by Peter Wacht
Rynlin cleared his head of the dark thoughts, settling into his chair by the fire. It was too soon to know if he was right. But a small part of him worried, and he knew that Rya worried too.
"What's troubling you, my love?"
"Nothing," she replied in a quiet voice, wiping her wet hands on her apron and sitting down in a chair across from her husband. She was not very good at hiding things from him, not after being married to him for so long.
"Rya," Rynlin chided. She waited a few minutes before answering, but Rynlin knew that she would.
"I'm worried about Thomas." Thomas had nearly fallen asleep in his chair during dinner, his mind and body tired from the day's activities. And this was just the beginning. He had dragged himself up to bed soon afterward, his sword hanging in its scabbard from a bedpost.
"How so?"
"He's a boy, Ryn, but you're pushing him hard."
"He's not a boy, Rya," countered Rynlin, leaning forward in his chair, his sinewy forearms resting on his knees. "He's never been a boy. Ever since he joined us here, he's been a man. He couldn't be anything else after growing up in the Crag the way he did, and then having to escape from it."
"Maybe so, Ryn. But in many ways he's still a boy," said Rya, her voice firm, unwilling to concede the point. "You pushed him hard today."
Rynlin flopped back in his chair, arms dangling over the rests. A sigh of resignation escaped from his lips. He should have expected this.
"Of course I pushed him hard, and I'm going to push him even harder tomorrow, and the next day, and the next …” Rya shushed him. Rynlin's voice was getting louder with each word, and she didn't want him to wake Thomas.
"But you don't have to push him so hard. Thomas is not Marya. You don't have to take your anger out on him. He's not going to run off and marry a Highlander like she did."
"Take my anger out on him? Take my anger out on him?" His voice rose in irritation. When Rynlin had been instructing Thomas during the day, he had never been angry. He had been proud. But now he was angry. "I did no such thing. There's no reason to bring Marya into this. My anger is long gone from that, and it left me completely when I saw Thomas for the first time. Fine, I didn't handle it well when she left. I've come to terms with it now. I know I made a mistake. You don't have to keep reminding me."
They were quiet for a few moments, both letting their emotions drop from a boil to a simmer.
"I'm sorry," said Rya. "That was uncalled for." Rynlin still glared at her. She knew she was only taking her anger out on him as a way to deal with the uneasy feeling she was having now, the feeling that had stayed with her for a few days.
"You felt it, too," said Rynlin. "You felt it in the wind this evening, like before, when darkness marched from the north." The anger drained away, replaced by calm and purpose.
"Yes," said Rya. "I felt it. I think I've been sensing it for the last few days; this evening for sure. It's starting all over again."
"Yes, but this time we might be able to end it once and for all," said Rynlin, holding his wife's eyes with his own.
"You think Thomas—"
"Yes, I do. Ever since he got here I've been reading, and rereading, the prophecies. I always come back to that one passage.” Rynlin sat up in his chair and held out his hands before him. “I know, Rya. I know,” he said, cutting off her protests before she could voice them. “I know every line of the prophecies has more than one meaning, and that there are always two or more courses of action whenever the prophecies come to a time for decision. As murky and obscure as the prophecies may be, I think it all fits.”
"He has much to worry about already, Rynlin. He's Lord of the Highlands, in name anyway. If what you say is true, this new legacy may be more of a curse than a blessing."
"That's why I'm pushing him, Rya. That's why I have to push him. I hope we're both wrong. I hope we're just two old codgers afraid of the wind. But—"
"But you don't think we are."
"No, I don't. I think we're right. And I'm sure some of our friends, and enemies, are coming to the same conclusion. That's why I pushed Thomas so hard today and will push even harder tomorrow. I hope we're wrong. I really do. But we can't afford to take that chance. That's why he has to be ready. He has much to do in his life, and he needs to be prepared. I won't let my grandson, my only grandson, die. That's why I think it's time he learned about some of the things we've been keeping from him."
"I know," said Rya. "I agree with you." Rya had listened to her husband intently, seeing the same fire in his eyes that had attracted her to him. He had always believed in what he was doing with a passion, but when Marya ran away, that fire had died down, as if he had lost some of his purpose in life. Everyone had a purpose in life, some more than others, even if they didn’t realize it. For some that purpose meant working as a blacksmith or jeweler or cobbler. For others it meant something else. She and Rynlin, along with a few select others, had perhaps the most important purpose of any in the Kingdoms. She stared deeply into her husband’s piercing green eyes. The fire had returned. It was raging within him, looking for a way to escape its bonds.
Rising from her chair, she sat down on Rynlin's lap, slipping her arm around her husband's neck and laying her head on his chest. She felt Rynlin's arms, the strength still there after all those years, hug her to him. They stayed like that well into the night. A time of change was coming. For better or worse, they didn't know. In their hearts, even if they didn't want to believe it, they knew their grandson was in the center of it all.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Dark and Light
The next day was very much like the last for Thomas, though this time Rya instructed him in the Talent instead of Rynlin. He learned that she had a great ability with the weather. He marveled at the storm clouds she created on what was a sunny day, and the rain that fell where she directed. Again, it was a struggle in the beginning, but by the end of the lesson he had achieved a better understanding of what he was doing. He had even succeeded in controlling his own storm cloud, though it was much smaller than Rya’s. That afternoon, Rynlin again brought him down to the glade, which he now called the Ring, for another training session. This time, he found himself facing a different spirit, a young fellow named Ari. He soon found that his other name, the one used most often in the history books, was The Archer. Thomas quickly learned why.
The Archer laughed at first upon seeing his new pupil, throwing a large bow into his hands. Ari himself stood almost seven feet tall, with a bow slightly larger. His opinion changed rapidly. Thomas’ skill with the bow was obvious from the start, so much so that the bow appeared to be a normal extension of his arm. Nevertheless, Thomas found that he still had much to learn from Ari, and that like fighting with Antonin, the physical abilities of a warrior played only a small part. Mental strength and determination were required as well.
After two hours of shooting the bow, he spent the rest of the afternoon practicing his concentration with the Archer. At the end of the session Ari had him cut down a sapling growing not far from the Ring so Thomas could make a new bow. Then, much to his surprise, and displeasure, when he got back to the house in the late afternoon, his other lessons and chores still waited for him. Thomas quickly realized that his life was becoming much more difficult, and there was nothing he could do about it.
That evening Thomas rushed through his meal, using the last of his bread to capture the rich gravy of that night's stew. He still had some firewood to chop, and he couldn’t get to work on his bow until he had finished. Ari had shown him the first steps in shaping a bow from a length of wood, and he wanted to get at it right away. He was halfway out of his chair when he discovered that other plans had been made for him.
"Don't worry about the firewood, Thomas," said Rya. "I think we've got plenty for tonight."
Thomas stopped in his tracks, one leg toward the door, the other still under the table. They had never let him escape his chores before, even when he was sick. In fact, even if he was so ill
he could barely stand up, they'd still send him out for pieces of wood in a driving rainstorm, telling him, "It builds character." Sitting back down, he looked warily at Rynlin, then Rya.
"Why not?" he asked suspiciously. He didn't like surprises. They usually included unpleasant consequences.
"Don't worry, Thomas," said Rya. "We just wanted to talk to you about something that we both think you should know. You're growing up very quickly, faster than we realized in fact." Thomas had absolutely no idea where this conversation was going. He liked that even less.
Rynlin leaned forward, crossing his arms and resting them on the table.
"You look like a cornered rabbit, Thomas. Relax. There's nothing to worry about."
"Thomas," cut in Rya, "we were wondering. You've picked up the skills we've shown you regarding the Talent very quickly. How do you do it?" She and Rynlin had discussed this earlier in the day. They wanted to approach their real topic for the evening carefully, and they thought this would be the perfect avenue.
"How do I use the Talent?"
"Yes."
"I imagine the same way the both of you do."
"Well, actually," broke in Rynlin, "everyone does it a little differently." They both looked at him with the sharp eyes of two raptors. He felt like a cornered deer.
"I don't know," he said, again having a hard time explaining something that seemed so much a part of him. Trying to describe it exactly was impossible, so he thought of an analogy instead. "I guess you could say it's like opening a door that was blocked from the outside. At first, when I was very young, I'd push on the door as hard as I could, struggling to force it open. But I couldn't. Then, with time, I was able to nudge it just a little, then a little more. Now, with the lessons that you and Rya have given me, I've been able to push it open even farther. It's still a struggle, but it's much easier than before. "I don't know exactly why that is. I assume it's because I'm learning how to use the Talent. I do know one thing. The more I open the door, the closer I feel to nature." Thomas crinkled his nose for a moment. That wasn't quite right.
"I feel as if I'm more a part of nature, as if I belong there. I can't really describe it. It just feels right. I feel more alive, and more at peace too. It's just—"
"Thomas, you don't have to explain anymore," said Rya. "I think Rynlin and I understand quite well."
Thomas relaxed visibly, slouching back in his chair, shoulders bent. This one time, Rya let him get away with it. She always told him that standing and sitting up straight added inches to his frame. He'd need that in the future. He wasn't very tall and knew that wasn't going to change.
"You see," continued Rya, "Rynlin and I do much the same thing when we use the Talent. The difference, though, is that we know our limits. We can open the door only so far. But you, Thomas, you're different. You don't know it yet, but we do. One day you'll be able to open the door all the way."
Thomas stiffened and moved his eyes over to Rya, and then Rynlin.
"Yes, Thomas," said Rynlin, seeing the recognition. "You are stronger than us, or rather will be. You simply haven't learned as much as we have. But with time—" Rynlin trailed off, shrugging his shoulders and himself leaning back in his chair.
"But you and Rya are two of the strongest in the Talent," he protested. "Two of the strongest in all the Kingdoms."
"Yes, we are," said Rynlin. "And some day you will be stronger than us."
Before Thomas could really sink his teeth into that admission, Rya jumped in. Now was the time. She hoped it wouldn't be too much of a shock.
"Thomas, there are a few who are as strong as us in the Talent, or if they don't have the Talent, have achieved a closeness to nature that cannot be matched by others. They form a special group, and Rynlin and I are part of this group."
"The Sylvana," he whispered, his mind working furiously.
"Yes, the Sylvana," confirmed Rynlin.
"Thomas," said Rya, drawing his eyes. She wanted to make sure that he understood what she was going to say next. "As I said, only a few are members of the Sylvana, because of that closeness to nature. You have that closeness to nature, a closeness greater than any we know."
Thomas couldn't tear his eyes away from Rya. It felt as if the pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together in the back of his mind. His skill with the Talent. His friendship with Beluil. The feeling of comfort he enjoyed while in the forest. Still, it was almost too much for him to comprehend.
"Then you're saying I could be a member of the Sylvana, too."
"Yes, Thomas, you could," said Rynlin, leaning forward. "In time, if you so choose, and you overcome the challenges, then you may join us." Reaching into his shirt, Rynlin pulled out his necklace, the silver amulet catching the light of the fire. Rya pulled out hers as well. "You see, this necklace is more than just a remembrance of the Keldragan family. It is also given to each member of the Sylvana. You wear your mother's now, more a keepsake than anything else, but you know the power it contains."
Thomas' hand automatically went to his chest, feeling the gritty texture of the unicorn's horn beneath his shirt. He nodded. The amulet had brought him to safety while escaping the Crag.
"If you join the Sylvana," continued Rynlin, "you will receive your own necklace. In a way it will tie you to us. You'll find that out when you join us."
Thomas knew with a certainty that Rynlin had not spoken mistakenly. When you join us. Rynlin was expecting him to become a member of the Sylvana, and from the look on Rya's face, she expected it as well. It was an exciting possibility. Rynlin knew that Thomas had read about the Sylvana before. That had been the only time Thomas had answered one of his dreaded questions correctly. The Sylvana, or Sylvan Warriors as they were also known, protected the Kingdoms and nature from the Shadow Lord. They had last ridden forth during the Great War, when they stood at the Breaker against the hordes of Ogren, Shades, warlocks and other hideous beasts that had come from the north.
"The Sylvan Warriors," he said. Legends come to life. Two were his grandparents, and he could be one as well. "Neither of you carry any weapons. Do the other Sylvana?"
"Some do," said Rynlin. "Others don't. It really depends on their abilities. It doesn't matter how we fight the Shadow Lord, it simply matters that we do." At the mention of the Shadow Lord, a chill ran through Thomas' body, as if he had been touched by ice. Instinctively, he looked to the north. He felt drawn there, as if that was where he was supposed to be. Not now. No, not yet. But at some time in the future. A future that didn’t feel very far away.
Rynlin continued, "As I said, some Sylvan Warriors have the Talent; others don't. That's not what determines their worth as a Sylvan Warrior. Rather, it is their closeness to nature. As you already know, there are other ways to fight than just with metal."
In a flash, a small ball of fire appeared in Rynlin's hand, less than a fingerbreadth from his palm. Thomas was mesmerized by it, as he watched the orange flame turn white hot, then back again, in a never-ending process.
"Remember that Thomas. Remember what Ari explained to you earlier today. Strength plays a part in any fight, whether with the Talent or steel, but it's what's in here," said Rynlin, pointing to his head and his heart, "that will determine the victor.”
"This," continued Rynlin, grabbing hold of the sword propped against the table, "is easy to fight with, but this," the ball of fire grew rapidly in size, outgrowing Rynlin’s palm, "requires a bit more skill."
Thomas sat back in his chair, impressed by Rynlin's display.
"Stop that, Rynlin," snapped Rya. "Your showing off is not helping matters any. Let's get back to what we were discussing." The ball of fire disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Rynlin huffed in indignation, but Rya ignored it. When she had something to do, she did it, and she wouldn't let anything, or anyone, get in her way.
A scratch at the door interrupted the conversation. Thomas rose and opened it. Beluil sat there on his haunches, waiting patiently. In his mind he formed a greeting, which was returned by the large b
lack wolf as he padded silently to the fireplace and lay down on his favorite rug. It would be a cold night. As confirmation, a strong gust of wind rustled the leaves of their home and gusted through the door. Thomas quickly pushed the door closed and moved his chair closer to the fireplace.
"We have told you some of this before, but not all of it," she said. "As you know from your readings, the Sylvan Warriors are a small group of women and men dedicated to perhaps the most important task in all the world. "The stories say that we, the Sylvana, are the guardians of the forest. In a sense, that is true. But it is not completely accurate. Rather, we are the guardians of nature. As a result, one of our primary duties is to protect the forests and the creatures that live within them, for the forests are the focal points of nature. They are the greatest and most prominent example of nature's power, and its goodness—"
"You see, Thomas," said Rynlin, "it is because of the forests that there is life. It's what sustains us. Thousands of years ago there was a specific sect of people known as druids, who supposedly gained mystical powers from the forests and in return cared for the trees. A tree can provide many things. Shade for the weary. Food for the hungry. Protection from the elements. Without trees, life would end."
"And that's why we do what we do," interrupted Rya. "We keep the forest healthy and strong."
"You care for the trees?" asked Thomas, slightly confused.
"No, not in the way you mean," said Rya. "The trees of the forest are a part of nature, and they will live or die as nature desires, according to the basic rules of life. For example, the tree that stands closer to the sun has a better chance of survival than one that is shielded from it. Nature does not play favorites. Instead, we protect the forests, and nature, from what it cannot fight back against. We protect the forests from what can kill it."
