The Sylvan Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3

by Peter Wacht

  His weeks of mounting frustration and anger were about to end. Thomas raised his hand toward the stockade wall. A bolt of white light shot from his outstretched palm, the ball of fire growing larger and larger as it sped toward its target. Gouts of flame spread along the wall as the ball of energy tore through the logs. The power of the blast knocked many of the Highlanders and reivers to their knees. In the midst of it all, Thomas stood there with a wolf-like smile, watching as the surge of energy opened a path to freedom, blowing bits of wood and steel into the forest.

  As the flames died down, a hole big enough for ten men to walk through standing shoulder to shoulder took shape. The edges of the hole glowed a bright red, the tiny flames rapidly spreading across the wall. In seconds flames laced the entire north wall. Next time Thomas would have to be more careful. He hadn't planned on using so much of the Talent at once, but he couldn't help himself. After so many weeks of being kept in this wretched place, the taste of it was too sweet to resist.

  Oso was on his feet immediately, shaking off the force of the blast and helping Anara and Razel march their groups through the hole. The other three groups followed on their heels. The Highlanders knew that they were being pursued, and that knowledge made them move even faster than Thomas, and even they, thought possible. Their aches and weariness melted away, replaced by adrenaline and desire. They had lost their freedom once. They would not lose it again.

  Thomas watched the Highlanders stream out through the hole in the stockade, hoping that Oso could lead them all into the forest before the reivers reached them. He spun when he heard the shouts coming from behind him. The reivers had regained their feet and their purpose. They charged toward Thomas, weapons drawn, their bloodcurdling screams preceding them. In their eyes Thomas was a simple kill — one man with a sword against a score. They had assumed that one of their own warlocks was responsible for the fireball and that it had simply missed its target. They didn't know that the source of that power waited before them.

  Thomas stood there calmly, waiting patiently. The reivers' cries barely touched the edge of his awareness. He had not released the Talent yet. As a result, he felt as if he were floating above his body, looking down at what was about to happen. It was a surreal experience, but one he still controlled. These were the men who had terrorized his homeland, his kingdom. These were his people! It was his kingdom! The Highlands were his, and he would not relinquish them!

  His anger raged within him, pushing, probing, searching for a way out. His people had been murdered, worked to death and raped. They had suffered any number of indignities, and he had not protected them. His anger and shame flared up within him anew, mixing with his hatred for the reivers, and most of all Killeran. But Killeran was not there, was he? He would have to find another outlet, then. One that deserved a taste of what would now be the consequence for anyone who tried to harm his people.

  A tall reiver was no more than twenty paces from him, charging forward at a ground-eating pace. A flowing moustache whipped against his face with every pounding step. Thomas looked the man squarely in the eyes. He could see the bloodlust there. The man enjoyed killing. He actually enjoyed it! The idea revolted Thomas and almost made his stomach turn over. Thomas forced the bile in his throat back down. He would not feel any remorse for killing this man or any of the others. It was simply something that had to be done.

  Extending his hand toward the reiver, now only ten paces away, Thomas released a bolt of energy the size of his fist, striking the man in the chest. The energy was so potent, it tore a hole right through his body. The flowing moustache stopped bouncing as the man crumpled to ground, his once murderous eyes now leaden. Thomas didn't wait for the other reivers to get so close, shooting bolts of energy from his hand in every direction. The reivers had no opportunity to escape. In less than a minute it was over, as a score of reivers lay dead at Thomas' feet, their chests missing.

  Thomas thought that he should feel sickened by what he had done, or at least remorse, but he did not. He was desensitized to his task. He didn't feel any pleasure at killing these men. If he had, he would have worried. His grandfather had warned him about that. No, he didn't feel any pleasure. Rather, he felt consumed by purpose. He would ensure the safety of the Highlanders trying to escape — at any cost.

  He started walking backwards, toward the hole in the northern wall, the oppressive heat caressing his back. The flames that spread from the fireball now played along the very top of the stockade and moving inexorably along the east and west walls. If the reivers didn't take action quickly, the fort would burn to the ground by morning. More reivers came toward him now, not having seen what had happened to their comrades. Pulling in more and more of the Talent, Thomas shot another ball of fire from his hand, which blinded many of the reivers with its brightness.

  A crashing boom echoed through the small valley as the fireball blasted into Killeran's quarters, turning the cabin into a pillar of flame. Thomas shot another fireball from his hand, and another, and another, striking the reivers' barracks and the warlocks' barracks, and the last crashing into the Block. The flames hungrily consumed the wooden structures, turning night into day. Eerie shadows danced across the sky. Killeran's fort, the symbol of his reign of terror in the Highlands for the past seven years, was quickly becoming a memory.

  Smiling at his handiwork, Thomas stepped through the hole in the stockade and trotted toward the welcoming darkness of the forest. Stretching out his senses, he was pleased to find that Oso had already taken the Highlanders a mile into the woods, and there was no sign of pursuit, at least not yet. As soon as the reivers realized that their efforts at saving the fort were useless, they would come after the Highlanders with renewed vengeance.

  Thomas reached over his shoulder and pulled his sword from its scabbard as he stepped between the trees. It wouldn't take him very long to catch up to the others. Soon the weariness would return to the Highlanders as their strength waned. The excitement gave them a needed boost, but the desperation and fear would slowly weigh down their steps. Hopefully by then they would be too far away from the reivers for it to be a concern.

  Gripping the hilt of the blade in his hand with a welcome familiarity, Thomas relinquished his hold on the Talent. The power surging through his veins gradually dissipated, much like the waves of the ocean being pulled farther from the shore by the low tide. In its place came exhilaration. After all this time, he had fought back. Yet, it was only the beginning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Good Feeling

  The small fire had died down to a few glowing embers as the moon lazily crossed the sky. Two indistinct shapes lay huddled next to it, their cloaks drawn tight around them because of the cold. They had both considered stoking the fire just a little bit more to get warm, but they would be on their way soon, even though it was several hours till dawn, and they saw little need for it.

  "Did you feel it?" asked Rynlin, throwing off his cloak and leaping to his feet.

  He faced toward the west, his eyes taking on a faraway expression. Much to his chagrin, he had been sleeping with his ear bent back, but he ignored the pain. After so many weeks of searching, he had found what he was so desperately looking for.

  "Yes, I did," said Rya, standing next to her husband. "From the west, in the foothills." She clutched her amulet tightly in her hand. The warmth had finally returned after so many weeks of cold. She could feel her grandson once again. She could feel his anger and his pain.

  "Yes, that's where he is," said Rynlin, certain of it as well. The amulet he wore was also warm. The cloud surrounding their grandson had vanished. "Few are as strong as he."

  Rynlin could feel the tremendous amount of power Thomas had taken control of with the Talent. There was no mistaking it. It was time to go.

  Rya looked over at her husband, his grin feral. Her smile probably looked much the same. Whoever had taken her grandson had made a big mistake. And now it was time to pay for it.

  A flash of white light illum
inated the small clearing for a second, followed by another. When the darkness returned, the two were gone. Only two small shadows climbing higher into the night sky could be seen, moving swiftly to the west.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Time to Hunt

  "How is everyone holding up?"

  Thomas dug the tip of his sword into the dirt and used it as a cane. The Talent had taken more out of him than he expected, probably in part because of his having worked in the mines for the past month.

  "All right," replied Oso. "But they're tired and weak. We can't move much faster than we already are."

  "We've got to. The reivers will come after us soon, and they'll have a very good incentive to catch up with us quickly."

  "And what's that?" asked Oso, hands on his hips as he caught his breath.

  Highlanders were famed for their endurance, but it was clear that their imprisonment had taken its toll. The five groups of Highlanders merged into one once they reached the forest, with Anara in the lead and Oso serving as the rearguard.

  Oso had called a halt after two hours of walking, with most of the Highlanders dropping to the ground in exhaustion. Fortunately, a small stream was nearby. Most would have been happy to remain where they were, but they couldn't. In a few minutes they would have to continue their trek on aching feet and muscles. No one complained, though. It was a small price to pay for their freedom.

  "Killeran."

  "Killeran? Oh, yes, for letting us escape." Oso let out a loud laugh. "Yes, I can guess exactly what he will do when he returns. I wouldn't be surprised if he puts a few of his own men on the Block."

  "He probably would at that," agreed Thomas. "Only, he might have a small problem."

  "And what's that?" asked Anara, who came to stand next to Oso. Very close to Oso.

  Thomas smiled. Anara was making his friend uncomfortable. Then again, though he fidgeted, Oso made no effort to step away from her.

  "When he returns later today, he won't have a Block to use."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Well, when I was leaving, I wanted to give us as much time as possible before the pursuit began." Thomas shrugged his shoulders. "When Killeran returns, he’ll find only the smoldering remains of his fort."

  Thomas' smile demonstrated that he was very pleased with himself, and more than satisfied with his work.

  "You mean you—" Anara's eyes expanded, and she stepped back from Thomas.

  "Yes, I burned down the fort."

  Thomas' response made Oso laugh even harder. In his mind, he imagined Killeran's expression when he saw that the seat of his power in the Highlands was now nothing more than a burned out wreck.

  "But how did you—" The wild look in Anara's eyes worried Thomas. Oso took hold of her hand in an effort to calm her down.

  "Does it really matter?" he asked.

  Anara shrewdly examined Thomas, having mastered her initial shock. Because of Thomas she and her people were free. That was something she could never forget, or repay for that matter. How he did it wasn't important; the fact that he did it was.

  "No, it doesn't."

  "Good. Now that that’s settled, let's move on to more important things. The reivers are no more than an hour behind us. We need to get moving again."

  "They couldn't have followed so quickly," protested Anara. "How could you know?"

  "Do you really want to know?" Thomas asked.

  "Anara, if Thomas says the reivers are an hour behind us, they’re an hour behind us," said Oso.

  "We need to get these people to a safe place. I know they'll fight, but they won't last very long. And I'm not going to let them die after just setting them free."

  The vehemence of Thomas' voice surprised Oso. He had never seen his friend so intense before.

  "My home is about a day's travel from here, in the higher passes," said Anara. "It's called Raven's Peak. It's the closest village I know of where we could defend ourselves against the reivers."

  A day's trip. It would be a long and hard journey for everyone involved, but they really didn't have any other options.

  "Anara, let's get these people walking again. You take the lead. Raven’s Peak it is. Oso and I will do what we can to slow the reivers down."

  Anara nodded. "Don't you want any help?"

  Thomas looked around him. The men were all fighters, as were the women, but in their condition, they would be more of a hindrance than a help.

  "No, Oso and I will be able to take care of it ourselves. We'll buy you as much time as we can."

  Without another word, Anara ran toward Razel, who was sitting with the other leaders Thomas had selected from the five different cages. It didn't take her long to relate what Thomas had said about the pursuing reivers and the plan that they had developed. The men dispersed quickly, and in a matter of minutes, the Highlanders were back on their feet and traveling to the northeast.

  "Oso, do you happen to have any bows and quivers of arrows in that bag of weapons you're carrying?"

  "Let me see." Oso hunched over the bag and rummaged through it. "You're in luck," he said, pulling two bows and several quivers of arrows from its depths.

  "Then it's time to hunt."

  "Finally," said Oso. "I've been wanting to do that for almost a month now."

  The two men walked back down the trail, the quivers strapped to their hips and the bows resting on their shoulders. The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the mountains to the east, the hazy red glow pushing back the dark of the night. A day's travel. The Highlanders still had a long way to go, but Thomas was confident that he and Oso could get them there safely.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  A Dangerous Animal

  "Anara seems quite taken with you," whispered Thomas as he adjusted the leather guard he wore on his right wrist.

  Killeran had taken away all their weapons when they were captured, and the reivers had even found the knives hidden in Thomas' boots. But they had never forced him to remove the wrist guard, for which Thomas was thankful. Otherwise, he would have been dead weeks before. Killeran would have recognized the birthmark on his wrist in an instant.

  Every so often Thomas extended his senses to get a fix on their pursuers. The reivers were coming after them fast, following the same trail the Highlanders used, but thankfully because of the terrain they would have to come on foot. Their horses would slow them down on this rocky path. When the reivers were no more than ten minutes behind them, he and Oso had slipped into the trees alongside the path.

  "What do you mean?" Oso looked at his friend with a quizzical expression.

  Thomas laughed softly. "What do I mean? What do I mean? You know exactly what I mean. I saw you when I caught up with the group. She was walking so close to you, from a distance I couldn't tell you two apart."

  "That was nothing," protested Oso.

  "And what about when we were talking. When she joined us she went right to your side."

  "You probably scared her," said Oso, trying to regain some of the ground he was rapidly losing in the conversation. "Those eyes of yours, when you're angry, even scare me sometimes. You're not a very big person, Thomas, but you certainly do know how to frighten people."

  Thomas smiled. It wasn't easy to keep Oso on the retreat, even verbally.

  "Just what are you saying, Oso?"

  "Well, Thomas, to be completely honest, you can be a bit scary. Green eyes glowing, balls of fire bursting forth from your hand. Frightening indeed."

  They both laughed softly.

  "Well, she does like you," said Thomas. "And I have a feeling that Anara is the type of person who, when she finds something she likes, goes after it. And she doesn't stop until she gets it."

  "I know," replied Oso. "That's what worries me."

  He was going to say more when Thomas raised a finger to his lips. The reivers had almost reached them. Giving his friend a pat on the shoulder, Thomas moved off to the left, gliding silently between the trees.

  In a few minutes, th
e sounds of footsteps crunching on the loose rock of the path traveled up the slope. Oso marveled at Thomas' abilities. If he could do what Thomas could, he'd bring home a feast to feed a village every time he hunted, rather than a single buck or boar. Then again, it was probably a good thing. How would he carry it all back by himself?

  Oso quickly pushed his idle wonderings from his mind. He had work to do. The black-clad reivers trotted up the trail, unaware of what lay before them. Whoever led the reivers in Killeran’s absence was being cautious, sending the scouts out first. Seven in all. The rest of the reivers must be farther down the trail, probably about a half-hour behind this group.

  Oso nocked an arrow to his bow and pulled the string back to his cheek. He waited until they were almost even with him before releasing. When Oso heard the twang of Thomas' bow off to his right, he also released. Thomas had moved farther down the trail, so he shot at the back of the group while Oso targeted the front. That way they wouldn’t aim for the same target.

  He didn't wait to see if his first arrow struck home. The screams of surprise and fear coming from the reivers confirmed the quality of his aim. Oso quickly pulled another arrow from where he had pushed a half dozen into the earth point first. He sighted and released, and then again.

  He was about to let another arrow fly, but silence greeted his ears. Looking out through the underbrush, Oso saw the seven reivers lying dead in the dirt and rocks. This would certainly give the reivers coming behind the scouts something to think about, and perhaps even make them more cautious. The more time they could buy for his people the better. Thomas stepped from behind a tree, his bow in hand.

  "Good shooting, Oso."

  "Thank you."

  "Are you ready for the next ambush?"