The Lord Son's Travels (26 page)

Chapter 26

Long
before the sun rose the streets of Thrush Valley were packed with
activity.
 
Torches set up
haphazardly across the citadel grounds lit up the night to the brightness of
day, reflecting their flickering shadows against the polished metal of the
armor of the soldiers of Thrush Valley.
 
The troop captains had begun organizing their soldiers while the moon
still hung in the sky, not long after the end of the festivities of the
previous night.
 
The soldiers
chatted as they organized their gear.
 
Excitement shone on the faces of the young men, most of whom had never
left the valley of their birth before.
 
For them, the capital was nearly a legend; not a destination they had
ever dreamed of reaching in their lifetimes.
 
Some men rubbed their foreheads in agony; their nighttime
revels still a fog in their brains. The soldiers gathered in groups of three or
four to sip the strong steaming drinks passed out by generous citizens,
circulating through the crowds to offer their encouragement.
 
Also amongst the throngs gathered
roamed the craftsmen, on hand to inspect their handiworks and offer their
assistance if needed.
 
Blades were
double checked, horseshoes examined, and the bulky pieces of armor supplied to
the army men given final touch-ups of polish.
 
The men fidgeted, waiting for the sun to rise to mark the
beginning of their journey.
 
A few
families waited with their fathers or sons or husbands, but most men were
alone, having given their good-byes earlier in private.

The
interior courtyard was reserved for the leaders of the expedition.
 
Lord Vance and his military leaders
waited here with their mounts, careful expressions of anticipation on their
more experienced faces.
 
Brendan
carried a newly strung longbow on his back and his sword at his side, frowning
out into the crowds he could see stretched across the grounds.
 
The entire army of the valley was to
him the size of a small regiment.
 
He wondered again silently what dangers Adrien was getting them
into.
 
Their leader was inside,
huddled with Berte and the emissaries from the Elf King, who was camped outside
of the valley waiting for their commands.
 
They had a map of the countryside rolled open before them that the were
reviewing again for the best route to take to the capital.
 
Much time had been spent on debate
during the last few days for the best itinerary, but Adrien preferred to be
cautious in these final moments.
  

Elenna
emerged from the main doorway, searching for a familiar face.
 
She had left the balcony and Adrien a
few hours ago, hoping to catch some rest before their long ride.
 
Her nerves had been on edge, though,
and she ended up lying on her comfortable bed too full of thoughts of the next
day to try to close her eyes.
 
Their path was the right one, she thought, but that did not mean it was
an easy one.
 
Like the hundreds of
men outside, she worried about their probability of battle on the way.
 
She wasn’t much of a soldier herself,
but she was troubled by the greenness of the young warriors outside, and hoped
their journey to Titaine would be as easy as Adrien believed.
 
Elenna mostly worried about the
constant companionship of so many other people.
 
She didn’t know if she would be able to continue the façade
of a nobleborn under so many watchful eyes.
 
The pangs of homesickness didn’t hit as often as they used
to, but when they did they were terrible.
 
She would spent hours alone in her borrowed chamber, lying on her side
aching for the familiar comforts of her own bedroom in her parents’ house where
she knew her place and could relax and be herself.
 
Finally she gave up, put on her old traveling clothes, left
the gowns she had been given folded neatly on the bed, and slipped downstairs
to the courtyard to find her companions.
 
Adrien was still sequestered with their elvish allies, but Brendan she
could see gazing out at the hordes of young warriors waiting impatiently for
departure.
 
She waved for his
attention.
 
As soon as he saw her,
his expression lightened, and he made his way to her side.

“Hello,”
he greeted.
 
“How are you?”

“Fine,”
she shrugged.
 
“When do we leave?”

“Soon,”
he answered.
 
He glanced her over,
noted the scabbard hanging at her side.
 
“Are you sharpened?” he asked, motioning to her blade.
 
She assented.
 
“You need some armor though.
 
Boy!” he called to one of the squires circling about.
 
These were young boys sent to the
military to learn to fight.
 
In
Angor tradition, before they could join the service, young men served several
years as assistants to learn the ways of the military before officially joining
their ranks.
 
Brendan ordered this
boy to find a few pieces of armor a size that would fit the Lady.
 
The child looked confused at the
strange request, but silently did as bidden.
 
He returned a few minutes later with a helmet and arm
guards.
 

“This
should fit,” Brendan said, as he helped Elenna try on the new items.
 
“You’ll be much better protected if
Lady forbid we should see any trouble.”

“Thanks,
Bren,” Elenna said.
 
Her voice was
muffled through the faceplate of the helmet.
 
“Where’s Adrien?”
 
She scanned the crowds again.
 
The hordes were beginning to coalesce into a marching line.
 
Groups of about twenty formed under the
leadership of trained Thrush Valley soldiers.
 
The families and townspeople began to slowly make their way
out of the main body to the sidelines.
 
Their leader was nowhere in sight.

Brendan
glanced back to the towering walls of the main house behind them.
 
“I’ll hunt for him,” he suggested.
 
Elenna nodded in agreement.
 
Brendan slipped away inside the heavy inner
gates.
 
Briefly he spoke with the
guards on duty, who pointed to the main reception room at the end of the
hall.
 
Brendan tried the door,
found that it was locked, and rapped gently.
 
There was no response.
 
He knocked harder.
 
After a
few minutes of deliberation, the door opened a few inches, and Adrien’s irate
visage appeared in the gap.

“What!”
he demanded impatiently.

“Let
me in!” Brendan urged.
 
He stuck
his foot in the open gap before the door could slam again.
 
Adrien grimaced even more deeply, but
complied.
 
Brendan glanced around
at the opulent decorations, wishing he had not yet donned his battle gear.
 
Adrien’s armor was resting carefully on
the fine lace upholstered sofa.
 
He
was alone; the elves had returned to their camp to prepare for departure.

“Are
your men ready?” Adrien inquired as he fussed about the apartment.
 
He laid a land on the polished metal of
his armor, absently caressing its smooth, unscarred surface.
 
Brendan watched as Adrien ignored him
and concentrated on the sensation of the smooth metal under his fingers.

“Rian,
I know you’ve never led troops into battle before.”
 
Adrien stopped in his tracks.
 
His shoulders slumped slightly; a movement imperceptible to
anyone else except his best friend.
 
That small reaction told Brendan enough to cross the room and clasp his
comrade on the shoulder in commiseration.
 
Adrien took a deep breath before speaking.

“These
men have had no training, no experience,” he declared somberly.
 
He moved away to motion out the half
open window.
 
Brendan followed him
to examine the view of the expectant troops swarming below.
 
He estimated that nearly two hundred
fighters were ready to travel with them to Titaine; willing to follow their
leader wherever he chose for them to go.
 
In the West, the moon was nearly at the horizon.
 
Behind them, the sun would soon make
its appearance.

Brendan
raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
 
“They came of their own will to help, Adrien.
 
We must take what is offered.
 
There are very few battle-hardened
troops in the whole of Eastland.
 
Even our men back in
Allè-dôn
have seen only small skirmishes with brigands within our borders.”

“There
are a few armies with experience,” Adrien replied, turning away from the
window.
 
He leaned back against the
arm of the sofa, crossing his arms and facing his friend.
 
“Brannon and Leixan have seen
fighting.”

“Well,
they’re not here,” Brendan sighed.
 
“So that doesn’t help us at all.
 
And all of their battles have been with each other.”

“Still,”
Adrien held a faraway stare that Brendan recognized and welcomed.
 
It meant his friend had a plausible
idea.
 
“That might be an idea to
consider after we reach the capital.
 
If we can then ally ourselves with these nations we might have enough
men to eliminate the Western threat completely.”

“After
we defend the capital and roust the strangers here,” Brendan agreed.
 
“That must be our first goal, though.”

“Of
course,” Adrien agreed.
 
He paused
for a moment.
 
“We will take no
unnecessary risks with these troops,” he declared suddenly.
 
Brendan nodded.
 
“The Elf King swears that the road to
Titaine is clear of strangers.
 
There should be no reason to engage in battle before we meet with the
King of Angor.”

   
“I’ll send word to the
captains of each regiment,” Brendan replied.
 
“We’ll keep tight together and travel quick.
 
We should reach the city within a
week.
 
We’ll have enough supplies
for a fortnight travel.”
 
Suddenly
he grinned wistfully.
 
“Almost like
a scout at home, isn’t it?”

“No,”
Adrien shrugged, gazing down at his armor.
 
“Now it is real.
 
And no one to blame but ourselves if we fail.”

“We’ll
not fail, friend,” Brendan replied with an encouraging grin and slap on the
back.
 
“Heed my words: one day the Bards
will tell of our adventures in the finest elf-speaks you'll ever hear.”
 
He exited to give word to the captains
of the leader’s instructions.
 
Adrien picked up his shield and gazed awhile upon it, thinking of the
men outside waiting on his words.
 
Then he began to dress.

The
first people he saw when he exited the reception room were his companions and
Lord Vance.
 
What he saw almost
paused his steps as he crossed the silent marble hall.
 
Elenna wore a new suit of men’s riding
clothes, having adamantly refused lady’s riding gear.
 
Over her new beige blouse and britches was a few pieces of
borrowed armor.
 
The elvish sword
hung at her side from a new scabbard.
 
She carried a new battle cloak over her shoulder.
 
Her hair was hidden under a silver
plated helm, complete with a feather in the color of Thrush Valley.
 
Brendan he was accustomed to seeing in
full battle gear after years in service together, but the sight of a woman so
casually ready for fighting unnerved him.
 
Her eyes were clear and composed, he noted as he approached.
 
If she was nervous about the potential
for battle ahead, she gave no sign.
 
He could only hope that her training had been enough to protect her if
it came down to fighting.
 
Adrien
had had second and third thoughts about leaving her in the safety of Thrush
Valley, but the memory of the weaponry she could explain, and the confidence in
her step convinced him that his decision was correct.
 

“Lord
Vance, Brendan, to your units.
 
Elenna, you ride next to me.”
 
Adrien swooped from the room, his cloak flowing behind him from the
speed of his steps.
 
Elenna
struggled to keep up with his pace, as the other men rushed down the steps to
join their troops.
 

“Where
are our horses?” Adrien demanded of the first trooper he met downstairs in the
main hall.