The Defender of the Light: Book 9 of The Sylvan Chronicles

by Wacht, Peter

  “Why would the great merchant and Lord Norin Dinnegan be interested in me?”

  “For the obvious reasons, my lord. Trade, of course. Many of his business ventures are located in the western Kingdoms, Laurag in particular. He is always seeking friends wanting to work with him to the benefit of both.”

  “I am always in the market for new friends,” replied Eshel, chuckling softly at his quip. His predatory leer suggested that at the moment he was more interested in becoming better, much closer friends with Kaylie.

  She ignored his stare, though it made her skin crawl. “My lord will be pleased to hear that. I should note as well that he is also seeking friends of a different persuasion.”

  “What type of friends might those be?” Eshel asked with obvious interest.

  Kaylie stepped forward, gliding elegantly across the room, Eshel’s eyes fixed on her alluring movement. She placed her hands on Eshel’s crossed arms, drawing closer to him. She had evaluated him within seconds of entering the room just as Oso did and she knew exactly which part of his body he thought with the most.

  “Friends with grander ambitions,” whispered Kaylie.

  Eshel stared into Kaylie’s eyes, captured by her beauty. For a moment he was speechless, his mind speeding down a thoroughly enjoyable path that proved quite distracting.

  “Perhaps we could continue this conversation in private, then. Better to keep such a matter between us. If your man would be so kind as to wait outside?”

  Kaylie considered the request for a moment, thinking that she might have overplayed her hand. That she may have been found out. But there was no guarantee that Eshel knew all that had occurred in the east. And the more she thought about it, the more she doubted that Maddan would have divulged his family’s waning fortunes, as it would have decreased if not eliminated Eshel’s interest in assisting him.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. She had started this ruse. She needed to finish it if she wanted to help Thomas. She looked back to Oso, nodding. His eyes, a bit worried but accepting, flashed as he turned and exited the room.

  Hearing the door close, Eshel leaned forward, his lips close to Kaylie’s ear. “Now, my dear. You were talking about becoming better friends?”

  18

  Compelled

  Thomas awoke with a start from a dreamy haze that he had tried to escape but failed to, time after time. It was only because of the feeling that someone else was in the room that he was able to break through the fog that enveloped his mind and kept his thoughts the unconnected jumble that they had become since he had been collared.

  He bolted upright in the bed, feeling a light pressure on his chest. Forcing his eyes open, it took a moment for him to adjust to the dim light of the candles that flickered in the corners of the room. He felt the fingers travel gently down his chest, trailing away as they brushed against his side and the top of his leg. The black onyx chain encircling his neck weighed on him, holding him in place.

  “Good evening, Thomas.”

  He didn’t bother to turn his head, recognizing the sultry voice. Corelia sat beside him on the bed, her hip pressed warmly against his own. Her hand went to his leg once again, this time drawing small circles on his thigh.

  “Corelia.”

  He ignored her touch, or at least tried to, instead striving once more to grasp hold of the Talent. Yet despite his best efforts, he failed. Again. His frustration was shifting to despondency. He had yet to find a weakness that he could exploit to break the power of the collar.

  “I know what you’re doing, Thomas.” Corelia spoke softly, almost a whisper. Her breath tickled his ear. “I can sense it through the collar. It won’t work. You need to accept your new circumstances. If you do, it will be better for both of us.”

  “And if I don’t?” Thomas’ voice barely contained his anger.

  Corelia’s fingertips moved slowly up and down his thigh. His body began to grow warm, though he tried to ignore the effect his captor’s attentions were having on him.

  “Then I’ll do what’s necessary. And you’ll do what I want.”

  The weight of the black chain around his neck felt like it had increased tenfold. Of its own volition, his right arm reached out, his hand settling on the back of Corelia’s neck and pulling her closer. He tried to stop himself, to pull back, but he couldn’t. He had no control over his actions. It was as if his body and mind had been disconnected. He was powerless against the Dark Magic of the chain. Then he was moving forward, his lips searching for Corelia’s. He kissed her, gently. She returned the kiss with passion, crushing herself against him, her hands cupping his face. The heat between them grew. Even though he wanted to, he couldn’t withdraw. He had no power over himself. Corelia controlled his actions. Controlled him.

  After several long moments, Corelia finally leaned back, her hands still resting on his chest. Thomas felt the weight of the chain lighten. His arm fell to the bed as she rose from where she had been sitting to look down at him. Face flushed, cheeks rosy, a seductive smile played across her lips.

  “But remember it doesn’t have to be that way. This new relationship could benefit us both, so continue to think about what we discussed earlier. As I said, whether you want to or not, you will do as I command. So better to give in. To accept where things stand now. As you’ve just experienced, it might be more fun than you think. There is so much more that we can do … together.”

  Thomas watched Corelia glide from the room, the silk of her dress clinging to her body. The door closed and he heard the lock click into place. With her gone, the weight of the collar lifted almost entirely, feeling now like no more than a necklace rather than a chain. Taking a deep breath, Thomas tried to clear his mind of the fears that threatened to engulf him. He had not wanted to do what he just did, but he had. If Corelia could make him accede to her wishes in this, she could make him do anything.

  He got up from the bed and stood in front of a full-length mirror set near the balcony. There had to be a way to remove the collar. But how? No clasp was visible. Pulling on it had no effect, and it was so tight around his neck that twisting it in an attempt to break it or cut through it wasn’t an option. He had already tried with his dagger to no avail. And using the Talent had proven ineffective. The collar didn’t let him touch the natural magic that flowed through the world.

  Cursing in anger, he struggled to master his rising anxiety. Taking a deep breath, trying to regain his focus, he decided to start over. To approach the problem from a different angle. He examined the black stone, stepping as close to the mirror as he could. The pieces, though imperfectly shaped, appeared flawless, shining brightly in the candlelight. No blemishes. No cracks. No chips. At least none that he could see, and his eyes were better than most.

  Then a thought came to him. When he had escaped the Crag on the night of his grandfather’s murder, he had been faced with a similar dilemma. He was trapped behind a steel door set in the stone and he was afraid to open it, not knowing if reivers, or something worse, waited for him on the other side. He had used the Talent, extending his senses through the tiny fissures in the stone, the cracks and imperfections invisible to the naked eye, to push the Talent through to the outside, until he had seen the small glade on the other side of the door that was free of danger.

  Perhaps he could do the same here. Perhaps there was a solution that he hadn’t considered. Corelia had left his mother’s necklace, marking him as a member of the Sylvana, in place around his neck, likely not knowing its importance. Shaped like the horn of a unicorn, the very end, crafted into a point, was sharper than any blade he had ever held. Taking hold of the amulet, he tilted his head so that he could get a better view of the collar. Using the mirror as his guide, he went to work.

  19

  Predator

  “So tell me, my Lady Lissa. Your instructions from Norin Dinnegan. What were they?”

  Lord Eshel had guided Kaylie to a couch hidden in a dim corner of the room. He sat close to her, his hands hol
ding her right hand, his eyes fixed upon hers. She saw something in those beady orbs that worried her. Though he tried to come across as dignified, as a member of the ruling class, there was something baser to him, a foreboding that made her flesh crawl. She sensed that he was a predator. But not like a warrior. No, Lord Eshel preyed on the weak, on those who couldn’t, or didn’t, feel as if they could defend themselves. On those who feared the consequences if they came forward with the truth.

  “Quite specific, my Lord Eshel.” Kaylie tried to shift to her left and put some space between her and the Inishmorian Lord. But to no avail. He simply slid across the couch with her, staying close. “He wishes to offer you aid. He believes that Inishmore needs you, and that your ruling the Kingdom would benefit him as well.”

  “So he needs me. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

  “Indeed, my lord. He said as much before I left him.”

  “And you, my lady?”

  “What, my lord?”

  Kaylie looked at Eshel in some confusion, not understanding the question. But then she saw what was coming next. Her left hand slipped to her side.

  “Need me. Do you need me, my Lady Lissa?” Eshel leaned into Kaylie, pushing his broad, pudgy chest against her, trying to force her down onto the couch.

  “No, my lord. I most certainly do not!”

  Eshel’s movement stopped in an instant, as he felt the blade against his throat, amazement streaking through him. This woman from Fal Carrach had moved faster than he thought anyone could.

  “Stand up, my lord. But slowly. I need you not at all, and I’m sure that you don’t need my knife slicing your throat by mistake, no matter how much you may deserve it.”

  20

  Best Laid Plans

  Using the servant’s hallway that connected the room that had become Thomas’ personal prison to Eshel’s private office, Corelia walked slowly, distracted, deep in thought, trying to make sense of the mix of emotions that warred within her. The more time that she spent with the Highland Lord, the more attracted to him she became. She admitted to herself that his response to her kiss could have been driven in large part by the magical collar she had affixed to his neck. But could there be something more to it? A desire of his own that Thomas could not suppress? If the circumstances were different, would the attraction between them be different? More natural?

  Corelia scowled as she tried to force those thoughts from her mind. It didn’t matter, did it? He was simply a pawn in the larger game that she played. If the time she spent with him proved to be more enjoyable than she expected, well, that was simply an added benefit. She had made her decision, chosen her fate. She was on a path now that she couldn’t step off, acknowledging, if only to herself, the severe consequence if she did. She could still have Thomas, she knew. Perhaps not in the way that she might hope, the choice made of his own free will, but he would still be hers.

  Still preoccupied and not bothering to knock, Corelia pushed open the door to Eshel’s office. She had taken several steps in before she realized that all was not as she had expected.

  “You!” Corelia froze in shock, never expecting the heir to Fal Carrach to be in Eshel’s manor, much less holding a blade to the Inishmorian Lord’s throat.

  “You!” The blazing anger in Kaylie’s eyes could have set a piece of paper on fire, but there were none to be found in Eshel’s office.

  Corelia gathered her breath and was about to scream for the guards when Oso slipped in behind her, a blade at her neck.

  “Not so fast, Princess.” Oso gently pushed his prisoner more to the center of the room. “Should I even call you that? Your father has lost his Kingdom, so what should I call you?”

  “My choice would be arrogant bi …”

  “Now, now, Kaylie,” interrupted Oso in a measured tone. “No need to go down that road.”

  “If you think you can escape …” Eshel tried to add some bluster to his voice, but his fear made his words come out as no more than a squeak, Kaylie’s blade digging deeper into his skin, a thin trickle of blood now dripping down his neck and staining the collar of his shirt.

  “Escape isn’t what they’re after, you fool.”

  “Correct, Princess …” Oso shook his head in annoyance. “We really need to figure this out. You’re not a princess anymore. Former princess? Lady?”

  “Oso, some other time,” said Kaylie with some exasperation.

  “Right, sorry. Take us to him, Corelia.”

  Noting the seriousness of Oso’s expression, the deadness in his eyes, the former Princess of Armagh realized immediately that the large Highlander had no qualms about ending her life if she refused to obey. She knew of this Marcher. How he and Thomas were like brothers. She had no doubt that he would do whatever was necessary to free him.

  “Back the way I came …”

  Before she could finish speaking, a hush fell over the room. Maddan Dinnegan, unaware of what was transpiring, entered through the door leading to the front of the manor.

  “Lord Eshel, if I might have a moment of your …”

  Maddan stopped in his tracks, frozen for a moment, analyzing the situation. Then foolishly he began to pull his sword from its sheath, and that’s when Kaylie’s best-laid plans fell apart.

  21

  Chipping Away

  Thomas stood in front of the mirror for almost twenty minutes, fighting to remain calm as a sense of urgency blossomed within him. He had selected what he perceived to be the weakest piece of onyx, though he really had no good way to tell, chipping at it carefully with the point of his Sylvan Warrior amulet.

  At first, nothing happened. Not even a scratch. The point of the unicorn’s horn seemed to have no effect, glancing off the hardened surface time after time. But after several dozen strikes, he noticed that his efforts were having some effect. Despite the density of the black stone, it was no match for the magicked silver of his amulet. Examining the necklace in the mirror, he discerned several almost invisible cracks or imperfections now marring the face of the stone. With every well-placed hit, a spark shot from the contact between the natural magic of the Talent and the twisted Dark Magic of the Shadow Lord, the two forces repelling one another.

  He stopped for a moment, hearing what he thought were shouts from some other part of the manor. He couldn’t really tell, as the room that served as his cell muffled the noise. But that feeling of time running out weighed upon him more heavily.

  He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to center himself, still holding his amulet, the warmth of the silver giving him hope. Reaching for the Talent for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he struggled again to control his irritation. It still felt like he was trying to catch a million drops of water at one time. The Talent was there, beckoning to him, wanting him to take hold, but still it slipped through his fingers. Shaking his head to clear his mounting frustration, he tried again, but this time instead of reaching for the Talent he concentrated on one small piece of the collar, where his amulet had chipped away a tiny, barely perceptible piece of the black onyx. To strengthen his focus, he placed the tip of his amulet against the scarcely perceptible imperfection.

  Thomas smiled, wanting to shout with joy. But he controlled himself. He could feel the Talent again, finally, though it was such a minute stream that he could do almost nothing of consequence with it. No matter. He finally had something that he could work with. Maintaining his concentration, he used his amulet to force the tiny stream of the Talent into the small fracture that he had created in the black stone.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, with an innumerable number of starts and stops, possible routes of success that ended abruptly and that required constant backtracking and starting over, the Talent wormed its way through the faults of that one small piece of onyx. Once the Talent found a foothold within that shiny, black stone, filling the invisible cracks and crevices, the natural magic of the world began to expand, the pressure building within the onyx as the Talent sought to find a way through.

/>   “Thomas!”

  Thomas opened his eyes, reluctantly releasing the Talent. Kaylie stood in the doorway, her hand guiding Corelia by the arm, her dagger pressed against the Princess of Armagh’s back.

  “Kaylie! Where’s Oso?” He had no doubt that his friend would stay very close to her side with Thomas taken.

  “In the other room. Eshel’s guards are on to us, and Oso is doing his best to keep them off us.”

  “Then it’s time to go.” Thomas walked toward Kaylie, seeking his freedom, but he took only a few steps before he froze, unable to move. “Kaylie, the collar,” he gasped.

  Kaylie briefly glimpsed a flash of black around Thomas’ neck, then turned her head at a shout and then a scream coming from Eshel’s audience chamber. It sounded like Oso was more than holding his own despite being pressed hard by Eshel’s soldiers. Nevertheless, time was of the essence. They needed to get in there to help him.

  “Release him, Corelia,” demanded Kaylie, needing Thomas free from whatever spell held him in order to make their escape. She pushed the blonde-haired beauty toward Thomas.

  Corelia laughed throatily. “It doesn’t work that way. Thomas is mine to command. He has no choice but to obey. Once affixed, the collar can never be removed. Never!”

  Stepping behind Thomas, Corelia took on a look of concentration. Then she smiled, her eyes burning brightly with spite.

  “Your meddling has come to an end, Kaylie,” hissed Corelia. “You’re going to pay for coming here … with your life.”

  Able to move again, Thomas walked calmly to the bed, opening a chest that sat in front of it.

  “Thomas, what are you doing? We need to get out of here.” Kaylie was perplexed, not understanding why he was so slow to leave.