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

by Wacht, Peter

  At first, Thomas worried that the path the Key selected for him would lead him into a pack of dark creatures. Though the Dark Horde had emptied much of Blackstone of the Shadow Lord’s servants, many dark creatures still ran about obeying whatever orders they had been given. But the Key apparently took this into account, steering Thomas on a winding route that kept him clear from any threats.

  With the sun beginning to rise in the east, turning the black of night into a murky grey, Thomas came to a stop in front of two huge, black doors made of steel. He looked around quickly, satisfied that no dark creatures approached from behind. Off to the side he glimpsed the main square of Blackstone, the wind blowing the black ash into dozens of small dust devils that spun across the large, flat courtyard. He waited for several minutes to ensure that nothing approached that could take him by surprise. Then he put his right hand against where the doors met. Not unexpectedly, a mass of sparks shot out in response to his touch. Dark Magic held these massive gates closed.

  The Key had steered him to this entrance, which he gathered led into a large domed chamber from what he could see of the outside of the keep, and was urging him to enter the hall. The pull was growing more insistent and with it his nervousness. It felt like a swarm of butterflies flitted about in his stomach. Therefore, Thomas took a moment to regain his composure, taking several deep breaths and attempting to clear his mind as he tried to calm himself. He had known his possible destiny for quite some time, yet he had distracted himself from it by focusing on all the steps that needed to be taken to reach this point. By concentrating on the process, on what he had to do, he had kept himself from thinking about the likely result of all his actions. He couldn’t do that anymore. Now, he needed to take the final step. He needed to accept his fate.

  For just a moment, he was afraid. The terror of what was to come almost incapacitated him. But then he forced his fear down, his surging anger taking its place. For ten years, he had been hunted. He had fought off assassins and almost died countless times. He had sought to protect his friends and those who were perhaps more than friends. He had faced the burdens of needing to free his homeland and meet his responsibilities as a Sylvan Warrior. He was tired of it. Tired of it all. It was time to end this. If he didn’t survive, so be it. But he would make the Shadow Lord pay a steep price for his death. He would pay the evil that had plagued him for the last decade what it was owed, and he would do all that he could to help the Sylvana, the Kingdoms and, perhaps most important, Kaylie.

  Steeling himself, he stepped up to the doors. Thinking that he could do as he did with the Key when entering Blackstone, he pulled the artifact from beneath his shirt and directed a small stream of the Talent into the diamonds that ran the length of the steel. He had hoped that the Key would then allow him to push open one of the doors quietly so that he could slip into the room without being discovered. But the Key seemed to have something grander in mind. Even though he had infused the artifact with barely any of the Talent, the two doors, just seconds before magically sealed, blasted inward, slamming against the inner walls, one of the doors sliding off its hinges as it bounced back from the stone.

  The blast reverberated throughout the chamber and echoed across the city. So much for an unobtrusive entrance, thought Thomas. Stepping on silent feet into the chamber, he tucked the Key back beneath his shirt.

  Surveying the room quickly, though he had never been here before, he felt like he had. Then the realization struck him. The chamber was exactly as it had appeared in his dreams. The shadows flitting to and fro at the edges of the chamber. The black and white tiles on the floor. The disc in the center portraying two figures he couldn’t quite make out in the gloom without getting closer.

  “Thomas!”

  Thomas pulled his sword from the scabbard on his back at the scream, finding the source at the far end of the room on a balcony that looked out over the square. Kaylie stood there, a tall, dark shadow next to her. He couldn’t discern any real shape to the creature that towered over the Princess of Fal Carrach, its misty, black robes disappearing now and then into the swirling shadow, clearly identifying only the brightly glowing red eyes. Eyes that burned the color of blood.

  Thomas realized that the time had come. His true enemy stood before him. Surprisingly, he felt lighter. The stress and worry that had plagued him for years flowed out of him, the often crushing weight on his shoulders lifting, leaving him relaxed and ready.

  The Shadow Lord turned his blazing eyes toward the intruder. He had had the Princess of Fal Carrach brought up from her cell, wanting to continue what he had started the day before. Testing her. Probing with his Dark Magic. Seeking to find her weaknesses in order to break through her defenses. Trying to determine how much effort it would take to turn this young woman strong in the Talent into a tool that he could use to his advantage. But he had barely gotten started before he had been so rudely interrupted.

  “So boy,” whispered the Shadow Lord, his sibilant voice carrying throughout the circular chamber. “You live. I had been informed otherwise, but I should have expected as much. My congratulations on a small victory, but it shall be short-lived. The time has come for us to end this.”

  Thomas stood there with his sword drawn, his expression hardening. Despite the fear that thudded in the very pit of his stomach, the sense of foreboding that threatened to overcome him, he maintained control of his will and determination, allowing his anger to drive him. His green eyes flared.

  “Yes, the time has come,” he said calmly, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

  “Thomas,” whispered Kaylie, still finding it difficult to believe that he was alive. Tears trickled down her cheeks, her joy at seeing him mixed with her fear for his well-being.

  “Step away from him, Kaylie.”

  She struggled to shift her feet, trying to run toward Thomas, but she found that she couldn’t move a muscle in her body. The Shadow Lord had used his Dark Magic to hold her in place. The best that she could do was turn her head from side to side.

  Recognizing what the Shadow Lord had done, Thomas’ eyes flashed once again, his anger increasing. With one glance the Shadow Lord deciphered the truth.

  The Shadow Lord’s wicked laugh echoed around the circular chamber. “This will be a very good day, boy. I am glad that you’ve joined me here. After all, the requirements of the prophecy must be met. I’m not going to kill you quickly. I’ll do it slowly, so your love can watch you die. Won’t that be fun?”

  The Shadow Lord continued. “First, my Dark Horde will crash upon those who oppose me like a wave upon the rocks, killing your people who now hide behind a wall. They will discover that a bunch of forest weaklings are no match for one of my power. Then, and only then, once you’ve experienced the breadth of your loss, will I kill you. If you behave yourself, it will be quick. If not, I can make it last a very long time. Either way, you will die.”

  55

  As You Command

  Gregory of Fal Carrach sat his horse with the Breaker at his back. The massive wall rose three hundred feet into the sky, the black stone appearing sheer as it caught the gleam of the rising sun, but he knew better. He had spent the last hour walking his mount along the base of the towering barrier, a few times running his hand across the stone. By the look of the barricade he expected it to be smooth, but that was a false assumption. There were nooks and crannies throughout, which he assumed ran all the way to the top. Perhaps the stone had been slick and smooth at one time, but centuries of rain and wind had scoured its surface. That could be a problem in the battle that fast approached, but he would worry about that later, when he hoped that he could do something about it.

  Sarelle of Benewyn had followed him the entire time, not saying a word. She simply stayed with the King of Fal Carrach, tracking his eyes, what Gregory examined, whether it was the Breaker or the land that stretched out in front of the towering wall. He had been charged with defending this place against a host that far exceeded his own. So any detail, an
y finding upon his inspection of what would become the battlefield, could be all important to their success or failure.

  “They will come here?” Sarelle finally asked, as the two faced the long grass rippling at the soft touch of the wind in front of them. The plain extended for a mile across the front of the Breaker, rolling hills and thickets bracketing the space on both sides.

  Gregory took a moment before answering, surveying the landscape one last time. “They will,” he replied. “Our scouts report that the first Ogren war parties are no more than an hour away. Though the many war bands are traveling separately they should all be coming together right about here. This is where we will fight.”

  “Are we ready?”

  Gregory turned in his saddle, stretching his neck to look up at the crest of the Breaker. He could see the movement above him. He couldn’t pick out individual soldiers, but he knew that with Kael managing the defenses atop the imposing barrier, they would be as prepared as they could be for the onslaught to come.

  “No,” Gregory replied with a smile. “But we will do the best that we can.”

  “That’s all we can ask for,” said Sarelle, satisfied, and glad that Gregory had not tried to lie to her simply to make her feel better. She was a realist. She knew what they faced. The Breaker would help, it would give them time, the time Thomas needed to do what was required of him, she hoped. But if the Dark Horde truly was as large as the scouts reported, then the Breaker could only do so much. If Thomas failed at his task, and admittedly history was against him, then in the end the defense of the Breaker wouldn’t matter. Eventually the soldiers who stood atop the black, granite wall would be overrun, and the Dark Horde would swarm into the Kingdoms. Rather than allowing her thoughts to drift down a dark path, she instead turned her attention to something that she had been thinking about for quite some time, the circumstances of the day only adding to her perceived urgency. “You know, Gregory, there is something that we must discuss.”

  “What would that be, Sarelle?” Gregory turned to face her, taking in the breastplate that fit her perfectly, her red hair streaming behind her because of the gusts of wind. She was radiant. He would have loved to take her away from here, to be with her if only for a day, but he couldn’t. Such was the curse of leadership. Responsibility to others took precedence over all else.

  “When we have pushed back the Dark Horde -- and we will push those evil beasts back because I have no doubt that Thomas will succeed; he is too stubborn not to -- there will be no more dancing around between us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sarelle’s eyes burned brightly as she captured Gregory’s with her own. “I mean that you are mine, Gregory Carlomin. We may rule separate Kingdoms, but you are mine. We will rule together. As one.”

  Gregory smiled, unable to hide his pleasure. “As you command, my Queen.”

  56

  Cruel Hope

  Thomas stood in the gloomy chamber wrapped in shadow, his emotions roiling within him as he stared at the Princess of Fal Carrach, who was stuck in place. He closed his eyes, trying to settle himself with several deep breaths. The time had finally arrived. All the training, the education, the effort, the sacrifice leading to this one moment. Having fixated on this single event and its consequences for so long, the connection in his mind with the Shadow Lord growing stronger in recent years, the dreams of death and suffering plaguing him night after night, his worries for his family and friends intensifying as he wondered whether he had the courage to do what he had to do … as he breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, it all dissipated as he cleared his mind of anything that could distract him. He discovered that a calm had settled over him. A peace. Even a small pleasure, knowing that one way or the other, the pressure and expectations, all the burdens that he had lived with, fought against, consigned himself to for so long, finally were going to be relieved.

  Thomas opened his eyes, a smile of contentment breaking out. He stepped through the gloom, walking from black tile to white, white to black, before stopping at the edge of the disc in the center of the floor. Testing the weight of the Sword of the Highlands in his hand, the steel blade flickered even in the pall, catching what little light there was streaming into the chamber through the open balcony and the broken skylight centered over the stone etchings in the floor.

  Thomas raised the blade, his eyes finding the inscription that ran the length of the steel: “Courage and honor lead to freedom.” Now he truly understood. Now he knew why his grandmother, Rya, liked to tell him so frequently, “You must do what you must do.” The best way to fight your fear was to accept it, to allow it to be there, to know that it was a part of you, and then to use it. And that’s what he would do now.

  “You still don’t understand, do you, boy.” The Shadow Lord glided forward, leaving Kaylie by the balcony. His quiet, grating voice echoed off the circular wall of the chamber. “No one has ever defeated me. Not even the combined might of the Sylvan Warriors when their numbers were ten times larger than they are now. Not Athala, the founder of your cursed band of fighters. Not Ollav Fola, the first High King. No one! No one can stand against me. Yet still you choose to defy me? You run toward your own death needlessly.”

  The Shadow Lord stopped at the edge of the disc, standing across from Thomas, his black robe swirling in and out of the shadow, his blood-red eyes burning with a devilish delight.

  “Think, boy. Think of what you could have if you saw the truth for what it really was. Think of what you could have if you acknowledged reality instead of trying to perpetuate a dying order. The Kingdoms are crumbling, and only I will stand tall when they collapse. You could be there with me. You have the power, the strength that’s needed. You could help the Kingdoms join my new world.”

  “You think that I would so easily betray my family, my friends …”

  “Think, boy! Your family and friends? What of them? They have done nothing but use you!” The Shadow Lord’s whisper erupted into a harsh growl. “Your grandparents and their Sylvan Warriors have sought a pawn for centuries to oppose me. They have trained you so that they could send you to your death. They were not driven by love. They were driven by greed! They think of themselves. The power they had. The power they’ve lost through the centuries. They hoped that you would help them to regain that power. Why take on this thankless task so willingly when you have so much to live for?”

  Thomas glanced sharply at Kaylie. She stood there utterly still, silhouetted on the balcony by the grey light that streamed into the chamber. Tears trickled down her cheeks. The Shadow Lord held her with his Dark Magic, and there was nothing that she could do but watch and hope.

  “Yes, I see it. The love you have for her.” The Shadow Lord chuckled softly. “Would you really give up that love, that opportunity for happiness, just because you were given an impossible task that could only lead to your death and you feel the need to try to fulfill it? Look on the Princess of Fal Carrach, Thomas. You can see it in her eyes as well. She wants a future with you. She wants to be with you. But she knows that she can’t have that if you remain focused on the task given to you by those who only sought to use you for their own purposes. Are you truly willing to let that future go? That one chance for happiness? It is a rare thing and not to be given up lightly.”

  Thomas pulled his eyes away from Kaylie, looking once again at the inscription on his blade. He could understand now why so many fell within the grasp of the Shadow Lord. The men and women who were seduced by his words, the half-truths, the lies, the promises that would not be kept. Yes, he would have liked the chance at a life with Kaylie, but not on those terms. Not on the Shadow Lord’s terms. If he was to have a future with Kaylie, it would be on their terms or not at all.

  “Do you really think that I’m as weak as all the others?” asked Thomas, his green eyes blazing in anger. “That I was no better than Daran or Rodric? That I cared more for myself than for others? That my interests always have to come first?”

  “You’re mak
ing a mistake, boy. You will miss your one chance …”

  “No!” Thomas’ shout resounded throughout the chamber then out into the dead city and the mountains beyond. “Your promises mean nothing to me. Your words are only that, no more solid than the black ash covering this city that swirls at the slightest whim of the wind. If Kaylie and I are to have a future, it will be one of our own making, not something given to us by you.”

  The Shadow Lord stood in the gloom, not saying a word. Silence settled over the room, seeming to last forever, but really only held for a few long minutes as the Shadow Lord appeared to be running calculations behind his blazing eyes, new ways to try to turn Thomas, to make him an ally, to have him see things in a different light. Yet just as fast as a thought came to him, the Shadow Lord rejected it. Until finally the master of Blackstone realized that there was only one course left to him.

  “So be it,” said the Shadow Lord. “You will have your wish. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps there is no way around it. The prophecy requires us to contend against one another. No matter my best efforts, it appears that the demands of the prophecy must be met.”

  Thomas appeared startled at the Shadow Lord’s reference. The Shadow Lord chuckled scratchily in response.

  “Yes, I know the prophecy. I know it quite well, in fact. You think your grandparents were the only ones to pay it heed? Look where we stand.”

  Thomas eyed the disc that separated him from his opponent. It looked exactly as it did in Thomas’ dreams. The carved stone showed a young man with a burning white sword fighting what appeared to be a shadow, though the faint outlines of a man in black were visible within the carving, a soul-eating black sword consuming the light. The image of Blackstone rose behind the two combatants.

  “I had it crafted more than a thousand years ago,” said the Shadow Lord. “Knowing what could come to pass. Knowing what would come to pass. To remind myself every day that we would stand here like this. To remind myself of what would be my greatest victory. You see, boy, you’re not the only one who has prepared for this moment, for I, too, know what’s truly at stake.”