The Sylvan Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3

by Peter Wacht

  "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 next 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 conce
ntration 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!”

  Thomas looked at the figure of his mother, his feet rooted to the branch as he took in everything about her. She appeared just as he had dreamed of her. Then he noticed her eyes. In his dreams, they were green, playful and full of life. Now they were black and lifeless, filled with the cold of the grave. Marya inched closer to him again. Thomas stepped back in response.

  “No, I can’t. I must—”

  “Come with me, Thomas! Come with me now!” Marya shrieked. Thomas danced back from her. The tiny voice in his mind finally broke its chain, screaming at him to run, to get away. This couldn’t be happening. Talyn would never lie to him. His mother was dead.

  The figure before him, sensing his fear, charged forward. Thomas dodged out of the way, almost falling from the branch. Luckily, he maintained his balance. The creature that was Marya screeched in anger at missing its prey and turned back toward him. Thomas watched in horror as Marya’s hands changed into twisted claws, her face becoming a mask of hatred, the skin tightening around her skull and her eyes burning a bright red. A ghoul stood before him now.

  The voice in his mind told him to stay away, and he knew with certainty that one touch from the ghoul would mean his death. But now this creature blocked his path. The ghoul lunged for him, hungry for a warm soul. With nowhere else to go, Thomas jumped down from his perch, falling twenty feet through the air to the branch below him. His feet slipped off the bark as he landed awkwardly, but he caught the limb with his hands, ignoring the pain that shot through his palms as the rough bark bit into his flesh. He quickly pulled himself onto the branch and saw the ghoul looking down at him evilly, not yet willing to end the pursuit.

  Giving in to his instincts, Thomas ran across the branch in a burst of speed, hoping to escape the creature. He tried to regain his concentration, but his fear prevented it. He sensed the ghoul as it followed along above him, easily tracking his movements. For several minutes he ran from tree to tree, his terror driving him forward. When would the forest end? The ghoul kept up with him easily. When?

  A bolt of fear shot through him as he heard a thud behind him. The creature had jumped down onto his branch. The ghoul screeched in triumph, confident of its victory, knowing it was almost time to feed. Not daring to look back, Thomas ran across the branches, the tiny voice in his mind screaming in terror. He felt the ghoul reaching for him, and he imagined the dead hand closing around his shoulder, draining the life from his body. Ignoring his fear, Thomas focused on the branches before him. The unnatural darkness was growing lighter. He was almost there. Almost—

  Sensing the ghoul was gaining, now only a few fingers away, Thomas jumped down from the branch, landing heavily on the one below. The ghoul howled in anger, having come so close to its prize and then losing its chance. Thomas didn’t wait to see what it would do. He had reached the edge of the forest.

  Jumping down onto the limb of one of the trees that nestled up against the mountains, he started the difficult climb down. He ignored the cuts and scrapes on his hands as he used the branches as a ladder, his fear threatening to choke him. The ghoul followed him down the tree, and it was gaining as its claws tore into the rough bark. Its raspy breath sounded like a death knell in Thomas’ ears. After reaching the lowest limb, he still had more than a hundred feet to go before his feet touched the ground. Feeling the urgency of his situation, he hurried down the tree trunk as fast as he could, finding crevices in the bark for his hands and feet, but this time sliding more than climbing, his fear of the ghoul stronger than his fear of falling.

  Two times he almost lost his grip because of his quest for speed, but he didn't care. The ghoul was almost upon him. The musty odor of the grave played through his nostrils, urging him downward. Suddenly, Thomas’ feet hit the earth. Not bothering to look up, he ran through the brush in a burst of speed, fighting off the vines and branches that sought to delay him. And then he was free, the darkness giving way to light, the forest to a flat plain. The ghoul howled in anger, stopping at the tree line and not daring to enter the sunlight.

  "Finally," he whispered to himself. His body shuddered at th
e memory of what had just occurred. Yet, as he looked back at the forest, the shadowy darkness had retreated, and with it the hungering ghoul that pursued him.

  Taking a few moments to catch his breath, Thomas gazed up at his final hurdle, the time he had lost in the forest weighing him down. If he was right, the Circle sat atop the cliff, which just happened to rise several thousand feet into the air. Normally such a climb wouldn't be a problem, but with such a steep incline, and a surface composed of loose shale with several large boulders tipped precariously on their edges, it would be difficult at best.

  He'd have to avoid those boulders at all costs. The way things were going today they'd probably start rolling down the slope at the slightest movement. If he wasn't careful and slipped, a fall from a heart tree would be pleasant compared to sliding down this rocky slope with a few large rocks following after him.

  Half an hour left, maybe less, he judged. No time to waste. Thomas started his climb, digging into the loose scrabble as best he could and hoping that a ghoul or some other hideous creature didn’t wait for him at the top. Because of the slope, a trot was as good a pace as he could achieve. To maintain his balance, he hunched over at the waist and leaned forward.

  Many times he used his hands to help pull himself up the cliff as large pieces of shale gave way beneath his feet and he slid dangerously back down the slope. Only his frantic attempts to dig his hands into the cliff face kept him from tumbling head over heels back down to the plain. Though unavoidable, his efforts irritated the cuts and scrapes plaguing his hands, which he ignored.

  Each time the shale gave way, he redoubled his efforts, pulling and lunging his way upward, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that ran down his arms every time he forced his hands into the loose rock. He was halfway up the slope with only fifteen minutes left. He had to go faster, but how? For every two steps he took in the loose rock, he slid back one. Giving way to caution, Thomas pushed himself forward, moving as fast as he could up the slope. If he stepped on another large piece of shale at his current speed, he didn't think he’d catch himself in time before he started falling backward. He didn’t care. He was almost to the top. How much time remained?