by Peter Wacht
The female raptor gazed at Thomas, her eyes seeing through the Talent at the man beneath. It knew him. How, he couldn't explain, but the female raptor knew him. Could it be the same one he had seen so many times before at the Crag? He always assumed that that particular raptor made the Crag and its surrounding territory its home because it was a good place to hunt. Maybe it stayed for another reason.
For several minutes they flew, the two raptors side by side, never separated by more than a few feet. Thomas glanced over at the other raptor several times. The recognition of who he was remained, and with it was a feeling of approval, and pride. Then, with a squawk of farewell, the smaller raptor tipped its wing and turned back the way it had come. Abruptly, Thomas felt a sharp sense of loss, as if something precious had been taken from him.
Thomas, what have you been up to? He heard his grandmother’s words, though they came from a great distance.
Nothing, he replied.
Well, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd join us. We're almost there. Rya sounded put out. Rynlin must have gotten under her skin during the bickering. It was just one of his grandfather’s many talents.
I'll be right there. Thomas increased the stroke of his wings, straining for more altitude. The higher you were, the stronger the wind currents. You could go farther faster and not have to expend as much energy. He was soon several hundred feet above his grandparents and gaining on them quickly.
There. The two hawks were just below. If they were almost there, it meant it was time to get serious. A lot was riding on his shoulders, placed there by both himself and his grandparents. Well, that didn't mean he couldn't have just one last bit of fun.
Drawing his wings into his sides, he tilted his body downward. He quickly picked up speed as he hurtled toward the earth. The rush was incredible. He had never experienced anything like it before. As the two hawks grew bigger, Thomas adjusted his positioning slightly. In a blur, he streaked past Rynlin and Rya no more than ten feet in front of them. The two hawks halted their flight in surprise, squawking angrily.
Thomas, that was the most childish thing you have ever —
Oh, leave the boy alone, Rya. He was just having a little fun.
Thomas was right. Rynlin had gotten a few of his own zings in during their argument. That was the only thing that could explain his grandfather's magnanimity. He had expected a tongue-lashing from both, but it would have been worth it. Rya bit back her words and they flew on in silence for several more minutes to the northwest when both Rynlin and Rya began climbing higher, reaching for a greater height. Thomas followed their example.
Thomas knew that several of the tallest mountains in the Highlands rose several leagues from tip to base. But the ones they neared exceeded even that. These mountains were immense, dwarfing everything around them. He and his grandparents continued to push for more height, until finally they leveled out. The trees below them were no more than a mass of green now separated from time to time by the whitened tip of a mountain. Rynlin led them over the towering peaks, much of their size hidden by the clouds that formed around their sides.
After they passed the first few, Rynlin angled downward, with Thomas and Rya following. One peak stood out from those surrounding it, rising almost a league higher than any of the others. It was the tallest mountain Thomas had ever seen. It must be the tallest in the Highlands, and probably the tallest in all the Kingdoms.
You're absolutely correct, Thomas, said Rya, reading his thoughts. It’s all of those. It’s Athala’s Forge, where the Sylvana first gathered.
Are we going there now, asked Thomas, excited by the possibility, and afraid.
No, not yet. We'll make camp for the night and go to the Circle tomorrow. You'll need your rest to overcome the challenges.
The challenges. He had forgotten about that during the past few hours. His worry returned in a rush.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Circle
The next morning Thomas woke at dawn. The cold turned his breath to a white mist as he rolled out of his blankets. Rynlin and Rya had already started cooking breakfast over the small fire. Bread and porridge. Something that would stick to his bones, as his grandmother liked to say. As he walked to a nearby stream to wash the sleep from his eyes, his feet crunched softly in the hardened snow. Brushing the frigid water into his scraggly hair, he remembered the discussion from the night before.
When Rynlin landed in the small glade, he and Rya showed him how to change back to his normal shape. Thomas immediately realized just how exhausting shapechanging was. Every muscle in his body felt weak, and he couldn’t even stand up straight. He kept swaying from side to side as his muscles twinged and spasmed, protesting what he had just done.
"The more difficult a thing you do with the Talent, the harder it is on you physically," Rya reminded him. "And changing your shape is one of the most taxing things you could ever do with the Talent. But don't worry, dear, the more you do it, the easier it will become, and the less of a burden it will be. Before you know it, changing shape and flying across the Highlands will take no more of your energy than searching."
Thomas simply nodded during his grandmother's explanation. He didn't have the strength to do anything else. He was having a hard enough time just keeping his eyes open, though it was still only early evening. He watched in a dreamy haze as Rynlin set up camp and got a fire going while Rya prepared a vegetable stew for the evening meal. The ingredients came from the small bag of supplies she always carried with her. The bag at her hip was truly remarkable, mused Thomas. No larger than a small sack, it never grew bigger even though Rya continued to pull out vegetables and cooking supplies.
Thomas had hoped to go to sleep early, but not this night. For the next few hours, his grandparents reviewed everything Thomas had ever learned about the Sylvana, as well as a few things that slipped through the cracks of his memory during his lessons. At first flying seemed like the most exhausting thing he had ever experienced, until now. Even after covering the entire history of the Sylvana, Rynlin and Rya weren’t finished. They then told him about each Sylvan Warrior he could expect to meet at the Circle, providing Thomas with a brief description so he would recognize each one.
Later, with the moon halfway across the sky, his grandparents finally let him curl up beneath his blankets by the fire. Unfortunately, his brain refused to turn off and the evening's events played repeatedly through his mind. When he finally fell into a restless slumber, it seemed as if only minutes had passed when his grandfather shook him awake and pushed him off in the direction of the stream. They would leave for the Circle within the hour.
After clearing his head as best he could — the cold water could do only so much — and wolfing down some bread and cheese along with his porridge, Thomas walked to the other side of the clearing to think as Rynlin and Rya cleaned up their small camp. Today's events, regardless of the outcome, would have a tremendous effect on his life. When he left the Crag, his only desire was to survive, to make it out alive so he could fulfill the promises he made to his grandfather. He never expected to find a home, one in which he felt comfortable and safe. After today, unless he failed, he doubted he would ever have that feeling of security again. His life was about to change dramatically, yet for the good or bad he didn’t know.
"Thomas, it's time to go."
Rya placed a hand of support on her grandson’s shoulder. Rynlin stood in the middle of the glade, their travel bags slung over his shoulder, a confident smile brightening his normally forbidding appearance. His grandfather really must be worried about him. It was the only way to explain Rynlin smiling so early in the morning.
"Remember what we talked about yesterday and you'll do fine," said Rynlin, trying to keep Thomas’ spirits up.
Thomas nodded and followed his grandparents into the trees. The air was crisp and cold, helping him gather his wits. He tried to clear his mind of everything except what he was about to do, but he failed miserably and his worries returned tenfold. Would
he succeed? Would he overcome the challenges? Could he become a Sylvan Warrior? And if he did, what would happen next? Each worry multiplied into more until Thomas could no longer keep track of them all.
They followed a small, dirt trail that led up a slight incline. The trees pushed in on both sides, forcing Thomas to dodge the branches Rynlin held out of the way for Rya, but then let whip backwards to take Thomas full in the face. Thomas gritted his teeth in irritation, not realizing that his worries disappeared as his anger increased, much as Rynlin intended. Soon the trail leveled off and the trees thinned out. Thomas followed after his grandparents doggedly, staring daggers at Rynlin's back. Some of those branches had connected, and because of the cold the sting hurt all the more. After about a half-hour they reached the summit of Athala’s Forge, the tallest mountain in the Kingdoms. The Circle stood before him on a plateau that stretched on into the distance.
The huge stone columns dominated everything around them. Most were two or three times the size of a normal man, each one several feet thick and only allowing for a short space between them. Once, their sides had displayed a sharp edge, but time, wind and the elements had worked against them, until their sharp sides became smooth. Strangely, the tops of the columns appeared untouched, retaining their original form — a pyramid several feet tall, a unicorn's horn carved into each face.
Thomas swept his gaze over the monoliths, captured by their stark beauty. The columns served as the outer boundary of the Circle, and in the very center of the stone giants stood an even larger stone, rising well above the other columns and reaching toward the sky like a beacon. It, too, had lost its sharp edges. Small steps, pitted and scarred by the elements but still intact, ran up one side to the flattened top.
Rynlin and Rya made their way toward the Circle as Thomas took in the structure. There were so many questions Thomas wanted to ask, yet both had serious expressions on their faces that did not invite conversation. The closer they got to the Circle, the more nervous Thomas became. As the first stone loomed up in front of them, Rynlin and Rya stopped. Rya gave him a quick hug before hurrying through the space between two columns. Rynlin nodded then stepped through as well. The time finally had arrived. At the end of the day he would know if he was meant to join the ranks of the Sylvana, and perhaps something more of his future then he really wanted to know.
Taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies that congregated in his stomach, Thomas walked between the two stones and stopped. Only a Sylvan Warrior could enter without an invitation, so he waited. To keep his legs from shaking because of his nervousness, he examined his surroundings. The Circle wasn't very large at all, it just seemed that way because of the monstrous stones that served as its boundary. Several dozen people deep in discussion stood in small groups. They had not yet noticed him. Rynlin and Rya ignored the others and walked across the Circle, going past the huge stone in the center and then standing in front of two columns.
Thomas studied some of the faces. Many appeared familiar thanks to Rynlin and Rya's lesson from the night before. Daran Sharban was the Sylvan Warrior who lived at the edge of the Highlands where it touched the Breaker. It was hard to misplace the curly red hair and beard and twinkling eyes. Rynlin always said that even though Daran was several hundred years old, the boy had never left him when he had become a man. Most of the Sylvan Warriors wore somber expressions; Daran an easy smile.
Some of the others he guessed at. A short, bald man with a few wisps of white hair falling victim to the strong breeze of the plateau must be Tiro of Dunmoor. He stood at the base of the large column in the center of the Circle, known as the Stone. Thomas ran his eyes over the other Sylvan Warriors. The short man with the long, white beard that ran halfway down his chest must be Gavin of Ferranagh. He lived right next to the Western Ocean and was speaking with Teresa Nasoul. She called the Western Isle home. Thomas recognized her because of her silky white hair. Remarkably, she looked no older than he.
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 nee
d 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.
