The Gauntlet Thrown

by Cheryl Dyson

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TEMPTATION

  Brydon was seated on a fallen log with his back against a tree, on watch, when he saw Sellaris stir from sleep. He watched her pale hand splay over the blankets for a moment, and then he dragged his attention back to a casual survey of the slumbering encampment. He knew there was no danger, but with Reed an unknown factor it paid to be alert. His gaze returned to Sellaris, who sat up and then got to her feet and glanced around. Looking for me, he suspected. She had been untied for the past couple of days, after she had given her word that she would neither leave nor aid the others in escape. They had decided to stay for a few days in order to give Alyn a chance to recover from her concussion or whatever ailed her.

  Sellaris crouched and prodded at the fire, but he knew her eyes scanned the trees, searching for any sign of movement that would give away his presence. Brydon stayed where he was, out of the rain under a large leafy tree. He turned his attention to the horses that were mostly huddled together. Darkling, instead of sleeping, followed Toryn’s mare around and around a tree at a very slow pace, as if herding her. Brydon knew when Fang tired of it she would lash out at him with a hoof and that would be the end of the herding.

  It did not take Sellaris long to find him. She sat down next to him, but said nothing for a long while. He refrained from looking at her and kept his attention on the horses. He had already memorized every plane of her face and every curve of her body even though he wished he had not. During the past days of waiting there had been little to do but watch her.

  "This country is depressing," Sellaris said finally. "Rain, rain, rain."

  "I thought it rained often in Bodor," Brydon said quietly.

  "Yes, but it isn’t a dark, cold rain like this. Usually, the sun is still out. It is not swampy and muddy, either. The trees grow so tall and thick in some areas that the rain hardly reaches the ground. It is warm in Bodor. Not like here. I hate the cold."

  Brydon was silent. She would not do well in Falara, where snow blanketed the ground much of the year. She looked at him once, but he did not meet her eyes. His head rested against the trunk of the tree. From the corner of his eye he saw her teeth worry her lower lip for a moment.

  Before she could speak, Brydon asked, "What do you know about Reed’s powers?"

  "Do you see me only as a fount of information?"

  "No," he replied and forced his gaze away from her lips. He did not elaborate and she sighed.

  "We did not discover Reed’s abilities for a long while. In fact, it was not until we displeased him that we discovered how powerful he was. A particularly fine mare sickened and died while we were moving her to Bodor. There was nothing we could do for the horse—what does anyone outside of Akarska know of horse illnesses?" She spoke bitterly, as though still plagued by the incident.

  "When we met up with Reed, he was furious. The next thing we knew, Garyn and Lavan were writhing on the ground, clutching their heads in pain while Reed watched them intently. I did not know what he was doing to them, but I grabbed my dagger and slashed at him. He deflected the blow and earned himself a gash on the forearm, but then he was in my mind." She went silent and a pained expression crossed her face. Brydon could only imagine what the experience had been like. His lips thinned at the memory of Reed doing the same to him.

  "I fought back," she went on, "of course. My efforts were nothing to Reed, but it seemed to impress him that I had even limited power. He halted the attack. Shortly thereafter, he sent Garyn and Lavan on a mission, but took me with him to Silver. He said he required my help. In reality, we spent three weeks in a villa in one of the principalities of Silver while he tried to teach me about my powers. He refused to tell me where they came from, although I think he knows. He seemed frustrated that my abilities are not like his—I cannot do even half the things he can." She reached into her shirt and pulled out the green crystal. It looked like a black shard in the darkness.

  "He gave this to me. It augments my skill somehow—it helps me to focus and maintain my mental shield—defense from people like you." She smiled shortly. "It also protects me from intrusion by Reed, though I’m certain that was not his original intent." She tucked the crystal back inside her blouse.

  "Reed has the ability to converse mentally with anyone, unless they have the power to block him, and I have not found many people with that talent. He can also will himself elsewhere—he calls it ‘stepping’—but I am not sure if more than mere willpower is required for that. He seems to need his crystal to ‘step’, or perhaps the stone simply makes it easier for him. That is all I know of his abilities, but he can most likely do things he has never shown me. I am merely a convenience to him—he does not trust me."

  Brydon wondered about her relationship with Reed—were they lovers? It seemed likely, even though the idea made him cringe. Her information had given him little insight into Reed’s powers and motivations, and in turn gave him no information about his own abilities. Sellaris had not elaborated on her powers and he wondered whether his talents compared more with hers or Reed’s. He would have to search for answers—Reed had attained knowledge from somewhere and Brydon was determined to discover it as well.

  Sellaris turned to him. "What is Falara like?" she asked.

  He wondered briefly what she really wanted. She was not at all the type to make small talk. He stared up at the treetops and allowed his gaze to unfocus as he remembered.

  "It is cold, usually," he said at last. "Falara has high mountains, deep snow, clear water, and tall trees. The air is clean and pure and makes your lungs ache in the winter. There is a mountain near Eaglecrest called Phantom Peak. Most of the time it is invisible, hidden by clouds. Superstitious folk say it’s not even real, that it is a place of magic that appears in response to portents. Many times you can see only the top of it, floating above a blanket of clouds, even on the clearest day. It’s breathtaking. Falara is a beautiful place."

  "And the women? Are they beautiful also?" Her voice was bland.

  "Of course. There are lovely women everywhere. One has but to look."

  "And do you? Look for lovely women?" she whispered huskily. She leaned toward him and his eyes swung to hers. A mistake. Her dark red hair was tangled, the curls in disarray, but it only added to her wild beauty. Her grey eyes were shadowy slashes in the darkness and her lips were full, slightly parted as she awaited his response.

  Brydon could not answer. He was overcome with the desire to kiss her and gave in to it with a soft groan, bending down to touch his lips to hers. Her arms went around his neck and she returned his kiss with a passion that quickened his blood and sent his pulse racing. When he broke away, a long while later, he looked at her and saw the brightness of the hidden stars shining in her eyes. Droplets of rain, still falling, glistened in her hair. She did not turn away.

  "I am drawn to you," she said in a breathy voice. "I don’t know why, but you are beautiful and perfect and I want you."

  Brydon could not breathe for a moment and wished her words had not placed a weight upon his heart. He wanted to believe she lied, that she sat with him for some sinister purpose of her own, but he could read the truth in her eyes. "You know this cannot be."

  "Anything can be, if we make it so," she insisted and pulled him into another kiss.

  Brydon knew he should leave her immediately and the reasons clamored in his mind: his quest, the princess, the kingdom; but they were swept away by the fierce surge of desire that overcame him. His hands caressed her slim form while hers curled in his hair and slid over his shoulders.

  He felt her bare skin beneath the soft leather of her shirt and she gasped at the feel of his cold hand on her warm flesh, but she did not pull away.

  "Brydon," she murmured. She trailed kisses across his neck until her breath was hot in his ear.

  "What sorcery is this?" Brydon asked as her hands slipped under his shirt, tracking fire across his back.

  "No sorcery," Sellaris breathed, "Just desire."

  Brydon captured h
er lips again and surrendered to it.

  "Was she trying to escape, Brydon?" Toryn’s amused voice asked.

  Brydon snatched away from her as if burned and looked at Toryn, who leaned against a tree some distance away, smiling a smirk that Brydon had suddenly come to hate. Sellaris turned away from them both, panting.

  "What do you want?" Brydon asked, a bit more harshly than he intended.

  "It's my turn to take watch, remember?" Toryn said mildly.

  Brydon turned to ask Sellaris to return to camp, but she had disappeared into the trees.

  "Thanks, Toryn," Brydon snapped, still flushed.

  "I was just thinking of your poor princess up in Falara, pining away for your return. You are not giving up the quest, are you?"

  The taunt was akin to cold water. Brydon drew himself up as the heat on his cheeks began to cool. "Of course not," he snapped.

  Toryn shrugged. "Just wondering." He grinned, obviously pleased to have caught Brydon doing something less than noble.

  Brydon growled and stalked back to camp. Once there, he saw that Sellaris had returned to her brother’s side and feigned sleep. He sighed and dropped to his own blankets. He pulled his vest over his head as protection from the rain. Once there, guilt overcame him like a smothering hood. How could he have almost…? When he thought of what was at stake he shuddered. He could not let something as base as lust come between him and his honor. He wondered if Toryn had been sent to him by Adona to prevent him from abandoning his quest in a moment of weakness. Sellaris was beautiful and desirable, but she was also mercenary and self-serving. He thanked Adona for his renewed clarity of thought and pledged to thank Toryn on the morrow.

  Rain dripped from his vest down the back of his neck and he shifted in his blankets to try and get more comfortable. Sellaris was right, he reflected, it was a miserable country.

  Before he woke the next morning, Brydon had a strange dream. In the dream, he was some sort of beast, a wolf perhaps, or a hunting cat. He stalked through the dew-wet undergrowth, picking up the faint scents of a jungle buck. Excitement tingled through him as the scent grew stronger and he knew he was getting close. The thought of tearing his fangs into the buck’s thick neck made his mouth water. He could almost taste the hot blood.

  He froze when his ears picked up a noise and then he crept forward silently and peered through the foliage. A large buck stood a few feet away, carelessly nibbling on a bush and swatting its short tail at the swamp bugs out in the early morning’s light. It had a dusky brown-green coat with darker mottling as camouflage. Useless, he thought with satisfaction. The buck’s horns were straight, spiraling up from the skull. A young buck, then. Perfect.

  Brydon crouched and his tail twitched softly. The buck, as if sensing danger, lifted its head in alarm. Brydon sprang. The buck leaped, but too late. His claws fastened into the animal's flesh and an instant later his teeth found its neck. There was a dreadful ripping and blood gushed over Brydon's teeth and tongue. The buck leaped high into the air and came down in a crumpled heap. Brydon held on until he was certain it was dead. Then he carefully detached his teeth and sat back on his haunches. He felt a sudden lurching sensation, so unexpected that he started awake violently, but his mind caught something in the fleeting instant before total consciousness.

  "Davin?" he burst out as he sat up.

  Those awake looked at him questioningly.

  "He is on watch," Verana said as she wrapped Garyn’s scratch-wounds with herb-soaked bandages. The brown-haired man was shirtless and sat patiently beneath her ministrations. Garyn seemed healthy and strong, other than his wounds. He was shorter and more muscular than Toryn, but his features looked open and honest. Brydon had not formed a firm opinion about him. Sellaris was talking to Lavan, who looked happy as a rabid wolf, as usual. It was hard to believe they were even related. Lavan’s mouth was set in a perpetual snarl and the hard glare made the handsome planes of his face look harsh and cruel. He reminded Brydon of the spoiled sons of arrogant nobles he had encountered as a boy, the type that felt the world owed them a boon for merely existing.

  Sellaris locked gazes with Brydon and she flushed slightly before she turned back to Lavan. Did she regret the previous night, Brydon wondered? Had it even been real, or had she just been toying with him? He shrugged off his thoughts irritably and remembered his resolution to have nothing further to do with her.

  He got up and mentally searched for Davin. Once located, Brydon went into the forest. Surprisingly, it was not raining.

  Davin looked up when Brydon approached. He was bent over the body of a buck, the same buck Brydon had seen in his dream. Davin efficiently gutted it with his dagger.

  "You killed it with a knife?" Brydon asked casually.

  Davin was silent for a moment and then shrugged. "No. A jungle cat killed it. The beast fled when I approached. Possibly the same one that attacked Garyn yesterday."

  Brydon nodded thoughtfully. "We should take it back to camp before the cat returns."

  Davin’s smile seemed forced. "Yes, I suppose you’re right."

  Brydon helped the silver-haired man drag the animal through the undergrowth and wondered if he had accidentally projected his mind into that of the cat’s and next into Davin’s. But somehow, he knew it had not happened that way.

  Toryn was ecstatic to see the buck and immediately set about preparing venison for the cook pot, excitedly rifling through Verana’s supplies. Alyn opened her eyes for a few moments, drank some of Verana’s tea, and went back to sleep. The Akarskan girl had done little but sleep during the past few days. When she was awake she seemed groggy and uncertain. Verana told them her behavior was the result of her head wound and should be temporary.

  "How long do you intend to keep us tied?" Lavan demanded when Brydon approached. "I thought you agreed to free us."

  "I agreed," Brydon replied. "I did not say when." He was surprised that Sellaris had kept her word and not released Garyn and her brother. They were most likely amazed, as well.

  "Then when? What are you waiting for?"

  "I am waiting," Brydon said, "to see if Reed returns for you."

  "He won’t," Garyn protested. "We have already told you."

  Brydon ignored the complaint. He was not in a generous frame of mind, even though he knew that wrestling with his conscience over Sellaris had caused his black mood.

  "Where will you go from here, Brydon?" Verana asked when he returned to the fire with his fletching supplies. During their days of relative inactivity, Brydon had worked to maintain his supplies, mending clothing and honing his weapons. "Will you return Alyn to her own people before you continue your journey?"

  Brydon shook his head. "I expect Toryn will escort Alyn back to Akarska. I will continue on to Kaneelis with you. Toryn can return to Redol once Alyn is safely home."

  The Redolian glared at him, knife stilling over the roots he held. "No," Toryn said flatly. "I am not going back to Adona-forsaken Akarska for any reason. Besides, I said I would stay with you."

  Brydon blinked at him. He had expected Toryn to accompany him only as far as the Waryn Highway, a place they would no longer reach on their current path. "I release you from your vow."

  "You cannot."

  Brydon scowled, wondering what game Toryn played now. He had been trying to escape Brydon’s company for days on end and now that he was free, he chose to stay. It was baffling.

  Before Brydon could respond, Verana made an exasperated sound. "Alyn cannot return to Akarska by herself in her current condition! If you refuse to return her to her people, then I suggest you all accompany me to Kaneelis where she can be healed properly in the Temple. Kaneelis would be an ideal place to release Sellaris, Garyn, and Lavan, or even turn them over to the authorities, as you choose. I am certain they will find it preferable to leaving them here in the swamp without horses." Her amber eyes sparkled. After days in the mud and muck, Verana still looked as fresh as a spring flower. Her pale blue robes were clean but for the mud-spattered hem
. Her black hair was neatly braided and bedecked with beads and garlands of flowery vines whose colors contrasted brightly with her skin.

  "You would leave us without horses?" Lavan exclaimed, apparently eavesdropping on their conversation. Brydon wondered again that the obnoxious man was kin to Sellaris. Aside from their coloring, they seemed little alike. It was odd that Sellaris had some of Reed’s abilities while her brother had none. Brydon had asked her about it.

  "I don’t know why," she had replied tersely. Brydon’s eyes had narrowed; he sensed a lie. Perhaps the mystique surrounding her contributed to his attraction. He glared at her brother now.

  "I think you have been mounted so long you have forgotten that most people walk," Verana said sharply. "The horses are not legally yours, or has it slipped your mind that they were stolen?"

  Lavan flushed angrily and looked away.

  "Is it agreed, then? We go to Kaneelis?" Brydon asked. "Davin, you have accompanied us this far. Will you join us?"

  There was a wild, hunted look on Davin’s face for a moment, and then it was gone as he nodded. "If you will have me," he said.

  "Then it is settled. We go to Kaneelis and decide further from there."

  While the others prepared to break camp, Brydon thought it wise to search the dead bandits’ belongings and take anything that might be useful. Sellaris had already claimed her items and those of her brother and Garyn. Davin and Brydon had given everything else a cursory search, taking the blankets, some clothing, and cooking utensils, but most of the remainder had been left untouched. It had disturbed Brydon to sort through the possessions of the dead men, but now it was either take what they had left or leave it behind.

  Earlier, Toryn and Davin had dragged the bodies of the two men to a quick-mud area and let the earth suck them down. Brydon felt chagrined that they had not burned the bodies as was proper, but he supposed they had not really deserved a suitable funeral for what they had done to Alyn. Apparently, she had tried to escape and the one called Snip had hit her on the head—a bit too hard—which had resulted in prolonged unconsciousness and her present befuddled state.

  They had tossed the packs into an out-of-the-way area, so Brydon beckoned Sellaris over to assist him. "Which are Reed’s belongings?" he asked.

  Sellaris gestured vaguely. Brydon walked to where a small leather knapsack had been haphazardly tossed near a tree. Brydon picked it up and dumped the contents as he knelt down to examine them. There was no clothing. It seemed Reed had not planned to remain long with Sellaris and the others. Brydon found a golden dagger in a tooled-leather sheath that looked more ornamental than useful. The hilt was encrusted with rubies. Brydon set it aside and sorted through the miscellanea, searching for some clue as to Reed’s personality. Where had the man come from? The remains of a large piece of cheese and some stale bread were wrapped in oiled leather. Near that was a length of thin, coiled rawhide, perhaps surplus in case of broken straps and emergency repairs. A small flask of brandy was concealed by an ornate, oiled leather case. Inside the case were several small packets of what looked like herbs and powders. Medicines? The remaining items were odds and ends such as a metal cup and measuring spoon.

  Sellaris knelt and went through the belongings of Flord and Snip. She set aside a few items and waited for him to finish.

  "Do you need any of this?" he asked, gesturing to Reed’s belongings.

  She shook her head. "If Reed wanted any of it, he should not have left it. I have no intention of returning it to him."

  "Then you don’t mind if I take this?" He held up the dagger.

  She looked at it with narrowed eyes. "I’ve never seen it before."

  Brydon thought it made sense to conceal a jeweled dagger when you consorted with thieves, but he said nothing. About to attach the dagger to his belt, he reconsidered. It would make a fine gift for Toryn, who had been ogling Brydon’s matching sword and dagger during their journey. He glanced over at Toryn, who was immersed in an argument with Davin over the proper way to stow cooking items. Brydon stuffed the dagger deep into his pack so he could surprise Toryn with it later.

  He picked up the flask and the case with the herb packets, assuming Verana or Toryn would likely be able to use them. The rest of the items he shoved back into the pack to give to Davin, who had nothing of his own. Davin had traded his filthy rags for some of the clothing that had belonged to the dead men, but it was scarcely an improvement. Reed’s leather pack, at least, was in good condition.

  Sellaris stood and gave Brydon a secretive smile, making his eyes narrow suspiciously and wonder what she was up to. He would have to watch her—not that it was a difficult chore.

  Alyn was semi-conscious, awake enough to stay mounted, although Brydon doubted anyone but a native Akarskan could manage such a feat. They loaded the gear onto the horses and moved out after tying Lavan’s and Garyn's wrists to the saddles of their horses. None of them trusted the two men enough to have them walking—or riding—free. Someone was always on watch to see that Sellaris made no attempt to liberate them, especially at night while the others slept. Brydon had managed to capture most of the bandit’s steeds and had allowed Sellaris and the others to pick the ones they claimed as their own. The rest he roped together in a string and divided surplus equipment atop their saddles. Alyn would be able to return all of the horses to Akarska once she recovered. Brydon patted Darkling’s neck, saddened to know that the stallion would be included. The black horse did not legally belong to him, after all. He hoped briefly that they did not meet any Akarskan hunters between here and Kaneelis. It would be difficult to explain the possession of so many horses and a single, injured Akarskan girl.