Brynn: Chapter 6

It was dark in the forest. Brynn was poking the squirrel that he had started to roast. It was quiet. Too quiet. It was a week since he had left Taurah. He wondered what Rylan was doing. Over the past few days he had realized just how much he enjoyed being around his brother. It was strange not having someone to talk to, even though he wasn’t inclined to be talkative. Brynn turned the squirrel again. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t really very hungry anyway. He heard a slight rustling in the bushes nearby. Instantly, he was on his feet, his knife ready. He ducked to avoid being hit with a rock that came sailing through the air, whistling past his head. Brynn dove into the bushes and caught the arm of a young man. The boy struggled for a moment, then lay still. Brynn pulled him up, tightly holding onto his arm. For a moment they stood, facing each other. Brynn’s icy blue eyes measured his assailant. He was younger than Brynn, and his brown eyes blazed angrily at him. Brynn didn’t see him as much of a threat. Letting go of his arm, Brynn looked at him suspiciously.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked, finally. The boy shook his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes.

“My name is Iathan. And I don’t want anything.” Brynn’s eyebrows shot up.

“Indeed?” He took the squirrel off the fire. “Then why did you throw the rock at me?”
“I didn’t throw it. I used my sling,” Iathan said, superiorly. Amusement shone in Brynn’s eyes.
“It doesn’t really make much of a difference, does it? The point is, you were trying to hit me with the rock, right?” Iathan chose not to answer him. “Anyway, why were you trying to hit me with a rock?”
“I don’t have to tell you,” Iathan said, defiantly.
“Oh?” Brynn asked, putting the meat on a plate. Iathan’s eyes went wide as he watched Brynn. “Hungry?” Iathan nodded, ever so slightly. “Then why don’t you tell me why you were trying to hurt me? Then we can eat.”
“I … uh … Didn’t want you to give me away. I knew you had heard me move,” Iathan explained, sheepishly.
“Give you away to who?” Brynn asked, casually.
“My uncle. I’m running away,” he confessed. “I’m going to live with my brother, in the city. My uncle forbade me to go, but I told him that I am old enough to think for myself,” he said. “Uncle said I was indebted to him for taking me in, but I have more than repaid him. And I can make my own decisions,” Iathan finished, decidedly. Brynn wisely chose to change the subject.
“Which city are you headed for?”
“Tiras. There’s a fishing port there. It’s near the sea, you know,” he added, absentmindedly.
“I should think it would have to be near the sea for a fishing port,” Brynn replied, laughing. He handed Iathan a tin plate. His appetite had returned, he realized. The boy ate hungrily, and Brynn watched him. “When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday morning. I ran out of provisions,” Iathan explained. “I’m not a very good hunter yet,” he added, ruefully. He was quiet, eating his food. Brynn didn’t say anything. The fire crackled in the silence, and far away Brynn could hear frogs chirping. Iathan looked up suddenly.
“Who are you?” he asked. Brynn chuckled, realizing the boy hadn’t even asked his name.
“My name is Brynn. I’m going to Ketsya,” he answered. Iathan nodded.
“Where do you come from?”
“A village south of here. It’s called Taurah. My brother lives there,” Brynn replied.
“Why are you leaving?” Iathan persisted.
“My brother got married. I used to live with him, but the cabin is really his. So I’m off to Ketsya to join the rest of my family.”
“My three brothers live in Tiras. The older two never lived with my uncle, but the other, Jotham, used to. It’s him I’m going to join. He left two years ago, and I haven’t seen him since. He sent me a letter, telling me to join him two weeks ago. I left after a couple days and have been on the road ever since. Do you have a big family?”
Brynn thought of his parents and sister.
“No, just my sister and my father and mother. I haven’t seen them for almost three years now.”
Iathan was quiet for moment, thinking. He looked up, his brown eyes questioning.
“Brynn, the road to Tiras runs through Ketsya. Would you like to accompany me that far?”
“Why not? It would be nice to have some company. We’ll depart tomorrow at dawn. Which means we’d better hit the sack,” Brynn said.

ʊʊʊʊʊʊ

Later that night, Brynn was still awake, staring up at the stars. They were tiny silver points, shining out of a blue-black sky. He could glimpse them between the leaves of the trees overhead. He picked out familiar stars: Svea, Bornon, and his favorite, Erasqil. Erasqil had existed for ages; it was the oldest star. It twinkled, sending short rays of light around its circumference.

Brynn’s mind wandered to the conversation he had had with Iathan. They had talked about his family. He missed them, he realized. Especially his sister, Alva. The three siblings had been close when they were younger. Brynn remembered Alva. How people had been deceived by her quiet appearance, her shiny brown hair and green eyes. Underneath her docile exterior, Alva was quick thinking and lively. He recalled the numerous pranks she had played on him, inspired, of course, by Rylan’s expertise in that area. How she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, ever. No, Alva would only be described as “quiet” by those who did not know her. Brynn smiled in the darkness, ready to see his little sister again.

It was almost dawn when Brynn woke up. The sky was gray, streaked with orange and pink clouds. Iathan was still sleeping. Brynn laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to wake him up. The next moment, a hand shot up and hit him squarely on the jaw. Iathan was awake as soon as his hand made contact. He stared at Brynn, who was holding his jaw and grimacing.
“Do you always do that?”
Iathan grinned apologetically.
“Sorry. Reflexes I guess.”
Brynn shook his head and started breakfast.

ʊʊʊʊʊʊ

The two ate breakfast and packed their things, then hit the road. Iathan easily matched Brynn’s steady stride, and they made good progress. Brynn silently studied the boy as they walked. He was probably seventeen or eighteen. He was tanned and his hair was light blond from working in the sun. There was something slightly defiant about the way he walked, Brynn thought. His companion proved to be good-natured, however. Iathan told Brynn about his many escapades as they walked.
“Once, Jotham and I were-” Brynn cut him off suddenly, raising his hand for silence. He stood, listening intently. Iathan watched him, concerned. Quietly, Brynn crept among the low-lying bushes, back the way they had come. A few moments later, he returned to Iathan.
“I think we’re being followed. Would your uncle still be looking for you after two weeks?” he asked.
“I doubt it. He’s a lazy man. Besides, he still has his two sons to help him,” Iathan replied, firmly. Brynn raised his eyebrows, puzzled.
“Well, someone is still following us. I have no idea why. Let’s try to lose them in the next village. We need supplies anyway,” Brynn decided. Iathan nodded his assent. They continued on, both aware of sounds behind them, but not looking back.
Soon they reached the village of Lumra. It was very similar to Taurah, almost the same size, but there seemed to be more people around. Iathan went to buy food while Brynn went to the blacksmith’s to get his sword and knives sharpened. He had brought his little-used sword from Taurah in poor shape. He had decided to seize the opportunity to get it fixed up. They agreed to meet at the town square in half an hour.
“There ye are,” the blacksmith said, handing Brynn his weapons. He gave Brynn a queer look with his shifty blue eyes. Brynn paid him and headed off to join Iathan, wondering why the man was so suspicious. There was some kind of gathering in the Square. He was pressed into the throng of jostling, shoving, and babbling men and women. It was unclear what was going on. A little man on a platform was trying in vain to talk to the crowd. Brynn was pushed into a rotund man in a brown coat. He murmured an apology to the man, who gave him an annoyed glare and then turned his back on him. Brynn struggled to free himself of the mob; he was almost out of it when a shout pierced the air.
“I’ve been robbed! Stop thief!” It was the man in the brown coat. He searched the crowd, his eyes rested on Brynn, an accusing finger pointed in his direction. “There he is! Get him! He’s a thief!” Faces turned toward Brynn. He barely realized what was happening before he was grabbed by two men. A woman shrieked.
“It’s Zasur the Wolf! It’s the Wolf!” she was saying, excitedly. Murmurs rippled through the crowd to Brynn’s ears.
“The Wolf!”
“Is it really him?”
“It’s Zasur! Mercy on us!”
Brynn finally came to his senses. He turned to the men who were holding him.
“Look. I’m not a thief. You can search me. I have nothing that belongs to this man. I’m not the Wolf.”
“Funny you would say that. I’d sure expect the Wolf to come right out and say that he is who he is,” one of them said sarcastically.
“Besides,” the other added, “you’re his spittin’ image. Come on, to the jailhouse with ya.” Brynn struggled free, hitting one of the men and kicking the other. His fight was in vain, however; he was soon grabbed by more men. They began to drag him to the jailhouse. Through the crowd he thought he glimpsed Iathan’s confused face. It disappeared into the sea of moving faces.
Brynn was thrown into a cellar, which seemed to serve as the jailhouse. The door above was bolted and the window was secured with iron bars. He leaned grimly against the clay wall, a plan already forming in his mind.