The Lord Son's Travels (32 page)

The
sentry stepped out in the road as they approached the site of the camp,
recognizing his leader and his companions from a distance.
 
Another soldier came to take their
mounts to their resting place for the rest of the evening and provided Adrien
with a torch to light their way to their tents.
 
The campsite was dark.
 
The officer in charge, noting the lateness of the hour and fearing
observation from unfriendly forces, had assumed his commander had taken shelter
in the village with his companions for the rest of the evening and ordered the
fire doused, leaving only a few hot coals to restore the flames for the morning
meal.
 
Brendan, yawning, waved his
goodnights and stumbled off to his slumber.
 
Adrien slipped into his without a glance to his companion.
 
Alone, Elenna crawled into her tent,
grabbed her worn-out backpack and sobbed into its dirty frayed material, until
exhaustion left her asleep fully clothed on top of her blanket with the pack
still clutched in her hands.

Chapter 31

They
had their first glimpse of trouble brewing in the capital a few days later,
when they were still two day’s ride out.
 
The company was plodding along at their steady pace down the road.
 
So near to the capital, it was wide
enough for eight horses to ride abreast.
 
The dirt was well-settled and even, without the puddles or crevasses
that had plagued their horses’ paths earlier on their journey.
 
They had left the forests behind that
morning to enter the wide expansive plains of the center of Angor.
 
The horizon stretched unknown miles
away; its line unbroken except by the occasional fox-elm cracking the solid
blue of the sky.
 
The ground was
covered by fields of wild grains, at this time of year still a bright shade of
golden green as the new shoots of growth poked through the loose rich
dirt.
 
If these fields had ever
been cultivated by human hands, it was a long time ago.
 
The yield of these meadows was
unclaimed save by a few of the poorer families who would travel out from the
city to gather all of the grain they could at ripening time.
 
No one had ever sold any of the land’s
produce at market; whether by tradition or an long forgotten king’s law, the
wealth of the field’s production was free and available to the needy of Titaine
for their own tables.

Since
the encounter at the inn, Elenna remained subdued, only responding when
directly confronted.
 
Even Adrien
noted this, once coming out of his own fog long enough to comment to his friend
on the change as they rested side by side in front of the evening fire.
 
Several times Brendan approached her to
try to talk, but she would gently but firmly push him away.
 
During the day she still rode near
Adrien, grateful for his lack of distraction away from her own thoughts.
 
He only spoke when necessary; short
comments to which she was able to respond with only a shake or nod.
 
Brendan rode with his troop.
 
His eyes followed her closely though,
as they tread slowly down the road to the city.

That
morning Adrien was up especially early, intent on giving instructions to his
commanders for the approach to the city.
 
As soon as they had taken to the road for the day, Adrien
sent a fast scout with one of Lord Vance’s men to investigate the approach to
the city.
 
Soon they would reach
the outskirts of the settlements surrounding the capital.
 
Adrien hoped the spokesmen could arrange
a parley with the King, Lord Vance and himself on the purpose of their travel
before their arrival.
 
He also
hoped to hear good new about any recent battles with the invading strangers.

The
scouts returned a few hours before the noon meal.
 
At the news of their approach, Adrien ordered their
procession to halt as he spoke with the messengers alone.
 
Only a few minutes later, he asked for
his commanders and Elenna to join their meeting.
 
They gathered in a group along the side of the road away
from the soldiers and their curiosity.

At
Adrien’s request, the men repeated their story.
 
All of the settlements ahead were deserted, they said.
 
Many of the homes were abandoned
hastily, they reported, in some cases with meals still set on tables.

“Any
sign of battle?” one of the commanders asked and was given a negative reply.

Lord
Vance said to Adrien, “In the village behind us you had reports of fighting.”

“Skirmishes,”
Brendan put in.
 
“Perhaps the King
thought to bring his people within the city walls for protection.”

“That
assumes a larger danger facing the city than we thought,” Adrien answered
frowning.

Vance
added, “The people would not leave their fields unguarded without good reason.”

Adrien
nodded.
 
“We will continue, but all
men should ride armed and ready from this point.”
 
The men complied with his command, dressing themselves for
battle before the caravan restarted.
 
The act of donning their armor charged the men somehow; the pace of the
riders was faster, more eager.
 
The
riders drew in closer together as the first of the abandoned houses came into
view.

Adrien
sent his fastest runner ahead again for news.
 
He was still gone when the overhead sun announced it was
time for a rest and meal.
 
Most men
ignored the discomfort and remained in their armor to eat while standing or
leaning against their rides.
 
Lord
Vance and Brendan, as was their habit, left their men to join Adrien and Elenna
for the meal.
 

“What
are your thoughts?” Brendan asked their leader as they huddled to the side of
the road.
 
Adrien did not have the
chance to reply.
 
A cry arose from
the lookout stationed in front of the caravan.
 
The messenger was galloping back at full speed, crying out
at the top of his lungs.

“What
is he saying?” Lord Vance demanded.
 
Brendan had already dropped his plate and scrambled back to join his
men.
 

“Monsters,”
Elenna answered him, “Coming this way.”
 
He paled as the rest of the camp broke into chaos.
 
With shouts and curses flying through
the air, men grabbed their weapons and climbed up on their mounts.
 
Once seated on their rides, the men
still huddled near each other, wondering what to do next.

Adrien
turned Madoc to face his soldiers.
 
Aréal gleamed in the sunlight above his outstretched arm.

“They
bleed like men and die like men.
 
Stand brave and triumph!” he hallowed out.
 
Heartened, the men gave a cry in return and reformed into
their units.
 
Elenna managed to
keep up with Adrien as he maneuvered through the excited men to the front of
their forces to take lead.
 
There
the exhausted scout was waiting next to his frothing horse.

“How
many?” the commander demanded.

“Equal
in number, but by the Lady of Life!” the poor boy could barely speak.
 
Adrien ordered him to the back of the
troops.
 
With another shout he
ordered the men forward.
 
Bravely
they charged on.
 
Due to the
flatness of the valley floor, the first glimpse of their enemy came when they
were still at a distance across the fields.
 
A shudder ran through the troops, but yet they each continued.
 
All the men ignored the view and kept
their eyes focused instead on their commander, riding sword in hand at a steady
pace towards the enemy.
 
Next to
him stayed the smaller figure of the Lady, amazing the men with the sword bared
in her own grasp.
 
Many of the men
grumbled when they discerned her intentions; nobody wanted a weak-willed man at
his side in a fight, much less a nobleborn woman.
 
A few relented, though, when they saw her comfortable grasp
on the weapon.
 
Tales had been told
through the ranks of her and their leader in sparring practice late after the
dinner fires had been doused.
 
Now
they watched her ride and shook her heads at the ridiculousness of the
truth.
 
Well, they thought grimly,
every man for himself in battle, and fair enough to say every woman for
herself, too.
 
No one was going to
stretch their necks out for this young upstart, no matter how pretty or kind
she had been.
 
They hoped her blade
would last.
 
Otherwise, it was the
commander’s problem.

Adrien
turned to his riding mate, who was biting her lower lip in anticipation.
 
“Stay near me,” he ordered.
 
“You’ve fought them before; this will
be no more difficult.”

“You
say that now,” Elenna muttered.
 
The mists of the last few days was gone now; her eyes and cheeks
glowed.
 
Adrien wondered how much
of his own fear was visible now, and tightened his features.
 

“You
fight well, woman,” he said.
 
“Now
trust your hands to do their work.”
 
He turned away.
 
Elenna only
had a few minutes to ponder his words before their enemies rushed in and the
battle began.

At
the first swing of her sword, Elenna’s mind stopped.
 
She didn’t think as she hewed her way through the hordes of
creatures. Her body moved on its own, simply going through the moves she had
done thousands of times in her daily practice.
 
If she had let herself think for a second she would have
been quickly overtaken; her thoughts would have only disrupted her instincts
and caused confusion.
 
Now she know
what Adrien meant.
 
She didn’t see
the hideous faces of the monsters around her nor hear the cries of the wounded
and dying. Neither the sword in her hand or the oversized pieces of armor had
any weight; neither did she.
 
She
didn’t feel the blades that struck her armor on more than one occasion, one
perilously close to the gap between chest armor and helmet. Once or twice she
caught a glimpse of familiar faces darting past, but at this point held no
interest for her.

Only
when she heard her name screamed a third time did she find herself standing in
the midst of a pile of the dead; men and otherwise.
 
Many more monsters then soldiers remained standing.
 
Brendan was locked into a fight only a
few feet away with a thing with scales, tail, and human arms and legs.
 
She heard her name bellowed again.
 
It was Adrien, racing up behind her.

“Get
to your horse!” he barked.
 

“I’m
not…”

He
grabbed her arm, twisting her to the north.
 
“Look yonder!”
 
She
did, and saw a gaggle of familiar small slender forms within the waves of
grain.
 
The monsters saw the
arrivals, too, and slowed in their attack.
 
Brendan finished his fight, glanced to the waiting group,
and grinned.
 
“To your mounts,
men!” he cried out.
 
The few
remaining soldiers heard the order, and tried to run from the remaining enemies
to the knot of horses beside the road.
 
Many of the horses had also fallen in battle or fled from the scene: the
remaining mounts were the few battle-trained of Thrush Valley and the Allé-dônian
rides.
 
Elenna was relieved to see
Bob had stayed with its companions.
 
The monsters viewed the waiting elves with trepidation; unwilling
suddenly to continue the battle.
 
Most of the
 
remaining
soldiers were able to leap onto a horse and race for the safety of the elvish
circle.
 
The monsters watched until
all the men were gone to the protection of the Little People.
 
With no discernible discussion, as a
mass they then turned to trudge slowly back towards the city.
 

The
elves waited patiently as the soldiers filed wearily into their campsite.
 
As soon as one reached the site, they
were greeted by an elf bearing water and care for their wounds.
 
Few of the soldiers had escaped unharmed,
and they were too tired and sore to wonder at the legendary creature now
tenderly nursing their injuries.

Brendan
staggered to the center of the circle a few minutes behind his companions.
 
He had deep cuts on his left arm where
a blade had penetrated his thick leather shirt.
 
He stripped off the shirt so an elf could bathe the wounds.
He clamped his eyes shut as the elf tended to him, forcing himself to remain
still as the elf wiped the cut with a stinging healing ointment.
 
When he was bandaged and pronounced
fixed, he opened his eyes and observed his companions.
 
Lord Vance had his hand wrapped tightly
in layers of bandages; he had lost the fingers of his sword hand to an unlucky
blow.
 
His face as white as a cloud
but he still managed to nod to Brendan.
 
Elenna was sprawled out on the ground, her foot wrapped in
cloths soaked in the same ointment as his cut.
 
At some point in the fighting she had injured her right
ankle; it had swollen so badly that by the time she dismounted in the camp, the
elves have had to cut away the leather of her boot to remove it. She caught
Brendan’s eyes and made a face.
 
Adrien
sat beside her, hunched over with his head cradled in his hands.
 
His clothes were soaked in blood, but
luckily none of it was his own.
 
He
looked up with relief as his friend stumbled to his side.