by Peter Wacht
After a few years of prospecting, he could live out his wildest dreams. So he had left five years ago for the Highlands with images of gold and jewels dancing before his eyes. His decision had not worked out as he had hoped. He was still stuck in the same blasted fort after all this time, with no fortune to speak of and no way to leave the Highlands safely.
It was a cruel twist of fate, he thought, as he meandered back to the reivers’ barracks. He knew who was getting rich off the Highlands, and it definitely wasn’t him. But there was nothing he could do about that, not without getting his throat slit, or worse. He had seen the warlocks at work, and he knew that when it came to the users of Dark Magic, there were worse fates than death.
Resin had been given the early morning watch a few weeks before, but the hours involved — from midnight to dawn — were better used sleeping than standing atop a fortress wall staring out at a forest where nothing moved. With Killeran out of the Black Hole — a name created by one of the first Highland slaves, and a name Resin thought particularly appropriate — he had decided that returning to the barracks early for some gambling was a better way to spend his time.
Some of his friends used the guardroom leading down to the cells beneath the barracks for their late-night card games. If he was quick, he could play the last few hours before sunrise then sleep away the morning. He doubted anyone would notice if he left his post early. And if there was a problem, he could always blame it on someone else.
Gripping his cloak tightly to his neck to ward off the chill, Resin jumped up the steps of the barracks and hurried inside. He rubbed his hands together briskly as he walked down the hallway toward the guardroom, trying to remember how many gold and silver coins he had in his purse. He was feeling lucky tonight. Very lucky. Once he got his hands on a deck of cards or pair of dice, no one could beat him.
That was strange. Where were his friends? Essar, Nimo and Uzzen never missed a game. Tonight was the night, wasn’t it? Resin stepped into the room, puzzled by its emptiness. They always played here, yet except for the table set up against the far wall, it was empty. Kursool had been giving them trouble about where they could gamble a few nights before. Maybe his friends had moved the game. But where? Besides Killeran’s quarters and the warlocks’ barracks, there was nowhere else to play. And only a fool would willingly go to either place.
Resin stood there for a moment, thinking on what to do. Then he noticed the steel door leading down to the jail cells. He smiled. That must be it. It was the perfect place to play. The two prisoners below certainly wouldn’t have anything to say about it.
Pulling out a torch from the rack next to the door, he lit it with one of the torches stuck in the wall. Hurrying to the door, Resin looked behind him first to make sure no one saw him, then slipped through the entrance. He was about to pull the door closed when he felt something against his leg. Looking down, he jumped back in terror, banging his head against the doorframe.
Nimo’s sightless eyes stared up at him from the top step, his body perched against the wall. He didn’t bother to look for the others. He had survived in the army because of his wits, having learned quickly that acting bravely was the easiest way to get yourself killed. He’d let someone else handle it. Running back through the entrance, torch still in hand, he slammed the door behind him. The crash echoed down the hallway. If that didn’t wake the entire barracks, his terrified screams soon did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Discovered
The shouts coming from the reivers’ barracks told Thomas and Oso everything they needed to know. The slain guards had been discovered, and it wouldn’t take long for the reivers to find them. Torches were already coming in their direction as the reivers went from cage to cage.
“Oso, take the lead. Make for the north wall. I’ll bring up the rear.”
Without hesitation Oso ran to the front of the group and got them moving. Some of the smaller children were scared. You could see it in their eyes. They knew the reivers were coming after them. But the women did an excellent job of keeping them calm and under control. Thomas couldn’t afford to have a dozen small children running every which way. He’d never be able to bring them all to safety if that happened. The already grim expressions on the faces of the men darkened. They had tasted their freedom, some for the first time in years. They weren’t about to give it up again without a fight.
The group moved as quickly as it could, which was really just a fast shuffle, toward the north wall of the fort. It wasn’t long before Thomas saw the other Highlanders waiting for them. Good girl, Anara. She, too, had heard the shouts, and was forming the men into a battle line in front of the women and children. Even in their weakened condition, the Highlanders were not to be taken lightly. Thomas was confident that they could hold off the reivers until Killeran returned with his warlocks. But that would negate all he had accomplished so far. He wanted to get as many of these people into the forest as possible.
As he expected, the reivers were expanding their search, having discovered the empty cages. He’d just have to speed things up. A dozen or so torches were already heading in his direction. Stopping on a small slope just before the north wall, Thomas let Oso take the last group of Highlanders down to the others.
The reivers were almost upon him. He could hear their shouts and curses, and the amazement in their voices at finding their slaves gone. Thomas grinned wickedly. They were in for an even nastier surprise. They had not taken the time to wonder how the Highlanders had escaped from their cages without keys.
Turning away from the oncoming reivers, Thomas focused on the stockade wall a hundred feet to the west of where the Highlanders waited to do battle. Time to put the next part of his plan into motion. In an instant he took control of the Talent, letting it course through his body from his toes to his fingertips. The power flowing within him was indescribable. The self-imposed shackles fell away, and Thomas was finally free to use his Talent to the fullest of his ability. He took in more of the power, and then even more, until he held more of the Talent within him than ever before.
He had waited for this moment for a very long time. All of his emotions pushed their way to the edge of his consciousness. Maintaining his concentration, and his hold on the Talent, he let his anger at what Killeran had done to him and his people rise from a simmer to a boil. The pain that bastard had inflicted on him was nothing compared to that of the men, women and children who had died because of Killeran’s greed. Thomas used his anger to focus his will, and soon white-hot rage matched the brightness of the power within him.
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.
Thom
as 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 illuminated 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 s
mall 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.”
