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out is left leg and slowly began to rise up from the bail of hay.
    “ You get some sleep now. I figure you’ll both be wanting to set out early in the morning to get a good start on making Plowdon by the day after tomorrow.” He began to limp back toward the house, leaving Halam to stare after him and wonder about the sudden change of heart.
     
    THREE
    The sun blazed brightly in the afternoon sky and the spring weather felt more like summer. Birds sang in the trees, butterflies flitted among the grass, and crickets chirped in the distance.
    Bryn was thoroughly enjoying himself. This was an immense change from the drudgery of his life back home. A life on the road! It was what he’d always dreamed of, and now he was actually living it. Traveling far from home, out amidst the world, with adventure looming over the crest of every hill, what more could he possibly want?
    Well, to start with, it would be nice if his clothes were n’t sticking to him because of the heat. The way the saddle was rubbing him wrong on the backside he could also do without. The slight breeze swirling the dust from the road into his eyes and mouth was another nuisance. Not to mention the sheer boredom of it all.
    In the adventure tales the heroes never spent hours moving down dusty roads in the sweltering heat. They set off toward their destination, and were instantly there, fresh as the morning breeze, and ready to take on the world. Bryn was just ready for a bath.
    “ What’s that look I see in your eye, boy?” Halam asked. “Not homesick already, I hope. We’ve been gone but half a day.”
    “ No, it’s not that Uncle Halam,” Bryn replied, “it’s just that I thought getting away from home and traveling the world would be more exciting, more adventurous, you know, like in the stories.”
    “ Ha, my boy,” Halam laughed, “it’s never like the stories in my experience. The thing to remember is that the travel part is never more than a means of getting from one point to another; there’s never any fun in it. Just be thankful we’ve got a horse under us, and aren’t walking this road like many we’ve seen this day.”
    “ Oh, yes sir, I’m thankful for that,” Bryn answered as he looked down at his shoes. The well-worn pair he’d had for more than two years weren’t up to the task of walking from Plowdon to Culdovia, that’s for sure.
    To think, he was actually traveling the King’s Road, on his way to Baden, the capital city of Adjuria; him, Bryn Fellows, who’d never been more than three miles from Eston before. What would the boys back home say?
    Usually at this time of day Bryn would be in those fields working the land, threshing the grain, plowing, bundling, and constantly moving under that hot sun. He was still moving under that hot sun, but in a new direction and toward a much larger task.
    Halam had woken Bryn early that morning, well before the sun was up.
    “You’ll be accompanying me to Baden after all, lad,” his uncle had told him. “Now pack what clothes you have and meet me outside.”
    With sleep still in his eyes, Bryn had collected what possessions he had, which wasn’t much. An extra pair of breeches and a spare shirt were the only other clothes he owned beside the pair he was wearing. He’d taken a water skin from the stove and filled it with water from the well, and also grabbed some bread and cheese, plus two small apples. Looking around for anything else to take, Bryn had been struck by how little there was in the house between him and his uncle Trun. As he headed for the door, he grabbed a copy of a well-worn book on the history of eastern Adjuria, and stuffed it into his shabby travel pack. He took one last look at the sparse lodgings which he’d called home for his whole life and then headed out the door.
    Halam had been tightening the saddle straps on his horse Juniper while making last minute checks of his travel pouches. Trun had been up and limping over from the barn with a fresh flask