by Peter Wacht
As time passed, the Shadow Lord's movements became more lethargic, as did Thomas'. The struggle was taking its toll on both of them. Thomas' sword felt heavy in his hands and his knees began to shake. He would not be able to continue his attack for much longer. However, if he stopped, the Shadow Lord would be free to use his Dark Magic. Thomas knew what the inevitable result of that scenario would be. He could use the Talent against the Shadow Lord's attacks, but each time he did so he would become weaker and weaker, until finally he was just a little too slow and the Shadow Lord broke through his defenses. Time was quickly slipping away.
Energized by his need, Thomas redoubled his efforts. Ignoring the strain in his shoulders and arms, his sword was a blur. The Shadow Lord could only deflect the blows, unable to counterattack. Thomas pressed even harder. The Shadow Lord was weakening. Thomas' sword came closer and closer to its intended target.
Seeing his opportunity, Thomas swung his sword in a downward arc with all his strength. The Shadow Lord got his blade there just in time, preventing Thomas' steel from digging into his flesh. This time, though, rather than letting his sword glance off of the Shadow Lord's black steel, he kept the full force of his blow on the upraised steel, inevitably pushing the dark blade downward until it crashed into the floor. The jolt from the blow weakened the Shadow Lord's grip, and with a quick sweep of his blade, Thomas knocked it from the Shadow Lord’s hand. Thomas stood before the Shadow Lord, his sword point pressed against the Shadow Lord's chest.
"A good fight," said the Shadow Lord with some difficulty as he struggled for breath, seemingly unaware of the cold death poised just inches from his heart. "For that I will give you a choice." The Shadow Lord's voice remained a soft, cold whisper. The menace within it was clear, though now Thomas sensed something else. Could it be fear?
"I could have snuffed out your life anytime I wanted to," said the Shadow Lord. "Your Talent is no match for my Dark Magic. Even now, I can take your life anytime I want to. But I will give you a choice nonetheless because you are a worthy opponent."
Perhaps that was so. Perhaps the Shadow Lord could have killed him anytime he wanted to. It didn't sound right, though. If he was truly the Defender of Light, the Shadow Lord had waited thousands of years for this moment, waiting thousands of years to kill him, thereby removing the final obstacle to his plans. All he had to do was eliminate Thomas and the Kingdoms would be his. Nothing else stood in his way.
But instead the Shadow Lord had dueled with him. Just for the fun of it? It was wrong. All wrong. Then again, who could guess how the Shadow Lord's mind worked? Thomas knew the Shadow Lord could kill him in an instant with his Dark Magic. Of course, in an instant, he could embed his sword in the Shadow Lord's chest. Shadow Lord or no, three inches of steel in his heart would certainly kill him.
"Remove your sword, and you will live," said the Shadow Lord. "Remove your sword, and you will be free of everything. Even from the prophecy. I will not pursue you, and you can live your life as you choose. If you do not, you will die."
Thomas stood there caught by his own indecision. Free from the prophecy? Free from all the burdens of his life? Free to make his own choices rather than having them made for him?
The pinpricks of red that served as the Shadow Lord’s eyes burned brightly. Thomas could choose freedom and do what he wanted with his life, but then the Shadow Lord would also be free to do as he wanted as well. Though it appeared to be a simple choice — life or death — it was anything but. The muscles in his shoulders bunched up, preparing to strike. Thomas chose death.
The blinding white light caught Thomas by surprise. When he opened his eyes he was back on the Stone. The Sylvan Warriors still stood in front of the enormous columns. Their expressions remained serious, but their eyes seemed more hopeful to Thomas. For a moment, he thought his battle with the Shadow Lord had been real, and that he had died. Thankfully, it was only one of the dreams. He wondered, though, if there was some truth in each of the dreams he had just navigated. Would he one day have to fight the Shadow Lord? Hold on. The challenges! Was that the final challenge?
"The Sylvana are a people of courage," said Tiro in a voice that rang of victory. "You have chosen correctly."
Thomas grinned at the pronouncement. Rynlin and Rya had both lectured about the importance of remaining silent during the testing. The candidate was not allowed to speak while on the Stone. When Thomas had asked why they had simply said tradition. Nevertheless, Thomas' smile spoke volumes. Tiro's next few words wiped it from his face.
"Each challenge teaches a lesson, and I bid you heed the lesson learned. Remember these three things, and you will join us if you are judged worthy."
Judged worthy? Didn't he just prove he was worthy by overcoming the challenges? From now on he'd demand full explanations from Rynlin and Rya. Their habit of holding something back, usually the most important bit of information, was becoming remarkably irritating.
"First, you must have the inner strength to do what is necessary, even at great personal risk. We protect nature. That responsibility comes before our own lives.
"Second, you must recognize that the choice between right and wrong is never easy, and that doing the right thing can often be more painful than doing the wrong.
"Third, no matter what choice you make there is always a cost."
Thomas listened carefully to Tiro's words. Each dream had taught him one of those lessons, and he knew that he would never forget them. Tiro sounded very much like Rynlin in the way he presented things in that he enjoyed the sound of his own voice. Why should he be surprised? Tiro and Rynlin were probably good friends. Thomas was quickly brought back from his wandering thoughts by Tiro's final pronouncement.
"It is time for the judgment."
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Judgment
"You have proven you are a man of action, a man of honor and a man of courage," began Tiro, his wispy hair a victim of the light breeze. "That, however, is not enough to become a Sylvan Warrior. A man or woman cannot make the final judgment. Nature itself must make the judgment. You have heard of the Valley of the Unicorns?"
Thomas nodded. All the time he had spent listening to Rynlin and Rya had finally paid off. The Valley of the Unicorns was for most people a place of fantasy, a legend thousands of years old. The ancient stories named it the home of the unicorns. Supposedly these mythical beasts were actual manifestations of nature — the natural energy given physical form. Other tales, even older than those myths, said unicorns were horses that had come to nature’s aid when nature itself was threatened by some long forgotten evil. To thank the horses for their assistance, nature bestowed their horns upon them, which held within them the power of nature.
No one could recall the veracity of these legends, but neither would anyone deny the unicorn’s unique closeness to nature. Located just below the Circle, the Valley overlooked the Breaker. Many adventurers had gone off in search of the Valley of the Unicorns, only to wander around aimlessly in the Highlands. It was said that only a Sylvan Warrior could find the Valley. All others were turned away by the magic of the unicorns. It guaranteed that only those who were supposed to find the valley did so.
The unicorns had a unique relationship with the Sylvana, serving as their steeds in battle. Not every Sylvan Warrior had the skill to master the Talent, and therefore was vulnerable to the Dark Magic of the Shadow Lord. The natural magic of the unicorn protected the Warrior in battle, and for those who could use the Talent, the magic of the unicorn augmented their strength.
It helped to explain why the Sylvan Warriors were such formidable opponents, despite their relatively few numbers. Of course, just like the Sylvan Warriors, unicorns were not immortal. A unicorn died if its horn was removed. And just as the number of Sylvan Warriors had diminished over time because of their fight with the Shadow Lord, so too had the number of unicorns.
Of course, Tiro didn't assume Thomas knew more than just the name. "The Valley of the Unicorns is home to the war horses
of the Sylvana. Every animal is a part of nature, but the natural magic flows within these creatures. They are stronger and faster than other horses and can gallop for days without tiring. It is they who will judge you worthy of joining the Sylvana."
Thomas nodded his understanding.
"But be forewarned," continued the portly officiant. "If you are not judged worthy, you will die. You have passed the tests, and once begun they must be completed. Now you have a choice, however. You do not have to enter the Valley. Though you can never become a Sylvan Warrior if you do not, you will leave here alive. Will you risk death to join us? Will you be judged?"
For Thomas little thought was required for his answer. He had come too far to turn back now. He nodded again.
"So be it," intoned Tiro.
With the sweep of an arm, he directed Thomas' gaze to a point just outside the Circle, on the side opposite the forest that had served as part of his first test. When he had arrived, that section of the plain looked just as desolate and uninviting as the rest, trailing off to a steep drop. Now, he saw a steep path leading down to a huge crater with an edge that stretched for leagues around.
Thomas tried to hide his surprise, though he likely did a poor job of it. The Talent could not have hidden the path from him. The strength needed to do that would be enormous, and with Thomas' ability in the Talent, being so close to it would have alerted him. No, it had to be the natural magic of the unicorns. Truly amazing!
"The path will lead you to the Valley. Once there, walk to its very center. Then wait. There you will be judged. This time the choice will be made for you."
Thomas studied the crater a final time before walking slowly down the steps of the Stone, then out of the Circle. Once past the stone columns, he made his way to the path leading down to the crater. Thomas took his time because of the trail’s steep slope. After everything he'd been through so far, tripping on the loose rocks and falling to his death was something he wanted to avoid. Gazing back up the slope, the stone columns of the Circle were now just tiny specks poking up above the edge of the plain. He hadn't noticed just how far he had traveled. Finally reaching the lip of the crater, he rested his hands on the large rocks that formed the rim. To his left, the path continued on into the Valley.
It truly was a remarkable sight, one that Thomas had never expected for a place as forbidding as the Highlands. Snuggled in the very middle of the highest peak in the Highlands sat a valley of lush green grass that appeared to stretch on forever. The grass resembled the waves of the ocean as it followed the commands of the wind. The only break in the green landscape was a sparkling river that ran along one side of the valley. A strong gust of cold wind sent shivers through Thomas' body. Taking it as a sign that he should get moving, he ventured down into the Valley of the Unicorns.
That was odd. As he stepped between the rocks and down into the crater, he discovered that there were no trees. And where were the unicorns? All he could see, all the way to the other edge of the crater, was the tall, green grass flowing in the wind. What he found even stranger was the temperature. With each step, the air felt warmer. A gentle breeze wafted across the valley floor and sucked the cold from him. When he set foot on the floor of the crater, he thought he had walked into an early spring, a far cry from the chilly autumn that waited for him at the crater’s rim.
Breathing deeply of the spring-scented air, Thomas started his journey to the center of the valley. The warm weather brightened his spirits and reinvigorated him. The exhaustion that had crept into his body because of the tests slowly dissipated, replaced by a renewed energy. As he walked slowly through the tall grass, the age of the valley enveloped him. A wisdom lived here, a knowledge, thousands of years old. From that knowledge came a serenity that filled Thomas with a sense of peace and tranquility. Yet, instead of feeling old, there was a vibrancy to the valley. Life undulated all around him, though he could see nothing of it.
The contradictions teased at Thomas' awareness. Then he had it. Nature, or rather its contradictions. At one moment old, at another young. At one moment reserved, at another wild. It was all part of the cycle of death and regeneration. Thomas sensed that the Valley of the Unicorns was the center of all nature. He had virtually no evidence to support his theory, but every fiber of his being knew it was true.
The excitement he had felt upon first entering the Valley gave way to a calm he had never experienced before. He was at peace with himself for the first time in his short life. All his burdens melted away, replaced by a freedom that promised happiness and fulfillment. Even the stinging sensation from his scraped palms and aching muscles disappeared. Looking down at his hands, the scratches and cuts had healed.
After walking for more than an hour through the tall grass, Thomas judged that he had reached the center of the valley. Coming to a stop, he spun around slowly, looking for any type of movement. As before, only the tall grass responding to the whims of the wind was visible. Still, he felt strange eyes on him. Sensing no danger, however, Thomas let the feeling of life wash over him, enjoying the calm. Several times he glanced around, feeling more and more eyes watching him. Yet each time he saw nothing and shrugged it off.
Closing his eyes, Thomas breathed in deeply. The Valley nearly overwhelmed him with its serenity. When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, he almost fell to the ground in shock. Dozens of unicorns surrounded him. Black, white, roan, even a few with spotted brown and white coats, stared at him with ancient eyes. The eyes he had felt were real.
The unicorns had arrayed themselves around him in a loose circle, studying him closely. Thomas took a moment to examine these beautiful creatures as well, which until that very moment had been nothing more than stories to him. The pictures he had seen in history books were wrong. They showed animals no bigger than goats, with one small horn rising from their foreheads. These unicorns dwarfed the draft horses used by traders and merchants. The shoulder of the smallest unicorn easily surpassed Thomas' height, and the horns rose seven to eight feet into the air. The biggest unicorn, one whose height at the shoulder probably matched that of Catal Huyuk, had a horn that looked to be at least nine feet long.
From the majesty of their appearance, Thomas understood why they were considered the lords of the wild. Their strength and power were apparent in their forms. Several times Thomas had to remind himself to breathe. The unicorns were the most beautiful animals he had ever seen. The life, the passion, the power of nature appeared clearly within them. Protecting that goodness from evil, and preserving it for the future, was the worthiest cause he could imagine.
Tiro had said that the unicorns would judge him, but how that would occur he didn't know. Rynlin explained to him once that each member of the Sylvana was paired with a unicorn. Once selected, that steed served as that Sylvan Warrior's warhorse until either one died. How that related to the judgment he wasn't sure.
Unicorns had a natural ability to look into the heart of a person or animal. That was another reason they were so effective in the battle against the Shadow Lord, who had tried to deceive the Sylvana many times in the past, but to no avail. Though these deceptions sometimes worked on Sylvan Warriors since they were, after all, human and vulnerable to man's normal frailties, the unicorn did not have such a weakness.
Rynlin once told him the story of one of the first Sylvan Warriors, a young woman named Aine. She was given the task of guarding a small pass that led through the Charnel Mountains and out onto the Northern Steppes. The Dark Horde had risen once again and was moving toward the south. The bulk of that hideous army was expected to move through the larger passes. However, the Shadow Lord knew the Sylvana would be prepared for such an advance, so he sent several hundred Ogren and Shades through the tiny pass, which was known as Dagger's Gap. While the Sylvana were occupied with his main army, this group would attack from behind, allowing the main force to break into the southlands.
Dagger's Gap was so called for the most obvious of reasons; it resembled a dagger, with a large opening at
one end that narrowed down to a point. Aine made her stand at the tip of the blade. Because of the size of the Gap there, a single warrior could hold at bay a much larger enemy force for quite a long time. In an attempt to get past the lone Sylvan Warrior, the Shadow Lord used his Dark Magic to give the Shades and Ogren that approached Aine the appearance of Sylvan Warriors.
Though Aine did not see through the deception, the unicorn that served as her mount, a golden white female named Veritas, which in the old tongue translated to "Truth," charged the first Ogren to walk through Dagger's Gap. Aine tried desperately to stop Veritas, but was too slow, and she watched in horror as the unicorn lowered its head and aimed its horn at the image of one of her friends. As the unicorn's magical horn pierced the Ogren's chest, it destroyed the Shadow Lord's spell, and Aine saw the true enemy before her. With the help of Veritas, she held Dagger's Gap until a contingent of Sylvan Warriors came to her aid.
Thomas gave a start as a fleeting tendril of consciousness touched his mind. It felt very much like when he spoke with Beluil or another animal of the forest. Yet, the unicorns had initiated it. Thinking that the judgment had begun, Thomas opened his mind to the contact. Immediately the thoughts and feelings of the dozens of unicorns standing around him bombarded his mind.
The tremendous age and wisdom of each animal drifted into his consciousness, searching his heart for weakness. After recovering from the initial flood of disparate emotions and personalities, unable to resist the temptation, Thomas pushed out his own mind, strengthening his connection to the unicorns. By doing so, he could see the natural magic flowing all around him, though he could not distinguish its primary source — nature itself or the unicorns.
Dazzled by it all, Thomas extended his senses even more, trying to link more closely with the magic that waxed and waned around him. As he did so, he felt a tie begin to form between him and the unicorns, a bond stronger than any he could imagine, one that went to the very depths of his soul. His necklace grew warmer against his skin as the bond grew stronger, solidifying and becoming something tangible. Ever so slowly the unicorns tied themselves to him. As a result, Thomas was bound to nature itself more deeply than he had ever thought possible. Remarkably, the bond did not weigh him down as some of his other burdens did. Instead, he saw the bond for what it really was — a gift.
