The Sylvan Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3

by Peter Wacht

  "And I you, Oso." Thomas smiled at the compliment. "Besides, I've decided that I won't be taking my leave of our kind and gracious host until everyone here can go with me."

  "You mean free everyone?"

  "Yes, I do."

  Now Oso knew exactly what to make of his new friend — brave, and crazy.

  "You don't have to look at me that way, Oso. I haven't lost my mind."

  "All right, then, I guess I'll have to reserve judgment. How do you plan to do it?"

  Thomas tried to settle himself more comfortably against the stone wall. It was hopeless. He'd simply have to deal with the pain.

  "What keeps us here, Oso?"

  Oso thought it was a fairly simple question, and answered immediately. "The reivers."

  "No, not the reivers, though they play a part. The reason we're still here, the reason the Highlanders are still here, is the warlocks."

  Oso looked as if some hidden meaning had suddenly dawned on him. He was a fool for not seeing it before. It was the exact same reason the Highlanders could not defeat the reivers in battle. They didn't have the weapons needed to fight the warlocks.

  "So we need to eliminate the warlocks." It was the most obvious solution, but Oso's high spirits quickly deflated. It was also an impossible one.

  "Yes, we do," said Thomas with quiet confidence.

  Oso almost laughed. His friend must have been hit on the head one too many times.

  "It is rumored that to become a warlock there is a price the person must pay," said Oso. "A terrible price. One that the person doesn't realize until it is too late." Talking about such things made him uncomfortable. He started pacing in front of the bars. He would like nothing more than to escape, but he didn't see how it could be done. There were too many reivers and too many warlocks, and many of his people were too weak. What Thomas wanted to do was admirable, but also impractical.

  "It is said that to become a warlock, you must sell your spirit to the Shadow Lord. Only then will that person be given the power he or she so desperately craves. The power to destroy nature."

  Thomas had heard much the same story from Rynlin and Rya. Though it had never been confirmed, he accepted it as the truth. The Shadow Lord never gave anything for free. To gain a part of his power, no matter how small, the cost would be high. The people who were willing to pay it never discovered just how high until it was too late. That was their mistake. He had little sympathy for people so greedy for power that they would do anything to attain it.

  "That may be the case," said Thomas. "Nevertheless, we can still escape if we're patient."

  "And just how do you propose to do that?" asked Oso skeptically.

  Thomas had offered him one surprise after another since they had met a few weeks before. This time he glanced at his friend with worry. Had he been hit on the head one too many times? He was sitting there stoically, lying back against the stone wall. He could only imagine the amount of pain Thomas was in, yet his green eyes glowed with mischief, his smile one of confidence and assurance. It drew Oso in.

  "Every three or four days a small group of reivers goes out in search of more workers. Correct?"

  "Yes," said Oso, waiting impatiently for Thomas' plan to unfold.

  "And they always take several warlocks with them. Correct?"

  "Yes."

  “Yet they have failed to bring back more workers.”

  “True.”

  "You said a few days ago that one of the Highlanders had told you that when we were captured, Killeran had led the raiding party himself because he was so desperate for more workers. The production from the mines had dropped by at least half, so he had taken all the warlocks with him except for a handful."

  "Yes, but so what?"

  Oso was quickly losing confidence. Maybe Killeran had hit him on the head again, but this time a little too hard. That would certainly explain the huge grin on Thomas' face.

  "Well, Killeran wasn't very successful on his last raid. He only bagged us. And with the failure of the smaller raiding parties, it stands to reason that he will have to take another large raiding party out soon because his need for workers has increased."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I don't. I'm just guessing."

  Thomas shifted his back against the stone wall, trying once more to find a more comfortable position. He finally gave up.

  "Killeran may be the supposed Regent of the Highlands, but there's someone behind him pulling the strings. It's probably the High King, who wants the gold and silver from the mines for his own coffers. Then he can start acting like a real High King, rather than a showpiece. But you and I both know after working in the mines for the last few weeks that Killeran has not been very successful in achieving his goals, or rather the High King's. I'm certain that Rodric, or whoever is behind Killeran, still needs what he can get from the mines, and he's not getting it. So Killeran has to find more workers if he wants to remain regent."

  Thomas took a deep breath. His mind had been working at a furious pace, matched by his mouth, and he had forgotten to breathe. He looked over at Oso and saw the realization dawn within him. Oso was putting all the pieces together for himself now.

  "So you see," continued Thomas, "it's just a matter of time before Killeran sends out another large raiding party. All we have to do is wait, and when the time comes, we escape and take everyone with us."

  "Well, what good is that?" asked Oso. He knew it for a fact now. Killeran had hit him on the head one too many times. Thomas had lost his grip on reality. "Even if he does take all the warlocks with him, we'll still be stuck in these miserable cells."

  "Oso, show just a little patience, all right," said Thomas in exasperation.

  "That's really an excellent plan, Thomas," said Oso. "Truly, an excellent plan." The sarcasm in his voice was quite obvious, along with his frustration. "But there is one problem with it. What about the warlocks? They have Dark Magic. We don't. What do we do about that?" Oso was getting irritated.

  "You're right, we don't have Dark Magic," said Thomas, his face now serious, even grim. "We have something better."

  White light flashed in the darkness and a tiny ball of flame appeared just above Thomas' palm, illuminating the cell. Thomas was using such a small amount of the Talent, he doubted the warlocks would detect it.

  Oso danced back in surprise and fear. "You're a war—"

  "No, I'm not," said Thomas sharply. "I'm not a warlock. I don't use Dark Magic. I use a different power, one that comes from nature."

  Oso stared at his friend in consternation. This was just a little too much for him. Warlock or no, the ball of flame in Thomas' hand scared him to the very depths of his being. For the first time, he was glad for the steel bars separating them, then realized they would do little against the power Thomas could summon. As the shock wore off, the practical side of his nature regained control of his psyche.

  "But there is only one other group of people besides warlocks who can—" Oso looked at Thomas in sudden understanding.

  Thomas nodded, knowing that his friend had figured it out for himself. "Yes, I am a Sylvan Warrior."

  "But the Sylvana are only a myth," shouted Oso, who immediately lowered his voice. He was still rattled. "If not that, at least long dead."

  "I don't think you should tell my grandfather that," said Thomas, letting the small ball of flame wink out of existence. "He doesn't like it when people tell him that."

  "Your grandfather? So the Sylvana are still—"

  "Yes, we still exist. Maybe not in such great numbers as we used to, but we are certainly not a myth."

  "Then why haven't you used your power against the warlocks?" Oso had started pacing again. "Why not just blow a way out of this cell for us." He was angry now. If he had been languishing in this cell for weeks for nothing, he'd—

  "Believe me, I thought about it. There are what, about a dozen warlocks in the fort?"

  Oso nodded that he was correct.

  "Well, I think I can take
on the dozen, but that still leaves all the reivers."

  "Oh." Oso's anger dissipated. "But I thought Sylvan Warriors were all powerful." He was trying to remember what he could of the legends he had heard, the legends that had now come to life.

  "Far from it," said Thomas. "We're much too human, in fact. I can defeat the warlocks, but it would take a great deal of my strength, and just like fighting a lengthy battle with a sword, your body needs to rest. After fighting the warlocks, I would be completely useless. Then you'd have to take on the reivers by yourself. How does that sound to you?"

  "Not very good at all," said Oso with a smile, embarrassed by his earlier anger.

  "But, if we wait until Killeran takes out his raiding party, and there are only a few warlocks left in the fort, our chances are much improved. I can eliminate them, and still have enough of my strength to give us a much better chance of fighting our way free of the Black Hole and taking everyone else with us."

  Oso smiled. He liked the way his friend thought. His initial shock at finding out that Thomas was a member of the Sylvana, a group of legendary warriors supposedly just a myth, was something that he normally would have simply laughed at. But he couldn't. Not now. Though he had not known Thomas very long, their circumstances had allowed Oso to learn much about him very quickly. And that demonstration with the ball of fire was enough to convince him, even if it did make him uneasy. He certainly didn't understand how Thomas did what he did, and he didn't really care to. If Thomas could help him and his people escape from the Black Hole, he'd believe in anything.

  "Then we wait," said Oso.

  "Yes, we wait," said Thomas. "And we stay alive."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Freedom of a Sort

  The next day in the mines resembled another session of torture in Killeran's quarters for Thomas. The reivers escorted him and Oso to the mines separately, keeping them out of the chain gang. They were put to work at the very end of a vein, which was the most dangerous part of the tunnel. Their task was to extend the mine as far as they could, knowing that any poor stroke on their part, or bad luck, could bring thousands of tons of rocks crashing down on them.

  Killeran even placed two guards at the other end of the vein. It was a ridiculous precaution on his part, since Thomas and Oso were still chained at the neck and legs, in addition to the shackles now attached to their wrists. Not being able to stretch their arms out wide made their task all the more difficult.

  The sharp pinpricks of pain that kept Thomas up all night turned into a constant source of irritation and discomfort each time his grimy shirt ran across his upper body. All he could do was grit his teeth and bear it. Thomas stepped back from the stone wall in front of him, laying his pick against his thigh and wiping his tattered sleeve across his forehead.

  He smiled despite his pain. Rya would have an absolute fit when she saw what had happened to his clothes. He wouldn't hear the end of it for months. When he was growing up, she had mended the tears that inevitably occurred, always trying to get a few more months of wear out of a shirt or a pair of breeks. This time she'd have no choice but to throw the clothes away. The holes easily outnumbered the remaining bits of cloth.

  Oso also lay his pickaxe against his thigh. He knew that Thomas was still tired and weak from yesterday's encounter with Killeran, so he tried to do the work for both of them. The reivers had been waiting all day for an excuse to urge them to work harder, constantly walking down the tunnel, their curses preceding them and their whips cracking in the air to accentuate their words.

  "Another fun day, huh?" asked Oso, grinning despite his weariness. His clothes weren't much better than Thomas'.

  "Quiet!" shouted one of the reivers.

  The other one felt the need to contribute. "Another word from either of you and we'll send you to the block."

  That particular reiver, a short man with a barrel chest and little hair atop his scalp, had been using that threat for most of the day. Yet, neither Thomas nor Oso knew exactly what he was talking about. They simply assumed that it was the headsman's block.

  Grumbling something incomprehensible under his breath, Oso retrieved his pickaxe and went back to work. Thomas did so as well, wiping his forehead one more time to keep the sweat from running into his eyes. They soon had a steady rhythm going: as one swung his pickaxe into the rock, the other was bringing his around for another strike.

  The pounding of the metal against the stone was mesmerizing, as scattered thoughts wandered aimlessly across their minds. For both, most of those thoughts involved Killeran, and what they would do to the rat-faced man when they gained their freedom.

  Finally, after another hour of work, which added another foot to the tunnel, it was time to return to the fort. Thomas and Oso waited patiently for one of the reivers to unlock the chains from their necks so they could slowly make their way out into the twilight of another day missed. When they emerged from the darkness, they were greeted by a red sunset just above the mountains. They didn't have time to enjoy it, though. The two reivers pushed them up the path that led back to the fort.

  The walk along the curving path was actually enjoyable, though trudging along the rock-strewn ground with leg irons was a bit tricky, especially in the growing darkness. Several times Oso stumbled on a rock, but Thomas was there to keep him from falling. The reivers were not so lucky. As they came around the last bend in the trail leading up to the plateau that held Killeran's fort, the shorter reiver with little hair tripped on a large rock. His friend tried to keep him from stumbling, but it only brought both of them crashing to the ground, with the shorter reiver absorbing most of the fall.

  Normally both Thomas and Oso would have laughed as the two tried to regain their feet without knocking themselves down again, but they were too tired. They simply continued on up the trail, ignoring the cries of the guards and forcing the two reivers to run after them. If Killeran saw Oso and Thomas walk through the gates without their guards, the reivers would probably be the next two bodies in the pit.

  The Highlanders had returned from the mines just before them and were being herded into their cages as Thomas and Oso walked through the gates of the fort, the deep mud sucking at their boots. With each step, the brown muck reluctantly let go. It was slow-going and treacherous.

  The lines to get back into the cages stretched halfway across the yard, as a reiver at the entrance to each cage counted off as a Highlander passed by, making sure that the same number who had gone to the mines in the morning also returned. As Thomas and Oso passed the first two lines, many of the Highlanders turned to watch them go by.

  Several nodded with respect to the two as they passed. Thomas helping Aric in the mines had spread like wildfire among the other Highlanders. Many had been in the cages for months and given up hope of ever escaping. As a result, they had forgotten what it meant to be free. Sadly, these people seemed to have lost their spirit and pride. The story of Thomas' exploits had revived them. There was life in their eyes again, rather than apathy and hopelessness.

  Seeing that, the pain of Thomas' burns disappeared. He had been away from his people for almost half his life, yet he never forgot what it meant to be a Highlander: the sense of honor and integrity, the courage and toughness. Killeran may have taken away his and his people's freedom, but he could never take away what it was that made them Highlanders.

  They were approaching the third line of workers when Thomas realized that Oso had picked up his pace. This line moved faster than the others. There were only a handful of Highlanders still outside the cage. Turning in the direction of Oso's gaze, he realized that his friend watched a girl standing at the back of the line. Probably only a year or two younger than themselves, she was pretty, even with the dirt and grime covering her short, auburn hair. Thomas understood why Oso couldn't take his eyes from her. Then he saw what had really drawn Oso's notice. Two reivers walked toward the girl. The malicious grins on their faces told Thomas everything he needed to know.

  "Trouble," Thomas m
urmured.

  Oso nodded. His eyes were locked on the girl and the two reivers now standing behind her. Their lascivious sneers confirmed their intentions.

  "Go ahead," said Thomas. "I'll take care of these two."

  "Keep your mouths shut," said the short reiver walking behind Thomas. He still wasn't happy about falling down and blamed the two boys for it rather than his own clumsiness.

  The two reivers behind the redheaded girl stepped forward. One put his hand on her shoulder, while the other pushed her out of the line and away from the cage. Confused for a moment, she quickly realized what was going on and tried to back away from her assailants. She was alone, and there was no one to help her. Her fear turned to terror. She wasn't fast enough, though. The guard behind her tripped her with his foot, and the two reivers laughed uproariously as she tumbled in the mud. One of them leaned down and took hold of the chain around the girl's wrists and began dragging her toward the barracks while the other reiver followed in anticipation.

  Oso ran forward as best as he could when the girl fell to the ground, hampered by the chains around his ankles. Nevertheless, his anger drove him forward. He refused to allow his people to be treated this way, much less a young girl.

  The guards behind him both let out exclamations of surprise at seeing one of their charges escape. The short reiver, who was only a few inches taller than Thomas, leapt forward in pursuit. He unceremoniously fell flat on his back in the mud, having run straight into Thomas' fists. Though he couldn't stretch his arms out wide, Thomas found that swinging both arms at the same time to be quite effective, especially with a length of steel chain attached. The short reiver lay motionless in the mud, his open eyes staring up at the sky, his neck broken.

  The taller reiver was a little quicker. He had already moved a few steps in front of Thomas, his dagger drawn. But he was focused on what was going on in front of him, not behind, so he didn't see his friend's demise. Thomas dove forward feet first. He'd never be able to catch the reiver with the chains around his legs. The mud that had hungered so much for his boots was now his best ally, allowing him to slide forward and tackle the reiver from behind. Thomas took the reiver's legs out from under him and the man fell face down in the mud.