The Call of the Sylvana (The Sylvan Chronicles Book 2)

by Peter Wacht

  “How often do you have this dream?” asked Rya.

  “Almost every night,” he replied. “At first it was once or twice a month, as I mentioned before. For the past few weeks it’s been every night and much more vivid than in the past. When I wake up in the morning, I have an intense impulse to find this valley. I know I can find it. All I have to do is start walking, and eventually that’s where I’ll end up. But I’ve resisted it so far. Isn’t that kind of strange?”

  “Actually, it makes perfect sense,” said Rynlin. He smiled broadly.

  “Then what does it mean?” asked Thomas in exasperation.

  “Thomas,” said Rya, giving her husband a sharp look, “please ignore your grandfather. He’s not very good at explaining things sometimes. It must have something to do with his age. They say the brain begins to go after a time.”

  “What?” asked Rynlin, confused.

  “Rynlin,” said Rya. “Please be a dear and let me explain now. Things will move along at a much faster pace.”

  Rynlin went back to the tree root and sat down in indignation.

  “Thomas, it’s time for you to join the Sylvana. That’s why in the last few weeks we’ve been spending so much time going over the history of the Sylvana, and a few other things that relate to them.”

  “It’s time? How do you know?”

  “I know because you know, in your heart of hearts, that that’s what you should do.” Rya took hold of his hand and made him sit down next to Rynlin, who gave his wife an angry scowl. She simply ignored him. “That’s how it’s been done, ever since the Sylvan Warriors first came together. The people who were chosen would see a unicorn in their dreams. The dreams would appear more and more often, until they occurred every night. As the frequency of the dreams increase, so does the urge to go to the valley where the unicorns reside. Now it’s time for you to go. If you hadn’t told us about the dream, in a week, maybe less, you would be on your way to the valley by yourself.”

  “That would have been a problem,” said Rynlin, “because then we’d have to find you.”

  “So that’s how you know? The dreams?”

  “Yes,” said Rya. “They will inexorably pull you to the Valley of the Unicorns so you can overcome the challenges.”

  “The challenges? What challenges?” Thomas was extremely tired of tests.

  “You don’t have to worry about those yet,” said Rynlin. “We’ll tell you more about them when we get to the Circle.”

  “When will we be going?”

  “In a few days,” replied Rya. “We need to give the other Sylvan Warriors time to arrive before us. Some are likely already on the way.”

  Thomas sighed again. His life was becoming more difficult.

  “You know, I can tell you one thing that might help you,” said Rynlin.

  “What’s that?” asked Thomas.

  “I believe that you will pass the challenges, and when you stand on the mount, you will know then for a fact whether you are the one who will fight the Shadow Lord.”

  “Well, at least that will answer one of my questions.” Thomas was both excited and fearful. Joining the Sylvana had long been one of his hopes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know if he was the Defender of the Light. To be honest, he really didn’t want the added responsibility.

  “Yes. Then again, the Shadow Lord will know for a fact that it is you as well. Up until now, he has only guessed that it will be you. He hasn’t known for sure. That’s why only one Nightstalker was looking for you. Once he is certain of his challenger, he will likely take several more steps to remove that threat from the game before it’s time to begin playing in earnest.”

  “Wonderful. Just wonderful. You certainly know how to make someone feel better.” Thomas got up from his seat on the tree root and walked toward the house. It had been a long day already and he was hungry. He could worry about all of this after lunch.

  “He will have a difficult time with all of this,” said Rya, watching her grandson go.

  “Yes, he will. But we will be there to help him, as will others.”

  “At least one thing is certain.”

  “What’s that?” asked Rynlin. He knew what that expression on Rya’s face meant. It was the same one she wore when she rode into battle during the Great War — a look of determination, and purpose, that would not be denied.

  “With everything Thomas must do, if anyone can handle it all, it is he.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A New Skill

  “Are you ready?” Rya settled her dark blue cloak around her shoulders and stood by the door, tapping her foot impatiently. Thomas’ anticipation of the coming journey increased as the appointed time for leaving drew closer. His grandparents now felt much the same way. Outwardly, they remained calm, but as the last few days had passed, their normal reserve disintegrated, exposing the nerves beneath. “And don’t forget your cloak.”

  A biting cold covered the Isle of Mist, a cold foreign to the early fall, a cold reminiscent of darker times. Rya’s instincts as a grandmother were out in full force this morning. She insisted that Thomas dress warmly. He wore his brown woolen breeks and a heavy linen shirt, and over that a dark green cloak.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He kept the irritation from his voice, knowing it would only antagonize his grandmother. Thomas had barely slept the last few nights, the excitement of what was to come getting the better of him. The excitement, and the worry. What challenges lay before him? None of the history books explained exactly how you became a Sylvan Warrior, and Rynlin and Rya repeatedly evaded his questions. Their uncharacteristically tight-lipped behavior worried him.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” Rynlin had said, giving him a slap on the back that was supposed to offer some comfort. “You worry too much, you know. You shouldn’t worry so much at your age. You’ll do just fine.”

  He worries too much. What a remarkable discovery. Of course, Rynlin didn’t appreciate the sarcasm buried within his response. Maybe he did worry too much. Then again, why shouldn’t he?

  Just three days before his grandparents confirmed that not only did the High King want him dead — something that Thomas had guessed at for years — but perhaps an even greater danger as well. The Shadow Lord. The greatest evil known to the Kingdoms. An evil that gained strength through the millennia while the Kingdoms weakened. And now he wished to become a Sylvan Warrior, if he could overcome the dreaded challenges, of course, whatever those challenges might be.

  For the hundredth time he wondered why he wanted to join the Sylvana. Why not find a quiet place and live his life in peace, throwing off the shackles of his responsibilities? Why not forget about the Highlanders? They certainly had no use for him when he was a child. Why not run and hide from the Shadow Lord and avoid any possibility of having to confront him?

  Just thinking about that potential confrontation made his blood run cold. No matter how much he thought of that option, he couldn’t bring himself to run away. And his grandparents wondered why he worried so much.

  “Good. Then let’s get going.” Rya pushed him out the door and pulled it closed behind her. Rynlin waited for them outside, his dark gray cloak pulled tight around him. Rya was right. It was getting colder. Colder than it should be at this time of year. A light snow from the night before colored the ground white. It created the impression of serenity and peace. On the inside Thomas was anything but.

  “Are you ready, Thomas?” asked Rynlin with a smirk. Because of the cold, Rya insisted that her husband wear a hat. He refused, of course. He didn’t like hats. As a result, she had spent much of the past hour muttering about how someone’s stubbornness would eventually be the death of him. Rynlin tried to ignore her, but disregarding Rya proved difficult on the best of days.

  Thomas nodded his assent, catching a glimpse of a black streak bounding into the forest around his home. Beluil, the large black wolf with a band of white across his eyes, sensed that his friend would be away for a while. So he had wished Thomas
well before heading deeper into the Shadowwood. The Isle was his home, and though safe because of the terrifying, often haunting stories spread by Rynlin over the years, the large black wolf still liked to make certain nothing encroached on his territory.

  “Good. Then it’s time to go. Everyone should be there by now.”

  An impatient man by nature, Rynlin wanted to get this over with, perhaps even more than Thomas. There were too many loose ends right now and his efforts at deciphering the prophecies left him at his wit’s end. Combined with the early cold, a cold that reminded him of a dangerous and frightening past, he felt a renewed urgency to find some answers. Once Thomas reached the Circle, Rynlin would know more.

  If his grandson failed, then he and Rya were wrong, and Thomas could live a relatively normal life, at least for a few more years until he returned to the Highlands. If Thomas overcame the challenges, though, as both he and Rya thought he would, the course of history would change. For good or bad, he didn’t know. And then, for Thomas, becoming Lord of the Highlands would be the least of his worries.

  “Before we go, Thomas, we have one more lesson for you,” said Rya.

  Another lesson? After the past few weeks Thomas thought his lessons had come to an end, at least for the time being. He wasn’t surprised, though. Both of his grandparents had a knack for trying to cram as much knowledge into him as they could.

  “It’s not what you think, Thomas,” said Rynlin, seeing the expression on his face. “This lesson is one of convenience. The Circle and the Valley of the Unicorns sit at the edge of the Highlands in a spot that’s exceedingly difficult to reach by foot. With this lesson, we’ll arrive at the Circle later today. In fact, I think you’ll rather enjoy it.”

  A lesson that he would enjoy? Most, if not all, involving the Talent were arduous at best in the beginning. He surmised that Rynlin really was in a rush to get there.

  “Now, Thomas, watch your grandfather,” said Rya, patting him on the shoulder. “Pay attention to what he does and how he does it.”

  Rynlin walked to the other side of the clearing. A sudden surge of energy in the air alerted Thomas that Rynlin had taken hold of the Talent. A white nimbus quickly took shape around his grandfather. Thomas deciphered his shape within it, but as the white light grew brighter, and then brighter still, Rynlin was no longer visible. There was only a pulsating ball of white energy. Whatever his grandfather was doing, it required a great deal of control and strength.

  Thomas turned away, shielding his eyes with his hand. He couldn’t watch it anymore. The rhythmic white glow was too bright. Just as quickly as the ball of energy formed, it disappeared, the bright white light replaced by the dim glow of the early morning sun. Thomas looked on in shock. Where Rynlin had once stood, a massive hawk had taken his place. The bird shrieked triumphantly, flexing its wings and letting the rays of sunshine glance off its dark brown feathers.

  A neat trick, don’t you think, said a voice in Thomas’ head. It sounded just like the gravelly voice of his grandfather.

  “Rynlin?” he asked hesitantly, directing his words toward the hawk, which flexed one sharp claw, and then the other.

  The voice returned to Thomas’ head. You shouldn’t be so surprised, Thomas. How else did you think we were going to make it to the Circle on time? Flying is the only way.

  “I hadn’t really thought about it,” he replied, and wondered if the hawk that was his grandfather could understand. The squawk of what sounded like laughter confirmed that he could. “You can shapechange, too?”

  “Of course I can, Thomas. As can you. Did you see how Rynlin accomplished it?”

  “I think so,” said Thomas. “After he pulled in the Talent, he directed it inward, on himself, rather than outward. He focused the Talent on the image that he had created in his mind, the image of a hawk.”

  “Very good, Thomas,” said Rya with pride. He really was a smart boy, when he wanted to be.

  The hawk standing before them squawked angrily, gesturing with its head to the sky.

  “All right, you old bird. Just hold on.” After all these years, you’d think he’d learn at least a little patience. “I’m sorry, Thomas, but it looks as if your grandfather, despite the change in appearance, remains the same grouchy old man we know and love.” The hawk squawked in indignation, flapping its wings in anger. Rya ignored the display. “Watch what I do, just to make sure you have it right, then it’s your turn.”

  Thomas nodded and backed away from his grandmother. He again felt the power of the Talent flow all around him. A white nimbus formed around his grandmother, which like the one before grew brighter and brighter. Again the brightness forced Thomas to look away. In a matter of seconds, the white light disappeared and two hawks stood in the clearing, though the one that was his grandmother was the smaller of the two.

  Your turn, Thomas. Just do exactly what we did and you won’t have any problems. Rya’s voice played through his mind, followed by what felt like a mental hug. Even as a bird, his grandmother remained the same.

  Thomas looked from one hawk to the next, studying each one closely. He saw some resemblance to his grandparents within those animal shapes, primarily in the eyes. Rynlin’s were hard and flinty, while Rya’s were warm with a slight edge to them. It was a remarkable transformation.

  Still astounded by what he saw, Thomas closed his eyes and locked away everything going on around him, even ignoring the two large birds that were his grandparents. He took hold of the Talent, the rush of energy within his body familiar, and slowly drew in more and more, until he had as much as Rynlin had gathered before he shapechanged. Following the examples of Rynlin and Rya, Thomas formed an image in his mind of the shape he hoped to assume. He then directed the power he held into that image, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until everything he held was used.

  Thomas opened his eyes. He was now the same height as his grandparents and looking directly into the eyes of the two hawks. Either he had knelt down or it had worked.

  An excellent choice, Thomas, said Rynlin. The raptor suits you.

  The raptor? He was a raptor? Tipping his head down, the sharp beak where his nose used to be surprised him, along with the white feathers of the underbelly taking the place of his clothes and the sharp claws that served as his hands. He had become a raptor. It had worked!

  Of course it worked, Thomas. Why are you so surprised? asked Rya.

  Thomas quickly realized that in this shape, both his grandparents could read his thoughts, and he could read theirs. He picked up that his grandmother was proud of him because he had gotten it on the first try, and his grandfather was simply irritated, wanting to be on his way. Thomas would have to be careful with his thoughts since this now functioned as their form of communication. It was an intriguing new ability, but then again, knowing someone could read your mind unsettled him.

  Don’t worry, Thomas, said Rynlin. We can only read what you want us to read. He had sensed his grandson’s discomfort.

  I had the image of a hawk in my mind. Why did I become a raptor?

  That’s the way the Talent works, Thomas. At least in this respect, said Rynlin. The Talent shaped itself based upon your personality. For us, the hawk is more appropriate. For you, the raptor. A symbol of the Highlands and the Kestrels. Now, on to more important matters. Let’s be off. Rynlin leapt into the air with his strong legs, the flap of his wings carrying him upward.

  Don’t worry, Thomas, said Rya, feeling Thomas’ worry. In a very real sense you are now a bird. Flying comes naturally to you. You have nothing to learn. Just allow your instincts to take over. Rya then leapt into the air, a few flaps of her wings pulling her higher. She soon reached Rynlin, who circled impatiently in the sky high above the clearing.

  Since his grandparents had left him on the ground with little in the way of instruction, Thomas had little choice but to follow. Taking a breath, he dug his claws into the soft earth, then pushed off with his legs and flapped his wings. In seconds he was in the air, he
aded right for Rynlin and Rya, the glade shrinking as he climbed higher. He was flying! He was actually flying! Thomas pumped his wings, gaining altitude rapidly. Shooting past his grandparents, he pushed himself toward the clouds, caught in the exhilaration of it all.

  Thomas, now is not the time for games. Come back down here, Rya insisted.

  Thomas knew her tone quite well, a tone that brooked no argument. Still, he was several hundred feet above his grandparents, and he could see the sun shining off the waves of the Sea of Mist. The channel separating the Isle of Mist from the Highlands was just off to the west, the mountains of his homeland rising up to meet the sky. Off to the east, the sea dipped off into the horizon. Thomas tilted his body to the right and allowed his extended wings to catch a downdraft. Slowly he turned in a lazy circle until he settled in next to his grandparents.

  Please don’t do that again, Thomas. The edginess in Rynlin’s voice was obvious. When he thought it was time to go somewhere, he didn’t like anything to get in his way. We have a long way to go today, so stay with us. We don’t have time for games.

  Sorry, Rynlin.

  Don’t worry about it, Thomas. Your grandfather is just getting into one of his moods. I think it has something to do with his age.

  Rya!

  Oh, shush, Rynlin. You said yourself we don’t have time for this.

  Rya came out of her own circle and turned toward the Highlands, her long, graceful wings catching the wind and carrying her to the far shore. Rynlin followed after her, almost sheepishly. She certainly did know how to put her husband in his place. Taking one final look at the Isle of Mist from his perch in the sky, Thomas followed after them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  An Unexpected Visitor

  As the land passed beneath him at a dizzying pace, the strong mountain gusts pushing him swiftly between the peaks, he marveled at what lay before him. It was an unforgettable experience. The previous night’s snowfall blanketed the upper passes and mountaintops with several inches of white powder, while the lower elevations only received a dusting.