The Dragonwalk Highway: The Fellowship of Thirteen

4 - The Fellowship

The attendants scurried like ants around the royal courtyard making last minute preparations for what was quickly becoming known as The Swan Song Quest. Zelda tossed out orders to whomever happened to wander into her radius. The four Red Shirts assigned to the quest sat studying a map, attempting to chart the safest route along the Dragonwalk Highway to reach the furthest reaches of the kingdom. There weren't many options, however. The only way to reach the Tree of Wisdom was traveling along the eastern road since the western road was unpassable because of the steepness of the Ogre's Back Mountain range in that part of the kingdom. The majority of the Outer Kingdom tribes were located along the eastern road so their lands would have to be traversed to reach Zelda's final destination.

Oron sat watching the hustle and bustle of the entire ordeal with raging indifference. There wasn't much he could do chained to the marble fountain in the center of the courtyard.

"I can't help thinking this is a bad start to our working relationship," he called over to Zelda. He rattled his chains until she finally glanced over. "Trust, my dear, trust."

She ignored him and continued barking orders.

"How many of these bloody tossers are coming with us? Oron asked.

She paused only short enough to answer. "All of them."

The fellowship for the quest had grown exponentially from the original vision of Zelda and Draco traversing through the Outer Kingdom together. There were the four Red Shirts her father had insisted she take acting as her personal protection. Three of Zelda's most capable servants (Quitch, Stormy, and Ruddiger) would be in charge of driving the supply wagon and running menial errands. Plus, Zelda never went anywhere without her lady-in-waiting, Sheena. And the disgruntled pardoned guide who would not shut up since reclaiming his voice rounded out the group at ten.

"The quickest way to die out on your father's highway is to move slowly and draw lots of attention to yourself." He glanced around at the servants stomping around and the Red Shirts in their bright uniforms. "Check and check."

Again, Zelda ignored him. His incessant chatter didn't bother her. He wasn't in charge of the quest; she was. Ten wasn't a bad number for the traveling party. Barely double digits. Besides, it was her lucky number. She felt good about ten.

"Grog the Destroyer will be eating good shortly," Oron continued. "A buffet is marching right up to his doorstep. Ten walking steaks should tide him over until tea time."

"Will you shut your trap?!" Zelda finally exploded. "Your job is to point us in the right direction. Nothing more! I decide who comes along for the ride, and I say ten of us need to go. Ten! Ten is the perfect number!"

"Excuse me, your highness—"

"What?!"

A frail wisp of a man in spectacles appeared out of the midst of the chaos. He held nearly a dozen scrolls in his skinny arms.

"My apologies, your highness," the man said. "Allow me to present myself. I am Frederick the Accurate, a royal engineer. The future king, Prince Draco, has ordered me to accompany you on your mission as his proxy."

"That won't be necessary, Frederick. We have enough help as it is."

Frederick sheepishly adjusted his spectacles. "I'm afraid I must insist, Princess. Prince Draco wishes for me to map out sections of the highway for remodeling. He wishes to construct a viable route to the outer tribes to further unity among the kingdom—oh, and for tax purposes. Better roads, faster access to our tax base."