by Peter Wacht
Talking with them was Brinn Kavolin, an extremely tall, slender man. He had a sharp, angular face and dark brown hair that continually fell into his eyes. Standing not too far away were the twins — Elisia and Aurelia Valeran from Kashel. He couldn’t even begin to guess which was which. Off to the side stood the fiercest-looking person Thomas had ever laid eyes on. He had to be Catal Huyuk. Thomas had listened to Rynlin’s stories about the man with some skepticism, thinking that his grandfather had embellished, as was his wont. Now he wondered if his grandfather had actually downplayed this hulking giant’s achievements.
As Rynlin and Rya took up their positions across the Circle, the other Sylvan Warriors finally noticed him standing there. The Sylvana slowly scattered, each moving to stand in front of a different column. Many columns were empty. The Sylvana had never been a large group, and sadly now less than a hundred remained.
Tiro watched the activity around him with a cool eye, waiting patiently for each Warrior to find a place. He then walked slowly around the huge Stone, making sure that each Sylvan Warrior was ready. Satisfied, he climbed the steps of the Stone, careful of where he placed his feet. When he reached the top, he took a few moments to settle his white robe around him until it was exactly the way he wanted it.
“One asks entry into the Circle,” bellowed Tiro in a voice louder than Thomas expected, his somber tone echoing across the plateau. “May he enter?”
“He may,” answered the Sylvan Warriors, their eyes centered on the Stone, their voices solemn. Tiro beckoned to Thomas, motioning for him to approach.
Thomas breathed deeply to calm the butterflies that had multiplied in his stomach, then stepped forward. He walked slowly into the Circle, his eyes fixed on the Stone. He could feel the eyes of the Sylvana on him, studying him, already judging him. Thomas tried to appear calm and confident, his face a mask hiding the turmoil of his spirit. Did he really belong here? Thomas struggled with his doubts. Rynlin had told him every day for the past week that many had been summoned to face the challenges, and many had returned home in failure. When he reached the base of the Stone, he placed each foot carefully on the crumbling and brittle steps. Concentrating on not falling off the Stone took away some of his worry.
As he reached the smooth surface of the top, he looked across at the large, red face of Tiro. He wore the same expression as the other Sylvana — serious, even forbidding. By the set of Tiro’s face, the rather rotund man took pleasure in his current, temporary position. He liked being the center of attention. Thomas had a feeling that Tiro would do what he could to draw out whatever was supposed to happen next, relishing every second atop the Stone. As if to confirm Thomas’ suspicions, Tiro waited a few moments longer before beginning.
“For thousands of years the Sylvana have protected the Kingdoms,” said Tiro, his voice carrying out over the plateau. “We are the defenders of nature, the power that gives life to the world. Once we were many; now we are few. Still, those who remain continue to uphold the responsibility that is ours, and ours alone.”
Thomas briefly looked down from the Stone, taking in the solemn faces all around him. There was a sadness in their eyes as they remembered those who had died fighting against the Shadow Lord; many times fighting when no one else could, or would.
“Long ago, we joined with the Kingdoms, but no more. The kings and queens have forgotten what allows them to rule, what allows them to live. They have forgotten that their main purpose is to protect the land, the rivers, the people from the darkness that has threatened to blanket the world for millennia. The Kingdoms have forgotten, enveloped by the petty squabbles of weak men and women. But the Sylvana watch, and wait, for the time when we will ride forth once again to battle the Shadow Lord, and to protect nature from his minions.”
Tiro paused dramatically, letting his words drift on the wind. He then turned his intelligent eyes on Thomas. “You have been called to us, Thomas Keldragan Kestrel. We will see if you belong here in the Circle. Your skill with weapons is of little importance at the moment, though that will change. Besides, many of us don’t need steel to fight.” Tiro bit off the last word as if it were a piece of meat that had gone bad weeks before, his mouth twisting in disgust. His tone suggested that fighting with steel was barbaric and beneath him. His disapproving glance at the sword strapped onto Thomas’ back confirmed it. “Instead, we test your inner strength and your knowledge of nature. The Shadow Lord has many weapons, and his evil is strong. Only the stoutest of heart and mind can survive.” Tiro again paused for the greatest effect, letting Thomas absorb his words. “Are you ready for the first challenge?”
Thomas swallowed, his mouth having gone dry because of his nerves. It was time. Would he succeed? He scanned the Sylvana standing silent below him and found his grandparents. They, too, wore somber expressions on their faces, yet Rynlin locked eyes with him for an instant and nodded. Thomas smiled. His grandfather thought he was ready for what lay ahead. They had told him the night before that he could overcome the challenges. He just had to remember to take the time to think. Thankful for the show of support, Thomas stood up straight and looked Tiro squarely in the eyes.
“I am,” he answered in a strong voice. Finally the wait was over. Whatever the outcome, he could put his worries to rest and find out what the next step in his life would bring.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Unfortunate Meeting
“Good,” said Tiro. “First, we will test your knowledge of the forest. Remove your weapons.”
Thomas unbuckled his sword scabbard and lay the blade on the Stone. He then pulled the dagger at his hip from its sheath as well as one hidden in each of his boots, and two more from under the sleeves of his shirt, and placed them to the side. He felt naked without his weapons. While bending down he briefly met the gaze of Catal Huyuk and saw the big warrior smile for an instant. The dark and intimidating man obviously approved of Thomas’ affinity for steel. At the same time, a look of disappointment flashed across Tiro’s face, but Thomas ignored him.
“Return to the Circle in three hours’ time. The use of the Talent is forbidden. If you do not return in three hours, you fail.”
Return to the Circle? What did he mean by— a brilliant white light flashed directly in front of Thomas, forcing him to duck away. He was careful not to shift his feet, though. He didn’t want to fall off the Stone, as there was barely enough room for two people to stand on it. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and the seconds dragged into minutes before his vision cleared. When he rose to his feet again, the haze gone from his eyes, his mouth opened in shock. He was no longer on the Stone. In fact, he had absolutely no idea where he was.
“The first surprise of the day,” Thomas muttered to himself. He didn’t think it would be the last either.
Only a few seconds before he had stood on top of the highest peak in the Highlands. Now, he was stuck in the middle of the densest forest he had ever encountered. The Burren, with its grasping vines and prickly bushes, didn’t compare to his current predicament. Heart trees rose several hundred feet into the sky all around him, the massive trunks and craggy roughness of the bark reminding him of the Isle of Mist. The bushes that surrounded him were twice his height and so thick and tangled they were a more effective barrier than any stonewall could ever be. The bushes pushed in all around him, leaving him little room to maneuver. This wasn’t a forest, it was a prison. Worst of all, the dense canopy prevented any light from getting through, creating an unnatural darkness. Though it was early morning, it appeared to be night.
There was no place to go. He didn’t know where he was in relation to the Circle, and even if he did, trying to get there from here could take days. Making his way through the dense overgrowth would be virtually impossible. The thought of using the Talent crossed his mind, however briefly, but he recalled Tiro’s words. The Sylvana would know, and he would fail.
No matter. First, he needed to determine his exact position in relation to the Circle. Then he could move on to the ne
xt step. Thomas glanced around quickly. Even with his sharp vision, he failed to pierce the green veil spread across his eyes by the surrounding vegetation. That left him with no other choice.
Digging his fingers into the bark of the nearest heart tree, Thomas began pulling himself up. Although the bark scratched and tore at his palms, it offered excellent foot- and handholds. He went as fast as he could, finding crevices and tiny gaps to aid his climb. He ignored the droplets of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyes because of the strain of the climb. Despite the cool temperatures, Thomas silently thanked Rynlin for suggesting he leave his cloak behind and wear only a loose shirt and breeks. He continued his ascent, remembering not to look down. Heights didn’t bother him, but looking down at the forest floor could disorient him, and that was something he wanted to avoid.
The next time Rynlin or Rya mention a challenge, he told himself, I’m going to make sure they give me a better explanation. No more secrets. He promised himself that he would follow through on that pledge, though he knew his grandparents would remain as recalcitrant as ever.
Finally, after climbing more than a hundred feet up the trunk, Thomas grabbed the first branch. Setting his foot on it, he pulled himself up. The branches of the heart tree functioned much like a ladder and made the going easier. Yet, though he had climbed halfway up the tree, he still couldn’t see through the branches. He’d have to go higher, where the foliage thinned out. Grabbing the branch above him, Thomas continued his ascent, this time with a greater sense of urgency. Twenty minutes had passed. Time was disappearing quickly.
After another short climb, Thomas found what he was looking for — a break through the branches. He had almost reached the top. The tree swayed gently from side to side in rhythm to the wind, increasing the danger. Hooking his arm around a thick, sturdy branch for safety, Thomas gazed out across the forest. It stretched for several leagues from his current vantage point, with no mountain in sight. He moved cautiously over to the other side of the tree, again securing his arm around a branch. The leaves were denser here, so Thomas swept them from his line of sight with his free hand.
As he reached out to pull a few more branches out of his way, a strong gust of wind buffeted the tree. Caught out of position, Thomas grasped wildly for something to hold onto as his hand slipped from the branch and his feet went out from under him. Digging his fingers into the bark of the branch where his feet had been, he held on desperately as the tree swayed violently in the wind.
Just as fast as the gust of wind struck, it subsided. Thomas sighed with relief. He looked below him, unsure of how he succeeded in grabbing the branch. The branches that blocked his view of the ground surely would have broken his fall, in addition to most of the bones in his body. Luck. That was the only way to explain it. Otherwise, he’d be down there right now, a victim of the ultimate failure.
“Nothing is ever easy,” he murmured as he pulled himself back onto the branch. He again grabbed hold of the limb with one hand, careful to make sure he had a good grip before peeking through the branches. One almost fatal mistake for the day was more than enough.
There! He could see it. The peaks of the Highlands were off in the distance, and Athala’s Forge rose right in front of him. Thankfully, he was not at its very base. Instead, the forest that surrounded him ran along the upper slopes of these mountains. He must be on some sort of plateau. That still didn’t help him, though. With almost an hour gone, he stood no closer to his goal. Only two hours left. Two hours, and he still had a league or more of forest to traverse, to say nothing of the climb of several thousand feet that waited for him after that.
Thomas squeezed his free hand into a fist in frustration. He didn’t have enough time. How was he supposed to get to the Circle in two hours? It would take him days just to make his way through the undergrowth. It just wasn’t fair! Thomas immediately clamped down on the emotions that threatened to break through to the surface. His anger would not help him now. He needed to think. He had to find a way. If others had passed this test, so could he.
Wait a second! The answer was right in front of him. Or rather below him. He could use the trees as his road. About a hundred feet below him, the branches of many of the trees collided with one another, and they were so thick they could easily hold his weight. He could use the branches as a path as he did when he helped that girl in the Burren. Princess, he should say. She certainly was beautiful. Very beautiful, as a matter of fact, especially with those blue eyes of hers and raven-black hair. Thomas dismissed the image that had formed in his mind. No time for that now.
Thomas descended from his vantage point until he found a branch that looked about right. As he stepped onto it, he took a moment to clear his mind. Using the Talent was forbidden, but Tiro had not said anything about nature. During his lessons Thomas had learned that concentrating as he did when controlling the Talent could serve many other useful purposes. For example, it allowed him to get closer to nature, to feel and see the myriad activity around him, without having to draw on the power of nature. Rya explained that though it was similar to using the Talent, you were not actually taking hold of it. It simply resulted from his being closer to nature than most other people. Anyone could do it, in fact, if the person knew how. But only a few did. That’s why he could smell the sea from leagues away or taste the wind or feel the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day, when others couldn’t.
Concentrating as he did when using the Talent, Thomas began walking across the branch. This deep in the tree, he didn’t have to worry about the wind, he only had to focus on where he placed his feet. Soon, he stepped across to another branch, with no more than a fingerbreadth separating the two. Thomas picked up his pace to a fast walk. His mind closed out everything around him except for the branches he traveled across. He didn’t even look down to know where to place his feet. He could sense the branch underneath his feet, feel the texture of it.
Thomas reached the next tree and jumped across a slight gap, landing solidly on the next branch that formed his unique pathway. As his concentration grew stronger, he sensed the sap running through the tree’s limbs, taste it, smell it. He felt as if he were actually a part of the tree. Gradually, he picked up his pace even more; first to a trot, then to a run. A particular memory jumped into his mind of when he raced through the forest on the Isle of Mist with his friend Beluil, reveling in the excitement of the competition.
Branch after branch passed beneath his feet in a blur as he continued on his course. In a few places, Thomas jumped down to a lower branch or climbed up to a new one, but it didn’t slow him. He moved by instinct, letting his feet pick the best path. For a time, he even closed his eyes. The limb he ran across appeared in his mind. He could make out the texture of the bark where a woodpecker had looked for a meal and a bolt of lightning had charred a branch three hundred years before. It was a remarkable experience, and one to savor. He had never felt so close to nature before. He had never felt so much at ease. He just might make it. He just might.
Thomas stopped abruptly. He had concentrated so much on where he was going that he failed to pay attention to his surroundings. He judged that he was close to the end of the forest, yet the darkness was now complete. The sun should have brightened the gloom at least a bit. A cold wind brushed against him, chilling him to the bone.
Strangely, the branches themselves remained still despite the gust. Even more ominous, the forest was silent. Thomas strained his senses, searching for some clue to explain the change. Yet, he picked out nothing unusual except a vague feeling of uneasiness. He crinkled his nose in distaste. A strange odor swept over him, one of decay and death. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
A prickling sensation along Thomas’ spine alerted him that he was not alone. Jumping around, he almost fell off the branch. He shuffled back a few steps. A beautiful woman stood before him, her hand extended to where his shoulder had been just a second before. The long, dark chestnut hair made him think of his—
“You’re
right, Thomas,” said the figure before him. “You’re right, though we have never met. You know me in your heart. I am Marya, your mother.”
Thomas flinched involuntarily. His mother? But how could it be? Ever since he was a child he had dreamed of what it would be like to meet her face to face, but it was impossible. She died during his birth.
“How could you be here?” he asked in a shaky voice. Dozens of emotions whirled through his mind, drowning out the tiny voice of reason, a voice screaming at him that he was in danger.
“I am strong in the Talent, as are you, Thomas.” Marya stepped closer, until she could almost touch him. The odor of death grew stronger. She stopped when it appeared that Thomas was going to step back away from her. “There are many things I can do. Talyn told you that I had died, but he lied. He wanted to keep you from me. For years I have searched for you. And now I have finally found you.”
Thomas frowned. Talyn died saving him from the reivers and Ogren. It couldn’t be as she said. His grandfather had been a man of honor. Yet his mother stood before him. “But why?”
“He was like the others at the Crag, Thomas. He was afraid of me, and what I could do with the Talent. He thought that if he kept me away from you, you could escape my family’s legacy.”
“But—”
It was almost too much for him to absorb. Was his mother speaking the truth? Everyone at the Crag had been afraid of him. That was certainly true. Had his grandfather been as well? Thomas stepped back quickly, heeding the small voice that struggled to break free from his swirling emotions. Marya had moved closer to him. There was something about her that felt wrong. The image of an open crypt popped into his mind.
Marya reached out her hand. “Come with me, Thomas. Come with me now. There is so much we need to learn about each other. So much that we have missed.” At first, Marya’s voice was soft and sweet. It turned harsher and more demanding when he hesitated. “Come with me, Thomas! Come with me!”
