The Trials of Alar

7

The next morning saw the royal entourage assembled out front of the palace. It was a sizeable group, including the king, Alar, Adam, Trellon, and ten other House Guards. They stood by their mounts as Ambrosia said goodbye to her husband and friends.

“Be safe, dear Alar,” she said. “May your sword serve you truly as ever it has, should the need arise.”

“I’ll do my duty, Ambrosia,” he said as they embraced. “You can rely on that.”

“I shall,” she said, moving on to Adam. “And you, Adam. Take care of yourself. And keep an eye on that husband of yours. I doubt not his prowess, but he can be a bit too brave for his own good at times.”

“I know it,” said Adam, smiling. “I’ll keep an eye on both of them, don’t worry.”

Finally she came to Fagan. “Farewell, my love. By rights it is I who should be making this journey, but as it has fallen upon you, I can only wish you safe travels and pray that all goes well.”

“Ahh, now don’t be worrying your pretty head about me, my dear,” replied the little red squirrel gallantly. “I can take care of myself and this whole lot with one paw tied behind my back without so much as batting an eye.”

“It will be difficult to use your bow that way, I should think.”

“Nah, I can always use my mouth for that. Indeed, it’s only when my jaw stops working that you need be concerned.” Ere she could answer, he had kissed her and placed his hat on his head. “I’ll be back before you know it with a new ally and some grand old tales besides. ’Til then, sweet Ambrosia.”

Adam and Alar likewise donned their hats—fine, broad-brimmed sorts with feathers stuck into the bands—then all three bowed and the party mounted up. Once they were all in their saddles, Ambrosia held a paw up.

“Farewell, brave guardians of this realm,” she spoke. “I have full faith that each and every one of you will fulfill your duty to your king, your queen, and your country, and I shall pray every day that you all come home safe and sound to your friends and loved ones. Skiouros keep you.”

The members of the king’s escort bowed their heads, then Fagan gave a shout of “Away, lads!” and the procession began to move toward the gate. Ambrosia watched them go, wondering each time one looked back over his shoulder whether it would be the last time she saw that face. It was a fleeting thought, but one which kept coming back. Adam’s heart went out to her as he cast a glance back. He knew all too well what it was like to watch the one you loved go off to parts unknown and be unable to follow. It was a helpless feeling, and one from which there was no cure save patience and the hope brought about by the prospect of a happy reunion at journey’s end.

As soon as the last rider had disappeared around the palace wall, the gate was shut and Queen Ambrosia sighed. She then made a sign to her attendants, who followed her back inside.

The royal procession had not been formally announced, so the streets were not lined with well-wishing citizens. However, the column was very conspicuous, and passers-by stopped to watch and pay their respects to their beloved king. They waved and called out words of encouragement to the band they knew rode forth to bring further prosperity to the kingdom. Alar thought back to the first time he had left this city with such fanfare and shuddered. He tried to remind himself that this quest was nowhere near as dangerous as that one had been, and that the odds of coming back were much better. But were they really? The road was not as long as last time, but it was just as unknown to Alar, and if there was indeed some sort of rebel gang at large, who was to say they weren’t already lying in wait despite Fagan’s ploy of leaving early?

He looked to Adam, who appeared to be reveling in all the positive attention, and his heart lightened a bit. Sometimes he envied his mate’s ability to simply live in the moment without any worries dragging him down. If only he could be so carefree. As it was, he kept his gaze sweeping this way and that as they came to the southeastern end of town. There were no real rough parts of town in Kentros, but this area came closest to it. This was where the city’s artisans and working class dwelled, and so Alar felt much more at ease in some ways. But he was also more alert. Having grown up in a neighborhood like this, he knew well the unsavory elements that lurked in such places.

Thus, he was immediately on guard when he heard a shout above the usual street noise. Looking around, he spotted a commotion up the cross street. Several squirrels were scampering this way and that to avoid a massive cart as it came barreling down the avenue. The sudden rush of people upset the horses. They whinnied with fright and a couple of riders were thrown from their saddles, including Fagan. Alar was down from his horse and by Fagan’s side in a heartbeat, narrowly missing a bat from Adam’s scabbard as his horse shifted. He had no time to ask whether or not his friend was unharmed, but merely pressed his head down and flattened himself alongside Fagan as the cart went rumbling harmlessly over them. Alar immediately sat up and watched it roll on down the avenue until it came to an abrupt stop against the side of a hay cart someone had pushed into the middle of the street.

“You all right?” he at last asked Fagan, who sat up in a bit of a daze.

“Aye, I think so,” replied the king, brushing himself off. “What on earth was all that about?”

“I’ll find out, shall I?”

Alar was up in an instant making sure the rest of the party was all right. After helping one squirrel with an injured wrist up and ensuring that Adam was unhurt, he ran down to where the cart had stopped. While most gathered around in bewilderment, Alar ran straight up to the rope that still dangled from it and examined the end. The frayed fibers told him everything at a glance.

“Whose cart is this?” he asked the onlookers. “Anyone know?”

Nobody raised a paw nor volunteered an answer. So, Alar sighed and returned to the mounted party.

“Quickly, we’ve got to keep moving!” he urged, leaping back into the saddle.

“What’s wrong?” asked Adam.

“That was no accident. The rope was cut, which means someone was trying to crush the king, and that someone may still be about.”

“But my subjects…”

“Alar is right, sire,” spoke Trellon, wide-eyed with terror at the whole incident. “We must get away now!”

“Very well. Ride!”

And so, at a half gallop, the troop made for the nearby gate and passed through in a less-than-dignified manner. Fagan was kept in the center of the group while six guards rode close around him. They remained in this formation until they were well beyond the city walls, at which point they relaxed a bit.

“Well now, that was a thrilling start to our venture, I must say,” spoke Fagan.

“Let’s hope that’s as exciting as it gets,” replied Alar as they carried on. But deep in his heart, Alar knew that this was but the start of their troubles. And as he cast a final glance back at the scene of the incident now well behind them, he could not help but wonder just what he and Adam had gotten themselves into.