The Lord Son's Travels (39 page)

Adrien
shook his head.
 
“We’ve seen rocks
fly and two-headed men,” he replied.
 
“I’ve no guess what we should or should not call odd anymore.”

Chapter 36

The
eventful day ended with a festive gathering.
 
Word had spread of the Lord Son’s arrival in the
valley.
 
By the setting of the sun,
the nobility from all of the surrounding fiefs had arrived.
 
As time passed since the monsters had
marched through their area, the people’s fears had retreated into an unpleasant
memory, and the thought of sharing a room with an Allé-dônian royal was too
tempting to resist.
 
Adrien was
angry at first that his arrival had not stayed secret too long, but since the
land was currently peaceful, and he did not wish to insult his cousin the host,
he agreed to make an appearance before the gathered guests.
 
The evening was not at first as bad as
he had feared.
 
Only a few families
had gathered in Driad’s great room for drink and companionship.
 
One was proudly announced to Adrien as
the third son of the King, who had taken a neighboring fief to rule, and who
would be able to deliver the Allé-dônian offer to his father. He agreed to
remain the night, and meet again tomorrow.
 

The
rest of the party gave Adrien little enjoyment.
 
Many of the guests were Ladies of the land; most of them
were young, unmarried, and quite interested in the unmarried royal.
 
Either his engagement was unknown in
this part of the Eastlands, he mused sourly as he escaped another encounter, or
such vows had no meaning here.
 
Brendan was usually his savior in such predicaments, but this evening he
stayed by Elenna’s side.
 
Adrien
commandeered a seat in the dimmest corner of the chamber, with a purloined tray
of sweets, and watched her with fascination as she talked animatedly with
Brendan, or endured the introduction of yet another anonymous enthusiastic
noble.
 
By appearance only, nothing
would distinguish her from the other Ladies in attendance.
 
She had finally mastered the difficult
art of promenading gracefully despite the hazards of her long skirt, and with
Brendan’s smooth guidance blended well with the crowd. Adrien noted the
cautious approach of several young nobles, who waited patiently for her
guardian’s distraction, made their moves, then immediately backed away whenever
the tall fair Allé-dônian Lord would reappear.
 
He insisted on her singing several times for the
crowds.
 
She complied when their
host joined Brendan’s entreaties.
 
Adrien remained half-hidden in the far corner as she performed a couple
of songs with which he had become familiar during their long travels.
 
As she left the Bard’s platform, she
caught his eye and smiled, and accepted Brendan’s hand to descend the steps off
of the stage.
 
Adrien slipped
unnoticed from the room and called for a servant to fetch her sword, which he
had placed in his room for safekeeping.
 
Then he passed through the main hall to the book room and through the
garden doors to wait.

When
Elenna was finally able to excuse herself from the room she knew exactly where
she wanted to go.
 
The heat from
the body-filled room had been terrible; the chatter of the young nobles had
been worse.
 
Brendan smiled in
understanding, and whispered directions to the garden entrance.
 
She wanted to take a breath in the cool
breezes of the spring evening.
 
Elenna stood for a moment in the midst of the rose garden and took a
deep appreciative draught of perfumed air.
 
She froze when she felt the warm press of air of a person
standing nearby.

“You
should be more aware of your surroundings,” Adrien reprimanded softly.
  
She turned around to gaze up at
his somber expression.

“You
don’t let up, do you?”
 
The twinkle
in her eyes betrayed her harsh tone.
 

He
motioned for her to follow.
 
“No
good soldier ever does.”
 
Behind
the roses was the gate to the plush green picnic area, lit by lanterns hanging
from the tall elms surrounding the thick grass lawn.
 
He pointed to her sword lying about ten feet to the
side.
 
“Practice!” he
announced.
 
He called Aréal into
his hand and moved into an attack pose.

Elenna
snorted in derision.
 
“Practice in
this?” she gestured to her skirt.

Adrien
shook his head.
 
“What would you do
if you are ever attacked when dressed in finery?
 
Ask for time to change your clothes?”

“Sure,
fine, whatever,”
 
she moved toward
him, reaching out to borrow his sword.
 

Adrien
stepped back in alarm.
 
“You cannot
hold Aréal!” he exclaimed incredulously.

“Fine,
then you cut!”
 
She reached for the
hem of her skirt by her right ankle and tugged it up over her knee.
 
She pulled the material tight between
her hands and looked up expectantly.
 
Adrien blinked in surprise.
 
Her expression changed to exasperation.
 
Finally he reached out his blade and sliced through the
lower three inches of skirt seam.
 
Elenna immediately pulled the rip farther apart to a few inches above
her knee.
 
She stood up and
stretched out her right leg with a satisfied grin.
 
“Ooh, so much better!” she announced.
 
She kicked off her grass-stained silk
slippers and with a happy sigh stuck her bare toes into the cool grass.
  
She looked up to see Adrien
conspicuously gazing off into another direction.
 
Elenna rolled her eyes and asked where he had put her
sword.
 
He motioned without
turning.
 

“Come
on!” Elenna snapped.
 
“You act like
you’ve never seen a woman’s leg before.”
 
He finally turned her way.
 
Her eyes widened as she caught the red tint in his face.
 
“Oh my.
 
Really?”
 
She
paused to consider this for a minute.
 
“Really?”

His
response was a leap and a swing of Arèal.
   
The blade whooshed through the empty spot where
Elenna had been recently standing.
 
She had dived in the direction of her blade.
 
She grasped the handle and sprung to her feet, ready to
fight.
 
Adrien charged again.
 
They sparred until he had sweat
dripping down his face and was panting heavily.
 
He made his cut, sent Aréal away and wiped his face on his
sleeve.
 
Elenna gasped for air, too
tired to lift her blade enough to stab it into the ground.
 
She flicked her wrist along the blade
for her ceremonial cut and wiped the resulting droplets of blood on her already
ruined dress.
 
She dropped to the
ground near the blade.
 
Adrien
picked a spot a few feet away.
 
He
wiped his face again and grimaced at the soreness in his arm.
 
They had not had as intense a practice
for a while.
 
He glanced down at
his disheveled uniform and then at the lights of the house.
 
The gathering inside continued without
them.
 
“We’ll not return into proper
company this evening.”

“No
loss there.” A mischievous thought occurred that brought bright color to her
cheeks.
 
“You know what they’ll
think we were doing out here.”

Adrien
was too shocked to even blush.
 
He
had never thought… his face communicated his distress.
 
Elenna had to smile at his
discomfiture.

“I’m
sure no one noticed we’re both gone.
 
They’ll think you left with Tarien,” who had retired early pleading
fatigue.
 
She had had quite a nice
conversation with the old man.

Adrien
nodded in relief.
 
“And they’ll
believe you have left to await Brendan for the night.”
 

Adrien
realized what he had said a second after he had finished speaking.
 
He gasped and tried to apologize.
 
Surprise, then embarrassment flickered
across her face.
 
“Is it that what
everyone thinks?” she asked sheepishly.

“Of
course not!” Adrien backpedaled furiously.
 
“You are only… good friends.”

“Uh-huh,”
Elenna made a face.
 
“So am I in
trouble?
 
Am I going to get the
lecture on how nobility does not consort with commoners?”

Adrien
regarded her seriously.
 
“Tis not
my place to advice you or Bren in such matters.
 
But I shall say that you are no commoner.”

“Well,”
Elenna began to rise from her seat, “that’s a sweet thought, but…”

Adrien
motioned for her to stay.
 
He
paused for a moment, planning his words carefully.
 
“What you have done for Allé-dôn will merit great rewards
when this war is ended.”

“If
this war ends the way we want,” Elenna returned.
 
“I’m not doing this for rank or privilege, Rian.
 
You know that.”

“I
know,” he nodded.
 
“I know you
don’t want to stay here.”

She
shrugged.
 
“This isn’t my
place.
 
My family, my friends, are
somewhere else.
 
I have to go
back.”

“I
understand,” he answered.
 
“We will
do all we can to find you a way home.
 
But, if that cannot be, you shall always be welcome in
Allé-dôn.”
 
She smiled at his
generosity.
 
She leaned back in the
grass, arms wrapped around her legs, enjoying the comfortable silence.
 
Adrien was playing with a piece of long
grass; all of his attention was focused on wrapping and unwrapping the blade
around his finger.
 
She watched for
a few minutes, amused at the sight.
  
He held his finger up to his eyes to examine his work.

“Tis
likely that Brendan’s family will have a betrothal arranged at his return.” His
voice was neutral, but out of the corner of his eye he observed her reaction
closely.
 
She frowned slightly.

“Are
arranged marriages common here?” she asked in a light tone.
 
She rubbed her face to try to hide the
color that had arisen again in her cheeks.
 

“Among
the nobles and royals tis the rule.”

“What
about your marriage?” she asked Adrien.
 

He
answered honestly, “Our marriage was arranged to strengthen the ties between
Roden and Allé-dôn. ”

Elenna
shook her head at the thought.
 
“How old were you when you were engaged?”

“I
was seven,” he answered while plucking up a new blade of grass.
 
“She was three months old.”

Elenna
shuddered.
 
“Have you ever even met
her?”

Adrien
nodded.
 
“Many times.
 
She is a good friend and a fine
Lady.
 
I think very highly of her.”

“Do
you love her?” Elenna asked suddenly.
 
She recanted quickly with an apology.
 
“I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”
 
She rose to her feet to cover her
embarrassment.
 
“I’d better go
in.”
 
She grabbed her blade.
 
“Good night!”
 
She paused one second, then said quietly to the grass, “Bren
and I are just good friends. The rumors are wrong.”
 
Then she crossed the lawn to the garden gate, hoping to
escape to her room unnoticed.
 
Adrien stayed where he was, watching the flickering lights of the
lanterns, lost in his own thoughts.

Chapter 37

Brendan
was very curious why Elenna had asked for all the Allé-dônians’ company after
the morning meal.
 
Several days had
passed since Tarien’s arrival.
 
She
had withdrawn from their company even more often then previously, and returned
in even better humor.
 
Yesterday,
Adrien had gone with her and returned shaking his head and
uncommunicative.
 
When he met up
with her after that, Brendan had interrogated her mercilessly to no avail.
 
Finally today, barely able to contain
her enthusiasm throughout the meal, she asked for him, Driad, Adrien and Tarien
and his assistant to join her.

“Now
what is this big secret!” he demanded as she led them through the main floor of
the house.

“You’ll
see!” she replied laughing.
 
He
turned to his friend, who maintained his neutral expression.
 
The other men were as puzzled as he
was.
 

“What
have she connived you into now?” he pestered Adrien.
 
They exited the house through the servants’ door in
back.
 
Behind the house stood the
vegetable garden maintained by the cook staff.
 
Behind this was the servants quarters and the stables.
 
Further down the path was the
residences and shops of the skilled artisans who served Lord Driad and his
family.
 
Elenna marched directly
into the blacksmith’s shop and greeted him warmly by name.

The
thick-built man set down his heavy hammer and replied cheerfully, “Brought them
to see, eh?
 
I have it here.”
 
He reached into a large wooden bucket
behind him on the dirt floor and brought out a shiny metal object.
 
Brendan studied it carefully, and
realized with amazement what the object was.

“This
is the same as the weapon Southland’s men carry,” he announced in
bewilderment.
 
“Is this the one you
found in the village?”
 
Tarien and
his assistant exchanged looks of concern.

“No,
I made this one,” Elenna corrected him.
 
She stood hands on hips, her pride evident by her upturned gaze and wide
smile.
 
She took the gun from the
blacksmith and waved it casually about.
 
“Berget and I.”

The
blacksmith nodded in agreement.
 
“The Lady told me what to do.
 
She gave the thought and I only the muscle.”

Brendan
leaned in closer to examine the weapon.
 
He couldn’t make any sense of its construction, or what it could do to
be so dangerous.
 
“Does it work?”

“Want
to see?” was her reply.
 
He nodded
vigorously.
 
Adrien’s head snapped
to attention.
 
He had not known the
weapon was ready to be tested yet.
 
All of the men followed Elenna outside, heeling at her feet like eager
but nervous puppies.
 
She went some
distance from the buildings to the edge of the woods forming the border of
Driad’s property.
 
Elenna motioned
everyone to stay behind her at a safe distance.
 
She pointed to an old cup that had been already positioned
as a target on a fallen log approximately one hundred feet away.
 
She held up the weapon at eye level
with both hands and winced as she squeezed the trigger.
 
All of the men leaped as the weapon
fired with a earsplitting bang.
 
A
few wisps of smoke slipped from the barrel of the weapon.
 
Elenna lowered the gun and turned to
observe the others.
 
Brendan was
right behind her, ready to grab the weapon from her hand if it proved
unsafe.
 
Tarien was lying on the
ground, his assistant shaking in fear on top of him.
 
Driad had raced away from the frightening explosion.
 
Shame-faced, he was returning slowly to
their position.
  
Adrien had
remained standing, and had even drawn a few steps closer as she fired.
 
He was peering into the distance, looking
for a sign of the projectile that had been ejected from the weapon.
 
He pointed and turned to her.
 

“You
missed your mark.
 
There is damage
to a tree a few yards to the left of the cup I believe was made by your
weapon.”

Elenna
followed the direction he was pointing and confirmed her miss.
 
“I don’t claim to be an expert
marksman.”

“That
is an incredible weapon!” Driad exclaimed.
 
He leaned over her shoulder to stare at the object in her
hand.
 
Tarien finally convinced his
assistant to let him rise, and stood at Elenna’s other side.

“You
say this Lord of the Southlands has this weapon?” he asked Adrien.

His
assistant interrupted his reply.
 
“Witch! Witch!” he screamed, pointing at Elenna.

“Hush!”
his master ordered.
 
“This is not
magic, is it?”

“Not
at all!” Elenna replied, with a discreet glance to Adrien.
 
“I can teach anyone here how to make
one.
 
And I’m sure we can train
soldiers to fire much more accurately then I did.”

“I
believe so,” Adrien answered her.
 
He reached out his hand for the weapon.
 
“I wish to try this.”

Elenna
placed the weapon in his open grasp and positioned his fingers into the correct
position.
 
Inwardly she was
grateful for her previous love for police television shows which gave her a
notion of the proper firing stance.
  
The others crowded around them to observe.

“Put
your left hand like this,” she demonstrated.
 
He complied.
 
“Straighten your arms, but don’t lock your elbows.” She backed away to
give him room.
 
“Get into a good
stance.
 
The weapon will push you
back when you fire, so be ready.
 
Pull this trigger back very carefully like…”
 
His shot shattered the old cup.
 
He nonchalantly handed her back the weapon, secretly pleased
by her bewildered expression.

“I
want one of these made for each of us within the next two days.
 
Can that be done?”

“I’ll
start right away, my Lord,” the blacksmith assured him with a bow.
 
Elenna conferred with him quietly, then
agreed she could have a large supply of projectiles ready if more of the needed
raw materials could be provided.
  

The
men turned as a group back to the path to the house.
 
It was Elenna’s turn to nip at their heels.
 
“Where are we going?” She demanded of
Adrien.
 

Tarien
answered.
 
“I want the three of you
to go to Evendor.”
 
Adrien stopped
in surprise.
 
That name had never
come up in their discussions.
 
He
had planned to go straight on to Roden.
 
He kept his face expressionless and waited until they had reentered the
house.
 
As they passed the sitting
room, he paused.
 
Tarien caught his
meaning and ordered his assistant to wait upstairs for him.
 
Driad excused himself, leaving the
three travelers to confer with the Counselor.
 
They let themselves inside the room and gathered around the
unlit fireplace.
 

“Why
Evendor?” Adrien demanded.
 
“We’ve never
had formal relations with the Lady …”

Elenna
interrupted, “What is Evendor?”

The
men each took a deep breath.
 
Adrien was the first to attempt an answer.
 
He explained that when the Eastlands was first settled, many
treasures had been given to the settlers by the original inhabitants.
 
She already knew about the blades of
the Neda Alia that had been given to Allé-dôn, but there were many other
objects.
 
These were stored in a
city near them to the south; a city that over the passing thousands of years in
time had learned the power of these objects.
 
Their study had become ritualized; a chosen few of the youth
of the Eastlands were allowed to come to the city and study the knowledge
accumulated through time of their powers.
 
The mistress of this school, the Lady of Evendor, was reckoned one of
the most powerful people in the whole of the land; to her followers she was a
goddess whose every word was holy law.
 

“She
is nothing but a liar who trains children to bow to her every whim,” Adrien
added firmly.
 
In other lands of
the Eastlands, the Lady ranked in many homes as high as their own royalty.
 
Many kings kept Students as Counselors,
or sent messengers to the School at Evendor for advice on their most difficult
decisions. For many generations, the Lord Kings of Allé-dôn had refused to
allow the Lady’s Students to enter the land and open schools to train new
followers.
 
This was one of the few
policies of his father with which Adrien agreed.

When
Adrien finished his explanation to Elenna, he turned to Tarien.
 
“What do we gain from a visit
there?
 
Time is short.”

Tarien
answered, “She would have knowledge of Evenral. Two days hence you ride to Evendor,
then Roden.
 
By the time you
arrive, all the armies from Allé-dôn should have arrived to be combined with
the forces of Emmass and Roden.
 
And the Elf-King, who am pleased you have encouraged as a ally.”
 

A
servant knocked softly to announce the evening meal.
 
After a pleasant gathering filled with light chatter, all of
the Lords and the Lady reassembled again to discuss their plans in more
detail.
 
No more decisions were
reached.
 
When even Adrien couldn’t
contain a yawn, it was decided to leave the rest of the discussion for
morning.
 
The travelers followed
each other up the stairs to their chambers, clustered together at the far end
of the guest hall.
 
The eldest man
was greeted by his anxious assistant, who shot a look of disapproval at the two
non-royal companions.
 
Adrien he
graced with a formal nod, eyes downcast and subservient.
 
The royal didn’t notice.
 
He nodded at his companion’s good
nights and shut himself into his room to fall into an exhausted sleep.