The Lord Son's Travels (56 page)

“What
is happening?” The king of Brannon exclaimed in exasperation.
 
“What is the purpose…” he froze with a
gasp as a slight figure slipped from the trees beside him and gazed up in quiet
interest.
 
The others pulled
fearfully at their mounts’ reins, causing several of the horses to rear up in a
panic.

“Hold
your reins!
 
All is well!
 
These are our allies we have sought!”
Brendan reassured them.
 
As he
spoke motioned downward with his hand to the arriving elf.
 
“This is Berte.
 
He has been our emissary with the Elf
King in our dealings.”

“The
Small Ones here?” the King of Roden gasped.
 
“Tis true?”

“Battle
comes,” said Berte softly.
 
“We
offer our aid against the West.”
 
Several other elves appeared to silently take the reins of their
horses.
 
The group dismounted, the
mystified kings and their councilors gossiping excitedly between
themselves.
 
Brendan motioned for
Adrien and Elenna to approach.

With
great satisfaction, Adrien nodded towards their companions.
 
“They had not suspected this.”

“If
they knew nothing of our friends, then our enemies will know nothing as well,”
Brendan replied.
 
Berte motioned
for the group to follow as he selected a narrow winding pathway through the
thickest growth of trees.
 
The
older kings were too much in awe to complain about their rough path; it was
likely none of them had even heard the word ‘elf’ outside of Bards’ tales and
legends.
 
They broke into a sudden
clearing into a scene very similar to the travelers' last meeting with the Elf
King. Again scores of elves were bustling about readying a meal, while the King
waited patiently under a pavilion of cloth and flowers.
 
Berte led the new arrivals straight to
his ruler and began the introductions.
 
The royals were introduced first; they clumped together offering short
brusque greetings, each too distracted by meeting a figure straight from
childhood stories to compose anything of elegance or wit.
 
Adrien nodded briefly in recognition;
the Elf King did the same in return, saving his warmest greeting for
Elenna.
 
Her smile felt a little
too tight as she noted the warm gleam in his eye during his welcome; she was
glad to slip away with the rest of the party to a separate pavilion awaiting
the guests nearby.
 
They settled
comfortably on the lavish cushions laid out on the ground.
 
The foreign royals bombarded the
Allé-dônians with questions about their prior connections with the elves.

“How
many fighters do they offer?” asked the King of Leixan, eyeing with disbelief
the small-framed creatures hustling about with plates of sweets.

Brendan
answered with pleasure, “Three thousand archers.
 
The best in the Eastlands.”

Slices
of sweet cakes and fruit were offered to them on large wooden plates;
conversation stopped entirely until the meal was finished.
 
As soon as the last plate was emptied,
and the sweet apple wine was beginning to be poured into their cups, the first
of the elf Bards stepped to the clearing before the king and offered a song.
 
He was followed by another, and yet
another, each melody sweeter than before.
 
As the last one finished, Berte appeared before Elenna with a request
for the Lady of Music to perform.
 
She sighed and agreed willingly enough this time.
 
As she rose, she glanced back to
Adrien, who was reclined on his side as relaxed as she had ever seen him,
watching her with a uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes.
 
She stepped to the clearing to perform.
 
He closed his eyes and led her clear
voice wash over him, leading him to reminisce about the first time he had ever
heard her sing.
 
Too soon it was
someone else’s turn to offer a song; he welcomed her back to his side with a
warm gaze which she held gladly.

The
party ended when the moon had reached its zenith in the clear starry sky.
  
The group remained mostly silent
as they rode back to the city under the stars, hoping to hold on to the
peaceful feelings of the evening as long as possible before the stress and
fears of the outer world were forced upon them again.
 
All hoped they would some day have another chance to
experience a night like this.

The
group fractured by kingdoms at their return to the main steps of the house,
each heading to their own sets of guest rooms for a few hour's rest.
 
When the Allé-dônians had nearly
reached their hall, chatting quietly about their plans for the next day, they
were startled by footsteps racing up behind them, and spun around to see a
servant with a pale face and a dangerously swinging lantern rushing towards
them.
 
“My Lords!” he panted.
 
“A messenger…”
 
He stopped to suck in a needed deep
breath.
 
Adrien didn’t wait for him
to continue his message.
 
He pushed
past him to return to the main floor with Brendan and Elenna in close
pursuit.
 
They found the Lord of
the House waiting for them in the entry hall.
 
By his flustered appearance he had been urgently called back
to hear the message too.
 
He
approached Adrien with arms open in a gesture of disbelief, his eyes wide in
fear.

“I
know not…” he started, gazing between his visitors.
 
Brendan reached out a hand to his shoulder to steady the
older man; the King could not finish his statement.
 
Elenna noted the front door had been left cracked open and
pulled it further to investigate.
 
Outside was a man, leaning against the wall for support as he panted for
breath.
 
He had apparently been
traveling at a rough pace; his clothes were ripped and dotted with
bloodstains.
 
What had probably
disturbed their host so much was that he was completely covered in fur; Elenna
had a momentary flashback to Chewbacca from the Star Wars movies she had loved
as a kid.

“Who
sent you?” Adrien demanded from her side.

The
man gasped out in a low raspy voice,
 
“I come from the Lord of the West.
 
I seek Adrien Lord Son.”

He
nodded.
 
“You see him.
 
What is your message?”

The
man paused until his breathing had calmed again.
 
Then suddenly he lunged forward towards Adrien.
 
He spun around from the unexpected
attack, calling Aréal as he continued to circle around to return armed and
ready to fight.
 
Elenna spotted a
gleam half-covered by the attacker’s hand as he tried again to avoid
Arèal
and reach for Adrien’s arm.
 
The
monster barely dodged a forward thrust by Adrien's blade, and in his confusion
dropped the object in his hand.
 
Elenna jumped into the fray to grab it off the floor before the monster
could retrieve it.
 
She picked it
up and swore.
 

Within
minutes Adrien had the monster against the wall, his weapon in hand ready for
the fatal blow, when Elenna ordered him to wait.
 
“Where did you get this?” she demanded, holding the object
in front of the attacker's face.
 
He reached for it weakly, only to be blocked again by Adrien.

“Answer
her,” he ordered grimly.
 
The
monster remained silent.
 
Tarien
and Brendan approached to study the object she still held, waiting for the
monster to explain.

“It’s
a hypodermic needle,” she answered in reply to their worried questioning.
 
“It's a tool used to inject liquids
directly into a body.
 
There is
probably some kind of poison in it.
 
If he would have reached you…” she said to Adrien, letting her voice
trail off into a shudder of dread.

Adrien’s
sword moved tighter against the neck of the monster.
 
“I bear a message for you,” it finally muttered in response.

“Speak,”
Tarien ordered.
 

“Don’t
fear the reaper,” the monster replied.
 
Elenna sucked in her breath, then muttered a number of curses.

“Southlands
sent him,” she explained to her companions after her initial fury had
passed.
 
She tightened her grip on
her own blade and said to the creature, who waited passively in expectation of
a final swing of a weapon.
 
“I have
a message for you to take back.”
 
Adrien had been ready to give the fatal press of his blade.
 
He eyed her with concern.
 
“No, we’ll send him back to his
keeper,” she answered his unvoiced question.
 
She turned to the messenger.
 
“You tell him,” she snapped, “bring it on, bitch.
 
Got it?” she made the creature repeat
her statement until he had it word for word.
 
Her companions waited in silence, unwilling to involve
themselves in a situation they did not comprehend.
 
Reluctantly Adrien dropped his blade enough for the monster
to free himself.
 
He glanced back
at the assembled party, then raced down the steps to the courtyard.
 
Several soldiers waited there, ready to
attack, but restrained themselves under Adrien’s command.

Elenna
asked again if he had been touched by the needle.
 
She ran her fingers over his arm searching for incisions as
he shook his head.
 
“The Lord of
the Southland will now know that you are from his land,” Tarien declared with
some concern.
 
She grimaced angrily
in reply.

“I
want him to,” she snapped.
 
“I want
him to worry what I can do to him.”
 
She eyed the needle in disgust.
 
Her eyes clouded as a new revelation came to mind.
 
She glanced at her tired friends, and
decided to keep her new thought to herself until the morning.
 
She hung back with Adrien as the others
excused themselves to wearily reclimb the stairs to their chambers.
 
She asked again if he had been hurt.

He
smiled in an effort to calm her concern.
 
“I am well, Elenna.”
 
She
nodded sheepishly, as her eyes drifted off into the distance.
 
He allowed her several minutes before
he asked what had taken her attention.

She
motioned for him to follow her upstairs.
 
“This needle,” she said, waving the hypodermic she had taken from the
monster.
 
“I'm pretty sure this was
manufactured in our land, not here.”
 
She pointed to its label as proof.

“He
brought it with him?” Adrien asked.

Elenna
shrugged.
 
“Maybe, but I don’t
think so.
 
It would be very
unlikely that he was carrying one when he was brought here.
 
And if this was the only one he had, I
doubt he would have wasted it on a lame attack on you.”

He
caught her idea.
 
“You think he has
gone back to your land for additional supplies?”

“That
would fit the evidence.” She pursed her lips.
 
“If he can go back and forth…”

Adrien
interrupted, “then it would be possible…”

Elenna
started at the same time, “…he could bring back all sorts of awful
things.”
 
They stared at each
other, considering the implications.
 

“He
is more powerful than we had thought,” mused Adrien.

“More
dangerous.
 
And more important that
we stop him.”

They
reached her chamber and stopped.
 
In their discomfort they both grinned awkwardly.
 
“Tomorrow is a busy day,” Elenna
finally said to break the silence.
 
“Better get some good sleep.”

“Good
night,” he said softly.
 
She
reached for his hand, clasped it briefly, and turned to enter her chamber.
 
He entered his own rarely used
bedchamber, undressed quickly, doused the lantern next to his bed, and couldn’t
fall asleep.
 
He tried, lecturing
himself on the long journey they would start the morning after next and the
need for a good rest, but his mind would not stop flipping from thought to
thought.
 
After an hour of lying
down he started pacing about his chamber, alternating with periods of time
spend staring out his small window at the silent grounds and faint lights of
the town.
 
Then he tried unpacking
and repacking the bags he had already assembled for the journey, studying each item
and weighing its importance.