The Legend of the Kestrel (The Sylvan Chronicles Book 1)

by Peter Wacht

  The man standing behind the fire stepped around it, moving next to the woman. Thomas let his new friend down and placed his hand on the hilt of his dagger. The pup bared its teeth and positioned himself several feet in front of Thomas, once again letting out a whisper of a growl. Thomas studied the man and woman carefully. The woman gave the man a quick look of exasperation, as if she didn’t want him to come around the fire. But he ignored her. The man continued to examine Thomas. This man with the hard green eyes did a better job of making Thomas feel afraid than the reivers.

  Thomas attempted to look at ease, but with the intense scrutiny he was under, he kept shifting his balance from one foot to the other. He told himself to remain calm, to be ready for anything. He looked quickly to see if there were others. If need be, he could scoop up the wolf pup and escape into the trees before the man or woman could catch him. But the two strangers simply continued to study him. He felt like they were taking in everything about him and cataloging it away for future use, from his clothes to the color of his hair to the way he stood. Finally, Thomas grew tired of it. He didn’t like being on display, so he adopted the same pose as the other two. His face took on an inquiring look, and he shifted his feet so he stood akimbo, a challenging glare in his eyes. At the same time, he took another hard look at them. They didn’t carry any weapons, at least none that were visible. That surprised him. Thomas didn’t know if he should be worried about that or not.

  Seeing Thomas adjust his stance, the man grinned. He appeared pleased by Thomas’ change in posture. Thomas tried to guess just how old these two strangers were, but he found it to be an impossible task. They did not look old, but there was a part of him that could feel the wisdom and knowledge they both carried. A wisdom and knowledge not normal for people of their appearance. The wolf pup remained poised before Thomas, growling in warning, ready to defend his newfound friend.

  Finally, the woman walked toward him. Thomas had his dagger in hand before she had moved more than a few feet, the growl from the little wolf increasing in volume. The woman stopped, surprised at the speed with which Thomas had moved to defend himself. She had initially seen him as a young boy. Now, she revised her assessment. And she didn’t like it when she was wrong. She told herself that she’d have to be more careful with her judgments in the future, especially concerning the young man standing before her.

  “It seems that we have found two little wolves,” said the man, a touch of amusement in his voice.

  “We will not hurt you, child,” said the woman. “In fact, we were looking for you.”

  Thomas was not surprised. Most people stayed away from this part of the Highlands if they could. It was dangerous terrain, and it was close to both the Northern Steppes and the Isle of Mist, two places that most people avoided at any cost.

  “Others are looking for me as well,” said Thomas. “Why should I trust you? You’re not Highlanders.”

  “You’re right, boy,” replied the man, returning to the pot hanging over the fire. He picked up the wooden spoon again and stirred the bubbling stew. “You shouldn’t.”

  The woman gave the man a frosty glare, a look that could freeze water in the middle of summer. When the man saw the look, he instantly regretted his words. He could never understand how a woman could put so much into a single glare. The man stared at the stew, intent on his task.

  Satisfied that she would no longer be interrupted, the woman turned back to Thomas, her glare now a welcoming smile.

  “We won’t hurt you, child. My name is Rya, and this is Rynlin,” she said, motioning toward the man who continued to have an inordinate amount of interest in the fragrant stew.

  The woman waited expectantly for the boy to give his name, but he did not. His expression became more suspicious, and the grip on his dagger remained tight. She looked to Rynlin for help, but he shrugged. She gave him an angry glare. Rynlin once again came to the conclusion that no matter what you did, you could never fully please a woman, even if you were doing exactly what she wanted.

  When they had gotten to the clearing and made camp, knowing that the boy would be there within the hour, Rya had said very clearly that she would handle matters, and that Rynlin should do his best not to get in the way. Well, maybe he could prove helpful after all. He stole a quick glance at Thomas and caught him glancing at the stew. Rynlin motioned to the stew with his head.

  “You look hungry, child,” said Rya, picking up on her husband’s hint. “Join us for a meal.”

  The boy continued to stare at her. Standing on the balls of his feet, he looked like a rabbit about to run. Rya corrected herself again. A rabbit with a bite and a very interesting friend. Seeing that the boy would not be swayed with words, she moved over to the fire and pulled a few things from her pack. As Rynlin stirred the stew, she took out a small cutting board. Rya used her belt knife to slice several thick pieces from a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. With a final taste from the wooden spoon, Rynlin nodded to himself and used a cloth to lift the pot from the fire and set it down on a rock. He then scooped the stew into three bowls. He took one to his wife, placed another bowl and a few slices of bread and cheese on a rock on the other side of the fire, then settled himself next to Rya on a large rock jutting out over the stream. The boy had still not moved. Rynlin shrugged his shoulders at his wife’s unasked question and then began to enjoy his evening meal.

  The wonderful smell of the stew set Thomas’ stomach churning. He knew that the pup was hungry as well, but was not going to move forward unless Thomas did so. The stew smelled delicious, and he’d do anything for a piece of bread or cheese. He hadn’t eaten a real meal in two days, and he was certain that the wolf pup had gone even longer than that. The man and woman — Rynlin and Rya — were comfortably seated on the other side of the fire. Thomas judged it safe enough to eat a few bites if he kept an eye on his two hosts. He walked to the rock and the wolf pup followed. When he looked down at the stew, his stomach growled in protest once again. Confirming that Rynlin and Rya remained seated, he lifted the wolf onto the rock. Then he picked out several pieces of meat from the stew for his friend. Thomas remained standing. He didn’t want to be caught by surprise.

  Hesitantly, he took a bite. It was probably the best bowl of stew he had ever tasted, and whether that was because it really was or he was too hungry to tell the difference didn’t matter. His little friend was probably thinking much the same thing. The pup had already eaten the pieces of meat Thomas had selected for him. Thomas picked out some more before munching on the bread and cheese. He kept an eye on the two strangers, ready to make a run for it, but they seemed content to eat their meals and watch him. The three ate their suppers in silence, Thomas not wanting to speak and Rya and Rynlin not sure how to begin. In only a few minutes everyone had eaten their fill. Thomas used a piece of bread to get the last of the stew from his bowl, smiling as the wolf pup lay down on the rock and licked a few drops of stew from his muzzle.

  “Who’s your friend, boy?” asked Rynlin, taking a final spoonful from his bowl before setting it down on the rock.

  Idly scratching behind the wolf pup’s ears, Thomas thought for a moment. He hadn’t decided on a name yet.

  “Beluil,” he replied. The pup looked at him then, and a feeling of approval ran through Thomas’ mind.

  “That’s a good name,” said Rynlin. “And you, boy? What’s your name?”

  Thomas eyed the tall man with suspicion, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his dagger. Yet even after everything he had been through in the last two days and the warning from his grandfather, he felt he could trust these two. There was just something about them that made Thomas feel safe. Even though the man had a forbidding appearance, they didn’t seem to be a threat. Thomas glanced quickly at the woman, who was holding her breath. Thomas returned his gaze to the man. He judged that if this stranger was ever going to do something, he would have done it by now. He also knew that even if he were standing thirty feet back from where he was now, the man wou
ld have caught him before he reached the safety of the trees. But the one called Rynlin hadn’t bothered to try.

  His grandfather had warned him about trusting anyone not of the Highlands, but these two did not look like reivers. And more important, the reivers gave off a feeling of evil. These two strangers did not. In fact, the forest seemed to accept them much as it did him. And the woman had a kind face. The more he looked at the woman, the more his mind drifted to memories of his mother. He knew that he was having a hard time concentrating now that his belly was full and that the need for sleep was catching up to him. He had to start trusting someone, at least to a certain extent. Besides, he had no idea where he was going or when he would get there.

  The necklace! He hadn’t thought about the necklace since he entered the clearing. It now felt very warm against his skin, even hot. Reaching into his shirt, he pulled it out just to make sure. As he held it in his hand, it became even warmer. He sensed that he had reached his destination, but he couldn’t explain why.

  “Thomas,” he said, letting the necklace drop from his hand.

  “Thomas,” repeated Rya, savoring the name, almost as if she were tasting a bottle of wine for the first time. “That, too, is a good name.”

  “And your last name, Thomas?” asked Rynlin.

  Thomas looked at Rynlin, this time focusing on his eyes. Those eyes seemed to hold the answers to many questions, questions Thomas didn’t even know to ask.

  “I think you already know that,” said Thomas.

  Rynlin smiled. He was indeed a very smart boy.

  “You have two last names,” said Rynlin, adopting a pedantic tone, “though you probably only use one. If you used your mother’s last name, it would be Keldragan. But since you were raised in the Highlands, where most go by the names of their fathers, you more likely use the second. Kestrel. Your name is Thomas Kestrel.”

  Thomas smiled. He was not surprised that the tall man’s guess would be right; that this forbidding man would know his name, though he had not heard anyone ever speak the name Keldragan, except for his grandfather. That indeed was his mother’s name, though he had never used it. He didn’t think most of the people in the Crag knew his mother’s last name. He didn’t have time to wonder how this man, who was obviously not a Highlander, could know such a thing. The woman immediately followed with a question of her own.

  “That’s a beautiful necklace, Thomas. Where did you come by it?”

  Thomas fingered the amulet hanging at the end of the silver chain, having forgotten to tuck it back under his shirt. He had not expected the question. He examined the amulet carefully for a moment, taking in the workmanship, the skill required to carve the unicorn’s horn so delicately into the soft metal. He had only worn it for two days, but it already felt like it was a part of him. That it was him, in a way.

  “It was my mother’s,” he answered, still examining the amulet. He ran a finger along the twists of the unicorn’s horn. “My grandfather gave it to me.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Right before he died.”

  The finality of his words brought tears to Rya’s eyes, and surprisingly Thomas saw a look of sadness cross Rynlin’s face as well.

  “Do you know what that necklace can do, Thomas?” asked Rya, gaining control of her emotions. He was looking at her intently now. For some reason Thomas felt a closeness to her that he had never felt with anyone else before, even his grandfather. She didn’t give him a chance to answer.

  “It’s a very old necklace, Thomas. More than a thousand years old, in fact. It’s actually a tool, rather than jewelry. It belongs to a very old family, one that is rarely mentioned now, if even remembered, though some of its members still walk the Kingdoms.” Thomas was captured by her eyes and listened to her words intently. A part of him knew that this story connected to him in some way.

  “Did your grandfather tell you what it could do, Thomas?”

  “Yes,” he said in a quiet voice, still not sure where this discussion was going. “When he gave it to me, we were under attack. The Crag, I mean.” He looked over at Rynlin. At the mention of an attack, the tall man sat up straight. He resembled a lion ready to pounce. “He wanted me to escape, but he wouldn’t go with me. So he gave me the necklace and said that I should follow it to safety. If I walked in a direction that was dangerous, it would grow cold. If I walked in a direction that led to safety, it would grow warm. That’s how I ended up here.”

  Rya nodded, “Yes, that is one of the things it can do. It was originally created by this family for that specific reason. You see, Thomas, this family had a history that involved the Talent.”

  The word Talent opened a door in Thomas’ mind. It felt like everything was clicking in place, but he still wasn’t sure how. The history books had talked of the Talent, another word for the natural magic or power of the world. While thinking about that word — Talent — he thought that perhaps it was the correct term for what he could do. He didn’t know why; it just seemed right. Many people said that there was no one left who could use the Talent, and that those who could were warlocks, the servants of the Shadow Lord. But his grandfather had said that those people were naive. If you didn’t understand something, it was easier to go through life denying its existence. His grandfather had confirmed that the Talent was still alive in the world, and that using it didn’t mean you were evil. It was how you used the Talent that determined if the user was good or evil.

  “This family served a particular purpose in the world, and as a part of that purpose, the necklaces proved necessary. Rynlin and I are a part of that family,” she said, pulling an identical necklace from beneath her shirt. Rynlin mimicked her action. Thomas saw how the light of the fire danced across the silver of Rynlin’s necklace. All three looked exactly the same.

  “When our daughter was a young girl, Rynlin and I gave her a necklace just like the ones we wear now. She was a beautiful girl, with sharp blue eyes and chestnut-colored hair. In fact, she smiled just as you do.”

  Thomas’ mind churned at a furious pace. Everything was coming at him so fast, he did not have time to think. The description of Rya’s daughter immediately brought to mind the image he had created of his mother. Unwittingly, he whispered, “Marya.”

  “Yes, Thomas,” said Rya. A tear streaked slowly down her cheek, though she was smiling. “Our daughter’s name was Marya, and your mother’s name was Marya. Your father’s name was Benlorin, but Marya was your mother. You’re wearing Marya’s necklace, Thomas. You’re wearing our daughter’s necklace.”

  Ever since he had walked into the clearing and met these two strangers, he had done his best to control his emotions. His grandfather had always said that you could judge a man by his face, and if you could hide what you intended to do from those around you, you had the advantage. Thomas had tried to do this, and he thought that he had succeeded for the most part. But Rya’s words knocked away the wall he had put up around his emotions. The shock of the realization that ran across his mind registered clearly on his face.

  “Yes, Thomas,” said Rya. “I can see that you understand now. Our daughter, Marya, was your mother.”

  Before the last word had left her lips, Rya was up and across the fire in an instant, sweeping Thomas up in a fierce hug. Tears of joy ran down her face. Thomas could not escape her grasp, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He kept hearing Rya whisper into his hair, “I have a grandson. I have a grandson.” His fear, sorrow and exertion fell on him all at once. For the first time in two days, Thomas fell asleep.

  Rynlin watched the look of joy spread across his wife’s face as she pulled her grandson into her arms. He hadn’t seen his wife smile like that in a long time, since Marya had died, in fact. Thomas’ face, his eyes, the way he stood, all reminded him of his daughter. He wanted to move across the fire and join his wife, but he couldn’t make himself move. He could only stare at Thomas and marvel at the resemblance. He didn’t know what to say or do. He had never had a grandchild before, and the surprise of finding one
immobilized him.

  Rya adapted to surprises much better than he did. What galled him the most, though, was that he always knew what to say or do. So why couldn’t he do anything but watch his wife cradle Thomas in her arms? A small smile crept onto Rynlin’s face. He told himself that he was smiling for his wife, because she was so happy, but a voice in his head told him he was a liar. And if he denied it, he knew in his heart that the voice would win the ensuing argument. Just then, Rynlin saw a movement off to his left, up in the trees. A large raptor had settled onto one of the branches, its sharp claws digging into the bark. The raptor’s keen eyes took in the scene before it, watching closely. Rynlin stared at the bird in amazement. He knew that this wasn’t a coincidence. After a few long moments the bird nodded its approval. It then turned its attention to Rynlin. When they locked eyes, Rynlin noticed the warning. Silently, the raptor took flight, but its eyes remained with Rynlin. First a wolf and now a raptor. This was indeed a unique little boy.

  After a few minutes, his mind turned to other things, the first being Thomas’ report of the attack on the Crag. He had met Talyn Kestrel a few times before and respected him. He was a good man and a good ruler. If Thomas had been forced to escape, then Talyn was dead, because he knew that Talyn would have done everything in his power to protect him. When Marya had run off with Benlorin Kestrel against his wishes, he had thought of bringing her back, though he knew it would do no good. She would have simply run off again. But as a father, he still had to try. Talyn Kestrel had convinced him that his daughter would be all right that night he had snuck into the Crag to find his daughter and talk some sense into her.

  Rynlin had found Talyn waiting for him just outside the door that led to the rooms Benlorin and Marya shared. Talyn had known that he would come. Rynlin laughed to himself as he remembered the scene. The hallway almost completely dark, except for a few lanterns where the corridors crossed. Those lanterns had intrigued him immediately, and he had spent more time talking with Talyn about them than about his daughter. In the end, he had left satisfied that his daughter would be taken care of and that he needn’t worry. Talyn had promised to treat her like a daughter, and that was enough for Rynlin.