by Cheryl Dyson
CHAPTER FIVE
THE AKARSKAN
They left the cave the next day under clear skies, the rain having spent itself the night before. Redwing vowed to return to the place someday, but Toryn could not understand his fascination with the cavern. It was just an old ruin of some sort. What did it matter who built it, or why?
Later that morning, Redwing feathered a grouse and they both licked their lips in anticipation of a hot dinner, while Toryn tried not to be impressed with the Falaran’s skill. As they traversed southward, they argued politics.
"I am serious about ending the constant fighting between our nations," Redwing said that night as they finished devouring the bird and tossed the bones into the fire.
"You are trying to keep me from sending a group of my kinsmen after you?" Toryn asked.
"What would prove to you that I would make a good king?"
"You could only prove that by actually becoming king and fulfilling your idiotic notions," Toryn said with a snort.
"Then give me the chance to do so," Redwing replied softly. His persuasive gaze fixed directly on Toryn.
"You have nothing to fear from me," Toryn snapped, nonplused. "You saved my life and I’m not so dishonorable that I will easily forget that debt. Say ‘farewell’ and I’ll be on my way home. You can do as you please. It’s likely you will never see me again."
"I want you to come with me."
Toryn stared, unable to believe his ears. "What? Come with you? On your quest? Why?"
"Just as far as the Waryn Highway," Redwing said, "It isn’t far—a few weeks, by my reckoning."
"But why?" Toryn asked again, nearly dumbfounded at the request.
"I have been thinking about what I will do when I am king. In order to bring about peace with Redol, I will need someone who can speak to your people on my behalf. Why would they listen to me? To them, I will be just another Falaran, and someone who cannot not be trusted. If I can convince you of my sincerity, then perhaps you can help me to convince them," Redwing stated, fairly glowing with the excitement of his ideals. "Together, we can work to bring about peace."
Toryn wondered if the Falaran had taken a hit to the head during their walk.
"Aren’t you thinking a bit far ahead? You haven’t even completed your quest. And even if you do succeed, and I join you, no one in Redol will listen to me," Toryn protested, trying to dash Redwing’s insane dreams before they could take root in his own mind. "I’m no one! I’m a second son and—" He broke off quickly.
Redwing jumped on the statement. "You’re a chief’s son, aren’t you?" At Toryn’s glare, Redwing smiled and tossed his head back. "I knew it! This is better than I had hoped! Can’t you see, Toryn? You can speak to your own family, first. If they believe, your father could—"
"My father is dead," Toryn broke in, silencing Redwing instantly. Before he could recover, Toryn continued, "And my brother Morgyn could not be convinced, not even by me, not even if I believed in your sincerity, which I don’t. I think you are trying to lull me into making a fool out of myself when I return home." He snorted. "Imagine! Me telling my brother that the next king of Falara will be a ‘good’ king and that he wants us all to lay down our arms and embrace as brothers, Falarans and Redolians, all." The last was said mockingly and Redwing scowled.
"Is it not a worthy ambition?" he asked tightly.
Toryn ran a hand through the hair tumbling over his brow as he tried to find the right words. He sighed. "It is worthy," he finally admitted. "It is just not possible."
Redwing smiled again and looked at Toryn with such confidence that he was somewhat shaken. "It is possible. I intend to make it happen." He stood suddenly and drew his sword. The jewels in the hilt sparkled in the firelight. Redwing planted the point of it into the ground and knelt on one knee solemnly. His hands grasped the hilt.
"When I am king of Falara," he vowed, staring into Toryn’s eyes, "I will bring peace between our nations, no matter the cost." He bowed his head for a moment and then stood. "Now, will you come with me that I might convince you of my sincerity?"
"No." Toryn breathed. "You are mad."
Redwing tilted the sword back and forth to catch Toryn’s attention.
"My father’s sword," he said, reminding Toryn of their conversation the night Redwing had freed him. With that, he sheathed the blade and walked into the darkness, leaving Toryn to mull over his words. He glanced briefly at Redwing’s bow lying a few feet away, but he knew the man was most likely standing at the camp’s edge, watching him. Toryn cursed and tossed a stone angrily into the fire. Sparks flew up with a hiss. What had possessed Toryn to try and kill the damned Falaran in the first place? He had known it was a foolish idea when it was proposed. Toryn did not hold a true grudge against any Falarans. He had never lost a family member, or even a tribe member, to the never-ending war. Toryn’s tribal lands lay far from the Falaran border. And obviously the Falarans were not going to choose an untrained fool for their next king. Redwing had said princess had chosen him, but she had to have advisors of some sort, nudging her toward the right candidate. Maybe Redwing would make a good king.
Toryn lay back and looked at the stars, wondering what he should do. He thought about going home. It had been more than a month since he’d seen his brother and sister. They were probably wondering what had happened to him, as he was only supposed to have been gone a couple of weeks to visit a neighboring tribe, and carry messages from Morgyn to the other chief. He grimaced. If he returned home now with the news that not only had his companions been killed, but that he had been captured, spared, and then rescued by the intended victim… Morgyn would be speechless with rage. Toryn would be lucky to escape exile, or worse.
The thought of traveling onward with Redwing was tantalizing. Toryn had never been out of Redol in his life, though he had traveled to the Falaran border once in order to view the stone forts and armored patrols, resplendent in their glittering armor. Toryn figured the fabled Waryn Highway would be something to see. It had been built by an ambitious, and very rich, trader named Waryn who had tried to bring civilization to Akarska in the form of free trade. Waryn had made it as far as the southern border of Akarska before the residents had demanded he stop, so it was there that he had built his Trading House and constructed his highway in order to bring all manner of goods to the Akarskan heathens, with limited success. Although the Akarskans seemed to have little actual need of outside goods, they had begun to crave the fine leather from the Corolis Islands and gold and jewels from Silver. In return, they traded finished leather goods, clothing and strange artworks—everything but horses. Waryn had died years back, but the Trading House remained. It would be something, to see the famed place and perhaps buy a trinket for his sister. It also wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on the Falaran to determine what kind of character he really had. If his apparent goodwill toward Redolians turned out to be a sham, surely Toryn would know it by associating with him for a month. If Redwing proved false, Toryn could kill him with no regrets.
The soft sound of footfalls told of Redwing’s return. He looked down at Toryn. "Well?"
"I’ll go with you as far as the Waryn Highway if you give me back my daggers," Toryn stated.
Redwing shook his head. "If I had tried to kill you, would you give me a weapon?"
Toryn sat up angrily and Redwing held up a hand. "I have determined to prove my honor to you. You can also prove yours to me. I will give you a weapon as soon as I am certain you will not try and put it between my ribs at the first opportunity. You have thought about it, I know."
Toryn relaxed and grinned. "Mostly when you are whistling," he admitted. Unwittingly, his respect for Redwing eased up a notch. Toryn would have thought him a fool if he had handed him a blade so easily. He watched as Redwing banked the fire and curled into his cloak. Experimentally, Toryn got to his feet. He had taken only single step toward the pack when Redwing’s eyes flicked open, pinning him where he stood. Toryn smiled.
"Just relieving myself," he said and stro
de toward a nearby bush. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to rise while Redwing slept. The Falaran seemed to sleep with one eye open, awakening at the slightest sound or movement. Toryn chuckled to himself. No doubt he would be sleeping even more lightly now that Toryn had declared him half-mad. Toryn returned to his blanket and settled in. It would prove an interesting journey to the Waryn Highway.