The Gauntlet Thrown

  ******

  Brydon woke Alyn and Shevyn easily. They quickly made up their blankets to imitate sleeping bodies and faded into the foliage to await the newcomers. Three men soon came into view, entering the encampment as silently as thieves while two others fanned out. Brydon was uncomfortably reminded of the night he had first met Toryn, but he shook the image out of his mind. He signaled to Alyn and Shevyn to deal with the two men nearest them and stepped into the clearing just as the lead man prodded the blankets with a sword tip.

  "Looking for us?" Brydon asked. He leveled an arrow at the man, who looked up with no surprise.

  "We come in relative peace, Falaran," the man said. He had dark hair, made darker by the night, and a mustache covered his upper lip. He held his hands out to his sides in a gesture of submission.

  "Peace is not relative and seldom brought in the dead of night," Brydon countered.

  "True," the man admitted and motioned to his cohorts to sheathe their weapons and draw back.

  "You may call the other two," Brydon said. The man stared hard at him for a moment and then called to his men. It probably saved their lives. Alyn had been in a bloodthirsty mood lately, probably because of Toryn’s constantly irritating presence.

  The others approached the light of the small campfire and Toryn also stepped forward. He threw another log on the fire to give them a better view of the men.

  "I am here on business," the leader said. He was of medium build and seemed to be the type of man that had been born a soldier. Brydon could see it in the way he moved and in the wary way his dark eyes seemed to miss nothing as they flicked from place to place.

  "State it," Brydon ordered.

  "We are the Border Guard of Darkynhold. We need to know what brings you here."

  Brydon shrugged. "We are searching for a caravan."

  "A caravan? Why?"

  Before Brydon could reply, Toryn answered, "They have stolen something that belongs to us and we want it back."

  "Who are they, these thieves?"

  "Men dressed in the livery of Ven-Kerrick," Toryn replied. "Have you seen them?"

  "I have not seen anyone from Ven-Kerrick in a long, long while," the man replied. "What have they stolen from you?"

  "Would they have passed your guard to reach Darkynhold?" Brydon asked, ignoring the man’s question.

  "Not necessarily. We only happened upon you because we saw you earlier today. If we patrolled farther north when they passed, we may have missed them. What were they carrying?"

  "Melons."

  "The market for melons is better in Saavyn. Darkynhold normally receives produce from Regal or the outer principalities."

  Brydon nodded, but did not mention that the men from Ven-Kerrick were probably not interested in selling fruit. But where would they take the gauntlet?

  "If you like, we will escort you to the Black City and help you look for this caravan," the man suggested. There was something odd about him that Brydon could not quite place.

  He shook his head. "No, that will not be necessary, but thank you."

  The man shrugged. "As long as there is no bloodshed. Prince Rakyn likes Darkynhold to be kept peaceful and orderly."

  "I can appreciate that," Brydon replied. "There will be none, if I can help it."

  The man nodded. "Do you mind if we camp here tonight and use your fire?"

  Brydon and Toryn looked at each other warily, but it would seem strange to refuse the request.

  "Not at all."

  "Thank you. Would you happen to have some tea? It has been a long day and tea helps the muscles relax." The man stretched his back in the manner of exhausted men everywhere, and then ran a hand through his brown hair. His grin was lopsided and reminded him somewhat of Toryn’s.

  Brydon went to his pack and dug out some of Verana’s favorite spiced tea. He gave it to the guard captain, who immediately sat at the fire and began to heat water in a quickly-produced kettle.

  Toryn signaled to Brydon and went to check on the horses and the girls.

  "You can bring your other two men in from the dark," the man said without looking up and Brydon smiled.

  "They are not as trusting as I am. I think they will stay out there."

  "You don’t seem to be that trusting, friend." His gaze was sharp and Brydon was reminded of the knight-priest that had trained him in Eaglecrest. The fellow had been sober and almost devoid of humor—the quintessential soldier. There was something almost familiar about him and Brydon was certain it was because of his mannerisms. Certainly his facial features evoked no recognition.

  Brydon shrugged. "These are troubled times. We have encountered bandits before."

  "Here?"

  Brydon shook his head. "In Penkangum."

  "You were in Penkangum?"

  Brydon laughed at the question. "How do you think I got here from Falara? Crossed the Abyss?"

  The man shrugged and then chuckled. "I had hoped it could be done."

  "I will not be the one to try it."

  The rest of the men sprawled here and there, chewing on strips of jerked meat and passing around a skin of wine, or possibly just water.

  The guard captain handed Brydon a cup of the steaming tea once it had brewed. Brydon accepted it and took a drink. The beverage was stronger than he liked it, but it did taste nice after the long day. He felt exhausted and sore after the mock sword battle with Toryn, who returned at the thought and crouched next to them. He accepted the cup Brydon offered and took a long drink.

  "The others?" Brydon asked.

  "They have decided to stay with the horses. They do not like strangers," Toryn explained with a direct stare at the guard captain. The man merely nodded and poured more tea. They sat silently and drank for a time; the pungent herbs soothed Brydon's tired muscles.

  "I don’t think I have ever tasted tea like this," the man said, motioning to his cup. "Where did you get it?"

  "From a friend of mine in Terris," Brydon explained, fighting a yawn. "By the way, what is your name?"

  "I am Nykar. And you?"

  "I am Brydon Redwing. This is Toryn."

  Nykar nodded at Toryn and yawned widely. Brydon did so, as well, and a moment later Toryn followed suit. They all laughed and Brydon stretched out on the ground.

  "I need to rest my head for a moment," he murmured. He watched the fire until the flames swam into a red-orange blur and then he recalled nothing more.