Brankin Huoh

  Braulor made his way back to where Tyran was still leaning against the rock. Along the way he stopped and picked up his canteen, which he’d dropped when the man delivered the two-footed blow to his head. He sat down heavily on the log that was serving as his chair, took a drink of water, and then rubbed his neck. For the second time that day he had been brutally attacked. And for the second time he had been lucky to survive.

  Tyran looked over at Braulor. "I'm sorry I couldn’t have helped, Braulor."

  “Sorry? You already saved my life once today. What more can one ask of a brother?"

  "I wish I could have been of more help getting answers from that man. I want to know what they were up to just as much as you," Tyran said. Still, he felt pleased with himself at his brother’s compliment.

  "If I’d paid closer attention this wouldn't have happened," Braulor admitted, not wanting to use his earlier injury as an excuse.

  "What should we do now? Do you think he’ll be coming back?"

  Braulor thought for a moment. "He was pretty injured in his own right. I would guess that he’s going to find reinforcements before coming back. That’s what I would do. Although you can never tell with these mercenary types, especially after you finished off his friend over there." He gestured toward the lone body at the edge of the firelight. "I really think we should move camp but I don't know if either of us is in any condition to do so."

  "I think I could do it." Tyran attempted to prove his point. With his good arm he pushed himself into a standing position and was doing well until he let go of the rock. He swayed, fighting to gain proper balance and then gave up and slumped back down against the rock. "Maybe not."

  "We have no choice but to stay here and get some rest," Braulor said with a sigh. "We both need it. We’ll have to take turns watching for his return though. You get some sleep, Tyran. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn to watch."

  Tyran mumbled something that sounded like agreement and then his head lolled to his shoulder and he was out.

  Braulor looked at him with concern. The arrow had been pretty deep. Braulor suspected that there was more damage than he could see but there wasn't much he could do until he got Tyran to a healer. He got up, fetched a blanket from Tyran's pack and draped it over him, then gave the patch covering his wound a quick look. The bleeding had stopped. That was a good sign. Feeling slightly relieved Braulor returned to his seat on the log and scanned the treeline back and forth, wondering, worrying. When the time came he woke Tyran and then rolled into his own bed roll and slept heavily, even amid the concerns he was facing.

  The sun was barely above the edge of the mountains when they reached the bottom of the trail. They had made good time, all things considered. Braulor's head pounded and his neck was so stiff he couldn’t turn his head in either direction without great difficulty.

  Tyran was doing much better. He looked less pale than he had and he walked quite steadily, even over the patches of loose rock they had covered.

  The decision Braulor had been dreading was now at hand. It was even more complex now that Tyran had been injured so terribly. Braulor didn't want to leave Tyran to return to the Greejon clan alone, but he also knew that the induction ceremony at the Citadel was imminent and he wanted to be there. He was hoping he could get the drop on Tagan at the ceremony and free him before he was whisked into the Citadel for training.

  Deep down, Braulor knew he didn't have much choice. Alrei Yqu had made it clear that Tagan had to be freed. The prophecy the boy would be privy to would change the course of man's destiny in a profound way. There was no way that the Citadel's rulers could be allowed to keep the prophecy under wraps. Brother or not, the prophecy was meant for the people. Freeing Tagan from the Citadel would ensure that the message got out the way it was intended.

  Braulor and Tyran walked along the flat trail a while longer in silence. Braulor had spotted a set of tracks a ways back and was keeping his eyes trained on them as they went. The tracks were fresh and Braulor was sure that they belonged to Lyrell. He hoped that Lyrell was going in the same direction that he would be taking. His aching neck reminded him that he had a score to settle.

  The trail grew less dense and widened before it finally opened onto the Dilphel road. Here they stopped and looked in both directions. The time had come to choose. Braulor started to speak but Tyran talked over him. "I know you were tasked with this quest Braulor; rescuing this boy from the Citadel, but I should come with you."

  "Look, Tyran, you said it yourself, I was given this task, not you. You wouldn't be of much help with your shoulder the way it is anyway."

  "I agree with you." Tyran hated to admit it but he knew he would be more of a hindrance than a help if he went with Braulor. It wasn’t in his nature to abandon somebody when they needed help, especially not his brother. He was perfectly willing to go but he knew Braulor wasn’t going to allow it and deep down, if he were being honest with himself, Tyran wanted Braulor to refuse his help. He longed to return to the clan.

  Braulor started to argue once more and then what Tyran said registered in his mind. He had been sure that Tyran would insist on coming with him. "You agree?"

  Tyran sighed. "I don't really agree but you are right, I wouldn't be much help with my shoulder the way it is. Besides, I think you will have a better chance of succeeding if you are alone and don't have me to worry about."

  "I was certain this was going to be a huge argument Tyran, but you surprise me."

  "Well, I also don't like Jolon being at camp, doing whatever it is he’s doing, without anyone there to keep an eye on him."

  "I suspect that those men that attacked us were Jolon’s doing. It would be good if you were there to keep him honest." Braulor said, relief washing over him at not having to force Tyran from his side.

  "Then we must part here," Tyran said. "Fare well brother and be safe."

  "You too," Braulor said and they clasped hands. "Travel swiftly and safely. I’ll be back before you know it."

  They stood quietly, sharing an awkward moment of silence, fidgeting with their packs and weapons. Neither of them wanted to leave the other behind but both had made up their minds which path they were going to follow. With some trepidation, Tyran turned and headed east toward the rising sun and the Greejon encampment.

  Braulor watched for a moment and with a sigh turned west. After a bit of searching he picked up the tracks he had been eying on his and Tyran’s descent from the Lyrwan Pass once more and started off in pursuit.

  The tracks followed the Dilphel road steadily. In a few instances they left the path, most likely to get water, but they would always pick up again further along. Braulor followed them at a brisk pace. He walked until the sun was high in the sky, almost at the apex of its journey, then he stopped for a hasty lunch. He found a stream nearby, refilled his canteen and took the opportunity to wash his face. The water was cold and refreshing and Braulor would have loved to stay there all day but he had to keep going. He hitched his pack over his shoulder and started after the tracks once more. He had hardly walked more than an hour when the tracks disappeared one more time into the brush. This time they never reappeared. Braulor walked several hundred yards down the road, searching intensely but didn’t find a continuation of Lyrell’s tracks. Backtracking up the road, he returned to where the tracks went into the brush and hesitated. He glanced from side to side, cautious of any signs of an ambush and then stepped off the road and followed the tracks to the edge of the same stream he had lunched at earlier. It was difficult going as the ground was hard and didn't display the tracks as crisply as he would have liked.

  Braulor stopped at the edge of the stream and surveyed the area. He couldn't see, hear or sense any kind of activity so he assumed that Lyrell had made it across the stream and had headed off in that direction. He debated crossing the stream himself and hunting him down but decided that he needed to stick to his plan. He made his way back to the Dilphel road, disappointed but also a little relieved. Braulor didn't rel
ish running into Lyrell again if he had caught up with more men. Still he wanted to confirm his suspicions about Jolon. Now he would never get the chance.

  Lyrell walked at a steady pace, keeping a close eye on Braulor as he went. He had suspected that he was being followed and had left the road a few times trying to throw his pursuer off his trail. At first he didn't know it was Braulor and assumed it was some other mercenary or bounty hunter looking for an easy target. Lyrell had chosen not to go back to camp without having completed his objective. Draax had killed for less and Lyrell knew of another mercenary group in the area and chose to try to hook up with them. It would give him time to rest up and heal, plus he was sure he could talk a few of the lads into helping him on a quick mission. But now Braulor was walking right back into his life, making it easier to finish his job than he could have imagined. Too easy.

  The final time Lyrell had left the road he made his way to the stream and climbed down the bank into the water. The water was slow moving there and he found a concealed area where the bank overhung the stream, squeezed himself under it and waited. At that point he still didn’t know who was following him but he knew that if whoever it was stayed true, they would follow his tracks to the stream.

  The water was cold but not painfully so. It actually felt kind of good on his aching muscles and he enjoyed the affect as he listened. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps coming toward the stream. They were slow, his pursuer must be keeping a close eye on the set of tracks he had left. Lyrell held his breath and pressed himself as hard as he could against the mucky stream bed, every muscle tense. It seemed to take forever as his hunter prowled the bank back and forth, looking for more tracks, before heading back the way he had come. Lyrell waited a few minutes longer, then moved from his hiding spot, found a low part of the bank and climbed out of the stream with tiger-like stealth and into some long grass nearby. He lay still here for some time, listening just in case the person had doubled back to trick him. When he decided it was safe he got up and made after the person to find out who he was. Lyrell picked up a few tracks mixed in amongst his own and smiled. He knew those tracks. He had been following them already for several days.

  Lyrell followed as close as he dared. Braulor, as he had found out, was a formidable adversary and Lyrell knew that he would only get one chance to finish him. He didn’t want to squander it being unprepared. He traced the road in his mind, trying to think of a good spot where he could ambush Braulor when Braulor stopped to take a drink from his canteen. He lowered it, looked in the opening and then gave it a shake. It must have been empty. Lyrell, anticipating what would happen next, darted into the brush and headed in an intercept course through the trees. He found a good vantage point and waited.

  Sure enough, Braulor came along the trail. He was not exactly hiding his approach but he was aware enough to have his sword drawn and at his side as he went. He walked up to the stream, put his sword down and lay on the bank, dipping his canteen into the water.

  When Braulor started scooping water from the stream, Lyrell attacked, launching himself toward Braulor's prone figure, hoping to catch him off guard.

  Braulor heard his approach and rolled over quickly but his sword was out of reach as Lyrell landed on him. They wrestled back and forth, each trying to get the upper hand, grunting and panting with the exertion. Braulor got his feet on Lyrell's hips and pushed up as explosively as he could, attempting to throw Lyrell off. Lyrell had used this move himself and knew what to expect. He clenched tightly to Braulor's arms as he tumbled into the stream, dragging Braulor with him. Lyrell was first up from the water and jumped on Braulor's submerged back, pushing him down even farther and holding him there.

  Braulor tried to stay calm. He was running out of air but he managed to get his feet underneath him and readied himself. He reached back, cupped Lyrell's heels and pushed with his whole body at the same time, tripping Lyrell backwards. Braulor gasped for breath as he broke the surface of the water and spun around, ready to attack. He could hardly see through the mud mushed into his face. Hands gripped his tunic and dragged him from the creek, slamming him onto the rocky shore. This was followed by a foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground.

  Braulor struggled, wiping mud from his eyes, trying to get a clear look.

  "Don't move," a rough voice said as the point of a sword jabbed his neck.

  Chapter 10