by Cheryl Dyson
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
THE GAUNTLET
Dawn crept over the mountaintops, spreading skirts of cold, gray clouds as she approached. The ground was wet, but at least it no longer rained. Shevyn’s head lay on Brydon’s chest and one arm was thrown over his midsection. When he stirred she murmured a plaintive sound and moved closer. He smiled softly. Lifting his head, he saw that Alyn was asleep not far from them. Toryn’s blankets were empty. Shevyn whimpered and tightened her grip convulsively. Whatever she dreamed, it did not seem to be pleasant. Brydon caressed her shoulder and wished he could peer inside her closed mind. He wondered if he should wake her.
She solved his dilemma by sitting up with a silent scream, eyes wild and breath coming in harsh gasps.
“Are you all right?” he asked, gripping her shoulders tightly. She shook her head, but the wildness slowly faded from her eyes. She looked away and got to her feet.
“Bad dream?” asked Alyn, apparently not asleep after all. Shevyn nodded, but she looked puzzled, as if the dream had receded into a memory she could not quite reach. She met Brydon’s concerned gaze for a moment, but shook her head and went into the forest just as Toryn came out.
“Get up! Get moving!” he called cheerfully. Brydon got to his feet and stretched, unkinking his stiff muscles.
“How can you be so happy on a day like this?” he asked sourly. Toryn looked at the sky and then blinked at Brydon in surprise.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “Redol is always like this. Overcast, wet, and usually windy enough to knock you over. This feels like home.”
“Sounds lovely,” Brydon said dryly. “It’s often overcast in Falara, but it usually brings snow instead of rain. The only time the wind blows is when it comes down the valley from the north, cold enough to ice your lungs.”
“Sounds wretched,” Toryn said. “Our countries should join forces and invade Akarska. It’s nicer there.”
“I heard that,” Alyn retorted as she threw aside her blankets and rose.
“That’s an excellent idea!” Brydon said with a laugh. “I’ll bring it up in Council when I become king.”
“You’ll have a hard time allying with Redol,” Toryn said, turning sober.
“I could do it with your help.”
“I’m not even a clan chieftain. If Morgyn has kids, I won’t even be in the direct line.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Brydon said confidently. Toryn shook his head and went to saddle his horse. Alyn looked at Brydon.
“Are you really going to be the next Falaran king?” she asked.
“Not if we don’t find the gauntlet.”