The Lord Son's Travels (28 page)

All
of the riders had noticed the woman who stayed at the side of Lord Rian
throughout the day, but her identity was a intriguing mystery inspiring debate
among the common soldiers.
 
The
general assumption was that only a Lady of high birth would be allowed in the
company of nobility such as their own Lord Vance, but her behavior certainly
was not the manner of someone nobleborn.
 
She dressed in clothes more fitting for a servant, riding with the rest
of the soldiers all day without complaint or any special treatment.
 
None of the men, they agreed, had ever
seen a women even touch a sword before, but this one wore hers like it had
always hung at her side.
 

Rumors
grew that she was one of the Amari; one of the races of Ancients who had
settled the Eastlands before the arrival of their ancestors.
 
The Amari were famed for their ideas on
warfare – only the women were allowed to fight in their armies.
 
Though battles at that time were
extremely rare; when it was necessary, armies composed of the women of the race
would arm themselves and go forth to battle, stopping only when the threat to
their people was eliminated.
 

Other
men told different stories, as they rested about the flames.
 
Even half-hidden by her ancient
traveling cloak, the men could see her face was beautiful; when she smiled or
laughed, her skin glowed with the radiance of the moon at its fullest. So to
others she brought to mind old elf-speaks of the Ladies of the Forests, who
wooed men from their homes to follow them the rest of their days as they raced
through the woods.
 
These ladies
were more dangerous then the Amari, the tales-spinners argued, because a man
who had seen the face of one of these maidens could never willingly give up the
chase.
 
They would die exhausted on
the heels of their beautiful vision.

Though
smitten, none of the soldiers dared to cross the Lady’s path; her companions
were never more than a few paces away, and her easy grip on her sword was
warning enough to the most cautious of the men that she might not need either
of the Lords for her protection.
 
This was the first time any of the men had seen her alone; the young
soldier who had attempted to deliver the meal reported her expression as sad
and thoughtful.
 
A company of
soldiers had nearly formed itself with the purpose of speaking to her, with the
pretense of re-offering her a meal, when one of the men motioned excitedly for
the group to be quiet.
 
The lady in
question had begun to sing quietly.

Elenna
pulled her knees up to her chest, unmindful of the crowds only a few yards
away.
 
She leaned back to gaze at
the night sky.
 
Tonight the stars
were pinpricks in the black velvet stretched above; only tears in the fabric of
the night hiding the true depths of the universe from her searching eyes.
 
Without a thought she began to sing
softly, an old song she remembered her mother singing as she had played at her
feet as a little girl.
 
She didn’t
even hear her own voice, she was so lost in her thoughts of her own banishment
from her faraway home.
 
She never
noticed the creeping of pairs of feet approaching closer to her circle of
firelight, until the crowd of men was nearly on top of her.
 
She stopped abruptly to look up at the
closest of the young men with a jaundiced eye.
 

“What?”
she demanded harshly, turning from one young man to the other.

“My
Lady!” the closest stammered, turning away from her penetrating glare.
 
“We’ve come only to hear your music.”

Elenna’s
expression softened at the fear in his voice.
 
“It's an old song my mother taught me,” she offered.
  
She sat up straight, motioning to
the ground beside her.
 
A few of
the men, really young boys she thought to herself, settled a few decorous feet
away.

“Are
you a Bard?” another young man asked.
 
Elenna shrugged and answered in the negative.
 
Brendan had explained the Bard system, which she had found
intriguing.
 
“I haven’t gone to any
of the schools.”

The
quietest of the group piped up softly, “You sing as a master!”
 
He blushed as she smiled slightly his
way.

“I
like music.
 
Are any of you Bards?”
 
One by one they all shook their
heads.
 
The leader begged for
another song.
 
The others included
their pleas until Elenna nodded in agreement.
 
She glanced to the tent at her right to discover Adrien standing
in front with his arms folded listening intently to their conversation.
 
The men followed her gaze and shrank
back when they saw their leader’s expression.
 
Elenna caught his eye and held it firmly until he gave the
slightest nod of approval.
 
He
approached the fire, sitting down next to the farthest man from the
singer.
 
Elenna then began her next
tune.

As
she finished the last note, the men cheered, grinning at the bravado of her
words.
 
Elenna smiled herself, as
she stood up from her seat to cross her audience to Adrien’s position.
 
He observed her careful study of his
own expression, to which he responded with a slight upturn of the corner of his
mouth.
 
This was enough to satisfy
Elenna that her company was welcome.
 
The men,
 
now realizing that
the impromptu concert was over, left them alone to return to their own
fireside.

“You
will return home someday,” Adrien stated, glancing with one eye in her
direction to measure her reaction.
 
She nodded thoughtfully.

“So
will you.
 
When we’ve won, your
father will throw open the gates with a tickertape parade.”

Adrien
smiled wanly.
 
“I don’t know your
words, but for your confidence I thank you.
 
Where is Brendan?”

“He
took a little walk.
 
I don’t think
he would have gone too far.” Adrien, she noted in surprise, held a pipe in his
hand that smelled like it held some kind of tobacco.
 
He took a long drag and held it, eyes closed tightly and
savoring the taste and feel of the longed-for treat.
 
This was his first taste of smokeweed since he left
Bendelbert’s inn, and it was even better then he remembered.
 
He noted the disapproval in Elenna’s
expression, but decided to pretend he hadn’t to avoid any potential
lectures.
 

“You
should rest,” he advised her, tilting his head to her tent.
 
Elenna watched him take another
puff.
 
“Are you okay?” she demanded
suddenly.

“All
is well, Elenna.
 
I’m going to look
for Brendan.
 
Good night.”
 
He paused on his way past the slowly
dying fire.
 
“I would like to hear
that song again,” he added softly.
 
He opened his mouth slightly to add more, thought for a moment, then
turned to continue on his way.

Chapter 28

The
next morning, the camp was broken and the company was on the move before
dawn.
 
The day's ride was
uneventful and followed by another evening similar to the first.
 
But this night, all of the leaders
gathered for dinner around the fire and a round of singing, with a number of
the lower-ranks soldiers gathered around the periphery.
 
Elenna performed the same songs as the
evening before plus a few more upbeat melodies.
 
She was running out of songs she knew a cappella.
 
The best part of the next day’s ride
was spent pulling as many parts of tunes as she could out of her memory in
preparation for another night's performance.

Adrien
grew even more distant and edgier than normal as they continued on towards
their destination. He asked to practice with Elenna only once during this time,
a few hours of sparring in the woods far out of view of camp.
 
By the time they had finished the sun
had set completely, and they needed the light from the lantern they had brought
to guide them back to the others.
 
Elenna was more worried than ever about the banished
prince.
 
His grip on his sword was
so tight and his concentration so weak, she was once able to knock Arèal from
his hands in a badly executed attack.
 
In surprise he stared at her; peering down at her like she was a new
type of bug that had suddenly spouted Shakespeare.
 
She fidgeted under his glare, her worries growing more acute
as each day passed and the capital grew closer.
 
Brendan remained the same old Bren on the surface; laughing
and joking with the men, sometimes riding side by side with her to share old
stories and bad jokes.
 
But
underneath was a hardness she had never seen before; and no more taunts or
needles of their leader.
 
He rarely
spoke to his old friend anymore, and when they communicated, it was more likely
to be through a system of glances and asides than direct words.

Their
journey had now lasted a week and had reached an empty area of the countryside.
The roads were now deserted; the local entourages had abandoned them some time
ago.
 
Once or twice the scouts
reported fires deep in the woods, extinguished by the time the main body of the
party reached the scene.
 
Lord
Vance had thought that a few towns were scattered about the area, but they might
have been abandoned after brigand attacks, or worse.
 
The troops whispered stories of the legendary monsters, but
none dared say a word out loud near their leaders of their fears.
 
The general consensus agreed that the
good citizens of the area had set out for the capital for protection against the
invaders.
 
Once, in the darkest
hour after midnight, a slim tiny figure slipped into Adrien’s tent with a
message of greeting from the Elf-King.
 
They had been following the process of the party from a safe distance,
gathering their own intelligence of the woods and land beyond.
 
As far as they could see, the land was
calm; the few scattered residents living their existence peacefully in the
shadow of the decimation to the north.
 
Late spring lay across the land, bathing the days in warm sunlight and
the nights with clear bright stars and cool breezes.
 
No one know how long the peace would last.

This
morning their monotonous routines were continuing.
 
Elenna rode on the left side of Adrien, half dozing as Bob
plodded along at a quick but comfortable pace.
 
They were now so in tune to each other that the rhythm of
Bob’s trot barely caused a shift in Elenna’s seating.
 
She didn’t feel the soft leather of his reigns in her hand;
the straps lay limp, unneeded on the never-ending straight road.
 
They had had rain the night before; a
warning what their travels would be like once the rainy season started within a
month.
 
Bob didn’t bother to step
around the remaining puddles.
 
The
splashes of mud and brown water had soaked his legs and Elenna’s to a dark
chocolate, fading to a caked tan when dry.
 
Her cloak was still damp, producing a smell that was on the
wrong side of disagreeable.
 
Her
own last good washing was becoming a distant memory; her shower at home was
becoming more and more distinct and luxurious in her memory.
 
As much as she fought the desire, she
couldn’t help the images from her other life from flitting in and out of her
mind.
 
Pictures of her family, her
lab, even visions of the menu at her favorite Chinese take out place all vied
for a second of her attention.
 
She
struggled against the urge to pull any of the items from her backpack.
 
She desperately needed some reassurance
that the world she had left behind was as real as the universe surrounding her
now.
 
But she would attract the
attention of the soldiers behind her, and any of the foreign objects would
raise quite a storm she preferred to avoid.
 
They already sensed her strangeness, she knew, and it was
not wise for her to encourage that line of investigation.
 

Next
to her, Adrien fought his own inner battle.
 
He too was tormented with images of home; his family, his
troops.
 
He had learned his lessons
well enough to know that he was the first of the line of Allè-dônian royals to
be disinherited.
 
He had wondered
what his father would do when they refused his summons.
 
In his heart he had never imagined the
Lord King would go as far as banishment.
 
Adrien wondered who had
 
been selected to replace him as captain of his troops.
 
He wondered if he would ever see his
nephews or the rest of his family again.
 
Banishment was the cruelest punishment in the arsenal of the Lord King,
reserved for the most heinous of crimes.
 
In a country as self-centered as Allè-dôn, most of the citizenry
couldn’t comprehend the horror of separation from their homeland to join the
vast unknown they called Outworld.
 
He glanced to his right at his old friend, the recent Lord of
Wellect.
 
Brendan had shrugged off
his own banishment without much to say, but the hurt in his eyes had sobered
Adrien even more than his own loss.
 
He wished again violently that his friend had left him at the gates of
Allè-dènè, safe at home with all the honor and rewards his title and talents
would earn him.
 
Some days his
quest was no more than a constant nonsensical scratching at a door leading
nowhere; a colossal waste of time, energy, and the goodwill of many kind
innocent people.
 
It still amazed
him how many people were willing to follow him, though it seemed to him obvious
his plans were that of a madman.
 

Their
pessimistic thoughts were interrupted by the return of one of the scouts.
 
He waved excitedly to the leaders,
forgetting his place in his enthusiasm of his message.
 
Lord Vance beckoned him over, firmly
scolding him for his presumption before allowing him to speak.
 
Only slightly dampened in spirits, the
young man related the discovery of a nearby town.
 
All the men sighed in relief at his words.
 
Very few present in the company had
spent more than a few hours of riding away from home or the comforts of Thrush
Valley.
 
The lights of a home, any
home, would serve as a succor to their weary hearts.

Vance
turned for confirmation to his commander, who answered him with a contrary
opinion.
 
They could not allow the
village to be overwhelmed by their masses of eager and armed warriors; if not a
secret organization, they had little to gain by broadcasting their purpose on
the road.
 
Adrien decided that the
men would have to have their glimpses of hearth light from a distance.
 
But it would be wise for him and a few
others to journey into the town to investigate.
  
Maybe they would be able to get information there
about the state of affairs in Titaine.
 
His decision made, he ordered the scouts to find an appropriate camp
site far enough from the town to remain hidden, but close enough for a brief
visit.
 
Despondently the scouts
obeyed, settling on a field an arrowshot from the road, where the lights of the
town gleamed welcome in the distance.

The
village was about the size of one of the outlying towns near Thrush Valley,
very similar to the hometowns of many of the company.
 
A few houses, barns, and a couple of commercial
establishments huddled about the crook of a small river, in the midst of some
small fields wrestled back daily from the undergrowth of the surrounding
forests.
 
They were less than a
week from Titaine.
 
At this
distance, one of the primary industries of any town would be the care and
feeding of travelers to and from the capital.
 
To this end, the main building in town was an inn, marked
with a dancing cat on the freshly painted wooden sign hanging over the
door.
 
Excluding the temporary
residents of the inn, maybe five or six and forty called this collection of
wooden boxes home.

Before
any member of their entourage would set a boot in town, a team of scouts were
sent ahead to report on the friendliness of the natives without revealing the
nature of their visit or companions.
 
They returned with a telltale streak of ale foam over their upper lips,
and the news that the town was quite safe and affable.
 
At their report, Adrien ordered the
troops to set up camp while he and a few companions joined him in exploring the
town.
 
Brendan immediately
volunteered, with the most enthusiasm he had shown for days.
 
Elenna followed suit on his heels,
begging for the chance to see the sights.
 
Adrien pondered a decision, then after wringing a promise from the
obstinate Lady that she would wear a proper dress and show the proper manners,
she would be allowed to accompany him.
 
Delighted, she pulled on her only remaining dress, smoothed it out the best
she could manage in the tiny dimly lit tent, tossed up her icky black hair into
a tight bun, and rushed to
Bob’s
side to climb up before the sun had touched the horizon.
 
Brendan waited nearby, smiling at her
rush of excitement.
 

“Bob
will rest tonight,” he said.
 
She
turned, confused, to the well-dressed man next to his ready mount.
 
He patted his saddle.
 
“You ride with me, my Lady.”

“Not
that crap again!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
 
He laughed.
 
  
“Yes, indeed, my Lady.
 
A woman traveling with two men, much
less a small army, would be called many things if she wasn’t called a Lady by
the good people of the world.”
 

“Oh,
and my world would just fall off its axis,” she sighed dramatically.
 
“How would I survive?”

Brendan
shook his head, his smile still firmly in place.
 
“Climb up here, you woman of ill repute, we shall see what
trouble we can cause tonight.”
 
Elenna complied, delighted to see he had shuffled off his aura of
despair for a few minutes at least.
 
Without the armor she wore daily under her cloak, Elenna felt so light
she might float off weightless from Baldwan’s back into the darkening sky.
 
She didn’t think to ask until they had
already reached the main road again and were trotting in the direction of the
town,

“Where’s
Adrien?”
 
Brendan shrugged as a
reply.
 
“Isn’t he going too?” she
continued.
 

Over
his shoulder he tossed, “He left while you were in your tent.
 
We’ll meet him there.”
 
Elenna hmphhed her answer, as she
wrapped her arms around his unarmored waist.
 
His smile widened a little in reply, as he urged his horse
to pick up the pace.