The Claiming of the Highlands

by Wacht, Peter

  She looked back to the ridge, the riders she had seen just minutes before visible again, but no longer standing still. They had begun walking their mounts toward the hillock. Yet they made no noise. She didn’t hear the tell-tale jingling of the horses’ bridles and the pounding of their hooves on rough ground. The fog had to be muffling their approach. It appeared to her as if a ghostly band of fighters had begun their charge though at a glacial pace.

  “Father …”

  “Not now, Kaylie.”

  Gregory watched the Shade begin to walk his horse up the hillock’s lower slope, his men following. The King of Fal Carrach drew his sword.

  “Get ready, men!” bellowed Kael. “Remember, if they try to leap the wall, aim for their horses’ bellies!”

  “Father!” yelled Kaylie, grabbing his arm to capture his attention. “Look to the northwest!”

  Irritated by the distraction, nonetheless he glanced in the direction Kaylie pointed. The thick fog was beginning to weaken as the sun showed its first touch of color in the east. And then he saw them. Riders, maybe thirty in all. Yet how could they be so quiet?

  About halfway to the Shade and its men, one of the riders unfurled a banner, though Gregory couldn’t determine what it revealed. It was then that the riders increased their pace, urging their horses from a walk to a trot.

  “Kael, can you make out …”

  “I’ll be damned,” said the stoic Highlander, putting both hands on the ring wall and leaning forward to make sure his eyes hadn’t betrayed him.

  A smile broke out on his face. As the riders increased their pace, the banner caught the air and snapped open behind its bearer. Kael could see it clearly now. On a field of white appeared three mountain peaks and a kestrel streaking down from the sky, claws outstretched. The symbol of his homeland.

  “It’s the Highlands, my lord. The Marchers attack.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Desperate Melee

  Coban had strung the Marchers along the top of the small ridge facing the hillock while the fog, which helped to mask their arrival, was thick and heavy. The Shade had set outriders to his south and east, not because it was worried about an attack from behind, but rather it feared that its prey trapped on the knoll might try to escape.

  A smart move, perhaps, but an incomplete strategy. Thomas took advantage of it immediately, letting loose a handful of Marchers who quickly and quietly removed those outriders from the battlefield. When those Marchers returned, using hand signals, Thomas had his fighters step their horses off the ridge and begin their approach at a walk. The swirling mist and damp ground helped to hide the noise, that and the ruckus that came from the Shade and its men as they prepared to launch their assault.

  Halfway there, Thomas increased their pace. His Marchers drew their swords, a few preferring war axes. Aric unfurled the banner, allowing the wind to catch the large white expanse, the three peaks and the kestrel shining brightly as rays of the morning sun began to break through the fog.

  Thomas and his Marchers pushed their horses into a gallop, their targets still unaware of what approached from behind them. Sensing the coming clash, their steeds strained to go faster, their hooves pounding into the wet turf.

  One of the black-clad men finally turned as the thundering hooves of the charging horses overwhelmed the din of the black-clad men trying to force their mounts up the increasingly steep incline of the knoll. He shouted a warning, but it was too late.

  Raising their blades into the air, the rising sun shining brightly off the steel, Thomas and his Marchers roared as one, “For the Highlands!”

  The Marchers took the Shade and its men completely by surprise. The battle that had once been an assured victory for the dark creature instead became a desperate melee. The Highlanders, only thirty fighters in all, drove deeply into the black-clad men, swords biting into flesh, axes cleaving helmets and arms. The speed and surprise of the attack gave the Marchers the initial advantage.

  But as they drove into their opponents, their enemies’ larger numbers slowed the charge. Under normal circumstances, such an assault likely would have broken the men. But the compulsion placed on them by the Shadow Lord, and controlled by the Shade, forced them to stand their ground and fight, not allowing them to run as they normally would.

  Thomas quickly realized the dilemma his Marchers faced, having expected it. Eventually the larger host they had attacked would turn the tide simply with its numbers. There was only one way to break them. Thomas knew that in order to kill a bloodsnake, you had to take the head. The same held true in this case. Thomas needed to kill the Shade.

  Locating the Shadow Lord’s minion at the fringe of the battle, Thomas began to fight his way through the opposing force, Coban and Oso taking positions at his sides to protect Thomas from attacks on his flanks. Several Marchers joined the wedge as he progressed through the black-clad men. Slowly, ever so slowly, Thomas and his protectors hacked their way toward the Shadow Lord’s servant.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Shifting Skirmish

  Gregory, Kael and Kaylie watched in amazement as the small force of Marchers crashed into the Shade and its men. Kael was laughing, unable to contain his pleasure at seeing the Highland banner unfurled once more.

  “How could they have known?” asked Gregory, though Kaylie had a suspicion, remembering that brief touch of being watched the night before.

  “They’re Marchers, my lord,” answered Kael. “The Highland Lord has a knack for appearing when he’s needed.”

  “Mount up!” yelled Gregory, seeing how the attack had become a stalemate despite the obvious skill and ferocity of the Marchers. The Highland warriors held their own in the middle of a larger opposing force. But they had found advancing further through the ranks of the Shade’s soldiers more difficult now that the initial shock of the assault had worn off.

  The Fal Carrachian soldiers hurried to obey, running for their steeds. They quickly brought their horses in line with Gregory’s a short distance from the ring wall. Kaylie followed with her own, staying a few feet behind her father. The battle at the base of the knoll consumed the King of Fal Carrach’s focus, so she wanted to take advantage of the distraction before he told her to stay on top of the hillock.

  “We ride for Fal Carrach!” shouted Gregory. “We ride to the Highland Lord!”

  Touching his heels to his horse’s flanks, the large animal easily jumped the hastily rebuilt stone barrier followed by the soldiers of Fal Carrach. Kael rode next to Gregory, seeking to protect the king, and Kaylie followed right behind, her own sword in hand.

  She could see Thomas clearly now in the middle of the fray, fighting his way through the confused skirmish toward the Shade. She guessed his intentions, but she was worried. She had seen what the Shade had done to the soldier the day before, draining the spirit from him. She couldn’t bear to think of the same thing happening to Thomas.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  A Debt Paid

  With Coban, Oso and several other Marchers taking positions to his right and left, Thomas fought his way through the black-clad soldiers, driving a wedge into the host that his accompanying Highlanders savagely expanded. Much to his surprise and pleasure, a space opened up in front of Thomas that gave him a clear path to the Shade, and he sought to benefit from it as he urged his horse forward. The Shade saw him coming and attacked instinctually, forcing its own horse into a charge, corrupted black steel poised above its head.

  Sensing the approaching Shade, Thomas’ horse leapt forward, reaching a gallop in seconds. Thomas raised his own blade to shoulder height, which would give him several options for defending against the Shade. As the two combatants met, Thomas parried the Shade’s strike with a controlled, backhanded swing, silvery sparks clattering off the steel. Disengaging, Thomas and the Shade quickly turned their horses, preparing once more for the charge.

  Taking hold of the Talent, Thomas infused the steel of his blade with the power of nature, knowing that it would help hi
m in his duel with the dark creature. The steel blazed an almost blinding white as he once again charged at the Shade. This time, though, as the Shade raised his sword to swing down, Thomas ignored the attempted strike, sliding to the side of his saddle so that he was parallel to the ground that rushed by and swinging his sword at the Shade’s mid-section, his glowing blade slicing through the dark creature’s hip.

  The Shade tried to turn its horse, but weakened by Thomas’ strike, which almost took its entire leg off, the Shadow Lord’s servant slipped off its saddle to the ground. The dark blood seeping from the wound stained the trampled grass a midnight black.

  Thomas jumped down from his horse, approaching the Shade on foot. The dark creature raised its sword, trying to defend itself despite its grievous wound, but Thomas easily parried the blow. Thomas then raised his sword above his head and swung down in a vicious arc. The magic-infused blade sliced through the Shade’s neck without any resistance, the dark creature’s body slumping to the flattened grass as its head rolled several feet away.

  At just that moment when steel bit into flesh, the feeling that had bothered Thomas that morning of a greater evil hidden within that of the Shade sent a shock of warning through him. He twisted around swiftly, sensing the danger behind him. A beast that resembled a Nightstalker, though lacking wings, stood poised to strike, its massive, midnight-black frame blocking the sun. The demon extended its claws as it sought to drive a scaled fist through Thomas’ heart. Thomas tried to bring his sword up to block the blow, but he knew that quick as he was, he couldn’t do it in time. The demon was faster than any dark creature Thomas had ever faced.

  Right before the dark creature’s scythed hand plunged into Thomas’ unprotected chest, a sword point appeared in the beast’s chest. Then again, and again, and a final time as the blade pierced the dark creature’s heart. The demon roared in pain as it fell to its knees, its life seeping out through its back and chest onto the long grass. Not wanting to take any chances, Thomas swung his sword again, slicing cleanly through the dark creature’s neck, its head tumbling to the ground to come to rest near that of the Shade.

  “Thank you, Oso.”

  Thomas sought to control his breathing, the excitement of the last few minutes getting the better of him. Centering himself once more, he thought about the Dark Magic he had just confronted. Somehow the Shade’s death had released this demon, which would explain why the evil of the Shade that Thomas felt the night before had differed from previous encounters. He would need to talk with Rya and Rynlin about this and what it could mean. The Shadow Lord was either growing more desperate, more powerful, or both.

  “It’s damn hard killing one of these things,” said Oso, smiling sheepishly. He was never one for attention. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get my steel through this thing’s armored back. But once done, it was easier to do a second time. And then a third and a fourth, of course.”

  “You know that debt you’ve been harping about since we first met?” asked Thomas.

  “Yes.”

  Highlanders took their debts seriously, as it was a strict part of their culture. When one Highlander saved another’s life, they commonly said, “A debt is owed,” and that debt would remain in place until it was repaid. When Thomas had first met Oso, he had saved his life, and Oso had invoked the saying. At the time, Thomas, still living with his grandparents on the Isle of Mist and not having yet revealed his lineage to the Highlanders, didn’t understand fully the significance of the words. But now he did.

  “A debt is paid.”

  Thomas raised his sword to his forehead then inclined his head toward Oso. The large Highlander responded in turn. Kaylie broke the solemnity of the brief ceremony as she galloped up and jumped from her horse, sword in hand.

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous that dark creature is?” demanded the Princess of Fal Carrach, striding up to Thomas as she pointed her blade at the decapitated Shade. She didn’t seem to care about the Nightstalker, or whatever the other creature had been. “Any idea at all? Charging at that thing like you don’t have a care in the world, and then that second beast appearing out of the mist? You could have been killed.”

  At first startled by Kaylie’s verbal dressing down, which continued unabated as the seconds passed, Thomas stood there in stunned silence as the petite princess questioned his ability to make decisions. To care for himself. Essentially, to function on his own without the help of a nursemaid. Thomas looked to his friend for help, but Oso was trying his best not to laugh. Searching for some way to extricate himself, Thomas was pleased to see that the battle was over.

  Gregory had led his men in a charge down the hillock, catching their attackers unaware. The shock of that assault, and the death of the Shade, quickly turned an evenly matched skirmish into a rout as the Marchers and soldiers of Fal Carrach eliminated their foes and met in the middle of the enemy force. Many of the black-clad men had dropped their swords and sprinted for the perceived safety of the river once they had been released from their compulsion when Thomas killed the Shade. But escape was a futile hope. Neither the Fal Carrachians nor the Marchers were in the mood for mercy.

  Not knowing what else to do in the face of Kaylie’s onslaught, Thomas smiled broadly. “A pleasure to see you this morning, Princess.” He bent down to wipe the black blood of the Shade and the other dark creature off his blade in the dew of the grass, hoping that the tactic of agreeing with Kaylie, something that he had done when a target of his grandmother’s wrath, might defuse her anger. “You’re right. I should have been more careful.”

  “Well met, Thomas,” said Gregory, riding up on his horse. Her father’s appearance prevented Kaylie from continuing her tirade. Despite Thomas’ apparent remorse, she still had several choice comments that she wanted to share with him. “My thanks for your assistance. Without you and your Marchers, I doubt we would have left that hillock alive.”

  “We were happy to help, King Gregory.”

  “My Lord Kestrel, you seem to have a habit of surprising people,” said Kael as he rode up as well, inclining his head as a sign of respect.

  “I’ve always felt it’s better to keep people on their toes. I wouldn’t want them to think I was predictable.”

  “I don’t think anyone would describe you as predictable,” muttered Kaylie, staring daggers at Thomas.

  “As I said, it’s a pleasure to see you, too, Princess,” said Thomas smoothly, though his eyes suggested something quite different.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  A Revelation

  After caring for their wounded and thrilled that none of their fighters was seriously injured, Gregory and Thomas decided to ride together toward the east, combining their forces for protection. Although they sent out scouts, none of the Marchers worried, knowing that Thomas would keep a sharp eye for leagues around through his use of the Talent, not realizing that the Princess of Fal Carrach could and would do the same.

  For Gregory, it was an opportunity to catch up with Coban, having first met the Highland Swordmaster when he visited Talyn at the Crag. And for Kael it was a chance to spend time with Oso, Aric and the other Marchers, learning more about what was happening in his homeland.

  With their numbers increased, Thomas thought that he might have an opportunity for some peace and quiet on this final leg of their journey. However, that wish almost immediately disappeared as Kaylie nudged her horse next to his as they followed the Corazon River toward the Inland Sea.

  “Good afternoon, Princess.”

  “You know, you don’t have to keep calling me that. You didn’t the last time we spoke in Eamhain Mhacha.”

  “True, but at the Council you weren’t berating me for killing a Shade.”

  Kaylie blushed, the color seeping into her face, still a little embarrassed by her reaction to Thomas charging at the dark creature. She feared that she had come across as an overbearing lover.

  “I’m sorry about that,” sighed Kaylie. “I’ve seen what a dark creature li
ke that is capable of and didn’t think it wise for one man to attack it alone.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  Thomas clearly wasn’t in a talkative mood, but Kaylie decided to ignore that. This was an excellent time to dig a bit more deeply into what she wanted to know.

  “I’ve heard stories of what happened in the Highlands. What you did to free your people.”

  “I wouldn’t believe all the stories.”

  “In every story there’s likely a kernel of truth,” she replied.

  “True.”

  They rode on for a time in silence, Kaylie growing more frustrated by Thomas’ one-word answers to her questions and her inability to engage him in conversation. She glanced at him and saw that his eyes were closed, though he was perfectly erect in the saddle. She understood immediately what he was doing.

  “Did you see anything?”

  Thomas slowly released the Talent, opening his eyes and blinking in the bright sunlight.

  “Nothing to worry about. A few traders on the river and some farmers traveling on the roads. There’s nothing else around us for the moment.”

  He looked over at Kaylie, taking in everything about her. Every time he saw her, she was more beautiful than he had remembered. Yet the wall between them remained, and he knew it was a barrier of his own construction. Though he had forgiven her, realizing that what had happened to him was likely not her fault, he was still wary. His ability and desire to trust people had not improved with time. Moreover, with the challenges he faced in the months ahead in addition to his ultimate responsibility, he was afraid to get too close to anyone.

  “You’ve been practicing,” said Thomas. “You’re stronger than before.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can feel the Talent in you.”