The Lord Son's Travels (6 page)

Adrien
listened quietly.
 
The Counselor
spoke of a few more details of the insurrections as they wound deeper into the
Gardens.
  
They reached the
border of the rose garden and entered a grove of fruit trees.
 
Behind the grove the outer wall of the
Capital reached to the bright blue sky, laying its shadow over them in a false
twilight.
 

"There
is more, Lord Son," Tarien continued.
 
He glanced around to reassure himself of their
isolation.
 
"This we have
learned only today.
 
One of our men
has seen a ... man involved in these battles.
 
He was not like any other man known to us."

"What
do you mean..."

"At
least seven feet tall,
 
pale skin,
he fought with a sword with skill like a master."
 
At this the old wizard shuddered.
 
"And he had no eyes."

Adrien
paused in his steps.
 
"Are you
sure?" he demanded.
 
Tarien
nodded.
 
"My man was positive
on this.
 
He is a battle-hardened
veteran, most unlikely to exaggerate such details.
 
These kind of beings were mentioned in the legends."

"Monsters,"
Adrien whispered.
 
He rubbed his
eyes with his hand subconsciously.
 
"From the West."

"I
believe so," Tarien agreed.
 
They were silent, letting the news filter through their skeptical
mindsets.
 
Adrien turned and strode
brusquely down the rest of the narrow path.
 
It ended at an arbor covered in vines, a secluded spot meant
for a courting couple.
 
In an old
habit, Adrien grasped a twig from the ground and began to pick at its bark,
pacing back and forth as he pondered the Counselor’s words.
 
   

Tarien
caught up to the younger man.
 
Sympathetically he laid a hand on the man's shoulder.
 
"We met with your father this
morning," he continued.
 
"Several of the Counselors went to him on an unofficial embassy to
plead for his support.
 
He was not
... concerned by our words."

Adrien
answered calmly.
 
"He doesn't
see past the end of our borders.
 
I
tried also to speak to him and to the Lord Heir.
 
Both patted me on the head and sent me away to play with my
toys."

"What
else can we do but try?" Tarien returned.
 
He raised his palms in exasperation.
 
"We can't act without his
approval."

Adrien
turned to face him.
 
"I can
and I will.
 
I leave tomorrow for
Brannon."
 
He sketched out his
plan to the bewildered elder.
 
Tarien listened intently, asking a few details of their plot, but
otherwise showing no reaction.
 
When Adrien finished his description, he paused silently, waiting for
the elder's response.

"I
will help the best I can, Adrien," Tarien declared somberly.
 
"This is quite a decision for
you.
 
You father is unlikely to
forgive such an undertaking.
 
He
will see it as open defiance."

"All
we have now, no offense to your men, is rumor and oft repeated legend,"
Adrien replied.
 
"If I can
travel to these lands and find out what is happening, and determine if there
are plans like this for Allè-dôn, it will be well worth my father's anger.
 
We must be prepared, and only our
knowledge can do that."

Tarien
smiled at his ex-pupil.
 
"You
are a brave man, Lord Son," he said.
 
"A true royalborn.
 
I
will give you the names of some men out there I trust.
 
They can help you in your journey.
 
Find what facts you can and return
quickly.
 
I will work with the
Council to convince your father or brother of the seriousness of the
situation.
 
They are good men,
Adrien, I'm sure that with the proper evidence they will do what is best for
Allè-dôn and all of the Eastlands."

"I
hope you are right," Adrien returned, his sight slipping again to the gray
mountains rising against the distant horizon.

Chapter 6

Brendan
affectionately slapped the stallion on its flank and took a step back to admire
the results of his labor.
 
All of
his gear for the trip was now stashed tightly in saddlebags he could now barely
close, expertly balanced on either side of his mount.
 
The horse whinnied and turned to glare at its master but
forgave him at the sight of the apple in his hand.
 
They were waiting in the Wooden Boot’s public stables,
maintained for the convenience of overnight guests.
 
Bendelbert never had
many of
those, so Brendan and his ride were alone with the fresh hay and the
innkeeper’s own elderly draft horses.
 
Outside the moon was still several hours from rising, but Brendan had
wanted to be sure to be ready in time for departure.
 

His
morning had been close enough to his regular routine; training with his men,
then midday meal.
 
After lunch he
had wandered into the Armory, and spun a tail of needing arms for practice for
his men.
 
He picked out the best bow
he could find for himself; Adrien was unfortunately a terrible archer, so
Brendan would be responsible for all of the hunting duties.
 
He had glanced through the selection of
available swords, picking out an extra blade just in case his family sword was
damaged along the way.
 
He grabbed
a couple of daggers as well, and he was sure they were ready to face an army,
or at least a few brigands on the road.
 
He cheerfully promised to return the goods in a day or so to the
armsmaster, and brought the new weapons to the inn to hide until the
night.
 
Most of them were now
packed on his horse, with hope that Adrien would have enough room for the rest.

Bendelbert
had ignored him since his arrival, having nodded his greeting and pointed to
the barn behind the main building.
 
Here he had found a good three weeks’ supply of food packed into a
smaller bundle then he had thought possible.
 
He peeked through the rest of the packages, and to his
surprise and joy came upon both a flask of whiskey and a bit of smokeweed.
 
The whiskey, he promised himself
solemnly, was for medical emergencies only.

"Good
evening," his companion greeted him.
 
Adrien led his horse by the reins into the stable to the side of his
friend's mount.
 
Brendan nodded and
smiled, motioning grandly to his handiwork and the remaining packages.

"The
old man has us quite prepared," he announced with satisfaction.
 
"We can feed any friendly army we
happen to come upon."

"Hopefully
we don't provide a feast for any brigands," Adrien retorted.
 
He opened up his saddlebags and began
rearranging his packages to make room for the rest of the supplies.
 
"How did you fare at the
Armory?"

"We're
armed and ready," Brendan replied cheerfully.
 
They discussed their activities from the day as Adrien
arranged his bags to his satisfaction.
 
As the first glow from the moon was reaching the horizon, Adrien
pronounced them ready to ride forth on their journey.
 
As they were tucking the last few items away in their
luggage, the barkeep barged through the stable door, bearing two cups of
foaming ale.

"Well,
heroes," he greeted with a jovial salute, "I thought you'd appreciate
one for the road."
 
They thanked
him vigorously and eagerly drained their cups.
 
Both realized that their next bit of ale would probably be a
long time into the future, and were eager for this last touch of comfort.
 
Brendan tapped the bedroll strapped to
his mount, and thought briefly and fondly of his cot in the Fortress.
 
Adrien handed back his empty cup and
fidgeted, flitting back and forth like a nervous housewife before the guests'
arrival.

"You'd
best leave now," Bendelbert advised.
 
He motioned outside to the moon that had just begun to peek over the
horizon.
 
"The city gates will
close soon."
 
The men agreed,
and swung up into their pack-laden saddles.
 
The horses twitched and squirmed, uncomfortable with the
unusual weight and timing of the ride.
 
The innkeeper handed Adrien a folded sheet of parchment.
 
"Here are the names of some of my
kin and their favorite campsites," the half-elf explained.
 
"They can serve you as guides, or
point to others as trustworthy."
 
Adrien thanked the innkeeper again for his trouble.
 
"Be careful, Lord Son.
 
There are many strange things beyond
these borders."
 
Bendelbert
peered out the stable door, checked for any observers, then motioned the
travelers outside.
 
He waved cheerfully
as they trotted past.
 
Then he
remained in the doorway, surveying their departure until they reached a bend in
the road and disappeared out of sight.

Brendan
and Adrien rode side by side, each covered head to toe with their best
dark-colored traveling cloaks.
 
Under the cloaks both wore simple clothing, the browns and tans of the
common people.
 
The Lord Son’s face
wasn’t well known by the populace, and it was doubtful that he would be
recognized in the gloom of the evening, but he didn't take the risk.
 
The only item in their possession that
could cause recognition was Adrien's empty scabbard, which he had obstinately
refused to leave behind.
 
It had
its purpose, he insisted, and may prove quite useful in times of
difficulty.
 
It was hidden deep
within his packs.
 
They passed
easily as simple travelers through the city, raising no interest from any of
the few people they encountered.

Their
road winded through the sleeping city, following the slope of the hill down to
the level grounds of the surrounding forest.
 
They had started out near the heart of the city where the
buildings were must densely packed together.
 
As their elevation declined the population grew sparser; the
houses further and further apart.
 
By the time the high outer walls and gate were in sight, the few
cottages visible were isolated and surrounded by kitchen gardens or small dairy
farms.
 
Once they left the
commercial district, they passed no one else on their journey.
 
The only sounds were the gentle clomping
of their horses' shoes in the dusty road, and the furtive chirpings of a few
night insects.
 
They never spoke
until they reached the gate; each preferring the solitary, solemn thoughts
crossing their own minds at this beginning.
 
The horses, who were experienced with long journeys, settled
into an easy steady pace early on.
 
They stayed side by side, leaving plenty of room for any other
journeyers to share the wide, well-maintained road.
 
The moon rose slowly, but bright enough to lay long faint
shadows behind them in the dust.

A few
guards were stationed outside the gate, more as a formality then a necessary
protection of the city.
 
There were
two gateways to the city: one opening onto the Northern road, and theirs
opening onto the Southern.
 
The
gate itself was wrought of iron, with the symbol of Allè-dôn worked in gold in
the center.
 
The gate and the walls
it connected were twice as tall as the average man and were built to withstand any
invading army.
 
A small stone shed
nearby served as the guards’ headquarters.
 
Inside a lantern flared at a window revealing the figures of
the current watch, who were currently preparing to return to their divisions
for the rest of the night as soon as their replacements arrived.

"Who
passes?" the first guard asked in an unconcerned voice.
 
He barely glanced up at the figures
that approached.

"Farmers
returning from market," Brendan replied in a matching tone of interest.

The
second guard gave him a glance over, not finding anything to hold his
attention.
 
"Late time to
leave the city.
 
Is your home
near?"

"No,
but I had a hard time dragging this one out from the tavern," Brendan
replied, pointing to Adrien.
 
His
lips tightened, but he didn't speak.

"Too
much drink isn't good for you, friend," the guard advised, pulling on the
worn rope that manipulated the gate.
 
"Good night to you."
 
The travelers nodded, and urged their horses outside of the city.
  
Behind them the gate slammed
shut, cutting off any return to their homes until at least the sunrise.
 
Neither man glanced back but kept their
eyes focused on the ride ahead.
 
Their road shrank slightly in size as it left the boundaries of
Allè-dènè, but was still wide enough to ride side by side comfortably.
 
Few residents ever ventured out of the
city, leaving little reason to maintain any wider path than this.
 
The woods started only a few hundred
yards ahead of the gate.
 
The
forest was tame here with the brush cleared for an arrowshot to either
side.
 
In the darkness a few
lantern lights belonging to farmhouses beckoned them forward.
 
A dog barked in the night and was answered
by another.
 
The leaves of the
trees rustled in the slight evening wind.
 
Still no other travelers were in sight.

"Well,"
Brendan said, "A good start."

"But
a long way to go until the end," his companion retorted.
 
"Let's move quickly.
 
The farther we go, the easier to miss
any search party."
 
In unison,
they kicked at their horses' sides, and urged them back into motion.
 
In a few minutes they were gone from
the view of any observer from the city they had abandoned.