The Gauntlet Thrown

by Cheryl Dyson

  ******

  Toryn gazed unhappily at his new quarters. The cell was dismal and dank, as some universal code of dungeons stated it should be. It was about six paces deep and four across. Three of the walls were windowless stone and the fourth consisted of iron bars that stretched from floor to ceiling with a gate built into the center. A patch of filthy straw moldered on the floor, looking old enough for the castle to have been built around it. Toryn decided against sitting on it, ever, and stood as near to the bars as possible. The close confinement made him decidedly uncomfortable.

  The cells were situated side by side so prisoners could not see each other. He peered through the iron and dimly saw more cells across the way, but nothing else of interest except the metal-clad door at the end of the room that led to freedom.

  Rather than give in to his growing sense of tension, he tried to figure out why Reed had been in Terris. And what was his interest in Davin? Then there was his cryptic last remark. Where was the Gauntlet? Redwing would not be pleased about that. Not that it would matter unless they got out of here.

  //Brydon?// he called out mentally.

  //Yes?//

  Toryn jumped a bit, even though he’d expected the response. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the Falaran’s abilities. //Do you know anything about this?//

  //No,// Redwing admitted. //I never expected this. The King of Ven-Kerrick was supposed to be noble and good.//

  //It looks like Kerrick’s offspring decided not to follow in his footsteps.//

  //Apparently not.// Redwing sighed, an odd sensation when experienced through their mental link.

  "Hail, newcomers," a deep voice called from the darkness. "What did you do to annoy Reed?"

  Toryn peered through the bars, but saw nothing.

  "We encountered Reed some time back," Brydon explained. "It seems he held a grudge."

  "That is Reed’s way."

  "What was your crime?" Redwing asked.

  "I walked unaware into the lion’s den. I am Jace the Wanderer, Knight-priest of the Shield. Reed has no tolerance for knight-priests."

  "Then he has a twofold reason to keep me here," Redwing said dryly. "I am Brydon Redwing, Knight-priest of the Lance."

  "A Falaran! You are far from home!"

  "The distance seems to be growing with every passing moment," Redwing said. He spent some time regaling the stranger with news from Falara and Toryn spent the time half-listening while examining the lock on his gate for weaknesses. None were found.

  The rattle of a key in the door caught Toryn's attention.

  The iron door swung open to admit a man bearing a large tray. He was dressed in rough clothing and a hood covered much of his face. The guardian at the door held a torch over the man’s head, ostensibly to light the way.

  "I hates it down here," the newcomer whined and made no effort to enter the darkness of their cellblock. "Can’t ye feeds ‘em?"

  "Get in there," the guard snarled and shoved the fellow with a hand to the back. The man staggered inside and nearly lost the tray as well as his balance. He set up a loud wailing and the guard slammed the door, leaving him alone with the prisoners. The man’s whimpering silenced immediately and he set the tray upon the ground. He hurried from Toryn’s sight and a moment later cried softly, "Shevyn! Oh, my dearest Shevyn."

  Toryn pressed his face against the bars curiously and heard the man speak in a lower tone; he could not make out any words. A short time later, the man rose. Toryn could see his profile as he stopped in front of Brydon’s cell.

  "You brought her here!" the man hissed. His brutish accent had disappeared. "How could you do that?"

  "Kerryn," Jace interrupted in a dry voice, "You may dispense blame later. For now, can you concentrate on getting us out of here?"

  "Sir Jace!" the man gasped. "I did not know you had been imprisoned."

  "It seems Reed’s explanation of my sudden disappearance was accepted by all."

  "Not all, but we feared you were dead."

  "I most likely will be unless I can escape from here."

  "I do not know how to accomplish it—our numbers now are too few."

  "Find our friend Davin," Redwing said urgently.

  "Why should I listen to you?" Kerryn demanded.

  "Kerryn!" Jace snapped in a voice that crackled with authority. "He is a knight-priest. How was he to know that Ven-Kerrick had fallen?"

  Kerryn shook his head. Toryn could barely make out his features in the dim light, but he seemed young.

  "We dare not make it known," Kerryn murmured miserably.

  "Exactly. We are the only ones who can stop Reed and we can accomplish nothing from inside these cells. Listen to Sir Brydon."

  Kerryn glared, but nodded.

  "Find Davin," Redwing said again. "He is the silver-haired man who rode in with us. I do not pretend to know Reed’s purpose, but he most likely seeks to bargain with Davin. Find him and tell him where we are. I know he can help us."

  "What can one man do against Reed’s guards?"

  "More than you can imagine," Redwing replied.

  The guard outside flung the door open suddenly and Kerryn crouched instantly.

  "Haven’t you distributed that food, yet?" the guard demanded.

  "What if they grabs me?" Kerryn whined hysterically. The guard cursed and strode forward. He seized Kerryn with a meaty fist and flung him toward the door. Kerryn stumbled and fell, then picked himself up and ran, wailing pitifully. The guard roughly shoved their food trays beneath the cells doors. The meal consisted of rock-hard crusts of bread, a thin gruel in small wooden bowls, and a few slivers of dried apples—probably a delicacy for prison fare. The guard departed in the same manner he had entered.

  Toryn did not touch the meal, but he could hear Jace’s teeth as he gnawed at the bread. He wondered how long the knight-priest had been imprisoned.

  //Toryn, I’m going to try to contact Davin,// Redwing sent.

  //Won’t that terrify him?//

  //Possibly. But what choice do we have?//

  //Do you think he can help us?//

  //I know he can help us, the question is whether or not he will.//

  //Good luck.//

  Redwing’s presence disappeared and Toryn waited, tapping a knuckle on the bars impatiently. He was considering gnawing on one of the bread crusts when Redwing’s mental voice returned.

  //That was rather fruitless.//

  //You couldn’t find him?// Toryn asked.

  //I found him, but he shut me out. I did not know he could do that. I know this sounds strange, but I think he can change his shape at will.// Redwing related an incident in Terris when he'd felt Davin become a different creature.

  //Then he really is a werewolf?// Toryn asked in amazement.

  //Of sorts, unless I am mistaken.//

  //Amazing! It would explain the attack on Garyn during our fight with Reed. Remember, he was clawed by some animal? I always wondered how that happened. Do you suppose Reed knows about Davin’s ability?//

  //Either that or Davin has been in league with Reed from the beginning.//

  On that somber note, they sat back to wait.