.
 
“Elenna!” he murmured in his softest
gentlest voice.

 
This broke her reserve.
 
Her hands fluttered in front of her
until he clasped them tightly in his own.
 
She leaned sideways, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
 
“All of those people are going to die,”
she stated; her voice a flat monotone.
 
She kept her eyes on the moon’s reflections in the sparkling waters.
 
The moon that was smaller and much more
golden in tone than she remembered.

Adrien
shook his head in denial, insisting,
 
“No, Elenna, you saved them.
 
You took away the poison!”

“It
was too late.”
 
More sobs broke
loose.
 
“They were already too
exposed.
 
At most they have a few
days to live.”
 
He waited, stunned,
as she allowed her misery to pour forth.
 
He didn’t know how to help the distraught woman, crying for the loss of
the village.
 
He wandered what
Brendan or his brother would do in a situation like this that might calm her.
 
Finally he ended with an awkward arm
across her shoulder.
 
She accepted
this immediately, leaning in to lay her cheek flat against his chest.