The Lord Son's Travels (25 page)

Brendan
nodded slowly.
 
He had always
assumed that the Lord King would never support sending troops to a battle in
the Outworld.
 
His friend was
right.
 
He had seen the destruction
these invaders created, and he was willing to fight to stop that.
 
But he didn’t like Adrien’s plan very
much; it was the open defiance against his King he had trouble supporting.
 
The current situation didn't leave many
other options, though, and he would always support his friend no matter if he
agreed with his decision or not.
 
But one thing he still didn’t comprehend.
 
“Why are you bringing Elenna?”

“Why
not?” was his friend’s off-hand response.

“Why
not!” the other man exclaimed, furious at the glint of humor he caught in
Adrien’s twitching mouth.
 
“Adrien,
your decision makes no sense to me.
 
She’ll be safe here.”

“Safe?
 
That is a relative term in this land,”
he replied.
 
“She’ll help us build
weapons like the Western folk have done.
 
And she can fight.”

“Oh,
Adrien!” Brendan moaned in horror.
 
“You don’t mean that!
 
A
woman in battle!”

Adrien
shrugged, and set the now razor-sharp blade aside.
 
“Elenna can hold her own against a common swordsman. She
might even give you a moment’s worry.”

Brendan
let the teasing slide.
 
He had
horrible images in mind of Elenna overwhelmed in the midst of battle.
 
“I think you’re making a terrible
decision, Adrien.
 
She’ll only be a
burden if it comes to fighting.”

Adrien
glanced over to study the perturbed expression on his friend’s face.
 
“Why are you so worried?” he
asked.
 
His mind stumbled onto a
new idea he didn’t much like.
 
He
straightened up in his seat.
 
“What
are your intentions to her?”

Brendan
blushed slightly under Adrien’s intensive study.
 
“My intentions are honorable, I assure you,” he
declared.
 
He blushed harder as
Adrien’s hawk-sharp eyes bored into him.
 
“Though they would be much less so if she were truly a Lady,” he
confided.
 
“But could you imagine
coming home with a common woman for a bride!
 
My mother would have my eyes in the serving bowl!”

“I’d
not call Elenna common,” Adrien answered dryly, “especially not in her hearing.
 
When we return to Allè-dènè, Bren, I
promise you you’ll have your choice of brides.
 
You can find some pretty trinket to follow your every whim.”

Brendan
grinned as the tension in the room lightened.
 
He rose from his seat to take his leave.
 
“I hope not to return in chains to
Allè-dôn to be some prisoner’s handmaiden,” he declared.
 
He shook his head.
 
“If you think its best to take her,
friend, I’ll not argue your point.
 
But I hope she lives up to your high expectations.”
 
Adrien only nodded, and silently agreed
with his wish.

Chapter 25

Their
preparations were made, and within two days the war party was ready to leave
for Titaine.
 
Lord Vance picked and
chose the best among his warriors to ride escort to the capital.
 
None of the soldiers had even seen
battle; at most they had had only a minimum of sword practice in the service of
the King.
 
Adrien hid his
disappointment as best he could and gave the troops a crash course in battle
skills.
 
Brendan offered his
instruction to the teams of archers within the party.
 
Vance had his grandfather’s armor pulled out of storage and
polished until it shone in the sun, while the Lady Rachele agonized over the
need for enough trinkets in her husband’s color for their soldiers to
carry.
 

Elenna
wandered about overlooked in the bustle and rush.
 
When she tried to practice with the soldiers, they shooed
her away in shock at her unladylike ideas.
 
Adrien was far too busy for their normal sparring, so she
ended up alone in their usual patch of the garden, independently rehearsing the
steps she had learned until her arm ached too much to hold the blade.
 
She spent hours analyzing the weapon
they had found.
 
She had never
learned how a pistol works; a loss she bitterly repented many times over as she
stared down the barrel hoping for a clue.
 
Finally after her careful study, she could make a reasonable
guess on the mechanics of its construction.
 
A few rough blueprints were doodled on a spare page in her
rapidly wearing geology book.
 
She
hoped to get a few minutes with one of the blacksmiths to see if a prototype
could be made from her scribbles.
 
But everyone was busy in Thrush Valley; the news of their departure had
spread to the neighboring villages.
 
Hundreds of men both young and old came to offer their services.
 
Finally, they declared, someone was
willing to lead the battle against the terrorists swooping in from the West to
leave their towns empty and barren.
 
They only knew that a foreign soldier named Rian led the attack, but he
was becoming a hero to the people of Angor.
 

The
night before their departure, the Lady Rachele had arranged for a celebration
of her husband’s and guests’ heroic quest to the capital.
 
The nobility of the neighboring fiefs
had braved the journey to toast their heroes and drink in the atmosphere of
courage noticeably missing at home. Those who arrived from afar were greeted by
the sight of the myriad of bonfires blazing in defiance of the night.
 
The good common folk who had followed
their men to the safety of Thrush Valley had their own celebration within the grounds
at the foot of the main House. Hundreds of families, fighting men and their
entourages sang songs of brave men and long ago battles as they mingled in the
firelight.

Once within Lord Vance’s House, the
visitors were whisked into the main gathering room, where their host and
hostess guarded their guests against the advances of any lower society members
who somehow found their way indoors.
 
About a hundred of the finer class huddled in small groups and chatted
amiably as the Bards sang their versions of the old ballads.
 
Many were enjoying multiple glasses of
the excellent wines of the valley along with the trays of sweets and savory
snacks that were brought around by servants for sampling.
 
At the head table, the leaders of the
new army sat watching the crowds and politely sharing small talk.
 
Brendan smiled and played the proper
noble, responding with polite attention when addressed, as Adrien morosely
nursed his drink while waiting for his chance to finally escape and finish his
many tasks before the dawn departure.
 
Many of the nobles tried for an audience with the foreigners, but one
glance at the dark frowning maw of the head of the expedition drove away even
the most determined of the local social climbers.
 
Elenna waved her napkin as a fan in the heat of the
overcrowded chamber, and fought off boredom by trying to remember lines from
her favorite movies and TV shows.
 

“My
Lady!” Rachele had slipped from her seat to join the only other Lady at the
table.
 
She took hold of the
younger woman’s arm and tried to pull her away from her companions for private
conversation.
 
Elenna resisted as
delicately as she could, meanwhile kicking Brendan repeated in the leg under
the table to get his attention and hopefully his aid in escaping.
 
He blithely ignored her as the hostess
deftly maneuvered Elenna away to an empty table out of view of the crowds.
 
She settled Elenna in a seat and
plunked down herself, focusing her lovely kind eyes on the tired green pair in
front of her.

“My
goodness, Elenna,” she declared firmly.
 
“What is this nonsense that you ride tomorrow too?”

Elenna
sighed, fingering the few loose strands that had escaped from her elaborately
wrought hairstyle her maid had insisted on creating for the evening.
 
“Lord Rian is my guardian,” she replied
in her most patient tone.
 
“Where
he goes, so do I.”

Rachele
huffed in disbelief.
 
“What sort of
guardian would take a Lady into battle?
 
I would expect more from a Lord such as him.”
 
She focused her attention sharply on the other woman.
 
“Could he have thoughts of you beyond
his duties?”

As
realization dawned, Elenna blushed to the roots of her darkened hair.
 
“Rian?
 
No… no way, I mean… no, nothing like that!”
 

The
hostess’ eyes narrow in serious contemplation of her protests.
 
“Are you sure?
 
You are a child in the world, Elenna,
that I can see.
 
And ‘tis easy to
see how he favors you.”

Elenna
shook her head.
 
She shouldn't ask;
she would only be encouraging the crazy notion...
 
"What makes you think he favors me?” she gave up her
pride and demanded.

Rachele
smiled and leaned in, happy to be able to confer about her latest theory.
 
“You are the only woman with whom I
have ever seen him speak.
 
And he
always seems quite interested in what you say.”

“Well,
we’ve been traveling together for a while now, seeing the same things, going
the same places.
 
Sometimes he asks
me my opinion on something we've shared,” Elenna answered.
 

Rachele
was quite happy at the weakness of her tepid explanation.
 
“No, I don't think so.
 
Lord Rian has advisors enough for his
needs.
 
He seeks your company, my
dear, not your opinions.”
 
Her
cheerful wink was the final straw.
 
Elenna realized that this conversation wasn’t going to go in any useful
direction, but instead likely to fuel the rumors that Rachele was sure to start
shortly if they weren't already rampant.
 
She excused herself as rapidly as politeness would allow, ignoring
Rachele’s knowing expression as she crossed the room to seek any kind of escape
from that pathetic scene.

Her
beauty and more importantly her notoriety as the ward of their lead warrior earned
her a few stares and half-caught comments as she passed.
 
Elenna ignored them all.
 
She took sips from her cup as she
traversed the crowded hall, avoiding eye contact with all who approached.
 
She hoped to reach an exit and an
escape to the sanctity of her chamber upstairs, uncaring about the chastising
she would receive later for running away.
 

 
Gratefully she reached the hall outside
the ballroom.
 
Alone and
unobserved, she gathered up her skirts and raced up the grand staircase leading
to the guest wing.
 
At the top, on
a sudden whim she turned left to the heavy wooden doors that opened on to the
upper balcony.
 
This marvel of the
house architecture stretched along the exterior wall over thirty feet, with a
view unmatched by any other lookout in Thrush Valley.
 
The surrounding hills lay peacefully under the light of the
half-moon, the local ponds and rivers glinting like reflections from the blade
of her sword.
 
She leaned over the
railing and took in the silence view with contentment.

One
of the doors cracked open and she sighed with disappointment of the
interruption of her private moment.
 
Then she realized it was Adrien.
 
He nodded at her in greeting, then leaned on the railing himself some
distance away to study the stunning view.
 
He gazed down below them to the riotous parties of soldiers rollicking
in the still lit streets of the village.
 
The high pitched giggles of the locals girls floated up, causing the
sides of Adrien’s mouth to droop in disapproval.
 
They were not officially his soldiers, though, so he could
take no action, though he did make a mental note to discuss the discipline of
the troops with Lord Vance.

“Having
fun?” Elenna asked, breaking into his thoughts.
 
He turned over his shoulder to watch her cross the balcony
to his side.
 
“I know I've had a
thrilling evening.”

“Has
Vance offered a toast yet for the journey?” he replied wearily.
 
“We may leave with honor half an hour
afterwards.”
 
His mother had
drilled him mercilessly on that after too many rude exits from her formal
events.
 
Elenna leaned over the
railing next to him on her tiptoes; far enough that he reached out a hand in
concern for her balance.
 
She
smiled and waved him away, taking in the view beyond the fires of the soldiers
below.
 
The air and the silence
were so lovely after her adventures inside.
 
Then she returned her attention to her companion.

“What
have you learned about the weapon we found?” he asked finally.
 

“Nothing
yet,” she replied, happy to return to serious topics after the bland blatherings
of her other evening conversations.
 
She leaned her elbow on the balcony rail, unmindful of the effects on
her silk sleeve.
 
She added, biting
her lip in consternation of the memory, “I couldn’t get any of the blacksmiths
to look at it for me.”

He
frowned in reply.
 
“Why would you
ask?”

“I
wanted to know if they could make another like it from my measurements,” Elenna
answered.
 
“Its no good unless we
can make a few of our own.”

“True,”
he replied absently.
 
He wondered
out loud, “I’ll speak to the men.
 
Why would they refuse to help you?”

Elenna
chortled in derision.
 
“I’m a girl,
Adrien, in case you forgot.
 
They
told me I would ruin your reputation if I kept meeting with military men and
talking about such unladylike ideas as weapons.”

He
stared at her momentarily, shocked by her bitter tone.
 
“I would not allow you to travel with
us if I thought you would be a burden,” he finally answered slowly.
 
"You know I find your
contributions very helpful."

Elenna
sighed.
 
“That makes two of us who
thinks so.
 
No, don’t worry about
it,” she continued, waving her hand at his attempts to interrupt.
 
“I’ll take care of getting the weapons
made.
 
You need to focus on
whatever’s out there on the road now.”
 
They grew silent, standing side by side gazing at the view.

 
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
 
He glanced down, absently noting her
unusual height.
 
Very few women he
had met in his life stood taller than his chin.
 
Her upswept hair style added to the illusion of stature she
projected.
 
She barely had to tilt
her head to level her intense green eyes with his own.
 

His
gaze was more than equal to her challenge.
 
“You have shown a willingness to continue on our road.
 
If this is not so…”

“No,”
she insisted, “I’m willing.
 
I’m
just curious where this road is going to end.”

To
her surprise, he shrugged.
 
“I
don’t know,” he answered, turning to view the rocky-edged horizon to the
south.
  
“We leave at the
rising of the sun,” he continued after a solemn pause.
 
“Have your things packed and
ready.
 
There will be much to do
before we set forth.”