by Peter Wacht
A legend had begun soon after that. At first, only in the Highlands, but then it had spread to the edges of those Kingdoms butting up against that mountainous region, and from there to all the other Kingdoms. Probably all the way to the Distant Islands, he surmised. The legend said that the grandson survived, and that the Lost Kestrel would find his way home to take the throne of the Highlands when his people needed him most. But it was only a legend, and from the reports he had received, he didn't think anyone escaped from the Crag on that cursed night, least of all a child. Still, it could be true. He wanted it to be true.
Gregory looked back into the fire. Thinking of the Lost Kestrel stirred memories of Talyn. They had been friends, good friends, fighting Ogren, Shades, Fearhounds and worse, but never with the supposed skill of this boy. A legend come to life certainly would make things interesting. After several hours of contemplation, he decided it was time for sleep, but he wanted to talk to Kael first. He left his apartments in search of the Swordmaster, only to find him coming down the hallway toward his room. The man seemed to have a sixth sense. He always knew when Gregory needed him.
"Tomorrow, I'd like you to take a squad of soldiers and check out the Burren, especially around this lake where Kaylie was attacked."
"I was planning on that, my lord. I was curious about the boy." Kael had heard the story from Eric and Rohn. He had determined that both stories were too similar to be lies.
"If you happen to run into the boy, see if you can get him to come back with you," said Gregory. "I'd like to ask him a few questions and to thank him for what he did."
Kael nodded. "I will, my lord. But if this boy did half of what those two greenears told me this evening, we won't be finding him unless he wants to be found."
"I know. But it's worth a shot, isn't it?"
"Yes, my lord. It is."
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Target
Thomas and Rynlin stopped a few hours after full dark, finding shelter underneath a huge willow tree, Beluil having already gone off to explore the surrounding area. Its long, full branches formed a natural hut that protected them from the cold, whipped along by a sharp, biting wind. They ate a quick meal of bread, dried meat and cheese, as Rynlin didn’t want to chance a fire. Nightstalkers always worked alone, but the Shadow Lord would know immediately of this one’s demise.
The howl of a wolf broke the silence of the night from the west. Then another howl echoed the first, this time to the north. Beluil had found a pack. Rynlin relaxed somewhat as the howls of wolves drifted through the night. Wolves hated the creatures of the Dark Horde. Thomas watched his grandfather closely. Rynlin was talking to himself again. He did that when he was concerned. He probably thought that Thomas couldn't hear him, but he kept catching the words Sylvana, long night and boy. He didn't know what Rynlin was mumbling about, but he had a feeling it affected him in some way.
Seeing that his grandfather was occupied, Thomas drew on the Talent, extending his senses to see what was around them. He was right. Beluil was to the west, and he wasn't alone. He had found a pack of twenty to thirty wolves. Satisfied that nothing dangerous lurked in the immediate area, he pushed his senses to the south, toward Ballinasloe.
His breath caught for a moment when he stared down at the Rock. It looked very much like the Crag in the way it was built, with the huge slabs of stone instead of blocks, the dark forbidding color, the towers located strategically at the junctures of the walls. He watched the waves crash against the rocks surrounding the fortress before circling around the great keep and examining its layout.
This must be where the girl lived. There was something about her that drew him to her. She had been terrified when the two Ogren appeared, but that was only natural. More important, she had stood her ground. She had courage, and a confidence … no, that wasn't right. It was more like an inner strength. Maybe that was what attracted him to her. That and her eyes. Thomas couldn't get the picture of this girl out of his mind. He glanced at his grandfather, who was still sitting up against the base of the tree, deep in thought and mumbling to himself. He had never tried to find someone with the Talent before. He might as well give it a try now.
Thomas formed a picture of the girl in his mind — the dark, silky hair and deep, blue eyes — then centered his Talent on the image. In an instant he was inside the Rock in a room with a large fireplace. It was a simple room, with just a few chairs and a desk. His attention was automatically drawn to the books lining one wall. A library, but not as big as the one in his home. He wondered if there were any books on those shelves he had not yet read.
Thomas focused on the other side of the room, where a large fire glowed brightly in the fireplace. Two people sat in front of it. He had found the girl. She was discussing something with a man, by the looks of him her father. But who was she? He looked at the mantle above the fireplace, and then he knew. Carved into the wall was a large shield, and on it was a bear standing on its hind legs, poised to attack. The standard of Fal Carrach. That man had to be the king; Gregory if he remembered correctly. That made the girl his daughter. A princess. He couldn't believe it. What would a princess be doing in the Burren without guards? Those boys certainly weren’t there to protect her. If they'd actually thought of drawing their swords, and succeeded, they were more a danger to themselves than to the Ogren.
"Are you done eavesdropping?"
"I wasn't eavesdropping," said Thomas, letting go of the Talent. "I just wanted to make sure that the girl and her friends got back home safely."
"Uh, huh," murmured Rynlin.
Rynlin didn't believe him, but there was no reason to argue. Once his grandfather made up his mind about something, nothing could sway him.
"Anything around that we should be worried about?" asked Rynlin.
"No," replied Thomas. "Beluil found some friends."
Rynlin nodded. The howls of wolves and the sounds of other nighttime animals gave Thomas a sense of security. A silence in the forest always meant danger.
"So why did you help them?" asked Rynlin. He was certain it just wasn't because of a pretty girl, though men had been known to do stranger things for less.
"It was the right thing to do."
"So you were just doing the right thing?"
"Yes and no."
"What do you mean yes and no? Either you were doing the right thing or you weren't."
Thomas looked at his grandfather for a moment. Was Rynlin really as irritated as his voice sounded, or he was trying to get a rise out of him? The sharp-eyed sorcerer seemed at ease. His face wasn't as red as it got when he became angry. Thomas decided not to fall for the bait.
"Yes, I did it because it was the right thing to do," he replied calmly. "But there was something else as well. The fact that the Ogren were in the Burren seemed wrong. No, it was wrong. I felt the pain of the forest when I walked among the trees. That's the main reason. I wanted to eliminate the pain."
His grandfather smiled. In the darkness, even without a fire, Thomas could still see it. He had been right. His grandfather had tried to bait him.
Rynlin examined his grandson, pleased by his response. He had a feeling that might be the case, but he had to be sure. Rynlin had the distinct feeling that Thomas' dreams about unicorns were visiting him almost every night now. It wouldn't be long before it was time.
"You know, Thomas, you did a brave thing today. It was also extremely dangerous. You need to be careful in a situation like that. One mistake can kill you."
"I know, Rynlin. I was careful, or rather as careful as the circumstances allowed."
"I know you were, Thomas. I just want you to understand that you have to weigh all the risks before making a decision."
"That's why I did what I did. I didn't have time to do much else. If I had waited any longer some of those people would have died."
"You're right," said Rynlin, nodding his agreement. "But why didn't you use your Talent?"
His grandfather looked as if he had asked a trick quest
ion, so Thomas took a moment to think. If he answered quickly, and didn't give the reply Rynlin wanted to hear, he could be up all night stuck in the middle of another of his grandfather’s lectures. Besides, with the excitement of the day having waned, and with it his adrenaline, he was getting tired.
"I did think about it," he began. "It just wasn't appropriate. You and Rya explained that people who used the Talent or Dark Magic could sense when another used it. I didn't want to attract any attention. Besides, with Beluil there to help me, taking on two Ogren wasn't all that difficult."
"You're bragging."
"No, I'm telling the truth," said Thomas. He was getting angry now. That was definitely one trait he had picked up from the grandfather sitting across from him — a very short temper. "Both you and Rya made certain that I knew my strengths and my limitations, and the weapons training has drilled that into me even more. When I say I can fight two Ogren, I mean exactly that, and I think I’ve proven it."
Again Rynlin smiled. It was good to see that all the hard work he and his wife had put into Thomas was paying off. The boy actually listened to them. Rynlin saw that overconfidence, even arrogance, were foreign to Thomas' personality. The boy knew what he could do and what he couldn't do. That knowledge would serve him well in the future.
They were quiet for a time, listening to the music of the forest provided by the crickets and the owls. A raccoon even walked into their shelter and was startled to see it occupied. Still, not viewing Thomas or Rynlin as a threat, he curled up to sleep where the low-hanging branches met the ground.
"The Nightstalker was after me, wasn't it?" Because of Thomas' cold certainty, his question came out more like a statement.
Rynlin didn't say anything. He was trying to think of the best way to reply.
"Have you had any more dreams about unicorns?" He wanted to change the subject. Talking about the Nightstalker depressed him.
"Yes, almost every night now."
Rynlin nodded. He had expected that, but it was always good to confirm what you didn't know for a fact. It definitely wouldn't be long now.
"The Nightstalker was after me."
Ah, well. Thinking that he could change the course of Thomas' thoughts was foolish. Rynlin decided that the best course was to tell Thomas everything. Where one Nightstalker appeared, another could take its place the next day, and another the day after. It was better that Thomas knew what he was up against so he could be prepared. Still, Rynlin felt sad. This young man had never had the opportunity to be a young man. It truly was a cruel world.
"Why do you ask?"
"You're dodging the question."
Rynlin studied his grandson. His green eyes flashed with remarkable intensity. Rynlin realized that it would be very difficult for someone to lie to Thomas. If his grandson didn't smell the lie from the start, the person would wilt under that hard glare. He probably picked that up from Rya, and those glowing eyes of his added an intimidation factor lacking in the glare of his wife. It was remarkable how a woman who came no higher than his chest could have such a commanding presence.
Rynlin chuckled inwardly as his thoughts turned to his wife. "It could have been after me, you know.”
"Do you really believe that, Rynlin? I’ve been off the Isle of Mist for less than a day, and the Nightstalker immediately appears. You've gone off the island many times, and you never once mentioned running into something like that. You and Rya never let me off the island. Ever. I know you've got wards all around the island, hiding us from those who can use Dark Magic, and that must hinder a Nightstalker's abilities as well. The Nightstalker hunts until its prey is found, you said. It found me."
The boy was smart. He had pieced together the puzzle very well, and he didn't even have all the pieces. What surprised Rynlin, though, was the way Thomas explained it. There was no fear in his voice, as there should have been. At least Rynlin thought so. If you told a battle-scarred veteran of a dozen wars that a Nightstalker was after him, he'd wet his pants in fear. But Thomas wasn't afraid, he just wanted to know the truth.
"Yes, the Nightstalker was most likely after you."
"Why?"
"For the same reason that you can't return to the Highlands yet. If you ran into the wrong people, you would be killed on sight."
"Killeran?"
"Yes, probably Killeran, since he's in league with the High King. Rodric most likely arranged the attack on the Crag and your murder, but I’m sure you’ve already thought of that possibility. If you had died like they wanted, Rodric would now rule the Highlands and probably a few other Kingdoms as well. Because your death has not been confirmed, he must wait, at least a few more years, before he can put into motion whatever plans he might have."
"Why don't the other rulers do something to stop him?"
"That would be the logical solution, wouldn't it?" said Rynlin, shaking his head sadly. "But some Kingdoms don't care because their rulers lack any political acuity, some might be in league with Rodric and too blind to see that he will stab them in the back as soon as he can, and some probably have already guessed at what Rodric wants to do, but until there's actual proof, there's nothing they can do."
"If Rodric is behind all this, how could he have the power to control a Nightstalker? He’s just a man."
"He doesn't," said Rynlin.
"So he has another ally, a hidden ally," said Thomas. "One who has the power to control a Nightstalker."
"Very good, Thomas. You've done better than most of the people who consider themselves experts in political maneuvering."
"That leaves only one possible ally."
Rynlin nodded.
"But why would he want me dead?"
Rynlin shrugged. He thought he knew the answer, he just didn't want to tell Thomas. Not yet, anyway. Not until he was sure. His grandson had enough to worry about for now. But soon he'd have to know. And then the hard decisions would have to be made, decisions that would affect not only Thomas, but everyone around him as well. It was really a frightening thought, which was why Rynlin didn't burden him with it.
"I won't run from him," said Thomas, his voice filled with cold determination. "I won't."
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The Call of the Sylvana
By Peter Wacht
Book 2 of The Sylvan Chronicles
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright 2019 © by Peter Wacht
Cover design by Ebooklaunch.com
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
Published in the United States by Kestrel Media Group LLC.
ISBN: 978-1-950236-02-2
eBook ISBN: 978-1-950236-03-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019901433
For Jacob and Michaela.
Thank you for reminding me
about what’s really important.
CHAPTER ONE
New Direction
Rynlin said it would be just another training session. Thomas hadn't believed him then, and he certainly didn't believe him now. One thing he had learned while living on the Isle of Mist was that Rynlin liked routine. He was comfortable with it, which was one of the reasons why Thomas' day was so regimented. Having a weapons session in the morning struck him as odd, and the fact that Rynlin now w
atched him with the eyes of a hawk made it meaningful, as his grandfather rarely observed his martial training. Though Rynlin munched calmly on an apple while using the massive root of the nearest heart tree as a seat, the gleam in his eye spoke volumes of his interest in the struggle unfolding before him.
Thomas’ grandfather was a tall man, slim but with a deceptive strength. His piercing, green eyes held an intensity that frightened most men and accentuated the sharp features of his face. The short black beard flecked with grey gave him an almost dastardly appearance. If anyone had the courage to tell him so, he would have smiled and thanked them for the compliment.
Rynlin had been back for less than a week, and since then every day offered a new test for Thomas to pass. The previous night, Thomas had again been up past midnight answering questions presented by Rynlin and Rya regarding the Sylvana. The questions came rapidly, with little time to answer. Many times his grandparents spoke over one another, increasing the difficulty. The questions he answered incorrectly yesterday he would have to answer correctly tonight. And if he got them wrong again … well, he didn't want to think about that. Neither Rynlin nor Rya was known for their patience. Thomas told himself to stop letting his mind wander and instead focus on the task at hand.
Not the tallest of lads, Thomas’ constant training had given him broad shoulders and a wiry strength. Pushing several strands of wavy brown hair from his brow, he turned his sharp green eyes to the figures standing across from him. These and the other spirits he fought against during training were brought forth by Rynlin, using in the Talent in a way that Thomas had yet to learn. Usually when he practiced in the ring, he faced one opponent. Today he fought three men known as shock troopers. They were the vanguard of what had once been the army of the Perosian Empire, which for a time had stretched along the western coast of what are now Kashel, Inishmore, and Ferranagh, and included both the Western Isle and the Distant Islands.
