by Peter Wacht
During the last few weeks he had argued repeatedly with his grandparents. Images of his people suffering in the mines never left him, nor did his feeling of helplessness. He had to do something, but each time he considered declaring himself the Highland Lord, Rynlin and Rya harshly called him a fool. In time he would return to take his grandfather’s place. He had to wait until then. If he went back before he was ready, however, they told him that he would fail, and with him would die the hopes of his people.
At first, Thomas thought his grandparents were simply speaking out of fear, which was to be expected considering what he had just experienced. But he quickly discarded that notion. Rynlin and Rya weren’t trying to protect him as they had before. They had realized during his captivity that they could no longer treat him like a child. Instead they wanted to help him. So Thomas wisely heeded their warning.
Of course, that didn’t mean he had to stay within the confines of the Isle of Mist. No, he could still do something to help his people. So Thomas decided that he would continue to perform the duties required of a Sylvan Warrior, and perhaps add a task or two, such as preventing the reivers from putting any more of his people to work in the mines.
With Beluil trotting along at his side, he and the large wolf dodged among the trees, heading in a southwesterly direction toward where the Burren met the Highlands. It was as good a place as any to start his search. Reaching out for the Talent, Thomas let the familiar feeling rush through his body, then focused his attention on the surrounding forest. The bustle of activity hidden beneath the veil of calm comforted Thomas. In his mind he watched the ants carrying bits of food back to their hole, the woodpeckers searching for bugs in the trees, and the otters swimming in the Southern River.
They traveled in companionable silence for several hours, Beluil running off occasionally on a whim, but always returning to his friend’s side. Thomas had relayed to the black wolf as much as he could about what had happened the last time he had ventured into the Highlands. Since then, Beluil had stayed close. So close in fact that the two had been virtually inseparable. They were almost to the edge of the Burren when Thomas stopped abruptly. Beluil watched his friend in anticipation, knowing what was to come.
Thomas stood transfixed for several seconds, neither speaking nor blinking. A faraway look entered his eyes. Finally, he came out of the trance, his calm expression replaced by one of purpose. He relayed what he had sensed to Beluil. Evil. Wrongness. In the forest. Many evil. Quick death. Blood. Death. Fear. Scent of fear. Fearhounds. Fearhounds. Fearhounds!
Beluil howled with fury. Wolves had no love for dark creatures, and the only thing they hated more than Ogren were Fearhounds. Thomas adjusted the pack on his shoulder, holding his sword in one hand and his bow in the other. He ran through the forest, easily sidestepping the trees that loomed up to block his way. Beluil followed closely at his heels. Their passage was barely noticeable, their quick movement seemingly no more than a slight breeze. The pack of Fearhounds was far to the north. He and Beluil would have to push hard, yet neither cared as they grinned in anticipation. The chase had begun.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Various Tacks
Gregory had hoped for a nice quiet day with his daughter, free of the everyday demands made on him. Yet quiet days were few and far between, even when traveling along the edge of the Burren. The troop of twenty soldiers marching around them ensured that. As the King of Fal Carrach he could do almost anything he pleased, but taking a few days to be alone with his daughter was not one of them.
Kael almost had a fit when Gregory told him he was only planning to take five soldiers with him. The Highlander finally relaxed when Gregory promised to take a full troop. Even then Kael was barely satisfied. He had mentioned the increasing number of reports coming back from the west and north about dark creatures roaming the border region. There was also more talk of this Raptor, who could be either friend or foe. Still, such rumors would not keep Gregory from his objective.
Lately, he had been spending more and more time on the affairs of state, due mostly to that uppity, weak-willed power monger playing at High King. A day didn’t seem to go by without discovering some new scheme directed at Fal Carrach that was hatched jointly by Rodric and his sidekick, Loris of Dunmoor. And that wasn’t the worst of it. At least that was something he could deal with competently.
Women were an entirely different matter. Sarelle, Queen of Benewyn, had sent a formal correspondence — several in fact — asking Gregory to visit. Sarelle was a remarkably beautiful woman, her auburn hair blazing in the sunlight, her sharp, green eyes full of mischief. But that’s what worried him. When Sarelle even glanced at him, his face became red and his palms sweaty. Though he was a king, he felt like a tongue-tied boy in her presence.
He had thanked her for the invitation, but respectfully declined, noting several pressing matters that required his attention. Much to his surprise she wrote back saying that she understood. Instead she’d visit him! Now what was he supposed to do? He had pondered that question for most of the morning, until Kaylie started in on him once again.
Ruling a kingdom was simple compared to raising a daughter too much like yourself. A daughter he had seen much too little of in recent weeks. Hence, his idea to patrol Oakwood Forest for a few days to be with her, and perhaps find a solution to his problem with Sarelle without embarrassing himself.
“Really, father, I just don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn,” declared Kaylie, striding along next to her father in a linen shirt and tight-fitting breeks, her always-present dagger at her belt.
She had tried many different approaches in her argument with him so far today, from pleading to begging to demanding. Now she was trying to reason with him. As he looked down at his daughter, he saw her mother — long, raven black hair, deep blue eyes, a beautiful smile and the tenacity of a bulldog.
“I may be the daughter of a king, but that should not keep me from learning how to fight with a sword. As a woman, you never know when such knowledge might prove useful.”
Her tone sounded rational, but her eyes spoke of something else — irritation. Her father was probably the most obstinate man she knew. Nothing she had tried so far had worked. It just wasn’t fair. So what if she was a woman. That should have no bearing on her learning how to fight with a blade.
A woman. Gregory had to admit his daughter was right. She was no longer a girl. But it was so hard for him to think of her as anything else. He remembered when she used to come running into the throne room covered in dirt from playing in one of the gardens, ordering him to come with her at once so she could go for a pony ride. She had last done that years ago, but it seemed like only yesterday. Of all the traits she had to inherit from him, why did it have to be his obstinacy?
“You’re absolutely correct, Kaylie. I shouldn’t treat you like a child. You’re a woman now and should be treated as such.” She missed the sly smile that crept onto his face.
“Thank you for coming to that realization, father.”
Maybe all her efforts were finally going to pay off. Even the strongest of men wore down after hours of constant wheedling.
“In fact, it probably is time to start your training.”
“Oh, father, thank you so—”
“I’ll talk with Elissa as soon as we get back.”
Kaylie’s smile became a look of confusion. Elissa? What did Elissa have to do with learning the sword?
“Don’t you mean Kael, father?”
“Kael? What does he have to do with this?” replied Gregory, doing his best to keep an even tone.
“But Kael’s the Swordmaster. Why would Elissa teach me how to use a sword?”
“She wouldn’t,” answered Gregory, quickly scanning the forest around them and making sure his men were where they were supposed to be. The habits of a soldier died hard. “She’ll be teaching you the six gifts of womanhood, passed down from the ancients: beauty, voice, sweet speech, needlework, wisdom and chastity. As a yo
ung woman, you need to know how to act properly, and Elissa is just the right person to teach you.”
Caught completely off guard, Kaylie looked up at her father dumbstruck. The six gifts of womanhood? Where had he come up with that? Noticing a few more streaks of grey in the hair by his temple, the strands confirmed her suspicions. He was either growing senile or having fun at her expense. Well, two could play at that game.
“Excellent, father, I can hardly wait. But I think five is plenty. Chastity is such a tired, obsolete concept in this day and age.”
“What?” Her father looked like he was going to swallow his tongue in shock. It took him a few seconds to realize that now he was on the receiving end. His shock quickly turned to irritation. Why was his daughter so exasperating? As soon as she bit on to something, she never let go. “All right, enough of that.”
Kaylie refused to give in. “Why can’t I learn to fight, father? Just because I’m a girl? That’s just not right.”
“It’s not because you’re a girl, Kaylie. It’s because you’re a princess.” Gregory sighed in frustration. “I’ve told you that many times before.”
“But all the boys my age are learning how to fight. Please, father, you know I can do it. Kael says I’m good enough with a dagger to take part in the competition at the Eastern Festival, and that’s just a few months away. In fact, he says I’m better than any of the boys he’s training now.”
“Yes, but they’re training to be soldiers. You’re not. You’re a princess, and someday you will be queen. As a result, you have certain responsibilities to the Kingdom and to your people. Learning how to fight with a sword is not one of those responsibilities.”
“But what about me? What about what I want to do? Doesn’t that matter?” Kaylie’s voice cracked in desperation.
While growing up she had done almost anything she wanted. Recently, though, she had learned that as a princess, you often faced more restrictions than freedoms.
“There are times when you must put the interests of your people, the people you are responsible for, before your own.” Gregory tried to control his temper, but Kaylie had pushed him too hard. “You have gotten your way for far too long, Kaylie, and for that I blame myself. Perhaps if your mother were here, things would be different.”
A tinge of sadness crept into his voice. “You are a princess, and you must learn how to rule Fal Carrach. I didn’t raise you to be a spoiled brat, so stop acting like one. You will do as I say, and that’s the end of it.”
Gregory marched forward toward one of his soldiers. He hated having to put his foot down, but sometimes it was necessary. It was not the way he wanted to start the day, and hopefully didn’t bode ill for the rest of it. All he had wanted to do was to spend a few days with his daughter in relative peace and quiet. Instead, he had walked into the middle of a maelstrom.
The end of it, was it, Kaylie fumed. The end of it! We’ll see about that. Her father might think the argument over, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Taking a few moments to gather her thoughts and plan her next line of attack, Kaylie studied the foliage around her. They walked along a woodsman’s trail barely wide enough for two people to travel abreast. She smiled every so often as an animal poked its head out from the bushes to see who intruded in its territory. First a squirrel, next a rabbit, then even a red fox.
The forest was absolutely remarkable, in her opinion. True, she was a princess, and had people to help her do whatever was needed, from picking out her clothes to starting her bath. Yet, there were the countless court functions as well, from having to receive lecherous, old ambassadors who lied through their teeth to sitting through the most mundane, boring feasts for hours on end. What she would give for just a few days of freedom — to decide what she was going to do, when she was going to do it and how.
The stone blocks of the Rock in recent months had begun to feel like cell walls. It was strange, really. The Rock was her home. Yet at times all she wanted to do was escape — from the Rock, from her responsibilities, from her life as a princess. Kaylie smiled as her imagination drifted in a dozen different directions. She wanted excitement. She wanted adventure. She wanted romance. Kaylie glanced at her father’s back, just a few feet in front of her.
For one strange second, she thought she might have voiced what she was thinking, but she hadn’t, thankfully. If she had, the shouting match they had just engaged in would have been nothing more than a quiet conversation compared to the inevitable argument to follow. Try as he might, her father refused to see her as anything but a little girl.
“You know, father, I learned something very interesting just the other day during one of my history lessons.”
“Oh, what was that?” Gregory whispered a silent thank you, glad that Kaylie had finally decided to talk of something else.
“It had to do with the Highlands,” she began, picking up her pace so she walked by his side again. When she got there, she gave her father her sweetest smile. She had watched him interact with other rulers and ambassadors. He would treat them with the greatest respect and utmost kindness, even if they insulted him. Then, when they were feeling comfortable and in control, her father would hit them like you would a stake with a sledgehammer, taking command of the situation with the sudden change in momentum and making his own demands, which were usually agreed upon. “The first Highland Lord was not a Lord after all.”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Exactly what I said, father,” said Kaylie, walking along beside him. “The first Highland Lord wasn’t really a lord.” She knew she had piqued his interest.
“All right, out with it girl. I can’t remember my history. How can the first Highland Lord not really be a lord? You mean he was a commoner?”
“No, not at all, father. The first Highland Lord wasn’t a he, but a she, so obviously she couldn’t be a lord. Her name was Alessandra, and when the clans of the Highlands gathered to choose their first Highland Lord, everyone assumed that it would be a man. But it didn’t work out the way they thought it would.
“To become the Highland Lord the leaders of the different clans had to take a series of tests. The lord of one of the clans — I can’t remember his name right now, but he’s not important anyway — had died in a skirmish with Ogren. Because of that Alessandra, the dead clan lord’s wife, took his place according to their laws until the clan chose a successor. But they didn’t have time to select one because all the clans had to reach the gathering, so Alessandra went as the clan lord.
“Anyway, there were many different tests that the clan leaders had to pass, from reciting the history of the Highlands to fighting the best of the Highland champions to knowing the intricacies of the law. She passed all those tests without any trouble at all, but most of the other clan leaders failed. The last test was one of weapons. The clan leaders who remained, I think six or seven in all plus Alessandra, entered the training circle, and the last one to remain standing without being cut would be declared the first Lord of the Highlands. Obviously no one expected Alessandra to survive the competition.
“But she won!” The excitement in Kaylie’s voice was tangible, bringing a wary smile to Gregory’s face. He knew exactly where she was going with her story, but he didn’t want to interrupt. If nothing else, it was good to know that she at least paid attention to some of her lessons.
“It just so happened that she was an only child, her mother having died when she was a baby. Her father didn’t really know how to raise a girl all by himself, so he had taught her how to fight with a dagger, a sword and a bow. That training was put to good use. By the end of the competition she was the last one standing in the training circle without a drop of blood somewhere on her body. As a result, she was declared the first Highland Lord. So the first Highland Lord wasn’t really a lord after all. And because of her, from that time forward, Highland women trained to become warriors just like the men.”
“An excellent story, Kaylie,” said Gregory. “I’m glad to see that you
enjoy at least a few of your lessons.”
“Yes, a very few,” she said in frustration. Was her father really that dense? “Don’t you see my point? If the women of the Highlands can learn how to fight, so can I. Alessandra was the ruler of the Highlands. I will rule Fal Carrach some day. It only seems appropriate that I should—”
“Enough, Kaylie,” said Gregory, chopping the air with his hand to emphasize his point. “Enough. Despite your story, my opinion remains the same.”
Kaylie stared at her father with daggers in her eyes. She mimicked her father chopping his hand through the air, mouthing the word “enough,” but making sure that he couldn’t see her while she did it. He was the most stubborn—
Fine, he still refused to teach her the sword. The trip wasn’t over yet, and she could be just as stubborn as he, even more so. By the time they returned to the Rock, she’d have what she wanted.
“So what do you think about this Raptor, father?” Kaylie asked sweetly, though her eyes failed to match her voice. Try as she might, her irritation remained. “You know, the man, or animal, or whatever, that hunts the Highlands for the creatures of darkness. I keep hearing a new story every week about how this Raptor saved a small farmhouse from a band of Fearhounds or protected a lone woodsman from Ogren. Just the other day a farmer told Kael that he had stumbled upon the still warm bodies of a Shade and a half-dozen Ogren in one of his fields. So what do you think, father?”
“I think you should spend less time listening to far-fetched stories.”
“They might not be stories, father. Exaggerations, perhaps, but there’s always a kernel of truth in every story. You told me that once, you know.”
