by Cheryl Dyson
CHAPTER NINE
THE SEARCH
Brydon took the lead as they rode east; it was the most likely direction for the bandits to have taken Alyn.
Davin speculated aloud as they rode. "They will not go anywhere near, Akarska and there is no way to cross the Abyss into Penkangum. They will have to take the ferry in Kaneelis or board a ship bound for Silver. Redolians do not buy slaves, as far as I know..." Davin looked at Toryn for confirmation and the Redolian goggled at him.
"Are you kidding? Our women would kill us!"
Davin nodded. "So they would not go north. The only place for them now is the coast. From there, they can take her by ship to Silver, the Corolis Islands, or G’Neel Across the Sea."
"We will just have to catch them before they get that far," Toryn said grimly and Brydon agreed. If Alyn had not been escorting them to the Waryn Highway, she never would have been captured. Brydon felt responsible for her, but it did not prevent him from feeling relieved that they also traveled in the direction he needed to go. He was not entirely sure what choice he would make if the direction had been otherwise. He would like to think that rescuing an innocent girl—well, maybe not that innocent, but a girl—took priority over his quest.
They rode until they reached the reedy banks of a sluggish river a few hours later. It flowed east, so they followed it, sticking to its southern bank. By that time they had descended quite a lot and the ground had become less firm, especially near the river. The foliage increased and Brydon occasionally had to get down and hack a path with his sword. They dismounted often to lead the horses through thickets of trees whose branches hung too low to ride beneath.
"Welcome to Terris," Verana said as Toryn sank nearly up to his boot-tops in mud when he stepped into a deceptive-looking puddle.
"Thanks," he said dryly, pulling his foot out and looking at his once-black boots, now covered in a brown sludge. "The land of a hundred-thousand mud holes."
"We’ve been lucky so far," Verana stated. "It hasn’t rained. Yet."
"That’s comforting," Brydon said and Toryn gave him a dismal smile.
It was fully dark when they finally stopped for the night. They camped near the river on a small rise that had to be cleared of brush, but at least the ground was dry.
Verana and Toryn prepared a meal while Davin and Brydon tended to the horses. While they ate, Verana insisted on fixing up the scratches and bruises that Toryn and Brydon had received in the village. They all spoke little, nearly overcome with exhaustion.
Toryn stood watch as the others lay down for a much-needed rest, claiming he was too wound up to sleep. An hour or two later, Brydon awoke. He tossed and turned for a few minutes and finally resigned himself to the fact that he would not easily get back to sleep, so he decided to rise and relieve Toryn. The darkness was almost absolute; the fire was a bare ember and the full moon was mostly hidden by the thick branches and gathering clouds. He walked over and laid a hand on Toryn’s shoulder.
"Time for some rest," he said. Toryn sighed wearily and nodded, but did not rise from the log on which he sat. Brydon sat down beside him and looked into the depths of the forest.
"How did you know where Alyn was?" Toryn asked after a moment, "When she was first kidnapped?"
Brydon did not have to ask what he meant. He pondered his reply, knowing Toryn would not be put off by partial truths or evasion. That suspicion was confirmed when Toryn went on, "Don’t tell me you knew the village was there, either. You could not have known."
Brydon had to admit the truth of it. "I’m not sure. I just know, sometimes, when people are around. Like when you tried to kill me. I knew you and your friends were there and what you were planning before you ever got close enough to attack."
"So that’s how you did it!" Toryn exclaimed. "I always wondered why you were not sleeping that night. What about Alyn? Why didn’t you know the men were there before they took her?"
"I was not paying attention until after she was taken," Brydon explained. "I have to at least be thinking about it before it works. When you and the others came for me I was half-expecting an attack, so I was alert for it and it was easy to sense your presence. After Alyn was taken, I mentally... I don’t know, searched for them. I concentrated on Alyn and impressions came to me—not thoughts, exactly, but feelings and images. She was afraid and angry with the men who had taken her. I sort of kept a mental hold on her presence and could determine what direction they had gone. I could also sense the men who had taken her, but only in a vague way—like man-forms with no essence. I think I need to actually meet someone in order to clarify an image of them."
"How long have you had this ability?" Toryn asked, obviously fascinated. Brydon found it something of a relief to finally be able to confess his aptitude. He had never told anyone about his odd talent, not even his mother, who would not have loved him an iota less for it. Not even his best friend, although Brydon had known little of his abilities while Kellyn had been alive.
"I first noticed it when I was a lad," Brydon said. "I had broken the leather on my father’s favorite scabbard while pretending I was a knight-priest. I was terrified that he would come home and discover it before I could fix it. I was rather frantic until the realization came to me—quite clearly—that he was in a neighbor’s barn some two leagues away. I found a similar piece of leather and managed to replace the broken strap. I worked without panic because I knew where he was. I had finished long before he came home and my casual questioning that evening revealed that he had, indeed, been at the neighbor’s all afternoon."
"Did he notice the strap?"
Brydon grinned. "A week later. He could not recall if he had replaced it himself, so I was never questioned. The deception ate at me, however, and I later confessed."
Toryn clapped a hand to his forehead. "Why am I not surprised?"
"I sensed things sporadically throughout the next few years—strangers approaching, a bright flash of pain from my mother when she burned her hand on a hot kettle, the impression of contentment coming from the cattle while they munched their hay. The feelings came to me when I concentrated on them, or sometimes when I was near to sleep."
"Do you know where Alyn is right now?" Toryn asked.
Brydon shook his head and sighed. "There seems to be a range to this ability. They moved Alyn while we were unconscious. I don’t know where to look for her. I am trying, though, scanning in all directions. If we ever get near enough to them, I should know it. I just hope we are traveling in the right direction."
"How will you know it is Alyn and not some other woman?"
Brydon refused to get in to that. He was not sure himself. "I just do," he said evasively. Knowing Toryn would pry, he asked, "Why are you so eager to find her, anyway? I thought you two did not get along."
Toryn cleared his throat. "She is a comrade, of a sort. I do not like to leave comrades in trouble."
Brydon grinned. "I thought you might be falling in love with her."
Toryn snorted. "With an Akarskan? She would sooner cut my throat than kiss me."
"Probably. I’m sure you get that reaction from a lot of women."
"Watch it, Falaran."
"You should get some sleep. You’ll need all your wits to stay dry when we start again."
"That is an unfortunate fact," Toryn said and wrinkled his nose. He got up and crossed to Brydon’s vacated bed where he covered himself and lay still.
