The Lord Son's Travels (27 page)

“My
Lord, your mount and the Lady’s await you at the front gate,” the young man
answered grandly.
 
The excitement
of departure had taken the army by storm.
 
Both riders and steeds’ feet danced on the trampled lawn of the grounds;
anxious to depart into glory. Elenna could barely follow the bright color of
Adrien’s cloak as he whipped through the crowds to reach the gate and
Madoc.
 
Panting slightly, she
patted Bob gently on the neck as she climbed up into her seat.
 
She glanced behind her to note the rest
of the fighters were either mounted, or if on foot had their weapons and gear
hoisted over their shoulders and were ready to march.
 

One
of the soldiers handed Adrien a silver horn.
 
He raised it to his lips and blew a long deep note.
 
Cheers erupted in response.
 
“To the Capital!” he cried out into the
chaos.
 
“To Titaine!”
 
And so the march began.

Chapter 27

By
the time the army reached the outskirts of the town, the fighters had situated
themselves into their proper marching positions.
 
Adrien was at the very front of the formation, though
sometimes he would be passed by a couple of scouts who would flit ahead and
back, reporting on the conditions of the road.
 
Elenna rode to his left.
 
A few of the finest soldiers of Thrush Valley flanked them
on either side, watching their path ahead with experienced, observant
eyes.
 
Behind them the troops were
aligned into units with their captains riding at their lead.
 
Vance and Brendan were captains of the
most forward of the groups, keeping near enough to Adrien to be able to reach
him quickly when summoned for quick conversations.
 
At the rear rode a few of the best soldiers as the vanguard.
A couple of the quickest men rode back and forth carrying messages between
these sectors.

Adrien
had not spoken a word since their departure, which today disappointed
Elenna.
 
She wanted the distraction
of conversation.
 
The other
soldiers stared at her openly; only Adrien’s stern presence protected her from
their scornful remarks.
 
They had
only a few ideas why a women would ride along to battle, and none of them were
complementary.
 
Elenna satisfied
her indignant ego by imagining the thrashing she could deliver if any of them
directed a single syllable her way.
 
She wondered how Brendan was enjoying the ride.
 
He stayed with his men, for the first
time in her knowledge his mood remaining entirely somber.
 

She
turned to watch the fields of the outskirts of Thrush Valley pass by
slowly.
 
They would ride near the
destroyed town of Rivermouth she had visited a few weeks past with Adrien.
 
She knew the geography of the area now
from the maps she had studied in her Eastlands history book that she had taken
from the inn earlier in their journeys.
 
That book had been her nearly constant companion since Adrien announced
their destination.
 
She had studied
the entries on Angor, and Titaine in particular.
 
It was one of the oldest cities in the Eastlands, prosperous
from water and land trade.
 
The
royalty of Angor was almost as long a line as their neighbor Allè-dôn.
 
The nations were very similar in fact;
which was probably the cause of their long history of feuds.
 
The capital itself was situated on one
of the largest flatlands of the kingdom, with high walls and an open view for
its protection.
 
In its centuries
of existence, it had been rarely attacked and never taken.
 
From a military point of view, it was
an optimum place for a defending army to settle in against the marauding
forces.

There
was no way for several hundred marching soldiers to avoid drawing
attention.
 
Within the first few
hours word had spread into the neighboring fiefdoms that Lord Vance's men were
on the march to the capital, and the first citizens had come to investigate the
ruckus passing down the road.
 
Most
of the people cheered as they passed, or offered drinks or snacks to the
appreciative soldiers.
 
A small
retinue developed from eager volunteer fighters, and a couple opportunistic
marketers who would set up camp nearby and offer their goods for sales at
inflated prices until the leadership chased them away.
 

They
continued advancing until the sun was nearly below the horizon.
 
Finally Adrien raised his hand to
signal the end of their journey for the day.
 
Immediately all of the troops disbanded their formations and
started on their assigned tasks for setting up camp.
 
Within an hour the men had assembled their camp tents and
arranged them in clusters around compact campfires.
 
The tents were tanned cattle skin stretched across a couple
standing twigs, tall enough for a woman to stand and wide enough to sleep two
men.
 
They reminded Elenna of the
teepees she and her brother used to make out of sheets when they played Indian
in the living room.
 
As the only
woman present in the company, she was assigned her own tent.
 
It was within a few feet of Adrien's,
the only other person who wasn't sharing their nighttime accommodations.
 
From the smirks on the men responsible
for their sleeping arrangements, she knew that their proximity was not
coincidence.
 

She
sighed and climbed through the slit entryway to her tent into the dark and cozy
interior, tossed her ragged backpack on the hard ground and spread out her
blanket.
 
Her entire body ached and
she craved a couple of Tylenol or aspirin or anything to loosen her knotted
legs and back.
 
After so many weeks
of living indoors as a spoiled noble, she had lost her mindset for life on the
road.
 
Elenna stretched out the
best she could in the little tent, allowing her mind to travel back to the time
when ten blocks to campus was a long and arduous journey.
 
That way led to sorrow though, so she
forced her mind back to the present and out of the tent for something to
drink.
 
Outside a crowd of the
leaders of their caravan had gathered around the fire to discuss their first
day’s ride.
 
Brendan and Adrien
were talking animatedly, as the other men including Lord Vance listened
intently.
 
Brendan noticed her
stretching outside her tent and eagerly waved her over.
 
She ambled slowly to his side.

“Do
we have any fresh water?” she inquired, rubbing her aching head.
 
“Ow.
 
I really need to put a new set of shocks on that
horse.”
 
Brendan motioned to the
pitcher set down on the large boulder they were using as a conference table,
filled with ice cold water from a nearby stream.
 
She gulped it down and sighed happily, rubbing the cold cup
against her forehead and ignoring the appraising gazes of the others.
 
She had not yet been introduced to the
other unit leaders besides Lord Vance.
 
They were older than the rest of the Angor company, probably within a
few years in age of Adrien and Brendan.
 
Their uniforms had started the day with the stiffness that comes from
lack of wear, but a long day’s ride had rubbed out the sharp creases and
stained the fresh beige color to a darker brown.
 
Their expressions retained their sharp edges, though, as
they tried their best to fit their perceived roles as officers.
 
The pale, sweaty woman in the worn
men’s clothes did not fit into their image of the scene.
 

Across
from her Adrien held a parchment as close as he could to the light of the
campfire, peering intently to make out the fine writing.

“What
is that?” Elenna asked, when she noted the fine lines of concentration on his
forehead crease sharply.
 
Brendan
answered that it was a message from Thrush Valley, delivered only a few minutes
ago by a runner.
 
The strange men
watched in disapproval as the lady leaned forward to peek over the corner of
the paper.
 
Adrien held the sheet
lower so she could read it with him.

“What
do you think?” Brendan impatiently demanded of his friend.
 
Adrien shrugged.

“Their
numbers are growing, as well as their skill.
 
I didn’t expect an attack of this magnitude.”
 
Elenna finished skimming the letter,
and read through it again more carefully.
 
She didn’t recognize the names mentioned, but the gist of the message
was clear.
 

“More
attacks?” she confirmed with Adrien.
 

He
nodded.
 
“This note comes from my
friend in Allè-dènè, the Counselor of the Foreign.
 
My father must have told him my location in Thrush
Valley.
 
The cities he mentions are
in the land of Water Gap, north of Allè-dôn.
  
They are lonely cities in the Northern Mountains, deep
in the gorges and difficult to reach.
 
They’ll not be easily retaken by the armies of the land.”

Brendan
added, “They are mining towns near the rich ore tunnels.
 
I’d gather the invaders are in need of
material for their weapons.”

Asked
Elenna, “What type of ore?”

“For
steel production,” Adrien answered.
 
Elenna nodded thoughtfully.
 

“That
could be used to make weapons like we found in Rivermouth,” she confirmed.
 

Brendan
stretched into his memory.
 
“The
North Road runs near to these ore tunnels.
 
If they have control of the length of the North road, they
can transport the material easily back to their strongholds.”

“If
they have control of the North road,” Adrien sighed, “then our situation is
much worse than we thought.”

“What
do we do?” Elenna put out to the crowd.
 
The Thrush Valley soldiers glanced again unhappily amongst themselves,
their thoughts clear to her observation.
 
Elenna’s presence was not understood by the men nor desired, but their
leader obviously wanted her to participate in the discussion and they did not
want to anger Adrien by expressing their opinions.
 
This amused her slightly, edging out frustration over their
lack of respect. Most of her attention ignored their misogyny and stayed
focused on the new information and its potential threat.

“We
continue our road,” Adrien directed his words mainly to the Thrush Valley
representatives.
  
“There is
little we can do to help the people of the North now.
 
When we have a full army at our backs, then we can offer
some aid.”
 
The men nodded at the
wisdom of his words.
 
Adrien
dismissed them back to their units.
 
When they were alone again, Adrien turned to Brendan, as Elenna looked
on expectantly.

“Tarien
also sends word of my father.
 
He
has announced that you and I have abandoned our home to live in Outland, and so
have renounced our titles and position in the Kingdom.
 
We have been officially banished.”

“By
the Lady!” Brendan exclaimed.
 
He
slammed his fist on his thigh.
 
“Will he never see past his own nose?
 
The entire Eastlands will be overthrown by these invaders,
and he worries about punishing us!”

“There
have been reports of disturbances on the border,” Adrien continued
bitterly.
 
“But until an army
strikes at the gates of Allè-dènè, or maybe the Capital itself, my father will
not raise his hand to offer any aid.”

Brendan
sighed.
 
“At least we don’t have to
worry about pursuit any longer.
 
And I had already given up hope of any aid from home.”

Adrien
crumpled the letter abruptly and tossed it into the fire.
 
“We must think of the road in front of
us, not behind,” he announced, his tone cold and impassive.
  
Elenna glanced at Brendan and
could see him forcing himself to remain quiet.
 
Adrien shook his head, then abruptly stepped away to
disappear in his tent.

Brendan
heaved a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead in despair.
 
Elenna remained silent in sympathy for her exiled
friends.
 
She touched Brendan’s
shoulder in gentle commiseration.
 
He patted her hand absently, then rose to his feet to walk away from the
fire, disappearing into the surrounding darkness of the night.
 
She watched his retreating back,
wishing she could offer more than her empathy to help.
 
But there was nothing she could do, she
realized as she leaned back next to the roaring fire.
 

Other
fires had come to life nearby, surrounded by relaxed soldiers conversing idly
in the warmth of the flames.
 
For
most of the men it had been an exciting day, to be remembered fondly in their
future years and embellished into tales for their grandchildren.
 
The cooks had prepared large batches of
a version of traveler’s stew.
 
Bowls of the steaming concoction were passed out around the fires to be
quickly polished off by the tired and hungry men.
 
One of the youngest soldiers, seeing the company’s leaders
had apparently ended their discussion and returned to their tents, offered the
remaining lady a bowl of stew.
 
She
refused with a wave of her hand, not turning her eyes away from the dancing
flames of the bonfire.
 
He nodded
and excused himself.
 
He returned
to an interrogation by the men at the nearest bonfire, who demanded to know
what the boy had seen or heard from the mysterious lady.