by Peter Wacht
Breathing deeply of the spring-scented air, Thomas started his journey to the center of the valley. The warm weather brightened his spirits and reinvigorated him. The exhaustion that had crept into his body because of the tests slowly dissipated, replaced by a renewed energy. As he walked slowly through the tall grass, the age of the valley enveloped him. A wisdom lived here, a knowledge, thousands of years old. From that knowledge came a serenity that filled Thomas with a sense of peace and tranquility. Yet, instead of feeling old, there was a vibrancy to the valley. Life undulated all around him, though he could see nothing of it.
The contradictions teased at Thomas’ awareness. Then he had it. Nature, or rather its contradictions. At one moment old, at another young. At one moment reserved, at another wild. It was all part of the cycle of death and regeneration. Thomas sensed that the Valley of the Unicorns was the center of all nature. He had virtually no evidence to support his theory, but every fiber of his being knew it was true.
The excitement he had felt upon first entering the Valley gave way to a calm he had never experienced before. He was at peace with himself for the first time in his short life. All his burdens melted away, replaced by a freedom that promised happiness and fulfillment. Even the stinging sensation from his scraped palms and aching muscles disappeared. Looking down at his hands, the scratches and cuts had healed.
After walking for more than an hour through the tall grass, Thomas judged that he had reached the center of the valley. Coming to a stop, he spun around slowly, looking for any type of movement. As before, only the tall grass responding to the whims of the wind was visible. Still, he felt strange eyes on him. Sensing no danger, however, Thomas let the feeling of life wash over him, enjoying the calm. Several times he glanced around, feeling more and more eyes watching him. Yet each time he saw nothing and shrugged it off.
Closing his eyes, Thomas breathed in deeply. The Valley nearly overwhelmed him with its serenity. When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, he almost fell to the ground in shock. Dozens of unicorns surrounded him. Black, white, roan, even a few with spotted brown and white coats, stared at him with ancient eyes. The eyes he had felt were real.
The unicorns had arrayed themselves around him in a loose circle, studying him closely. Thomas took a moment to examine these beautiful creatures as well, which until that very moment had been nothing more than stories to him. The pictures he had seen in history books were wrong. They showed animals no bigger than goats, with one small horn rising from their foreheads. These unicorns dwarfed the draft horses used by traders and merchants. The shoulder of the smallest unicorn easily surpassed Thomas’ height, and the horns rose seven to eight feet into the air. The biggest unicorn, one whose height at the shoulder probably matched that of Catal Huyuk, had a horn that looked to be at least nine feet long.
From the majesty of their appearance, Thomas understood why they were considered the lords of the wild. Their strength and power were apparent in their forms. Several times Thomas had to remind himself to breathe. The unicorns were the most beautiful animals he had ever seen. The life, the passion, the power of nature appeared clearly within them. Protecting that goodness from evil, and preserving it for the future, was the worthiest cause he could imagine.
Tiro had said that the unicorns would judge him, but how that would occur he didn’t know. Rynlin explained to him once that each member of the Sylvana was paired with a unicorn. Once selected, that steed served as that Sylvan Warrior’s warhorse until either one died. How that related to the judgment he wasn’t sure.
Unicorns had a natural ability to look into the heart of a person or animal. That was another reason they were so effective in the battle against the Shadow Lord, who had tried to deceive the Sylvana many times in the past, but to no avail. Though these deceptions sometimes worked on Sylvan Warriors since they were, after all, human and vulnerable to man’s normal frailties, the unicorn did not have such a weakness.
Rynlin once told him the story of one of the first Sylvan Warriors, a young woman named Aine. She was given the task of guarding a small pass that led through the Charnel Mountains and out onto the Northern Steppes. The Dark Horde had risen once again and was moving toward the south. The bulk of that hideous army was expected to move through the larger passes. However, the Shadow Lord knew the Sylvana would be prepared for such an advance, so he sent several hundred Ogren and Shades through the tiny pass, which was known as Dagger’s Gap. While the Sylvana were occupied with his main army, this group would attack from behind, allowing the main force to break into the southlands.
Dagger’s Gap was so called for the most obvious of reasons; it resembled a dagger, with a large opening at one end that narrowed down to a point. Aine made her stand at the tip of the blade. Because of the size of the Gap there, a single warrior could hold at bay a much larger enemy force for quite a long time. In an attempt to get past the lone Sylvan Warrior, the Shadow Lord used his Dark Magic to give the Shades and Ogren that approached Aine the appearance of Sylvan Warriors.
Though Aine did not see through the deception, the unicorn that served as her mount, a golden white female named Veritas, which in the old tongue translated to “Truth,” charged the first Ogren to walk through Dagger’s Gap. Aine tried desperately to stop Veritas, but was too slow, and she watched in horror as the unicorn lowered its head and aimed its horn at the image of one of her friends. As the unicorn’s magical horn pierced the Ogren’s chest, it destroyed the Shadow Lord’s spell, and Aine saw the true enemy before her. With the help of Veritas, she held Dagger’s Gap until a contingent of Sylvan Warriors came to her aid.
Thomas gave a start as a fleeting tendril of consciousness touched his mind. It felt very much like when he spoke with Beluil or another animal of the forest. Yet, the unicorns had initiated it. Thinking that the judgment had begun, Thomas opened his mind to the contact. Immediately the thoughts and feelings of the dozens of unicorns standing around him bombarded his mind.
The tremendous age and wisdom of each animal drifted into his consciousness, searching his heart for weakness. After recovering from the initial flood of disparate emotions and personalities, unable to resist the temptation, Thomas pushed out his own mind, strengthening his connection to the unicorns. By doing so, he could see the natural magic flowing all around him, though he could not distinguish its primary source — nature itself or the unicorns.
Dazzled by it all, Thomas extended his senses even more, trying to link more closely with the magic that waxed and waned around him. As he did so, he felt a tie begin to form between him and the unicorns, a bond stronger than any he could imagine, one that went to the very depths of his soul. His necklace grew warmer against his skin as the bond grew stronger, solidifying and becoming something tangible. Ever so slowly the unicorns tied themselves to him. As a result, Thomas was bound to nature itself more deeply than he had ever thought possible. Remarkably, the bond did not weigh him down as some of his other burdens did. Instead, he saw the bond for what it really was — a gift.
Just as quickly as the bond formed, it disappeared, as did his contact with the unicorns. An overwhelming sense of loss filled Thomas at the abrupt break. He had never known such comfort and security before, and he longed for it to continue. Despite the break, the unicorns remained around him, watching closely with their large eyes, once wary, now friendly and open. Thomas waited with bated breath for several seconds to see what would happen next. Much to his surprise, a single unicorn stepped forward and walked toward him at a stately pace.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Darkbane
The tall, black unicorn stood before him, holding itself with a dignity rarely seen in any other creature. The unicorn examined Thomas, weighing him with its eyes. Thomas stared back, amazed by the wisdom of the ages held there. The unicorn nodded quickly, the strong muscles rippling in its neck. The movement resembled one of Rynlin’s nods of approval. Ever so slowly the unicorn bent its head until its jet-black horn stopped only inches from Thom
as’ chest.
Thomas marveled at the design of the creature’s horn, fascinated by the spiral that began at the base where it sat atop the unicorn’s head to where it ended as a sharp point. A jolt of recognition shot through him. The carving on the necklace he wore, the one his grandfather gave him during his escape from the Crag. He had forgotten about it, but now it all came flooding back to him. As the unicorn’s horn edged closer, the necklace changed from warm to hot, as the carving it held responded to the proximity of the natural magic within the black stallion’s horn.
Cautiously, Thomas extended his fingers toward the ebony horn. When he was just about to touch it, he drew his fingers back, still unsure of what would happen next. Had he passed the judgment, or was this simply the final step for failing? Thomas banished the thought from his mind. The unicorn recognized his hesitation and whinnied softly. Taking it as encouragement to continue, Thomas slowly stretched out his fingers until they lightly touched the tip of the unicorn’s horn. With that one touch the flurry of emotions, images and thoughts that surged through the contact almost consumed him. The inside of his skull felt like it was going to explode, but thankfully the stream of consciousness became more manageable. All of Thomas’ memories, all of his thoughts and beliefs, even all of his secrets and fears, mixed with those of the unicorn.
Thomas felt the bond taking shape. He imagined it to be a thin cord of steel slowly tying itself around himself and the black unicorn standing before him. The coil of steel had a life of its own, twisting and turning according to the instructions of a voice that only it could hear in such a way that the knot could never become unraveled. As the minutes slowly passed the cord of steel increased in size. It began with the thickness of a piece of hair, until it was almost as thick as his wrist.
Pictures flew through Thomas’ mind at a dizzying pace. He quickly realized that this magnificent creature was actually several hundred years old. In the next memory he was able to decipher, the unicorn galloped toward a small group of Ogren and Shades, its head lowered and its horn sticking out like a lance, with the Breaker in the background. Thomas felt the steed’s pleasure in its charge, and the rush of adrenaline as it crashed into the dark creatures, its rider laying about with a huge two-handed sword. The images continued to flash through his mind, many so fast that Thomas could not figure them out, yet they remained within him nonetheless, becoming a part of his own consciousness.
Thomas saw the unicorn’s naming as it came of age — Acero, meaning strength or steel in the Old Tongue. It was a good name, Thomas thought, and matched the unicorn well. The scenes continued to flash through his mind until finally there were no more to view. The unicorn’s entire life had passed before Thomas’ eyes. He was awed by it all and honored for the privilege.
Then the process reversed itself. Acero began to unravel Thomas’ memories, and the images of his life, many locked away even from himself, burst forth. The fight in the Burren played out once again. Thomas’ sword sweeping off the head of the second Ogren filled the unicorn with pride. Many of the images passed by in a blur, from Thomas’ training sessions with both weapons and the Talent to taking the Sword of the Highlands in his small hands for the first time before making his way through the secret tunnel beneath the Crag to safety, Acero absorbing it all. A lump formed in Thomas’ throat as the last image appeared. Thomas saw himself looking into the flashing green eyes of a beautiful woman, her chestnut hair matted to her face by perspiration. He guessed that it was his mother, and it brought an ache of grief to his heart.
Then, as quickly as it began, the sharing ended. Rubbing his head slightly, Thomas was shocked that he could take in so much so fast. He knew everything there was to know about Acero, and the unicorn knew the same about him. As he looked into the eyes of the magnificent beast, they held a smile of friendship. Thomas stepped toward Acero and almost fell, surprised to find that his legs were weak from what had just happened.
Acero instead moved toward him and motioned with his head.
“Thank you, my friend. I would be honored.” Taking hold of the Acero’s muscular neck, Thomas pulled himself up onto his broad back.
The unicorn then turned and began walking across the Valley toward the steep path leading back up to the Circle. The other unicorns gracefully stepped aside, allowing the two to pass. As they did so, each unicorn bowed its head. It reminded Thomas of what a knight would do in ancient times if the lord or king passed. He couldn’t understand why these ancient, powerful beasts would do the same for him. He didn’t think he had yet earned such respect, or ever could.
As he passed through the herd, images drifted through his mind, resulting from the tentative touches of the other unicorns. They had seen something within him during the judgment, something that Thomas had not yet seen himself. It only confirmed his worst fears.
Darkbane. Darkbane. The word slipped through Thomas’ mind as he passed by one unicorn, only to return as he neared another. Darkbane. Darkbane. Darkbane. When Acero finally reached the path leading out of the valley, the thoughts of the unicorns receded, giving Thomas a much-needed respite. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, one remained. Darkbane.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Found Worthy
Acero, with Thomas on his back, pranced into the Circle, kicking his legs up high and holding his head back in pride. He had found a new rider after decades of waiting, and one worthy of his abilities. As Acero neared the Stone he slowed his pace. The unicorn walked slowly around it, allowing each Sylvan Warrior to view Thomas. Smiles and grins replaced their stony expressions. Rya even had a tear in her eye.
After circling the Stone, Thomas jumped off of Acero’s back and gave him a thankful pat on the neck before walking up the worn steps. Tiro waited there for him. Even he had a smile on his face.
“Please kneel.” Thomas settled onto one knee. “You have been found worthy to join us, Thomas Keldragan Kestrel,” declared Tiro, the pomposity that had echoed across the plain replaced with pride, as if he had had something to do with Thomas’ success.
Reaching into one of the many pockets of his voluminous brown robes, the portly sorcerer pulled out a length of silver that shined brightly in the sunlight. He then placed the silver necklace carefully over Thomas’ head. Thomas did not have to look at it to know what it was. The necklace matched the one he already wore, with the long silver chain supporting the medallion upon which an intricately carved unicorn’s horn gleamed brightly. A feeling of warmth spread through him as the metal touched his skin. This was his own necklace, one that he had earned himself.
“We are fewer in number than in years past, but our responsibilities have not diminished,” said Tiro, his didactic voice carrying to the far reaches of the mountaintop. The Sylvan Warrior loved to hear himself talk and was enjoying himself immensely at the moment. “The battle between good and evil continues, and we must stand ready, for we are the only ones who can keep the darkness from covering the Kingdoms. We must stand ready to defend against the Shadow Lord and his servants.”
Thomas remained kneeling as Tiro spoke. He felt at peace with himself. He had wanted to join the Sylvana ever since Rynlin’s first lesson about them. And he had succeeded. He was a Sylvan Warrior.
Thomas swept his gaze over the other Sylvan Warriors, memorizing their faces. He was one of them now and had accepted the responsibilities that Tiro now spoke of as his own. When Tiro mentioned the Shadow Lord, the smiles disappeared from the faces of the Sylvana. Some of their expressions became more determined, some angry. A few even looked hungry, as if they would welcome such a clash. He could understand why. It would give them the opportunity to do what they were born to do, what he was born to do as well. He knew that now. He had finally found where he belonged.
As Thomas studied his new companions, he saw something else as well. Something he had missed during his earlier examination. For thousands of years the Sylvana had fought the Shadow Lord, yet during that time they had never defeated him. Well, that wasn’t exactly t
rue. They had defeated him, but they had never destroyed him. They had prevented him from sweeping down to the south from his bastion in the Charnel Mountains innumerable times, but they had played the game over and over and had never before had the ability to do more than defend. They had repeatedly defeated his forces and removed him as a threat to the Kingdoms, for a time.
The reason why they had never done more was quite simple. They had never before had a weapon they could use to defeat the Shadow Lord once and for all. Until now. He saw it in their eyes. A sudden knowledge took root in his mind, and it terrified him. It filled him with a sense of dread that buried itself deep within his heart. They saw him as that weapon. They saw him as their means to victory. Duty and responsibility weighed him down as never before.
Thomas beat back the growing panic within him. He could be wrong. Maybe he was simply misreading the situation. Darkbane. Darkbane. The words passed through his mind. The unicorns had read his heart, his very soul. They had judged him worthy to join the Sylvana, but had they judged him worthy of something else as well? They had called him Darkbane. The term left little to the imagination.
When Tiro had placed the medallion around his neck just minutes before, Thomas had felt for the first time in his life that he was in control, that he could make decisions without having to worry all the time about what he was supposed to do. That precious control had just been ripped painfully from his hands, and he felt as if he were hurtling along a steep and sliding trail blindfolded. Where he would end up he didn’t know, and that only increased his fear. The reality of his situation became crystal clear.
Joining the Sylvana had never really been a true choice, it had simply been just one more thing he was supposed to do. You must do what you must do. Rya’s words of wisdom now sounded more and more like a curse. Thomas promised himself that one of these days he would have a choice, one that he could actually make, rather than being pushed and pulled in various directions by the prophecies or some greater force. One day he would choose how to live his life, regardless of the consequences.