The Lord of the Highlands (The Sylvan Chronicles Book 5)

by Peter Wacht

  Thomas had described the Talent to her in depth, and she had been both terrified and fascinated to learn that this remarkable skill simmered within her. Unfortunately, she knew of no one who could teach her, and mentioning it to anyone could lead to some uncomfortable circumstances. Many people believed the Talent was a myth, others that it had died out long ago. As a result, anyone with any skill in the Talent was often branded a user of Dark Magic, a power that came from the Shadow Lord.

  So those who did have a knack for the Talent often didn’t use it, and by not using it the skill eventually diminished to the point where it was no longer usable or simply disappeared. Kaylie had kept her secret these past few months, unwilling to be branded a witch, yet she also didn’t want to lose her skill. It was too exciting, too exhilarating, to give up. And, in fact, developing her skill in the Talent could prove to be extremely useful when she assumed the throne of Fal Carrach.

  It was almost time to make her way to the practice yard for her daily session with Kael, but she decided to try her hand at the Talent one more time. Concentrating on the brackenberry bushes lining the far wall of the garden, she tried to push her awareness into the foliage. Sweat began to form on her brow as she strained for some contact.

  About to give up, she remembered Thomas suggesting just a gentle nudge rather than trying to slam through a brick wall. Suddenly she felt a strange sense of recognition. Finches, chatterboxes and jays filled the bushes, and she could pick out each one distinctly.

  Her excitement at finally achieving success almost led to a break in her tenuous connection, so she redoubled her efforts to prevent losing it. Much to her surprise, this time it was much easier to gain control of the Talent, and her added efforts expanded her senses beyond the bushes and the wall. Remarkable! It seemed that once you accomplished something with the Talent, it became easier to do a second time. And even easier the third and so on, until a particular skill became second nature.

  She extended her senses farther beyond the wall, traveling slowly down a rarely used corridor in the Rock. She stopped when she came upon two people talking, and though she was on the other side of a wall and a good distance away, she could still hear their words quite clearly. The guilt that it was impolite to spy on someone’s conversation quickly passed through her, but the topic of the discussion immediately quashed the thought.

  “As I said, everything is ready,” said a raspy voice.

  “And the girl? What of her?”

  The second voice was stronger and held a note of authority.

  “She will be taken care of,” the raspy voice replied. Kaylie could almost imagine the person grinning at the words. “I suggest you worry about your part in this business. We must move quickly. If Gregory discovers our plans—”

  A bolt of fear shot through Kaylie. What could they be planning? And how would it affect her father? She strained for every word, not realizing in her excitement that it wasn’t necessary since she still held a strong grip on the Talent.

  “We must all take risks. Besides, he knows nothing, and it will stay that way. Until, of course, the arrow pierces his heart, but by then it will be too late.”

  “When will our helper be arriving?” asked the raspy voiced.

  “Tonight. At the Blue Moon Inn down by the harbor.”

  “How will I recognize him?”

  “By the scar on his neck. Also, he will be wearing…”

  Kaylie jumped up in alarm. They were moving beyond the range of her ability in the Talent! She tried desperately to extend her senses once more, but this time her efforts led to a complete loss of her control and the Talent slipped away from her. Cursing her luck, she quickly grabbed hold of it once again, pushing it beyond the wall and as far down the corridor as she could, but the two men were gone. Blast it!

  Overcome by the physical effort required in controlling the Talent, she dropped to the gravel path as a wave of exhaustion swept through her. She stayed there for several minutes trying to regain her senses. She didn’t realize how much of her energy she had poured into this single and simple use of the Talent.

  It was a good lesson for her. As she sat on the gravel path, her mind ran in a hundred different directions, attempting to piece together what she had overheard. The two men planned to assassinate her father. And the girl they were talking about was her. What was she supposed to do?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Renewed Energy

  The excitement of the previous day had infused the people of Raven’s Peak with a sense of urgency and determination. All the men of fighting age, some former Marchers and others having just reached their maturity, prepared for the journey to the Pinnacle. Thomas and Oso sat in Coban’s two rocking chairs as they watched the Swordmaster gather his things. They were leaving within the hour. They had to reach the Pinnacle by late afternoon tomorrow, and it was a day’s trip to the east.

  Satisfied that he hadn’t forgotten anything, Coban cinched his bag and turned to his two companions. Thomas could see there was something on his mind by the twist of his brow.

  “What’s bothering you, Coban? There’s no point in trying to hide it.”

  “So in addition to everything Oso has told me about you, you can read minds also?”

  “No, I can’t do that,” replied Thomas. “And I’m not sure I’d want to if I could. But it’s fairly obvious that something is gnawing at you. What is it?”

  Coban sighed. “I mean no disrespect, Thomas, but I must ask you something.”

  “Go ahead, Coban. I’d rather have everything out in the open.”

  “Why wait until now to announce yourself?” the Swordmaster asked, obviously uncomfortable with the question, but still feeling the need to ask it.

  His joy at Thomas’ announcement had not yet dissipated, but the rational part of his mind wondered why the Lost Kestrel had waited almost 10 years to reveal himself.

  “Why not after you destroyed Killeran’s fort? Why not before that?”

  Oso sat back in his chair, not expecting the question. Tension filled the room. He had wondered the same thing the day before, but chose not to broach the subject. The fact that Thomas declared himself at all was enough for him.

  Thomas stared at Coban for what seemed like an eternity, yet was only a few seconds. His expressionless face revealed nothing. He had been expecting this question, but he still didn’t know the best way to answer it. Finally, he decided to simply tell the truth.

  “When I was escaping from the Crag, my grandfather gave me three charges. One of those charges was to remember, to remember that I was a Highlander, a Kestrel Highlander. I knew that one day I had to return, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.”

  “Why not?” asked Oso, finding the idea preposterous. Why not want to return to your home?

  “Because when I was growing up in the Crag, I wasn’t treated very well. Almost everyone thought my mother was a witch, and because I was different, they thought I was one too. Only my grandfather treated me well. Everyone else simply tolerated me because I was the Highland Lord’s grandson.”

  Coban bowed his head in shame. “Thomas speaks the truth, Oso. He was treated like a stranger in his own home. I’m sorry, Thomas. I should have done more to help you.”

  “Please, Coban. There’s no reason to apologize. What’s done is done. I spent the next ten years with my grandparents, and it wasn’t until a few years ago that I learned how Killeran and his reivers were exploiting the Highlands. So I tried to help as best as I could. I had considered announcing myself, many times in fact, and I almost did after burning down the Black Hole. I was certain that you would recognize me when we first met, Coban. But you didn’t, so I chose to keep the secret awhile longer.”

  “Why?” asked Oso, still puzzled.

  “Because it didn’t seem like the right time. I just didn’t feel ready. I knew that if I declared myself then, I would have failed. I truly believe that.”

  Thomas pushed himself out of the chair and began pacing ar
ound the small cottage, trying to bring some order to his thoughts.

  “My grandfather said I would know when the right time would be, but the years kept going by, and I was well aware of the approaching deadline for validating my claim.”

  “Then what did it?” asked Coban.

  “About six months ago I made the mistake of trusting someone I shouldn’t have. I was captured by Rodric during the Eastern Festival in Tinnakilly. He accused me of being a murderer. Since none of the other rulers was strong enough to oppose him, he put me in the Labyrinth.”

  “The Labyrinth!” exclaimed Coban. “No one has ever escaped the Labyrinth.”

  Thomas smiled. “That’s no longer true. I got past the traps and killed the Makreen. As you probably know, according to the law I should have gone free. But Rodric concocted another story and more false allegations. He tortured me. He enjoyed that quite a bit, in fact.”

  Thomas’ smile grew larger – and more menacing, his grin appearing almost feral.

  “He paid for it though. I escaped. And that’s when I knew. I was lying in a small glade at the edge of Oakwood Forest when the spirit of my grandfather visited me.”

  Coban sat down heavily. This was almost too much for him to take in.

  “Talyn?”

  “Yes, Coban. Talyn’s spirit visited me. I can’t tell you how, but that’s what happened. He told me it was time. And after I recovered from my injuries, I knew it as well. It was time to come home.”

  Thomas stopped pacing and fixed both men with a steely gaze. “I’m sure many others will also wonder why I waited so long, and they’ll have little patience for my explanation. All I can say is that I will do my very best. I will free the Highlands or die trying.”

  Thomas’ words energized Coban, lighting the fire in his eyes once more. He could see his old friend in his grandson. Yes, Thomas was different in many ways, but some of his characteristics and traits were unmistakably those of his grandfather. Hidden away in this quiet young man was a charisma that could very well sweep up an entire Kingdom.

  “As will I,” said Coban, offering his hand to Thomas, who gladly took it. “I was your grandfather’s man, Thomas. As you probably remember, his Swordmaster. I will do whatever you need me to do. I’m your man now.”

  “Thank you.” Thomas smiled. He always knew that he could count on Coban. “Then come with me, Swordmaster, for we have much to do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Signs

  “You can see the signs,” said Catal Huyuk, bending over the rocky path leading around the mountainside. “It’s faint, but the signs are still there. Ogren, Fearhounds, in numbers we haven’t seen for several hundred years.”

  The tall warrior stood up. There were few trackers better than Catal Huyuk, and none had the ability to follow movements across stone as he did.

  “It’s as we feared,” said Rynlin, scanning the surrounding cliffs for any movement.

  You could never be too careful in the Charnel Mountains. Since the Shadow Lord had taken up residence in the heart of these peaks, their nature had changed. Once they had rivaled the Highlands in their beauty and majesty, but no more. The Dark Magic of the Shadow Lord had altered the landscape, blackening the peaks and turning the soil into a gritty, pitch-black substance.

  These mountains were dead. Perhaps the most unnerving aspect of them was the silence. Birds and animals no longer lived here, only the creatures of the Shadow Lord – and they preferred the night. Of course, there was also the wind. Sometimes you could hear voices within it. Calling to you. Teasing you. Seducing you. If you weren’t vigilant, they could consume you.

  “Yes, something is going on,” said Rya. “But what?”

  Rya and Rynlin had scouted the mountains for the past week, looking for some evidence that the Shadow Lord prepared to march south across the Northern Steppes with his Dark Horde. By all indications he wasn’t ready for that yet. There were no signs of larger groups or base camps. What worried them, though, was the telltale evidence that something was afoot — signs such as the one Catal Huyuk had just picked out, smaller groups of dark creatures, all edging closer to the southern border of these dark peaks.

  “A smaller force, perhaps?” suggested Catal Huyuk. “Clearly, based on what we’ve found, Blackheart is not yet ready to march against the Breaker. But perhaps he has some other goal in mind. There is much going on in the Kingdoms at the moment, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he attempted to influence certain events.”

  A screech farther up the peak startled the three companions, Catal Huyuk drawing his axe from his belt and Rya and Rynlin both taking hold of the Talent. Just as quickly, silence reigned in the Charnel Mountains once more. The three studied the surrounding area carefully, looking for any activity. Satisfied there was none, they relaxed somewhat, though Catal Huyuk still held his axe and Rya and Rynlin retained their grip on the Talent. Most likely some dark creature had succeeded in finding an early meal.

  “I think you’re right, Catal,” answered Rynlin. “We suspect the Shadow Lord is allied to the High King. With the Council of the Kingdoms approaching, it stands to reason that they have some plan in mind. And it may involve Thomas.”

  “I knew I should have gone with him,” fretted Rya, her thoughts turning to her grandson.

  “We discussed this, Rya. He has to do this on his own.”

  “I know, Rynlin,” answered Rya, sighing in frustration. She wanted so desperately to be watching over her grandson. But she knew she couldn’t. Rynlin was right. He had to do it on his own. Still, that wouldn’t keep her from worrying about him.

  “He will succeed,” interjected Catal Huyuk. “He is a strong boy. And there is a power in him that I have never seen in anyone else. Worry if you want, Rya, but it’s unnecessary. He is a Sylvan Warrior, and rightly so. Soon he will be the Highland Lord, and again rightly so.”

  Catal Huyuk spoke as if his words were simple logic, as if there were no other possibilities.

  Rya smiled at the fearsome warrior’s confidence. “Thank you, my friend. I hope you’re right.”

  “There is no hope in this, Rya,” replied Catal Huyuk. “I am right.”

  Rynlin tried not to laugh during the exchange. Once Catal Huyuk made up his mind about something, there was absolutely no way to change it.

  “Are you still planning on leaving us, Rya?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’m curious about what happened yesterday. As you know, I don’t like leaving questions in my wake, especially when they’re connected to Thomas, even if just indirectly.”

  “All right,” said Rynlin. “Catal Huyuk and I will continue our scouting and swing a little farther south. We’ll try to find where the Shadow Lord’s creatures plan to make their appearance on the Northern Steppes. Perhaps there’s something we can do to dissuade them.”

  “Just be careful, Rynlin. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.” Rya’s tone was one that brooked no argument.

  “Rya, do I ever?” Rynlin’s innocent expression looked completely out of place.

  “Yes, you do. And especially when you’re with Catal. You two make a dangerous pair.”

  “You injure me with your words, my love,” said Rynlin, adopting a melodramatic pose. “To have so little faith in me, what am I to do?”

  The diminutive woman struck her husband in the chest with her fist, catching him off guard.

  “Just remember what I said, Rynlin. If you do anything stupid, I’ll skin you alive.”

  Then in a flash of white light she was gone. A large eagle stood in her place. The bird squawked one more warning then lifted off the ground, using its powerful wings to pull itself higher into the sky as it headed south.

  “A remarkable woman, your wife,” said Catal Huyuk, watching the eagle become no more than a speck in the distance.

  “Yes, she is,” said Rynlin, rubbing the spot where his wife had hit him. “Remarkable, and dangerous.”

  “An intriguing combination,” said the tall warrior.
“Perhaps one day I will find a woman like that.”

  “If you do, my friend,” said Rynlin, grabbing his traveling pack and heading farther up the small trail, “run for the hills. You won’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into until it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Knowing the Ways

  “As I was saying the day before yesterday,” said Coban, “Once you pass the three Tests, you may have to face a final challenge.”

  Thomas smiled as he followed Coban along the hunter’s trail. Winding around the base of the mountain the path eventually led to the Pinnacle. Behind him were Oso, Aric and the other Highlanders from Raven’s Peak – almost two hundred men in all. Most wore their cloaks tight around their shoulders, protecting against a damp misty rain. The day had dawned cloudy and cold, and had only gotten worse.

  Thomas knew exactly what he must do to become the Highland Lord, but he chose to humor Coban. Obviously, the Swordmaster was nervous, as he rarely rambled on like this. Better to let him get it out now. With Coban’s explanation and Rynlin’s before that regarding the requirement that must be met to “stand on high,” the Highland phrase for becoming the Lord of the Highlands, Thomas wasn’t too concerned about what was going to happen during the next few days. He was certain the Tests would be challenging, but he doubted they would be as difficult as the obstacles he faced when seeking to become a Sylvan Warrior.

  Instead, Thomas concentrated on what he would have to do after becoming the Highland Lord. Several critical issues demanded immediate attention, and probably a few others he wasn’t aware of. He had to remove the reivers once and for all. True, he and Oso had dealt them a serious blow with Rynlin and Rya’s help during their escape from the Black Hole, but that wasn’t enough. The reivers still controlled much of the lowlands. He would have to root them out.