The Lord Son's Travels (4 page)

"What
are you going to do?" Brendan asked.
 
Adrien returned his thoughts to the present.
 

"What
can I do?
 
My father will stop my
leaving Allè-dôn."

Brendan
agreed with a nod, still pondering potential options. "Can you send
another man?
 
I can recommend
trustworthy…"

Adrien
shook his head.
 
"I can trust
no one else with this.
 
I have too
many questions to ask I can not pour into anyone else's head."

"What
about me?" Brendan offered.

Again
Adrien shook his head.
 
"No,
you would not be allowed to travel from the Kingdom either.
 
You are my guard, remember?"
 
This had been Brendan's official extra
assignment since his completion of military training.
 
Since his childhood, Adrien had balked at the necessity of a
royal guard to protect him and proclaim his status, especially since he had
become recognized as one of the best warriors in the Kingdom and in his own
eyes at least in little need of protection.
 
Brendan's duty had been the final compromise in this
long-standing conflict in the family.
 
That aspect of their relationship was usually mutually ignored.

Brendan
threw up his hands.
 
"I don't
know what else to suggest, Adrien.
 
We're in a tight corner here."

"There
is one idea," the Lord Son replied calmly.
 
"I can leave without permission."

Brendan
stared, truly dumbfounded by his friend for the first time in years.
 
"Adrien, you can't have just said
that.”

"It's
the only solution," he replied calmly.
 
"I can leave quietly, investigate these places, and
return with enough evidence to force my father's hand."

"Your
father would hang you for a traitor if you leave without his permission,"
Brendan replied incredulously.
 
"That is treason!"

"It
is treason to ignore what is occurring in those lands!" Adrien snapped
back.
 
He raised his fists and
shook them towards the Capital.
 
"What if it is the West from where this danger comes?
 
It will grow and spread and engulf
Allè-dôn too.
 
What if we could
stop this spread now?"

"What
if these stories are false?" Brendan argued.
 
He watched his agitated friend in amazement at his
fervency.
 
He had never known
Adrien to care so much about anything outside of his daily world.
 
Now he was speaking words that for a
lesser born would surely result in execution as a traitor.
 
Andrüe was a lenient king generally,
but not many royals would tolerate such insubordination within their ranks.
 

"If
they are," Adrien returned, "then I will face my father knowing I did
what I thought was best for our Kingdom, not as a coward hiding behind a
title.
 
A true Lord King would want
to protect his people!"
 
Brendan stared at the royalborn’s flushed, angry face, and sought for any
observers in the moon lit streets.
 
They were thankfully still alone.
 
He squatted in the dusty street, leaning against the Fortress wall for
support.
 
Adrien joined him.

"Lord
Son," Brendan whispered, fearful of discovery.
 
"I've never heard words like that from you before.
 
It is very dangerous for you to say
such things."
 
He imagined the
eyes of the Lord King's spies peering on him from every direction.
   
For all of the easy
casualness of the royal family, layers of protection existed around them, some
under their control and some out of their control as well.
 
Legions of listeners worked in the
shadows to ensure that the disloyal were promptly punished, perhaps before the
proper judges could decide the culprit’s fate.
 
Adrien’s title would not necessarily protect him in their
climate of suspicion.
 

Adrien snorted
his disgust.
 
"Should a man be
afraid to argue with his own father?"

"Men
die for these offenses," Brendan replied slowly, amazed at the depth of
his friend's emotions.
 
"Especially younger sons."

Adrien
smiled wistfully.
 
"You think
these are the ravings of a power-crazed second born?" he asked.
 
Brendan shook his head immediately.

"No,
my friend, others may think so, but I've known you too long."
 
He dropped his voice so low Adrien had
to lean his ear directly in front of his confidante's mouth to hear.
 
"There are many that say the
current King is weak, and his Heir not much better."
 
Brendan was seized with panic at the
words he had just spoken.
 
He had
always believed that protecting Adrien from the words spoken against his family
was one of the first of his duties.
 
If the Lord Son had heard the whispers or seen the acts of protest
against his family, he had never given a sign.
 
Now Adrien turned to his friend and gave him a reassuring
smile.

"I
know what has been said against the ruling House," he declared, holding
his friend's gaze.
 
"The lives
of my father and brother are sacred and will be protected with my own.
 
However," he continued, voicing
the thought that had kept him awake and sweating every night for the last two
weeks, "there is another way they may cede their rule to another without
risk of bloodshed.
 
Perhaps it is
time for a quest to be made.”

Brendan
could distinctly feel the ground move beneath him.
 
The only constant was the glitter of his friend's eyes,
fierce against the swirling stars around him.
 
Brendan felt his lips move, but no sound came out of his
mouth.
 
All he could do was
pantomime the name that every citizen of Allè-dôn learns at his mother's knee;
the name synonymous with hope.

Evenral.

Chapter 4

The next
day Adrien didn’t meet again with Brendan until the evening.
 
Their days were filled up with the
routine chores of their profession, all necessary and none very interesting.
 
Adrien was required to attend a wedding
in the afternoon at the Capital of the daughter of the Counselor of the
Laws.
 
There he met Tarien again
for the first time since their encounter in the corridor.
 
They had only a second to speak
privately to arrange to meet alone the next day.
 
After he escaped the wedding festivities Adrien rode quickly
to the Wooden Boot where Brendan was waiting.
 

They
greeted each other warmly and returned to their customary seats in the corner.
 
Until their drinks arrived they chatted
lightly about details from their work day.
 
The tavern was busier than the previous evening.
 
A new group of tradesmen were singing
loudly off key and waving their cups at Rene.
 
Bendelbert was behind the counter serving a set of bewildered
young farm boys, who were presumably in town for market day in the
morning.
 
A few better-dressed
travelers huddled woefully out of place at a table near the door.
 
They looked unsure whether it was worth
the probable wrathful outburst from their host if they attempted to sneak out
and find a house of better repute.
 
Here and there a few regulars were scattered about, engaged in the
silent business of hard drinking.

"What
news?" Brendan asked, after the first gulp of his ale.
 
Adrien shook his head, pulling off his
cloak to reveal his formal uniform. The soft sheen of the black silk blouse
caught the eye of a few of their nearest neighbors, but they didn't recognize
the somber face above the loosened collar. He had stashed his ceremonial empty scabbard
in his bedroom chamber at the Capita before departing.
 

Brendan
had changed from his uniform into more casual wear for their meeting; the brown
leather britches and beige cotton blouse of the typical Allè-dônian male.
 
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully,
wishing that he had found time for a shave that morning, and focused his light
blue eyes again on his friend.
 
"Well," he said, forcing a smile.
 
"What great plans have you hatched today?"

Adrien
accepted a cup from Rene while wearing his customary frown.
 
She smiled anyway, and shared a friendly
nod with Brendan.
 
Adrien took a
deep gulp from his cup then started.
 
"I have thought of some preparations,"
 
he paused, "if you wish to
continue this plan."

"I
don't know," Brendan returned, leaning forward on his elbows.
 
"I haven't heard a plan yet."

Adrien
reached into his satchel laid on the bench next to him.
 
He pulled out some parchment with a
rough map of the Eastlands sketched in ink.
 
He placed it in the center of the table and carefully
arranged their cups to block its casual viewing by any passersby.

He
described the ideas he had bantered about his head all day.
 
"If we leave soon, we can go and
return before the end of spring when the daily rains have not yet begun.
 
If we take the Southern Road, we will
pass through Arden, then into Brannon down to the border with Leixan.
 
Plus we can stay close to the border
with Angor and note any troubles there."

Brendan
pulled the map closer to study carefully.
 
Like Adrien, he had learned the geography of the Eastlands as a child,
and the names were familiar, but he never expected to see any of these places
in the flesh.
 
He noted the
rough-drawn mountains and rivers with curiosity.

"What
about a guide?" he asked his friend.
 
"Once we leave Allè-dôn we’ll be out of our familiar grounds, and
these maps are short on details.
 
We may need help in finding our way.”

"Who
do we know we can trust that would know this land?” was Adrien's reply.
 
"I think if we travel lightly and
discreetly, we’ll manage.
 
We must
not attract attention.
 
I assume my
father will send out a party to find us and return us here."

"And
that would be a most unpleasant meeting with your father," Brendan
agreed.
 
"Is there anyone else
you feel should travel with us?"

Adrien shook
his head.
 
"No, I think it
would be best if it was only you and I.
 
If necessary, we can later hire a local guide.”

Brendan
shook his head, feeling the questions inside shaking around like seeds in a
child's rattle.
 
"When do you
think we should leave?"

Adrien
shrugged.
 
"As soon as
possible."
 
He could feel the
tension in his friend's voice, half hidden by his forced casualness.
 
"You do not need to go," he
said suddenly, catching his friend’s eyes.
 
"You have no obligation to me to do this."

Brendan smiled.
 
"No, my friend, I'm with you.
 
I've always wanted to see the mountains
anyway."
 
He voice dropped in
pitch as he leaned in closer.
 
"I've thought about what you said, Adrien.
 
This is the right thing to do."

The
companions sat in silence, stunned by the decision they had reached.
 
Over the rim of his mug Brendan
observed the congenial ruckus of the public house; Rene bantering with the farm
boys at the bar, Bendelbert howling through the closed swinging door behind the
bar at the cursed fools making a mockery of his kitchen.
 
Brendan had never left Allè-dènè until
his first scout many years ago, and in a few days he would be leaving for a
land few Allè-dônian boots had trod upon in years.
 
More so, he would be leaving as a rebel and traitor to his King.
 
'Why am I doing this?' he wondered,
certainly not for the last time.
 
He caught a surreptitious glance at his companion.
 
Adrien was pondering his half-empty
cup, holding it up in the faint lantern light for a glimpse into its
depths.
 
Brendan could see in the
set of his jaw his decision was now one carved in stone; nothing was going to
change the path this man set first step on today.
 
Brendan nodded imperceptibly in return, and joined him on
the dark road reaching into the future.

"How
are we going to gather all of the supplies we will need without attracting
attention?"
 
They bantered
ideas back and forth.
 
They had to
travel light to travel inconspicuously, so they could only carry the minimum
amount of supplies necessary.
 
Gold
was the least of their worries, being easily acquired by both, and could
purchase more supplies on the road if needed.
 
Most of the first stage of the journey though, would be
through uninhabited forest in which they could not rely on finding towns in
which to purchase anything they might find themselves without.
 
They agreed to take a minimum of
foodstuff, for hunting would provide fresh meat on the way, and gathering water
and greens should not be difficult.
 
Both had military wear for camping and good reliable horses.
 
After a few minutes of moral quandary,
it was decided that they would be wise to 'borrow' armor from the Fortress.

"Most
important to leave behind is our identities," Adrien declared glumly.
 
"We must go quietly as a couple of
ex-soldiers of Allè-dôn."

"Adventurers
seeking gold and fortune!" Brendan suggested in amusement.
 
"Maybe we'll get lucky and
discover a dragon's lair."
 
Adrien shook his head as his friend laughed.
 
"We could find a fortune and buy your brother some
wits!"

"Save
some for yourself!" Adrien suggested dryly, but his lips twitched at the thought.
 
"Tomorrow night then," he
said.
 
Brendan nodded, feeling the
lightness of the moment wither away.
 
"I want to speak to the Counselor of our plans," Adrien said
suddenly.
 
Brendan snapped his head
back to gape at him.
 
Before he
could speak, Adrien continued, "He can name contacts for us, those who can
give us the knowledge we seek."

"Do
you trust him?" his partner demanded.
 

Adrien
nodded emphatically.
 
"He is
the one who started me on this path, Brendan."

"He
is loyal..."

"He
is loyal to Allè-dôn, Brendan, not to my family,"
 
Adrien finished, aware as he spoke of
the implications of his words.
 
He
sighed, gazed off to the distance to focus his thoughts.
 
When he turned again to his companion,
his voice was steady and firm.
 
"I don't doubt the intentions of my father or my brother," he
said.
 
He paused, lips pursed.
 
Brendan nodded for him to
continue.
 
"But I doubt their
abilities. Especially if these tales from these strangers are true.
 
I don't claim to be Lord King," he
shrugged.
 
"But Allè-dôn
must
be protected.
 
Who is there to do
it but us?"

Brendan
thought of the words he had spoken last night, of the legend his friend had
referenced.
 
Adrien saw the troubled
expression cross his face and guessed the cause.

"Our
goal is to seek knowledge, Brendan," he said softly.
 
"Any changes to this plan we make
together.
 
Agreed?"
 
Brendan nodded, his confidence
returning at his words.
 
He looked
around the tavern again and was surprised to note it was now rather empty.
 
Only a few drunks were badgering Rene
for another round.
 
Bendelbert was
at the bar, noisily attempting to whistle in tune and wipe up from the evening's
revels.

"So,
let's plan on meeting again here tomorrow night after duty," Adrien said,
gathering his satchel and pulling on his cloak.
 
"I'll speak to our friend if you arrange for our goods
to be ready by the next night."

Brendan
admitted, "That will be difficult."
 
They arose from their table and made their way across the
tavern room.
 
As they passed the
bar, Bendelbert made a motion with his hand for them to join him.

"We
paid our tab, good man," Brendan declared good-naturedly.
 
"Tip not high enough?"

He eyed
the remaining customers, who were busy trying to woo the fair barmaid.
 
She stood hands on hips, entertained by
their slurred, clumsy attempts.
 
The barkeep led them out the tavern room doorway through the building entryway
beyond.
 
Here were a set of rickety
steps that lead to the small cells available to travelers for an evening's shelter.
 

Concerned,
Brendan demanded, "What is it, barkeep?"
 
Adrien didn't speak, but kept his sword hand by the side of
his thigh, ready to move in an instant.
 
When he saw the royal reach under his cloak the barkeep chuckled
roughly, like the bark of an old, tired watchdog.

"Save
it for the road, my heroes," he snapped defiantly.
 
He folded his arms and waited for their
reply.

"What..."
Brendan started angrily.
 
Adrien
touched his arm, motioning for him to remain still.
 
The barkeep merely kept his place.

"Mother
always said I had the hearing of an elf." the man continued calmly.

"There
are no elves," Adrien replied in an equally disinterested tone.
 
"And I don't know what you think
you heard..."

"There's
your biggest problem," the old man continued.
 
He reached into his apron and pulled out a pipe.
 
"You think you know everything,
don't you?
 
Well, if knowledge grows
a man, you'll be ten feet tall within a season.
 
First," he said, tapping out a little smokeweed into
his pipe.
 
"You'll need a
guide as soon as you leave this border.
 
I'll grant you, you know your land, but you're a babe in the woods as
soon as you leave Allè-dôn."
 
He held his pipe to a nearby lamp, and lit it carefully, ignoring the
dumbfounded looks on the warriors in front of him.
 
"Second, you need to learn to keep a secret.
 
If I had one man in this tavern with
more than turnips between his ears, you'd have been before the Lord King last
night for treason.
 
It took me half
a second to figure your plan, and that was because I was mostly thinking what
to buy at market tomorrow.
 
Third,
you had better learn who your friends are, because you'll need many on this
journey."
He took a deep puff of his
pipe, and waited for their reaction.