The Gauntlet Thrown

by Cheryl Dyson

  *****

  Brydon woke with a horrible headache and a jolting sensation that would not stop. He raised his head and opened his eyes to see the scenery bobbing up and down like a ship in a bad storm. He snapped his eyes shut and groaned. Instantly, the motion ceased.

  "Greetings, Falaran," Nykar said. Brydon opened his eyes again and saw Darkling’s hooves quite clearly. He realized he had been thrown facedown over his saddle and tied there. He felt his ropes loosen.

  "Sorry for the discomfort. I didn’t want you to slide off your horse on our little ride."

  "What happened?" Brydon asked. He slipped from Darkling and gripped his pounding head in both hands. His legs threatened to give out on him, so he grabbed at his saddle with one hand. He looked at Nykar through half closed eyes. "Where are we?"

  Nykar shrugged. "I had to drug you. Those are feisty womenfolk you have. After you and the other one collapsed, they came tearing out of the bushes like she-cats."

  Brydon’s eyes opened and fixed on Nykar. "What did you do to them?" A quick glance around disclosed no one except Nykar.

  "Nothing. We disarmed them, even though the blond girl gravely injured three of my men with that whip of hers. Against the five of us, they did not have much of a chance. We tied them up and left them. Your friend should wake up in time to set them free."

  "Where are your men?" Brydon asked.

  "Back at their post, although they are not technically my men. I can command them when I choose, but I am not one of them."

  "You are not a border guard? Then who are you?"

  "You don’t recognize me? I had thought better of you." He took a corner of his cloak and draped it over his features.

  "The man in the mask!" Brydon exclaimed. No wonder he had seemed familiar! Brydon nearly swore aloud at his stupidity in not realizing it sooner. "Who are you?"

  "You will find out soon enough. I’m taking you to the Black City."

  Brydon frowned. "What will the border guard do to my companions if Alyn injured several of them?" he asked, worried.

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing? Why not?"

  "Because I ordered them not to. I told you I can command them." There was a note of steel in Nykar’s voice.

  "You have that authority?" Brydon asked.

  "If I so choose. Now get back on the horse and let’s be off."

  "What if I refuse?" Brydon snapped belligerently.

  Nykar shrugged. "Then I clout you on the head with the flat of my blade and tie you on again. As you may have noticed, you are unarmed."

  Brydon had noticed. He glared at Nykar and mounted Darkling. "What awaits me in the Black City?"

  "We are going to speak to someone," Nykar said. He was a nondescript sort of man, the type one would see a thousand times in the city or in the peasant fields. Brown hair, brown eyes, plain face, and no remarkable features.

  "You seem determined to locate this alleged caravan from Ven-Kerrick," Nykar said as they traveled. "Why?"

  "You seem interested in my interests," Brydon returned dryly. "Why?"

  "We seem to be at a stalemate again. Very well, we will ride in silence." Nykar smiled. He ignored Brydon and hummed to himself all the way to the city. Brydon thought of spinning Darkling around and racing back to Toryn and the others, but he was curious to discover just what it was that Nykar wanted. If Brydon escaped, he would likely hunt him down again—Nykar seemed the type who would do it.

  They reached the Black City shortly after dark. Brydon mentally urged Toryn to hurry, even though he seemed to be out of range—or still unconscious. Brydon’s curiosity did not extend so far that he would risk losing the others. If he could not reach Toryn mentally, then Toryn would likely be able to track their course without much trouble. He was well-familiar with Darkling’s hoof print pattern.

  The Black City appeared to be just that but, of course, it was night when they arrived.

  "Why is it called the Black City?" Brydon asked to get Nykar to stop his infernal humming. He seemed to know only two lines of a single song and was content to hum them over and over. The horses’ hooves rang on the cobbled stone of the streets and the gurgle of a swift river could be heard nearby.

  "Onyx mines," Nykar said shortly. "Darkynhold has little agriculture, but plenty of gems and precious metals. Enough to hold its own with the other principalities for wealth."

  "I don’t understand why the princes of Silver fight," Brydon said. "In Falara there is one king and we all obey him."

  "There is only one king in Silver, also, but thirteen rulers and we obey the one that commands us most closely. The brothers fight because that’s what brothers do, especially if they aren’t full brothers."

  "They are not full brothers?"

  Nykar snorted. "With twelve kids? Well, it’s possible, but not in this case. Naryn, the king, has had a number of wives and a number of mistresses. His first wife had three sons: Keev, Larec, and Merator. She died, and the next year Byoon was born; he was the son of Naryn’s favorite mistress, Shalleel. He married again and his new wife presented him with Rakyn, who rules Darkynhold, and then Shalleel produced S’Lor. The king’s new wife wasn’t about to be outdone by any mistress, so she had two more sons, Reboryx and Eryn. She died after Eryn was born. Too much effort, I suppose, especially since she had to raise her own children in addition to the first three. She was not a particularly strong woman. At any rate, Shalleel was still fertile and had three more boys. The first two are twins, even though they don’t look alike. Yavarrin and Verryn. They don’t get along too well, either. The next one was Berikon. After that, the king married again and three years later the last prince, Amerryn, was born. That is the history of the princes of Silver in a nutshell."

  "If Shalleel gave the king so many sons, why didn’t he marry her? He stayed with her for so long..."

  Nykar snorted. "He would have, and things probably would have been better off, except that Shalleel was already married. She was a sneaky wench, married to a wealthy merchant who was unaware of her liaisons with the king and was thrilled with all his boys, incorrectly assuming that they were his. When the merchant finally died, Shalleel packed up and moved in with King Naryn, bringing all of her illegitimate children with her. Amerryn’s mother was so outraged that she took Amerryn and moved away to Bodor to live. She eventually died there. When he grew up, Amerryn came back to live with his father. At that time, Naryn finally married his mistress, Shalleel. She turned into a complete shrew shortly thereafter and it’s widely believed that he had her poisoned."

  "What? Shalleel is dead?" Brydon was aghast.

  "As a coffin nail. Needless to say, there is bad blood in the whole family. The illegitimate sons were made legitimate when Nykar married Shalleel, but some of them might actually be the merchant’s sons. Perhaps all of them. Who knows? Anyway, those who believe they are the true sons of the king are even more enraged than the others about the whole business. Things started to get out of hand with all of them living in the same city. Naryn finally divided up the kingdom to get the boys out his hair and start them fighting with each other instead of him. Pretty wise man, even if his is a bit old and senile now."

  "Your prince is Rakyn, correct? How does he fit into this puzzle? Is he looking for more power or more land?"

  Nykar shrugged. "Who knows? Rakyn keeps his own council."

  The streets were nearly deserted as they neared the palace wall, but a few citizens and merchants still roamed about. Brydon caught a glimpse of dark red hair and halted Darkling in surprise.

  "Sellaris!" he breathed just as the girl disappeared around a far corner. Without thinking, he turned Darkling and raced down the cobbled street. Nykar bellowed for him to halt, but memories of Sellaris had flooded Brydon’s mind, stopping rational thought.

  He galloped to the corner and then around, but there was no one in sight. He quested with his mind and found a jumble of personalities; none of them were hers. It was likely she had her thoughts shielded.

  Hear
ing Nykar behind him, Brydon touched heels to Darkling and started off again. He decided he was not all that curious after all about meeting the person Nykar had brought him to see. If he turned out to be a friend of Reed’s, Brydon would not be breathing for long. He raced down one twisted street after another until the sound of pursuit finally faded. He eventually reached the gates of the city, purely by accident, and paused. He slipped off of Darkling and shouldered his saddlebags before sending the horse through the gates with a mental command. The guards shouted in surprise, but Darkling was already past them and galloping down the road before they could organize pursuit.

  Brydon watched until Darkling disappeared and then he pulled a hooded cloak from his saddlebags. He donned it and looked for a place to hide. An alleyway beckoned and he followed it until he came to steps leading downward beneath an almost indecipherable sign that read "The Bloody Stump." Obviously one of the better taverns of the area.

  Brydon entered and paused for a moment. It had been quite dark outside, but the interior was even darker, lit by only a few small candles.

  Conversation was so muted as to be almost nonexistent and Brydon felt many pairs of eyes upon him as he made his way to the bar. He ordered dark ale and carried it to a small table to an inky black area of the tavern. All of the corner tables were taken.

  He sipped the stuff slowly, mostly because it tasted both stronger and fouler than anything he had ever consumed before. He kept his cloak pulled closely about him and wished he had his sword. This was not the sort of place to be unarmed. Now that he had escaped Nykar, he pondered his options. He wanted to find Sellaris—if indeed it had been her—and discover her purpose in the Black City. He had expected her to be in Ven-Kerrick with Reed, if anywhere. Then again, she had seemed to be innocent of Reed’s doings there. Brydon hoped it was so.

  He sighed and glared morosely at the dark liquid in his goblet. He should probably leave the Black City and find Toryn, lest he and the girls ride unwittingly into the city, where Nykar would probably snatch them up. He obviously knew Brydon well enough to suspect that he would never leave his friends in the hands of unknown enemies.

  Brydon sat for a while longer and studied the people who came and went, giving Nykar a chance to move his search farther away, until a shock of recognition shivered through him. Sellaris’ red headed brother sat at one of the corner tables. He had not imagined her, after all!

  Brydon hunched lower in his chair, gratified that he had kept his hood on. Not two tables over, Sellaris’ brother—Lavan, that was his name—was deep in conversation with two other rough-looking men. Brydon wished he were close enough to hear what they were saying. He debated with himself for a moment and reluctantly sent out a tendril of thought, remembering the last time he had tried to read Lavan’s mind. He was conscious this time, however, and his surface thoughts were rather easy to detect. Brydon drew back for a moment in revulsion. Lavan was bargaining with the men over the price of a whore. The excitement of a sexual encounter was the foremost thought in Lavan’s mind. Brydon tried again, pressing past Lavan’s thoughts of the moment to seek knowledge of his presence in the Black City.

  ...Sellaris can’t snap at me for gambling, Lavan thought clearly. No gamble, this, ha ha! Brydon seized upon his brief thought of Sellaris and tried to steer Lavan’s thoughts in that direction. Lavan must have sensed his presence, however, for surprise registered.

  Sellaris? he questioned, alarmed and somewhat angry. Brydon pulled out rapidly, sweating. Lavan stood up and stared about suspiciously.

  Brydon waited until Lavan relaxed and then he finished his ale and got to his feet. Brydon went outside as nonchalantly as possible and walked down the alley to a well-shadowed spot and waited, eyes fixed on the tavern door.

  It opened off and on over the next hour to admit and expel various patrons, but at last Lavan exited alone and started toward Brydon, who remained unmoving until he had passed.

  Brydon waited until Lavan reached the end of the alley before following as silently as he could. Sellaris’ brother made no effort to conceal himself and Brydon kept him in sight easily as they neared a more middle-class section of town and stopped at a small boarding house. He entered and Brydon waited until a light came on at the rear of the building. He approached the house and peered through the dusty window, where he spotted Sellaris, her brother, and Garyn. Sellaris sat cross-legged on the single bed, brushing her hair, while the men argued about something. He considered tapping into Lavan’s or Garyn’s thoughts, but any clumsiness would alert Sellaris of an intrusion. He did not want them suspicious.

  Brydon backed off and walked across the street. There was an alleyway not far from the boarding house, so he slumped against the wall and waited. He would wait until they came out in the morning and follow them. If Sellaris was about on Reed’s business, Brydon intended to discover what it was.

  Shrugging off his tiredness, he chewed on a strip of smoked meat and waited for dawn.

  Sometime after sunrise, Sellaris left the house, dressed in a deep green gown sparkling with white stones. Brydon had never seen her in a gown, much less such an elegant one. She wore a short cloak of white fur and Brydon would have bet she carried a couple of daggers under her cloak. He followed her to the marketplace, keeping an eye out for the Ven-Kerrick wagons as he did so. Sellaris bought a few small items and some food. Brydon kept her in sight for nearly an hour, stopping every so often to send his mind out in a wide sweep. At last, he found what he sought.

  //Toryn?// he asked.

  //Brydon! Where are you?//

  //In the Black City, but not where Nykar had intended. I escaped.//

  //Good,// Toryn sent. //We are near the city gates, concealed. What do you want us to do?//

  //Stay there. I’ll stay linked with you. Sellaris is here; I’m following her. Did Darkling find you?//

  //Yes, he trotted in last night. We feared you were dead. Shevyn has not slept. I think she was worried about you.//

  //Tell her I’m fine. I will let you know if anything happens.// He kept a fragile link with Toryn so he would be able to find him in a hurry. Sellaris went back to the boarding house; there was no sign of the Ven-Kerrick caravan.

  After watching the house for a few more minutes, Brydon was glad to see the three residents exit, shouldering packs. Sellaris was dressed again in her dark green leathers with sword and daggers visible on her slim hips. Her hair had been stuffed under a black hunter’s cap and she could have passed for a man except for some very obvious attributes that Brydon remembered all too well.

  The three of them walked to a tavern with an attached corral where they caught up three horses that milled amongst the others animals there—oxen, mostly. They saddled the horses and rode toward the southern gate and Brydon swore. For all he knew, his description had been posted at each of the city gates. Thinking quickly, he lifted himself onto the back of a departing wagon filled with sacks of seed. The driver was nodding sleepily and did not seem to notice the wagon creak when Brydon climbed on. He concealed himself under the parcels until the wagon passed, with excruciating slowness, through the gates. Brydon dropped from the wagon once it reached a bend in the road, beyond the sight of the guards.

  //Toryn!// he called. //I’m outside the southern gate.//

  Toryn appeared through the trees within minutes, trailed by Shevyn and Alyn.

  "I’m so glad to see you," Brydon said with a smile.

  "Likewise." Toryn grinned.

  "How is everyone?" Brydon asked, scanning them.

  "Fine. The bastards had to knock Alyn out because she wouldn’t shut up—"

  "They did not!" Alyn snapped. "They forced some of that tea down our throats and tied us up."

  "Anyway," Toryn continued, laughing, "here we are."

  "We need to follow Sellaris and the others. They are headed south, so maybe they know where the gauntlet is. The caravan wasn’t in the Black City, at any rate. Chances are good that if Sellaris is here, Reed is involved."


  "How will we find them? They have a head start and we can’t track them on the road," Alyn protested.

  "I can find them," Brydon said with a grin and hoisted himself into the saddle. "Let’s cross this river."