The Lord Son's Travels (53 page)

Chapter 50

The
descent to the base of the Needle was slow and terrifying.
 
The party weaved in single file down
the twisting path back to the level ground between the formations.
 
It was nearly afternoon before they
rode from between the outer formations of its circumference.
 
They were nearly a group of sixty now,
including the students turned soldiers who had offered to go to battle with
them.
 
Adrien hoped to gain even
more as they passed through towns and villages on their way to the border of
Roden.
 
Their goal lay to the
northwest; first across desert, then rolling hills and finally cultivated
fields and farmland.
 
When they
reached the border, they would keep the river Moe on their right hand until
they reached the capital.
 
This
road went directly from the School's territory to the border of Roden, so they
doubted they would face any direct attacks.
 
They were certainly too big a force to fear brigands, and so
there was no need for secrecy.
 
Adrien’s plan was to travel from town to town, seeking volunteers to
come with them to join the looming battle.
 

Three
days later, when they had reached the border, the party set up camp for the
night, and the leaders assembled together for their first formal discussion
since their departure.
 
The
students were welcome as added fighters, but they were still young and naive
enough to think their travels as fun adventure.
 
The singing and laughter were an odd background to Adrien's
somber description of his ideas for the future.
  
“I hope to reach Roden in a fortnight.
 
At last word the Allè-dônian troops
will come within days after and we will be ready enough for what comes.”

 
“What type of force will Roden provide?”
Tomas asked.

Brendan
answered.
 
“Roden can front thirty
thousand.”
 
He glanced at Adrien
for permission, but was denied by a subtle movement of his head.
 
There was no need yet to discuss the
addition of the Elves to their count.
 
“We’ll add our own forty-thousand, plus other men we can gather on the
way. When do you expect Southland's army to arrive?"

Tomas
answered.
 
“His armies have been
moving towards Roden.
 
Many of his
men are still needed to hold the lands he has taken, so he can’t send as many
as we feared.
 
We predict three weeks
until the full force will arrive.”

That
will leave us a week to prepare.” Elenna said with a sigh.
 
She continued, “I need time to have the
… other weapons made and the soldiers trained.”

“We
have no time to wait,” Adrien was adamant.
 
She frowned as he continued.
 
“I wish we could give you the time, but you instead will
have to find ways to prepare quickly.
 
I have sent word to Roden to have all the blacksmiths standing ready to
follow your instructions with as much raw steel as could be found within short
notice." All of them fell silent as each of them realized the scale of
what was coming.
 
This battle was
going to decide all; either the Lord of the Southlands was going to dominate
all of the Eastlands or he was going to be defeated by the forces they would be
commanding.
 
No one could meet
anyone else's eye, for the fear of realizing how small and merely human their
companions were underneath their grand titles and brave words.
 
Each muttered their good-nights and
retreated to their tents to try to get some moment's of rest and forgetfulness
in sleep.

 
Their road was nearly deserted.
 
Some of the refugees refused by Evendor
had come this way to seek shelter in Roden, but the majority stopped once they
crossed the border.
 
Word had
gotten out that the fight would come to the capital and it wouldn't be prudent
to take that risk.
 
Not many refugees
in Roden had decided to flee to the Needle for shelter when they could still
stay in their own kingdom.
 
Normal
daily traffic had slowed to a stop, with no merchants or traders out for
business purposes.
 
They met only a
handful of Students returning to the School.
 
They had little news of the battles, but it appeared that
the small attacks of the monsters had stopped for now.
 
Tomas ventured, and Adrien agreed, that
all of the monsters were now marching towards the capital to take their part in
the coming assault.
 
This thought
kept them on the road until well past after the moon had risen.
 
Finally they stopped for a night’s
rest, but with the rise of the sun they were on the move again.

At
noon they reached the first Rodenian village of Fallen Oak.
 
This collection of small inns and
services had risen up along the road to fulfill the few needs of travelers to
and from Evendor.
 
While the
majority of their party camped outside the city limits and enjoyed the break
from their fast pace, Adrien, Brendan and Tomas ventured into the middle of the
only street to loudly announce their plans.
 
A few heads had popped out of windows and doorways in
curiosity as they entered the village.
 
They listened to Brendan’s call to service, which resulted in a few
young men stepping forth to express interest.
 
Adrien had not expected how long their goodbyes would take;
the families of these few individuals insisted on a final meal shared with the
boy’s new commanders.
 
Finally, the
crying and motherly hugs were done, and the latest members of their expedition
grabbed their knives and axes and any other weapons they could claim and fell
in with the growing battalion.

This
scene became a routine followed once or twice a day.
 
The leaders regretted the time lost, but they were steadily
increasing their ranks.
 
By the
time they were only one day out from the capital, nearly four hundred new and
experienced soldiers followed behind Adrien and his companions.
 
They had entered the rolling hills the
previous week, gratefully leaving behind the desert sands for moist air and
bountiful game and water.
 
The
river Moe began as a small spring bursting forth in a picturesque valley.
 
Their road kept its banks on its right,
and lush fields of cotton, wheat, and corn on its left.
 
Trees shaded the wide road and
moderated the summer heat.
 

On
the last day on the road, they visited two villages and stopped for the night
to camp next to an inn.
 
The
leadership decided to take advantage of the convenient accommodations.
 
When all had settled into their
bedchambers, they claimed a private room for dinner and talk.
 
Tarien produced a small bit of
smokeweed he had saved from Evendor and shared it with Brendan and Tomas.
 
Together they smoked and discussed
their new troops.
 
Tomas had
created a system of leadership among the recruits, and shared his opinion of
his subordinate leaders with Brendan.
 
No messengers had found them on the road to Roden, so they could only
guess at the state of the preparations for battle occurring there.
 
They decided this last night to keep to
optimistic estimates.
 

Adrien
and Elenna elected to stay out of the discussion that evening.
 
Both watched from different corners of
the room; lost in their own thoughts of the future.
 
Elenna was about to make a disappearance to her chamber for
a well-earned rest when Adrien stood up and called her to her side.
 
“Practice,” he offered.
 
She nodded and rose to her feet.
 
They had kept to a tough practice
schedule during their travels, readying themselves mentally and physically for
what they knew was ahead.
 
She
followed him outside, looking for a secluded place suitable for sparring.
 
Their soldiers were camped in the field
behind the inn, so they walked further along the road until they reached an
overgrown meadow Adrien deemed appropriate.
 
The moon was only at the first quarter; in the dimness she
could barely make out his silhouette.
 
Then he called Arèal, and she noted with surprise the blade’s faint
glow.
 
She called Midiral, and
realized her blade was luminescent too.

He
opened with a new attack that caught her off guard.
 
She dropped to her knees on ground to avoid his reach.
 
The tall rough grass cut at her
uncovered arms as she leaned backwards out of the reach of his attack.
 
She was pleased by this new move she
discovered.
 
Adrien had lowered his
blade to observe and nod in approval.

“I
will be gone by the time the battle starts,” he stated, swinging back
Arèal
to make a new attack.
 

She
leaped to her feet and spun about, tapping him on the shoulder with the tip of
her blade.
 
She had enough control
of her weapon now to touch without cutting, a trick she had thought she would
never conquer.
 
“Where will you
be?”

“I’m
going to the West to seek Evenral.”
 
He bit his lip as he waited for her reaction.
 

She
shook her head. "No, you're not. We discussed this.
 
We're all going together after the
fighting is done.”

"Southland
has used the power of Evenral to create his armies. If he loses Evenral, he
will lose this war.
 
I will take
his power away before the battle can begin."

She
questioned, “Who is going with you?”

“No
one.
 
I go alone.”

“The
hell you are.” She sent Midiral away and crossed the weeds to face him, hands
on hips.
 
“What kind of stupid plan
is that?”

He
blinked and bit his lip in consternation.
 
“I alone can bring back Evenral.
 
I’ll not risk any of my companions.”

“You,”
she snapped back, “will get yourself killed.
 
I’m going with you.”

“No
you are not! You will stay in Roden.”

“No,”
she disagreed.
 

“Yes!”
he insisted.
 
He began to pace in
his frustration.
 
“Alone I can slip
through the defenses of his fortress and find Evenral.”

Elenna
couldn’t believe she wasn't in the middle of a nightmare.
 
“You’re planning to go into his castle
and walk out with his prize possession?
 
Adrien, that’s suicide!”

His
shoulders slumped.
 
“If we don’t
retrieve Evenral, this entire battle will be a mass suicide.
 
It is my duty, Elenna, I must go.
 
There is no other way; our armies can
not storm his fortress while it is protected by the monsters.”

“Dammit!”
she swore in anger.
 
“We find a
way.
 
Something else will work!”

He
pulled her close, stroking her hair as he laid gentle kisses on her
forehead.
 
“If I fail,” he said
softly, “go to Allé-dôn with Brendan and the others.
 
You’ll be safe there.”

 
She glared up into his tired expression.
 
“I am going with you.”

“Woman!”
he muttered, closing his eyes.
 
His
posture slumped as he heaved a deep sigh.
 
“For once,” he begged, “let me have my way without argument.
 
Let me go knowing you will be
safe.”
 

She
laid her head on his shoulder, feeling the first tears forming in her
eyes.
 
“No.
 
I can’t be safe knowing you’re
not.”
 
He reached down to track
with his finger the tear that had slipped free.
 

“Woman,”
he murmured as he kissed her gently.
 
“I will succeed.
 
I promise
you now.
 
I will succeed because I
will have you waiting for me.”

Chapter 51

Their
army decamped early the next morning.
 
The prior evening an emissary arrived that had been sent by the King of
Roden to greet them and lead them back to the Rose Court.
 
He rode beside Adrien, eagerly
describing the massive army camp that had been formed in what had been the
royal gardens and prime farmland.
 
To Adrien's great surprise and relief the kings of Bannon and Leixan
themselves had led in their armies the previous day after their lands had been
decimated in an overwhelming attack.
 
Their subjects that had not earlier evacuated nor traveled with them now
were hunkered down in their homes in fear of the monsters in control.
 
The King of Angor had sent word that he
would send as many men as he could spare from the fighting in his own land.
Excepting the soldiers still guarding their homelands, all of the Eastland’s
warriors would be gathered in one place for one attempt at overcoming their
enemies.

Adrien
ordered an extra long march in the morning, hoping to reach the castle of Lord
Erik before the evening meal.
 
Breakfast was gulped down quickly with his companions, discussing the
finer points of potential strategies between bites.
 
Without the input of the leaders of the other forces, they
could not decide on any course of action, but all of them preferred action to
inaction.

 
Adrien asked Elenna to ride by his side
for a period of time, well away from the rest of their party.
 
He talked some more about his own
plans.
 
Adrien had learned in Evendor
the geography of Skranteen’s keep and the surrounding settlements.
 
He described in detail the wretched
conditions in which his followers lived.
 
She knew he didn’t share the worst aspects of his coming journey.
 
She bit her lip, and offered only
noncommittal replies.
 
He also
spoke briefly about the royal family.
 
He had not written to Lord Erik about his changed feelings about the
marriage contract, preferring to show him and Isabeau the respect of speaking
to them in person.
 
Until this was
done and made public, he explained carefully to Elenna, he would have to appear
in compliance with the terms of the contract.
 
She assured him of her understanding.
 
It would be awkward, he admitted
readily, but necessary.
 

Although
both Adrien and Elenna wished fervently that this time would not pass quickly
it did; they reached the Rose Court at the end of the day.
 
The day had dawned with clear skies,
but by noon the clouds had gathered and darkened.
 
They rushed through their final meal on the road, anxiously
watching the clouds grow thicker and the air more oppressive.
 
As they reached the city of Trees Men,
surrounded by the rich forests that had suggested its name, a mist began to
form.
 
They quickened their
pace.
 
Trees Men was a circular
settlement, its diameter formed by the Moe river as it flowed on to the Sea of
Wonders.
 
As the rains began in earnest
the streets were rapidly abandoned by all but their party.
 
Within the center of the city, spread
over several rolling hills, were the green acres until recently reserved as the
peaceful pastures of the King, and now the encampment site of three large
armies.
 
The warriors now
restlessly waited for the end of the rain and the coming battle.
 
Each battalion of the three armies had a
separate campsite, composed of clusters of the small tents of the troops
surrounding the larger tents of their officers.
 
The rain had driven most of the men inside their
shelters.
 
A few guards ambled
about on duty; often huddling with their neighboring compatriots to smoke a
pipe and banter gossip back and forth.
 
They watched the new arrivals with pointing fingers and curious
talk.
 
Adrien ordered their group
to stop, as one of the guards guessed their identity and sent for his
officer.
 
At Adrien’s command,
Tomas dismounted and stepped forward to great the arriving officer.
 
They greeted each other heartily.
 
Tomas nodded to his commander, and
followed the officer back to his quarters.
 
He had been ordered to meet with his equivalent of each army
and report back to Adrien in the morning of their readiness.
 

The
remnants of the party continued to the large clear moat protecting the main
royal compound.
 
Someone had sent
word earlier of their arrival in town.
 
The moat bridge was open and awaiting them with an honor guard was
stationed at its end.
 
None of the
royal family was in attendance; a slight that wrinkled Brendan’s brow but
escaped Adrien’s notice.
 
He
disregarded the lead official’s welcoming bow and asked to be lead directly to
the King.

“King
Erik sits in meeting, my Lord,” the guard replied, offering his hand to help
the visiting royal dismount.
 
“We
did not expect the honor of your arrival until the morning.”

Adrien
muttered in reply.
 
“We have much
to do.”
 
He waited until all of his
companions were dismounted, then asked to be taken to the meeting.

“I
shall lead you,” eagerly answered a soft feminine voice.
 
Brendan turned around, and colored
slightly as a lady in flowing rose gown floated down the main steps and reached
out her arms in greeting.
 

“You
are well!” she exclaimed joyously.
 
“I worried so!” She reached Brendan first with ferocious hugs of
welcome.
 
He laughed at her
eagerness and returned her greeting with warmth.

With
a touch of reluctance she left his grasp and turned to the leader of the
party.
 
“Welcome, Adrien,” she said
with a slight ladylike nod.
 
She
clasped his hands and smiled up brightly.
 
“I had planned to visit Allé-dôn this summer.”

“I
am pleased to see you, Isabeau,” Adrien answered in a calm voice.
 
“I wish the circumstances were
different.”

“Aye!
 
I had never dreamed to see battle here
in Roden!”
 
She turned to
Tarien.
 
“Welcome, Lord Counselor!
 
We shall need your wisdom here.
 
But come, let us leave this rain and
converse inside!” She turned to return to the building.

Elenna
had tried to remain unobserved during the greeting.
 
She had stepped back several paces from the buoyant princess
flutter about between her companions.
 
Adrien gave her away.
 
He
glanced about for her, caught her movement behind him, and motioned her
forward.
 

“May
I present the Lady Elenna of the Blade,” he said to Isabeau.
 
His face was impassive.
 
Elenna smothered her feelings and
smiled with as much friendliness as she could muster from underneath her
fatigue and slight pangs of jealousy.
 
Isabeau returned the greeting with open and eager inquisitiveness.
 

“Lady,”
she nodded lightly and turned back to her fiancé.
 
“I had been told you travel with a Lady, Adrien, but I
couldn’t hardly believe it.
 
How
did this come to be?”

“Tis
a long tale,” he answered quickly.
 
“We shall have time later to all tell our stories.
 
Where is your father?
 
I must speak with him.”

“He
and the others have been in conference all afternoon,” she replied.
 
“I am sure he wishes to speak to
you.
 
But first, shall I take you
to your rooms?”
 
Adrien glanced
down first at his sodden, travel-muddied clothing, and then at his
companions'.
 
Elenna was still in
her traveling britches, what must surely be an offensive sight for a Lady as
well-raised as Isabeau.
 
But he shook
his head.
 
“I must see him
now.
 
We have many actions that
must be set in motion in the morning if we are to be ready by our chosen day.”

“I
believe they plan to stop for a meal shortly,”
 
Isabeau knew Adrien well enough not to be surprised.
  
“I shall lead you to them.”
 
She ordered her servants to deliver
their bags on to their rooms, and asked her guests to follow her.
  

“They
have met all day since the arrival of the Kings of Bannon and Leixan,” Isabeau
shared as they traversed the dim stone walkways of the ancient castle.
 
Her tone was slightly annoyed.
 

“We
have much to plan,” Adrien offered.
 

“So
I suppose,” she agreed readily.
 
They reached the main dining room, which had been taken over as a
conference room.
 
Before knocking
for admittance she paused.
 
“Lady
Elenna,” she offered brightly.
 
“I
will lead you to your room to rest after your long travels.
 
The men will be meeting late into the
night, I’m afraid, and we can share our evening meal.”

Elenna
pursed her lips but maintained a friendly tone.
 
“No, thank you.”

“She
remains with us,” Adrien interceded.
 
Isabeau lost her composure for only a second, long enough to gape at him
in surprise at the idea.
 
She
recovered her manners quickly, though, and accepted his statement with a smile
and nod of assent.
  
She
tapped on the door.
 
Her father
himself pulled open the door in anger at the intrusion.
 
He gazed at the visitors in the hall,
and blinked in recognition.
 

“Lord
Son!” he exclaimed in a rough, exhausted tone.
 
“I had thought you would not come until morning.
 
What have you brought with you that
will aid us in this fight?”
 
He
opened the door to allow the party entrance.

“Forty
thousand men behind him would be a welcome sight,” a weary voice offered.
 
The King of Roden was too fatigued to
do more than glance with vague curiosity at the woman in their party, offering
no words of protest as she joined the men in entering the chamber.
 
He nodded at his daughter, who
gratefully shut the door behind her to leave them to their business.

“Allé-dôn
will join with you in battle,” Adrien announced.
 
The room was dominated by a long rectangular wooden table,
with room for at least twenty along its length.
 
Half of the spaces were already filled with the Kings of
three lands and their military advisors.
 
With only a couple of hours of sleep between them for the last week, the
pair of royals leaned heavily on the table before them and gazed at the recent
arrival with their last shreds of hope.
 

“Where
are your troops?” one of the kings demanded.
 

“Within
two day’s ride,” he replied.
 
At
his host’s offer he and companions gratefully took seats together at the near
end of the table.
 
“I will speak my
word that on the day of battle forty thousand men will fight under the banner
of the Four Blades.” The sighs of relief were audible. Now the armies on both
sides would be if not equal, at least not completely lopsided.

 
Erik continued on the next topic of
concern, “You have written that you have great need of blacksmiths.
 
Do you lack weapons?”

“What
know you of this Lord of the Southlands?” Adrien asked the group instead of
replying directly.
 
From their
involuntary shudders he guessed their experiences.
 
“We have the means of creating his weapons.”
 
The royals were dumbfounded.
 
They gazed at each other for confirmation
they had heard him correctly.

“How
did you obtain this magic?” one of Bannon’s counselors asked in disbelief.

Adrien
emphatically shook his head.
 
“Tis
not magic that he uses.
 
Tis wisdom
common in his homeland.
 
The Lady
Elenna comes also from this land and shares much of his knowledge.”

All
eyes fell on the tired lady ridiculously dressed in men's clothes, whom they
had each assumed had no proper reason to be there.
 
She confirmed his statement with a nod.
 
“I need to meet all of the blacksmiths as
soon as possible to teach them how to make the weapons,” she said.
 
“And ammunition.
 
I’ll need at least a week to make
enough for a battalion.”
 
She
wasn’t sure if it was her gender or her information that was more responsible
for creating the doubtful expressions that were shared across the table.
  
Adrien noted their hesitation as
well.