The Challenge Accepted

By Cheryl Dyson

If Brydon can fulfill his quest to bring the fabled Gauntlet of Ven-Kerrick back to his homeland of Falara, he will marry the princess and be crowned the next king. He had known the journey would be difficult, but he had not counted on becoming friends with the assassin whose original goal had been to murder him before his quest had begun, nor had he suspected he would fall in love with a girl along the way. And he definitely had not planned on becoming involved in the political intrigue of several countries not his own.

In the first book, The Gauntlet Thrown, Brydon discovered the gauntlet missing from Ven-Kerrick, stolen by a man called Reed with powers as rare and incredible as Brydon's. Through separation, kidnapping, and near-death experiences, Brydon and Toryn tracked the gauntlet and battled Reed, only to find that he had been a pawn for an even greater evil, one known only as the Dark Master. Will Brydon be able to save his friends and the woman he loves in order to return to his original quest?

Find out in The Challenge Accepted!

CAST OF CHARACTERS:
BRYDON REDWING - A knight-priest from Falara on a quest to bring the fabled, magical Gauntlet of Ven-Kerrick back home, in order to marry the princess and ascend the throne.

TORYN OF REDOL - A footloose would-be assassin who tried to end Brydon's quest before it began. He now joins Brydon on his journeys, mostly to avoid returning home as a failed killer and admit he has grown to like the man he once set out to murder.

ALYN - A horse-obsessed woman kidnapped from her homeland, she is now embroiled in a conflict with people who once meant nothing to her, but for whom she now feels loyalty towards and, quite possibly, even some affection.

DAVIN - A silver-haired man rescued from slavers. Davin has abilities beyond even his knowledge. Will they be his salvation or lead to his ultimate destruction?

VERANA - A healer from the Order of the Rose, drawn into Brydon's troubles by her sense of duty and her profound respect for Jace the Wanderer.

JACE THE WANDERER - A wandering knight-priest from the Order of the Shield, Jace was rescued by Brydon and now works to recover the gauntlet and restore order to Ven-Kerrick and the Concurrence.

SHEVYN - A mute girl rescued from slavery by Toryn and protected by Brydon, who turned out to be the last descendent of the royal Ven-Kerrick family. Though restored to her throne, she knows her kingdom will not be safe until the Dark Master is defeated.

SELLARIS - A rebellious red-haired beauty obsessed with Brydon. She was responsible for removing the gauntlet from Ven-Kerrick and now works with the Dark Master to bring about the destruction of the northern kingdoms.

LAVAN - Sellaris's petulant brother. He seems to have little will of his own and is content to follow his sister from place to place and scam to scam.

GARYN - A turncoat from the band who stole the gauntlet, he befriended Toryn and now seeks to atone for his former deeds.

RAKYN - A Prince of Silver, he rules Darkynhold from the Black City. His powers rival Brydon's and he seems willing to train Brydon in their use--but at what price?

NYKAR - Friend, bodyguard, and confidant to Prince Rakyn.

DARYNA - Daughter of Haaryd, a Thalarii chieftan. She was ordered to guide Toryn to the sea, whereupon he abandoned her and earned her eternal wrath.

MIKYL - A Thalarii chieftan not content to rule his small band of riders. He once thought to marry Daryna, until she rode away with a despised man from the north. He seeks power over all of Thalarii and, eventually, the northern kingdoms, as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: XC Publishing
• Release date: Jul 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781930805125

Book preview

THE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

A Novel by Cheryl Dyson and Xina Marie Uhl

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012, Cheryl Dyson and Xina Marie Uhl

All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One - The Dark Master

Chapter Two - Friends

Chapter Three - The Abyss

Chapter Four - Rogus

Chapter Five - Falls

Chapter Six - The Church

Chapter Seven - Akarskans

Chapter Eight - Lyryn

Chapter Nine - Eaglecrest

Chapter Ten - Eryka

Chapter Eleven - Passage

Chapter Twelve - Lost City

Chapter Thirteen - Alyn

Chapter Fourteen - Shevyn

Chapter Fifteen - Return

Chapter Sixteen - Mikyl

Chapter Seventeen - Tal

Chapter Eighteen - Bodor

Chapter Nineteen - Threads

Chapter Twenty - Late Wisdom

Chapter Twenty One - Trials

Chapter Twenty Two - Warning

Chapter Twenty Three - Council

Chapter Twenty Four - The Highway

Chapter Twenty Five - Passing

CHAPTER ONE

THE DARK MASTER

Brydon looked ahead with a sense of despair that overshadowed his initial feeling of wonder. What had he gotten himself into? Even worse, it was not only himself he had to worry about, but his two companions as well: Princess--no, Queen Shevyn of Ven-Kerrick and Toryn of Redol.

The Desert of Lament was a spectacle. Miles and miles of pale sand stretched away to the horizon. It looked like a golden ocean, frozen in time. No cool breezes drifted in from this sea, however. The oppressive air did not stir a trifle, which Brydon supposed was just as well. It was doubtful a breeze would affect the scorching heat that radiated from the place, causing the air to shimmer. Brydon wiped his brow for the hundredth time and wished he had worn a hat. He glanced at Toryn, who sat beside him on a chestnut stallion.

Toryn's expression was one of solemn distaste.

We are supposed to ride out into that? he asked, making it clear he would rather ride into a pit of serpents.

Yes, Brydon replied in the same tone. My instructions are to go into the Desert of Lament.

If we go out there, we will definitely have something to lament, Toryn affirmed. Does anything even live out there?

Brydon looked at Shevyn, who sat her own mount next to them. She looked somewhat wilted, but still seemed to be faring better than either of the men. She wore a wide-brimmed white hat adorned with a green satin ribbon. She nodded, catching Brydon's eye.

Something does live out there? Toryn asked.

She nodded again.

People? he asked incredulously. Another nod.

What kind of people? How can they live in all that sand?

She shrugged and smiled slightly, but her inability to speak did not allow her to elaborate. Instead, she sighed and nudged her horse out onto the sand. Brydon, after a moment of indecision, followed, as did Toryn with a final grimace of distaste.

The heat was miserable for Brydon and Toryn, accustomed as they were to the cool temperatures of the northern lands. Brydon thought of his beloved Falara and cursed the fates for getting him into his present predicament. He had left his country several months ago, setting out on a quest that he had imagined to be difficult, but not impossible. In order to marry the Falaran Princess, Eryka, and become the next Falaran king, it was his duty to travel to Ven-Kerrick and borrow their most coveted object, the magical Gauntlet of Ven-Kerrick. Toryn had agreed to accompany him on his quest, once they had settled the matter of Toryn’s attempt to assassinate him due to the centuries-old feud between their two countries. Several incredible adventures later had left Brydon no closer to the gauntlet, and he had become a major player in southern politics due to killing Reed, the man who had murdered the entire Ven-Kerrick family, with the exception of Shevyn. She had escaped, though the trauma had left her mute.

During the debacle, the usurper had sent the gauntlet away, past the Ven-Horn Mountains and into the hands of the evil minions of Shaitan. With the defeat of Reed and the retrieval of the gauntlet, Brydon had hoped the worst was over, until a voice had burst into his head and proclaimed itself to be someone called the Dark Master. He had exposed the gauntlet as a fake, and bragged that he held the true gauntlet, as well as Brydon's friends Jace and Verana, who had earlier left Ven-Kerrick to pursue the gauntlet's trail. The Dark Master had demanded that Brydon bring Shevyn to the Desert of Lament or his friends would be tortured and killed. Judging by the force of the voice in his skull, which he was powerless to block, Brydon believed the Dark Master was not bluffing.

Even though Brydon had been adamantly against bringing Shevyn into more danger, she had ignored all logic and made ready to accompany them, giving the regency of Ven-Kerrick to her cousin Kerryn in her absence, something Kerryn had not appreciated.

Brydon had found his mood growing blacker with each step they took from Ven-Kerrick. Alyn and Davin had disappeared into the jungle of Parmitta, Jace and Verana had been captured, the gauntlet was in the hands of the enemy, Toryn's friends, Garyn and Daryna, had been abandoned on the Silveran shore. And Brydon had no idea if he had the ability to protect Shevyn from whatever the Dark Master required of her.

ooOOooOOoo

They had been riding aimlessly, Toryn suspected, for nearly a half-hour when they came to the river. It was large, as rivers went, and amazingly clear. The graveled bottom was visible and fish swam lethargically in its depths. Grass grew along its banks, stretching out almost twenty feet from the water, and kept the encroaching sand at bay.

Brydon glanced at him and Toryn frowned, not liking the idea of approaching the river. He was wary of the quicksand that often hid in riverbeds and seemed even more likely in this one. The horses snorted and pawed, thirsty. Toryn reluctantly dismounted and waded in, gripping the reins tightly so that Bloodsong could pull him out, if necessary. Near the center, the water reached his chest, but Toryn pronounced the bottom solid and the water refreshing after the sweltering heat.

The others urged their horses closer and the animals drank gladly. Brydon and Shevyn dismounted and splashed in the cool water. They threw water at each other in abandon, relishing the relief.

I wonder where this river leads. Brydon mused aloud as he filled his water skins. Shevyn swam back to her mare and dribbled water onto the horse’s snowy white head. The mare snorted and shook water out of her ears. It seems to come from nowhere and leads to nowhere.

Should we follow it? Toryn asked. He sat on the bank and tugged his waterlogged boots off to wiggle his toes. This could be the only water for miles.

Brydon began to reply, but then he looked intently past Toryn to the top of the rise. Toryn turned. A man stood there, gazing at them. As they watched, several others seemed to materialize beside the standing man. Brydon mounted Darkling and rode out of the river to greet the newcomers. Toryn quickly mounted Bloodsong and joined him. As they approached, he saw that the men wore light-colored robes, perhaps designed to blend into the surrounding desert, but what little skin was visible to Toryn's gaze was very dark, almost black. He had never seen such men before, although their friend Verana had dark skin. He wondered if Verana's people had come from the desert; he had never thought to ask. Though strangely garbed, the dark men held spears and wicked-looking crossbows that looked familiar enough.

Greetings, Brydon offered, sounding uncomfortable and eyeing the weapons that were leveled at him. Are you the man I was sent to meet? he asked the one standing somewhat before the others. His posture bespoke leadership.

Who are you? the man asked in a heavily-accented voice.

I am Brydon Redwing of Falara. I travel with Toryn of Redol and Shevyn of Ven-Kerrick.

We were sent for you, but only for you and the girl. Not the other. He looked at Toryn suspiciously.

Toryn is Shevyn's guardsman. He would not allow her to leave without his protection. The three of them had concocted the story long ago, though Toryn suspected it would not hold up under the Dark Master's mental scrutiny, if what Brydon had told him was any indication. But they would pick up those eggs when the basket broke.

A few of the dark men muttered and cast suspicious looks at Toryn, gesturing with their crossbows. Toryn forced himself to stand motionless, even though his mouth was going dry. The first man listened to his companions briefly, and then hushed them with a curt gesture.

The guardian may come. The Dark One shall deal with him as he will. Let us go.

Shevyn approached on her horse and Brydon threw her a wan smile. One of the warriors lifted a handful of cloth.

If you do not wear these robes, you will be burned by the sun. Pale skin turns a bright shade of red before it blisters and splits, the leader of the men reiterated. Some of the others laughed at that, apparently amused at the thought. Toryn had an awful suspicion they had experimented on pale-skinned men to see just what would happen to them under the grueling sun.

Brydon donned the garments. Toryn and Shevyn did the same.

Who are you? Brydon asked the man.

We are Moraki, of the Madi Tribe, the leader answered proudly. I am Lanag-Tal-Madi. If you must address me, you may call me Tal. He tossed Brydon a number of water skins bound together with leather cord.

Fill these and drink as much water as you can hold. The next water supply is more than a sevenday from here.

Brydon, scowling at the command, rode back into the water and filled the skins, after which he draped them about Darkling. The dark man shook his head.

You should leave your mounts. Horses are not practical in the desert. They drink too much water and tire easily, he informed them. Toryn looked at Brydon quickly, having no intention of leaving Bloodsong behind.

The horses stay with us, Brydon said firmly.

Tal shrugged. Fine. They will drink your water when they thirst. You will wish you had taken my advice. Some of the Madi had disappeared into the dunes, but now they returned leading buck-like creatures with large flattened feet and wicked horns curling up from their heads. The animals hurried to the water, scarcely making tracks in the deep sand. They sucked in water greedily, occasionally knocking aside a neighbor with a vicious horn-swipe. They were slightly smaller than horses, with shaggy coats of matted brown hair. Toryn had never seen anything like them.

The Madi filled their water skins and drank, then mounted their creatures. Without another word, the journey began. Half the group formed in front of Toryn and his friends while the remainder brought up the rear, still fingering their crossbows. They were quiet, not even talking amongst themselves, and Toryn assumed they were saving their breaths in the sweltering heat. To open your mouth was to invite the desert air in to dry up your tongue and throat. Tal rode beside Brydon and was silent, also.

The journey would remain in Toryn's memory as the most miserable ten days of his life. It was even worse than his tortuous journey across the Ven-Horns and into the Parmittan jungle. Sand flew about in great gusts and coated everything in a fine, white dust. When the wind did not blow, the sun baked down with what seemed twice-normal heat and Toryn was grateful for the thick robes that blocked its rays and trapped in the moisture of his body to cool him somewhat.

They were unable to build fires with which to cook meals due to the lack of a fuel source. Trees and bushes were nonexistent. They feasted on dried meat, rock-hard bread and shriveled vegetables, washing the food down with meager swallows of brackish water. Thirst was a constant companion, quelling Toryn's appetite, but they took care to water the horses. Brydon had draped one of his shirts over Darkling's neck, wondering aloud if horses could get sunburned. Toryn had done the same with Bloodsong.

The nights, after the broiling heat of the day, were surprisingly cold, giving relief for a short time, but forcing them to huddle together for warmth by the time dawn touched the horizon. Toryn did not even have time to be grateful for the sun driving away the chill before he was cursing it for cooking his brains once again.

Shevyn wilted like a rose. Brydon rode beside her and tried to make it easier for her, though he had to be just as miserable himself, coming from a land of icy winter lakes and deep snowfalls. Even Toryn would have been heartily glad to see the clear streams of Falara. Just thinking of it made him long for home.

Shevyn would smile at Brydon and put her head down, attempting to doze as Alyn used to. The same activity seemed to be popular with the Madi and they spent most of their time nodding. The rest of the time they watched for lizards. Once a lizard was spotted, they would feather it with their crossbows, after which they would skin and eat the creature raw. Most of them laughed merrily when the foreigners shuddered and refused to eat the delicacy.

It seemed like an eternity before they reached the stronghold of the Moraki and Toryn drank in the sight of tall palms waving softly in the breeze, beckoning to them and promising the sweetest water in the world, even if it came from a sun-warmed pool. To be allowed to drink his fill would be paradise.

As they neared, Toryn was surprised by what appeared to have been a very large city at one time. The outer wall was broken and crumbled, missing completely in many places, and worn by the wind for possibly centuries. Stone buildings still stood, most of them crumbled and half-buried by sand. One tall spire remained, riddled with cracks and promising to topple one day. They rode through sand-scoured gates that dangled from their hinges and onto a wide avenue that had most likely been cobbled with fine stone at one time. Broken fountains held unrecognizable stone figures in their centers, and huge buildings had gaping doorways nearly covered with sand. It was a sobering sight. An entire city nearly vanished. Toryn wondered what had happened to cause a place of this size to die.

They travelled the silent, empty streets for what seemed miles. At last they reached what seemed to be the central square, a huge, open courtyard in the center of which stood a very large fountain. Unlike the others they had passed, this one was active, spraying a jet of sparkling water into the air, scattering droplets to fall back into the large pool from which they came.

The Madi rushed for it and dove from their beasts into the water, shouting with joy. They drank deeply and splashed each other like children. Toryn and the others joined them unashamedly, falling upon it like starving beasts. Brydon dunked his entire head under water and splashed it over the rest of his body in joyous abandon. Toryn plunged facedown into the pool and let the fountain rain down upon him. Shevyn, ever the princess, drank from scooped hands and wetted a cloth with which to wash her face and neck.

Once the water had revived him somewhat, Toryn noticed that half the population of the ruined city, or perhaps the entire populace, was standing in the courtyard staring at them. Apparently, Toryn's assumption that the city was deserted had been a mistake. Tal rose from where he had been drinking at the fountain.

Come this way, he ordered Brydon. Leave your beasts here.

The crossbowmen had also revived and calmed once the initial excitement of the water had passed. A small group grabbed their weapons and accompanied them as Tal lead them all to the largest building that still stood whole in the center of the city. Toryn glanced at Brydon, who met his gaze for a moment, but he said nothing, nor did he send even a wisp of mental communication. His defenses were likely shored up tightly; Toryn hoped it would be enough.

ooOOooOOoo

Shevyn showed no sign of fear when they entered the partially rebuilt castle, but her hand gripped Brydon's tightly. He wished, for perhaps the hundredth time, that he could touch her mind and comfort her, but her thoughts were closed to him. It was like touching a smooth, black wall. Despite his reassuring glance at Toryn, he was suddenly afraid, even more so because their weapons had not been taken from them. Who was this Dark Master that he did not even fear Toryn's skill with a blade? Surely, he knew that Toryn had nearly slain Reed, and certainly would have but for Reed's mental abilities.

They reached large wooden double doors that opened silently before them to reveal a darkened room, lit only by two huge braziers at either side of a large throne. Upon the throne sat a man shrouded in dark robes that covered him from head to toe.

Do come forward, requested a voice that was powerful, but sounded slightly bored and perhaps a trifle amused.

Tal nudged Brydon, who reluctantly stepped forward. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders as he tried to quell his trepidation, knowing the man could sense his fear. He walked ahead and stopped at the foot of the throne. He was disappointed that he could not see the man's face in the folds of his black hood. A hideous red-headed vulture perched upon the man's shoulder and seemed to regard Brydon malevolently.

Where are Jace and Verana? Brydon questioned. I have done as you requested and now I wish to see them.

That will not be possible, the man replied.

Are you the 'Dark Master'? Brydon demanded.

I am. Amusement touched Brydon’s mind. It is good that you have come, although I would have enjoyed torturing the healer and the knight-priest. Is this the princess?

The queen, Brydon corrected.

Shevyn stepped forward with Toryn beside her. There was silence for a long moment. Shevyn remained still, chin held high, but Brydon could tell that she trembled. He cursed himself for bringing her here, despite her insistence.

Interesting, the Dark Master commented at last. He turned, almost imperceptibly, to Brydon. A sharp wave of anger blasted at him, nearly knocking him to his knees. He kept his feet through sheer willpower, and tried to block the mental force with all his ability.

//You were commanded to bring no one but her! Why is the Redolian here?// The question raked at Brydon's mind and everything Rakyn had taught him seemed to be worthless as he tried futilely to push the Dark Master out. The pressure left suddenly, as if it had never been, and Brydon swayed, pressing a hand against his throbbing temple.

No matter, the Dark Master went on. You, milady, will now tell me the whereabouts of the second gauntlet.

Brydon's head rose at that, shocked. A second gauntlet? He had never heard of such an item. Not even in legend.

Shevyn's chin raised another notch.

You are a typical foolish Kerrick, the Dark Master said and sighed. Therefore we will do this the hard way. He was silent for a moment and Brydon sensed he was trying to pry into Shevyn's mind. There was no reaction from her, so Brydon expected he had met with the same lack of success in reaching her mind.

Interesting, the Dark Master said finally. Formidable walls you have there. I wonder how you got them. Reed said nothing about you having strong defenses. He made a slight motion with one hand and Tal locked an arm around Shevyn’s neck. Toryn turned, reaching for his sword, but he froze as suddenly as did Brydon in the midst of the same movement. Brydon struggled, but his body refused to answer his will. Toryn's unmoving stance told the same story.

//Leave her alone! She can't answer your questions!// Brydon sent to the Dark Master. The powerful voice came back like a meat cleaver in his head.

//Why is that?//

Brydon cringed at the pain. //She cannot speak.//

The sense of presence departed, though Brydon was still unable to move.

We shall see, he heard the Dark Master say. Tal dragged Shevyn from their sight. Brydon found himself walking to a doorway at the right side of the room, in step with Toryn, and accompanied by a few Moraki. Brydon tried to struggle, but to no avail; his body responded perfectly to the Dark Master's mental commands. Brydon wondered vainly how he accomplished it; nothing Rakyn had taught him was even close to it. He and Toryn continued down a flight of dank steps until they came to a dark dungeon. They proceeded calmly into a stone cell and halted, standing motionless until the door clanked shut and locked with a grating rasp. They were released as suddenly as they had been taken.

Brydon spun and rushed to hammer on the metal.

"You bastard!" he screamed and pounded on the door with the hilt of his sword. Even worse than being used like puppets was the thought of what they might be doing to Shevyn. He bellowed himself hoarse and pounded until he thought his sword would break. Only then did he collapse on the dirty straw, spent. Toryn watched him through worried green eyes. Brydon had to admit a grudging respect for the Dark Master's methods. He had left them their weapons in mockery of their supposed strength.

Toryn knelt and put a hand on Brydon's shoulder.

Don't break on us, now. She's going to need you before this is over, I think.

I should never have brought her here, Brydon said. Toryn cringed and Brydon knew his guilt must have spilled into Toryn's mind from the link they shared. He tried to tamp down his emotion to spare him.

He would have taken her, anyway, Toryn replied softly.

I could have fought him! Brydon spat.

With what? The two of us had enough trouble with Reed, and he did not have half the power of the Dark Master. And what did he mean by a second gauntlet? The question nearly succeeded in pulling Brydon's mind from his self-imposed penitence.

I don't know, he said. I've never heard of more than one.

Nor I, Toryn admitted. How did we get involved in this? He blanched as though wanting to take back the question. Brydon winced and blamed himself for that, also. Don't worry, Toryn said strongly with a note of apology in his voice. We'll get out of here, and save the others, too. I wonder where he is keeping Jace and Verana?

I'm not even sure he really has them, Brydon said tonelessly.

Let's pray he doesn't.

Their wills were taken again sometime later and though Brydon fought with all his might, he still found himself meekly mounting the steps that returned him to the room with the throne.

//Your meager powers are no threat to me, Northman,// the Dark Master sent. //Best save your strength.// Brydon ignored that until he was close enough to spot Shevyn seated on the floor at the Dark Master's feet. Brydon would have rushed to her, but his steps were controlled and he could only walk forward slowly.

Release me! he gritted through jaws that could barely move. Amazingly, the Dark Master did so, an action so unexpected that Brydon fell to his knees. He scrambled up and hurried to Shevyn. He knelt beside her and turned her face to look into her eyes. He saw weariness there and barely-masked fear. Her lower lip trembled slightly and she clung to him for an instant. He embraced her tightly and stiffened when she winced. Brydon shut his eyes at instantaneous rush of rage, and then he raised a cold glare to the Dark Master.

What did you do to her? he demanded.

You were correct. She does not speak, the Dark Master said in his usual tone. I find I must use alternate methods.

What did you do to her? Brydon repeated.

It is of no import, the Dark Master replied. You will perform a service for me.

Never.

Then, she will die. The Dark Master shrugged, but beneath his facade of boredom, Brydon thought he could detect a not-quite-hidden eagerness. The Dark Master would indeed kill her, and joy in it. And Brydon did not think the process would be quick and painless.

What do you want? Brydon asked flatly.

I want you to find the second gauntlet, the Dark Master said. You will determine the location of this gauntlet and then you will report the information back to me.

How exactly do you expect me to do that?

If I knew, I would go and get it, myself, the Dark Master replied. I had assumed it was here, but as you can see, the Moraki have neither taken care of their cities nor their libraries. There was contempt in his words, but the Moraki did not react. The Dark Master next spoke as though he recited a fairy tale.

Far to the north, in the land of snow and ice, there once stood a fabulous city. It has long fallen into ruin now, hidden by the elements, and buried by centuries of snowfall. In the library of the royal palace of that city should be a record of the history of the gauntlets. It should give you some clue as to the whereabouts of the second one.

Far to the north? Brydon asked dubiously. The land of snow and ice could only be north of Falara. I've never heard of such a thing.

Some tales are older than tribes. Your people have lived their entire lives in the shadow of greatness without even dreaming of its existence. And they would be too ignorant to value the knowledge had they the means to attain it. I have long studied the past and I know many things about many places. You know nothing of the Moraki, I take it? He huffed at Brydon's refusal to answer, although it was unclear if he meant it as amusement or disdain. I thought not. Should you find word of the gauntlets, do not attempt and use the information for your own ends. Even should you locate the second gauntlet, it would do you no service. No man can touch Kerrick's gauntlet; the second is no less deadly.

Epiphany struck. Brydon was suddenly sure that the Dark Master had found Kerrick's gauntlet to be frustratingly useless. It was a good wager that possessing the complete pair would endow him with the ability to put their power to use. Brydon filed the knowledge away for future study, and tried to ignore it so the Dark Master would not see it in his mind.

Shevyn and Toryn will accompany me, he said.

The Redolian may do as he pleases. He is of no interest to me. The girl— he turned his attention to Shevyn, The girl will stay with me.

No! Brydon burst out. You already have Jace and Verana!

Indeed. I thought you had forgotten. Perhaps you do not care for the others as you obviously do for this girl. You will retrieve the information and you will return it to me, or you will see her again only as a corpse stretched upon an altar. A shockingly graphic image burned itself into Brydon's mind where it would return to haunt him for days to come. What will it be, Falaran? the Dark Master goaded. Do you agree, or shall I have Tal stoke the fires for a sacrifice to Shaitan?

He allowed Brydon to see Shevyn on a bloody altar again, her heart torn out and her face frozen forever in a scream that never came. Brydon felt perverted glee emanate from the Dark Master and knew the evil creature was almost willing Brydon to refuse. He obviously joyed in sacrifice and only his greed for the gauntlets kept him from killing them all.

Why don't you get it yourself? Brydon dared to ask.

Black rage assaulted him, nearly blinding him with its power. It diminished slowly, excruciatingly.

I do not choose to. Now answer.

I will go, Brydon said, feeling nauseous. He began to fear that Jace and Verana were already dead. He wasn't sure he would be able to leave Shevyn in the clutches of Shaitan's horrifying henchman, but he could not see an alternative. The Dark Master's triumph flooded his mind and he fought back with a wave of hatred that seemed to have little effect.

Go now. I will be in contact. Tal will guide you to the desert's edge.

Brydon clung to Shevyn a moment longer.

I'll be back, he murmured. Do not give up hope, for surely I will kill him. Somehow. With that, he stood and stalked to the exit, knowing that to look back would be the end of him.

ooOOooOOoo

Toryn felt helpless as they rode out of the ruined city of the Moraki. He kept thinking that he should have done something... anything to keep Shevyn away from the evil man. He wondered if Brydon blamed him for allowing her to come along, as he had stood firmly with Shevyn in her adamant stance to accompany Brydon. Toryn glanced at him; he appeared to have aged years over the past few hours.

I won't even be able to tell if she's alive, Toryn, Brydon said. I can't reach her mind at all, not even when I'm touching her.

Toryn sighed and wished there was something he could do. He was afraid Brydon would drive himself to madness with worry and grief. His demeanor of angry resolve seemed to have melted away in the harsh light of the afternoon sun, leaving behind guilt and despair.

Five dark-skinned men escorted them. When the sun touched the horizon, Brydon tried to kill one. One moment he rode quietly, muttering morosely to himself, and the next he had seized his blade and hacked savagely at the man who rode beside him. Only amazing reflexes saved the man from decapitation by Brydon's blade. Without pause, Brydon leaped for another Madi, who tried vainly to pull back the cocking device on his crossbow. Toryn, surprised, drew his own sword and was about to cleave the skull of the man nearest him when a horrific pain smashed into him and flung his blade out of his hand. He almost fell from Bloodsong, but the horse sidestepped rapidly, allowing him to keep his balance.

Brydon screamed and tumbled from Darkling’s back to land in the sand behind the horse, clutching his head in his hands. He writhed as the Dark Master's voice—undiminished by distance—hammered at him and pounded into Toryn through their shared link.

//I wondered how long you would go without attempting something of this sort,// the voice boomed. //I would have been disappointed if you had not. However,// the voice and pressure grew even more painful; Toryn sagged over Bloodsong's neck, //If it happens again, the little princess will suffer for it. Suffer greatly. Be warned! I am aware of your actions and rebellion will not be tolerated.//

With that the presence departed, leaving them both panting and shaken. A ragged line of blood trickled from Brydon's left nostril. Toryn sat up in his saddle weakly. He looked down at Brydon and then slid