The Lord Son's Travels (38 page)

Behind
them the main doors of the house opened, and Driad stepped forth in his formal
wear.
 
Three paces behind him,
Adrien took a deep breath, and followed his cousin outside.
 
The seamstresses had taken his
description, and through a night of frantic stitching had reproduced the formal
wear of an Allé-dônian royal.
 
The
thick leather of his boots shone under the cuffs of black velvet britches.
 
His blouse was a deep ruby.
 
A thick red velvet cloak draped down
his back from his shoulders, the ends connected at his throat by a large golden
pin in the shape of the Four Blades.
 
His empty scabbard cut across his waist to lie low at his left
side.
 
Silence swept across the
crowds as he quickly and determinedly descended the steps to the level of his
friends, where his cousin waited across the staircase.
 
The old man smiled as he slowly and
carefully climbed up the stairs, his assistant close behind, and stopped a few
steps below his old student.
 
Adrien waited impatiently for the ceremony to continue.
 
He frowned slightly as he recognized
the sudden aging of his old teacher.
 
Before he had left Allé-dôn, Tarien had no difficulty in his movements.

“All
hail Adrien Lord Son!” Tarien suddenly bellowed.
 
The soldiers, the old man’s companion and Brendan replied
with a hearty “Hail!”.
 
Elenna
twitched nervously, wondering what to do.
 
Adrien caught her eye and shook his head slightly, motioning for her to
stay as she was.
 
He allowed a
count of three, as his father had taught him, then reached for his old
teacher’s hand and held it high.

“Greetings
to the Wise One,” Adrien called out.
 
He dropped Tarien’s hand and turned to the soldiers lined up at the foot
of the steps.
 
“Greetings to the
Brave Ones, the guardians of our land.”
 
He nodded to them, and the soldiers lowered their heads in return.
 
Now the formal greetings were over.
 
Adrien offered Tarien an arm, and
turned to retreat into the house and away from the crowds.
 
After him fell in Driad, Tarien’s
assistant, and Brendan and Elenna.
 
When the foreign noble guests were no longer in view, the citizens
quickly dispersed back into the city, and the soldiers were led by their native
compatriots to their quarters behind the main house.
 
Adrien led his elderly friend down the hall to the parlor he
had used often already during their visit.
 
He refused to allow a servant or his assistant to take over
care for Tarien, but helped the older man to his seat and ordered a calming
drink for him.
 
Tarien submitted to
his fuss, and waited until everyone was settled in and he had his welcomed
drink in hand before he started.
 
He turned to Brendan and smiled.

“Nobleborn,
you have done your duty well, I see.
 
The Lord Son appears quite preserved from danger.”

“I
have done the best of my ability,” Brendan assured him.
 
He had heard many stories from Adrien
over the years about the Counselor, but he had never spoken to the wise man,
except polite comments during the official functions they had both
attended.
 
Counselors maintained
their distance from the people of the land; physically and often mentally.

Tarien
turned to the biggest surprise of his visit so far; the dark haired woman
watching him apprehensively.
 
Adrien noted his interest.
 
He motioned for the woman to approach.
 
“This is Elenna,” said Adrien as she reached his side.
 
She froze, hoping she wouldn’t have to
manage a curtsy.
 
Instead the older
man reached out for her hand to squeeze it gently.
 

“My
Lady,” he greeted with a smile and emphasis on her title.
 
He eyed his student as he pronounced
his words.
 
Adrien shrugged
slightly in discomfort.
 

“We
… found her during our travels.
 
There is … much I have to share with you about our journey here.”

“Undoubtedly,”
the older man replied, bemused.
 
They chatted for a few more minutes on the Counselor’s journey.
 
He and his entourage had left Allé-dôn
two weeks after the Lord King received Adrien’s message from Thrush
Valley.
 
At that time Andrüe still
underestimated the threats posed by the isolated attacks, and was only angry
that his younger son still defied him.
 
Then the first refugees arrived with tales of the invasions of Angor and
their other neighbors.
 
Within days
it was understood that Allé-dôn was one of the few kingdoms left untouched by
the monsters.
 
The entire
Allé-dônian army was moved to guard the borders.
 

The
Lord King had called the Council to meeting; the first time he had used that
power in his reign.
 
This meeting
was very different then the last meeting the Lord Son had attended.
 
There was no friendly greetings, no
wine, only fierce debate on their next step.
 
All agreed that at this time Allé-dôn’s borders were safe
from invasion.
 
Though its bearer
had left Allé-dôn, Aréal was still carried in the defense of its home, and as
long as all of the Neda Alia were ready to fight for the same cause, their land
they knew was safe.
 
Some of the
Counselors still argued for noninterference in Outland, but they were now the
minority view.
 
Tarien led the
faction that insisted help must be offered to their failing neighbors, and so
was chosen to deliver the Allé-dônian offer in person.
 
The opinion of the Council also
recommended that the missing royal be found and placed in charge of the Allé-dônian
armies to be sent to the aid of the strangers.
 

This
did not please his father nor brother, who could still not forgive his
desertion, but the Council held firm, and Andrüe was persuaded to accept its
advice.
 
He and his older son
ranted furiously to each other about Adrien’s nerve to leave them to face war
alone.
 
Neither man had any
military experience; the idea of a war in Allé-dôn had been laughable under the
last moon.
 
Now the boisterous
cheerful Lord King and Lord Heir found themselves treading the cold waters of
strategies and supply lines, weapons and soldiers.
 
The people of the land looked towards their beloved Lord
King for guidance in the strange violent times; he had no words to say to explain
the fires burning on the distant horizon, nor the pale-faced, silent refugees
streaming into their cities.
 
Neither the royal house nor the Council had ever released news to the
public of the Lord Son’s location, but rumors began to spread in the streets
about the missing royal.
 
Soldiers
especially talked wistfully of the greatest fighter of the land.
 
His return was hoped for and eagerly
discussed.
 
Some thought he was
dead, others thought he had gone to his fiancée’s people in Roden to lead the
battles from there.
 
A few people
thought of the old prophesy and kept their mouths firmly shut.
 
No one spoke ill of him anymore.

Tarien’s
journey itself was uneventful, he reported to the other Allé-dônians in Lord
Driad’s sitting room.
 
He had
thought to go straight to Roden, but remembered Adrien’s cousin’s name had been
on the list he had given Adrien at his departure, and since it was closest name
from the list to Roden he thought he would detour for a few days to ask for news.
 

“We’re
glad you did come here,” said Adrien.
 
His characteristic frown had softened into a half-smile as he beheld his
old friend again.
 
Now that the
elder statesman was there and ready to share the responsibility of speaking for
Allè-dôn, Adrien could relax just a bit. He had gone far too long making the
decisions for himself and others, and he was quite ready to share the burden
with a proper authority.
 
Tarien
patted his hand softly, guessing his thoughts, and smiled in a proud
grandfatherly way at his favorite student.

“I’m
glad to find you well,” he said.
 
“We shall talk much more before our assembly here is done.
 
Now I would like to rest a bit.
 
I fear I’m a bit too old to pounce
about Outland.
 
My Lady, would
you?”
 
To Adrien’s surprise, and
the nervousness of his assistant, he held out an arm to Elenna.
 
With a questioning glance to the
younger men, she complied.
 
He
leaned a bit heavier then she expected as she led him from the sitting
room.
 
The assistant flitted about
behind them, fussing like an anxious housewife with his master’s cloak.
 
Adrien and Brendan followed, with Driad
directing the servants to lead them to his best guest chamber.
 
Elenna guided the shuffling man to the
chamber door, where he gallantly kissed her cheek and thanked her for her
effort.
 
He waved the other men
away and firmly shut the door behind him.
 

They
did not rest as long as the Counselor would have liked.
 
While Elenna made her now customary
disappearance in the afternoon, the men reassembled in the sitting room to
discuss strategy.
 
Tarien first
took the opportunity to praise his former student until Adrien’s ears burned in
embarrassment.
 
Then he read a
statement from the Counselor of the Military of the potential army he could
send to the aid of their allies.
 
Adrien supplied more specific knowledge of the abilities of the troops,
and a brief description of the new weapons their enemies had developed.
 
At first he was vague on their
antecedents, but the Counselor sensed his reluctance and pressed for details.
 
He began with Elenna and her arrival,
and continued with her description of the weapons and the potential abilities
of the Lord of the Southlands.
 
The
Counselor listened intently, showing no reaction even when Adrien described the
contents of the pack his companion kept constantly at her side.
 
He only withheld the true color of the
hair of the lady in question.

“Aye,”
Tarien sighed when Adrien was finished.
 
He urged the older man to continue.
 
“You will take the old quest now?”
  
He laughed at Adrien’s startled reaction.
 
“Come now, Lord Son, I know you well
enough to read your intentions.”

Adrien
nodded, really not surprised his old tutor had guessed his plans.
 
“I see no other path now.”

Tarien
nodded in agreement.
 
“You know of
the old legends, Lord Son.
 
What do
they tell you?”
 
Brendan, who was
not used to the teacher’s way, frowned deeply.
 
Adrien clasped his hands in front of his eyes, obediently
searching his memory.
 
Finally he
gave up and waited for his teacher to speak.
 
“Seek boldly in far strange lands, for help will come from
the Lady’s hands.”

Brendan
exploded in surprise.
 
He threw up
his hands and laughed aloud.
 
“You
don’t think the prophecy meant her?”

Adrien
didn’t react.
 
He paused for a
moment, then turned to his teacher.
 
“You expected her?”

“No,”
the old man replied.
 
“I had no
idea what to expect.
 
But she does
fit the prophesy.
 
She has helped
you.”

“Immensely,”
Adrien confirmed somberly.
 
“But
what now?”

“What
do you mean?”

Adrien
continued, “What else does she mean for our quest?
 
What do I do with her?”

Tarien
laughed.
 
“I did not write the
prophesies, Lord Son.
 
Follow the
path you have chosen.
 
She will
follow hers.
 
Perhaps they travel
together, perhaps not.
 
We shall
see.”
 
He rose to his feet to be
immediately assisted by his young companion.
 
“I will speak with her tonight at the reception.
 
I like her.”
 
The young men waited until the older man had shuffled from
the room.

“Tis
the most plain speech I’ve yet had from him,” Adrien announced.
 
Brendan jumped to his feet and
stretched, aching from the long meeting.

“Elenna
the Gift of the Lady,” he muttered.
 
“Who’d think of such an odd thing!”