The Gauntlet Thrown

by Cheryl Dyson

  ******

  The next day dawned cloudy and cold. They broke their fast with leftover meat, some crumbling oatcakes, and dried apple slices. Toryn eyed the clouds balefully and hoped it wouldn’t rain.

  "So much for spring," he grumbled, and shivered as the Falaran untied him from the tree. Redwing shook out the cloak, draped it over Toryn’s shoulders, and then fastened it at his neck.

  "You don’t prepare very well for travel," Redwing commented. Toryn wore only black leather breeches, boots, and a rough shirt with a thin leather vest. He had carried nothing but his sword and the daggers Redwing had confiscated.

  "Our intention was to kill you and return," Toryn grumbled. "Not to take an extended journey. Where are we, anyway?"

  "Approaching the pass near the Akarskan border."

  "So we’re still in Falara? Best stay on the road and not wander into Akarska," Toryn advised. "They’ll kill you faster than a Redolian."

  Redwing shouldered his pack and Toryn preceded him down the needle-strewn hillside. Their boots hardly made a sound on the dew-wet ground.

  "Perhaps not. We have had quests to Akarska in the past. And they supply horses to the Brotherhood of the Lance, in Eaglecrest," Brydon said.

  "They supply horses?" Toryn was incredulous. Akarskans and their horses were seldom parted. It was a historical fact.

  "Yes. In the late 100s, Falara bargained with Akarska in a bid to claim more land," Brydon explained.

  "Imagine that."

  "Eventually the talks disintegrated and it might have led to war. Akarska’s leaders appealed to the Terrin Church in Kaneelis. Akarska agreed to supply horses to the Order of Might so that knight-priests could be mounted. In return, it is written that no one associated with the Church may violate Akarska’s borders. They can build no temples, no monasteries, not even an order of healers, although I do not know what Akarskans do when they get ill. The treaty has held for the past hundred years, though there are still far more knight-priests than horses. The steeds that Akarska so generously parts with are always gelded so the church can do no breeding. Akarska makes certain of that."

  Toryn snorted. Akarskans were horse-hoarding fools. What harm would it do to allow the equine population to increase outside of Akarska’s borders? It would probably cut down on the incidences of horse-theft in Akarska. He wondered if the Akarskans worshipped horses; they had their own beliefs that few outsiders knew anything about.

  "’No one knows the mind of a woman, or an Akarskan,’" Redwing said, repeating an old quote.

  Toryn smiled and finished, "’And Akarskan women are doubly mysterious.’ Isn’t the pass dangerous this time of year?"

  Redwing nodded. "We will have to pray there are no avalanches or flash floods. Still, better to chance nature than gamble on Akarska’s goodwill, eh?"

  Toryn was skeptical, but said nothing. He suspected Redwing feared at least one Redolian ambush awaited him along the road through Terris, should he survive the pass crossing. If plans for an ambush existed, Toryn knew nothing about them.

  Much later, as Redwing pushed an overhanging branch out of Toryn’s way so he could duck beneath it, Toryn asked, "Are you ever going to free my hands?"

  "I had no idea the ropes were bothering you," Redwing said dryly. "You should have said something."

  "You’d enjoy watching me beg, wouldn’t you, Falaran?" Toryn gritted.

  "If you have a yearning to do so, feel free. It would be a tale worth retelling."

  "You’ll see the sun fall from the sky first."

  Redwing chuckled but halted to check Toryn’s bonds. His breath caught and his pale eyes shot to Toryn’s. Toryn looked away, knowing the flesh of his wrists was nearly worn away, and in some places oozed blood. The makeshift rope had rubbed his flesh mercilessly. Redwing swore and severed the bonds with his dagger. Toryn nearly screamed as the scraps fell away. He brought his arms around to the front, wincing at his cramping muscles. Attempting to move stiffened tendons after a day and a half of inactivity was neither easy, nor pleasant.

  Redwing bade him sit down and uncorked a water skin. Before Toryn could react, Redwing poured water over the raw wounds. Toryn bit back a shriek, clenching his teeth until he thought they would crack. The cool liquid felt like salt upon his torn flesh. Redwing washed Toryn’s wrists clean and then cut strips from one of his shirts to use as bandages.

  "I did not know the bonds were so tight. You should have told me they were cutting you."

  Toryn’s eyes flew open. He studied Redwing carefully as the man tended to his wrists. What manner of man was he, to regret minor wounds on a man who had tried to kill him? Was it a ruse? He searched Redwing’s face, but the Falaran’s clear gaze reflected only sincerity. For the first time Toryn considered him as a fellow man, and not simply as an enemy. The Falarans had chosen Redwing as their future king. Was there some unknown quality that would cause men to follow him, perhaps even to lay down their lives for him? Toryn wondered what Redwing did in his homeland. Was he a leader of men?

  "Never mind," Toryn said brusquely and looked away, unable to meet Redwing’s stare any longer. "They will heal."

  Redwing nodded. "Let me look at your head."

  Against Toryn’s protests, Redwing removed that bandage, as well, and cleaned the wound before he pronounced it uninfected and healthy-looking. He handed Toryn a comb and allowed him to tend to his hair, for which he was grateful. Redwing watched with obvious curiosity as Toryn carefully wove an intricate braid. His hair was entwined with bright green leather cored adorned with jet and pale green stones. Toryn did not bother to explain the significance of either braids or decorations. They had a familial import.

  "Can you travel?"

  "Of course," Toryn replied, somewhat annoyed that his enemy was now acting like a nursemaid. Toryn walked, leading still, although he noticed with some amusement that Redwing kept a closer grip on his weapons. Toryn flexed his arms to work the stiffness free. Even if he could somehow get his sword back from Redwing, he knew he’d be lucky if he could use it.

  As they traveled, the terrain grew rockier, forcing them to climb more frequently. The road lost its level plane and became boulder-strewn and rugged. Pot-sized holes pitted the surface and water drainage had created deep runnels that necessitated careful treading.

  "Who maintains this road?" Toryn asked after he stumbled over an exposed root and skinned his left knee. A wagon would have had an impossible time following the path.

  "Falara tends it on this side of the pass," Redwing replied between pants of exertion. "And Terris maintains the southern portion. Once the danger of snow slides have passed, work crews will be sent out. The church keeps the road open to facilitate communication between the orders."

  Toryn grunted, losing interest and paying more attention to his footsteps.

  The air grew thinner and they stopped to rest frequently, sweating in spite of the cool day. By sundown, Toryn was exhausted. Redwing had feathered two quail when they had surprised a covey next to the road. When they ate that night Toryn was allowed to feed himself, for which he was grateful. He hoped never to take such small freedoms for granted again. The birds were small but delicious, and eaten with a slab of hard white cheese and flat bread baked with herbs and nuts. They devoured the meal in silence.

  "What do Redolians swear upon?" Redwing asked as he tossed his gnawed bone into the fire. Sparks shot up toward the night sky. "What is an oath you would never break?"

  "For me, personally? I suppose I would swear upon Adona." Toryn shrugged as he concentrated on the last of his meat. It was tasty, but it needed something. Herbs. Rosemary, perhaps. And ale would be nice to wash it down, or something a bit stronger. Like that firewater the Amblyn tribe brewed in the winter. "Or upon the sword of my father. Why do you ask?"

  "Very well, if you swear by Adona, and on the sword of your father, that you will not try to escape, nor try to harm, nor kill me, then I will not bind you tonight," Redwing declared.

  Toryn’s head
snapped up, all thought of herbs and firewater dissipating. He wondered if Redwing had lost his mind. "Why would you do that?"

  Redwing’s brow wrinkled and he shrugged. "I have no wish to kill you. Even though you tried to slay me, you were acting for the good of your country, as you see it. I hope to convince you that should I fulfill my quest and become the next king of Falara, I have no designs on Redol, except perhaps to make peace between us. There has been bloodshed and hostility for far too long." He held up a hand to forestall Toryn’s comment. "I know that two days has not been long enough to persuade you of my sincerity, but perhaps you have some doubt that all Falarans are your enemies. I cannot keep you with me indefinitely, but I would rather you did not return to Redol just yet."

  "Why not?"

  "It will take me a week to get far enough into Terris to avoid pursuit. On the chance that you still want to kill me, I would rather not cumber myself with the possibility of you following me with reinforcements."

  "What if I swore to Adona that I would not tell anyone where you are going?" Toryn asked dryly.

  "One promise at a time, please." Redwing raised a hand.

  "I could have escaped any time today," Toryn said. "There were numerous opportunities."

  "Were there? You have seen my skill with a bow."

  The statement was valid, even though Toryn was loathe to admit it. He had been ready to make a run for it several times, but Redwing’s longbow was always in hand and Toryn had never seen such accuracy as Redwing possessed. To slay three men with three arrows in the dead of night… such a deed could not be attributed to luck.

  Even so, Redwing’s suggestion seemed insane—to gamble that Toryn would act in a civilized manner. What was honor between enemies? Toryn would like nothing more than to cut the Falaran’s throat and make for home, yet Redwing’s simple conviction of Toryn’s faith struck home. If Toryn swore by Adona and then betrayed his oath, would he be putting his soul in jeopardy? Where would be the glory in the kill if he swore falsely and attacked the Falaran in his sleep?

  "I suppose I have little choice," Toryn said finally. "I swear to Adona that I will not try to escape tonight, nor try to kill you, even though you are a dirty sheepherding Falaran who deserves to die."

  Redwing’s lips twitched in a half-smile. "That will have to do." He pulled out his sword and knelt before it with left his hand on the hilt. He clasped his right hand over his heart and bowed his head.

  "You do that every morning and night," Toryn commented. "Why?"

  "I am giving thanks. Would you like to hear the words?"

  Toryn nodded and Redwing spoke aloud. "Adona, giver of life and breath, fire and water, thanks be to you for watching over me this day. Protect me as I sleep so that I may dedicate myself to your service on the morrow." He smirked. "And guide Toryn to follow the path of honor, in your name. So be it."

  Toryn made no comment and Redwing prepared himself for bed. Toryn knew Redwing would sleep little that night, most likely regretting his generous decision. As for Toryn, he had no intention of going anywhere. It would be a long, cold journey back to his family in Redol and Morgyn was sure to have a frothing fit of rage once Toryn reported what they had done. The longer he put off that little confrontation, the better. Toryn would remain with the crazy Falaran for a while longer. He frowned as he pondered Redwing’s earlier words. Could he be sincere? Would he really seek to bring peace between Falara and Redol? Was such a thing even possible after so long, after so much bloodshed and anger? Toryn doubted it, but something in Redwing’s eyes made him want to believe it was possible.