by Peter Wacht
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 Thomas' 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 true. 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.
"Acero has judged you worthy," continued Tiro. The unicorn rose on his hind legs and neighed shrilly at the mention of his name, proud to be in the Circle once more. Acero could sense that Thomas was special, even if the boy did not yet know it. That filled him with a pride and sense of purpose he had not known for more than two hundred years. "When the time comes for us to fight, he will be your steed."
Tiro again pulled something from his robes, but held it behind his back. "The necklace you have just received ties you to us. It can never be removed from your neck while you live. If there is ever a time you are in need, we will know, and we will come." That explained a great deal for Thomas. Now he knew why he could take the necklace given to him by his grandfather on and off his neck at will. It had been a gift and was not truly his.
Tiro then handed him a golden horn curled once around in a circle. It was a very simple design with little ornamentation. The only way to identify it from any other horn was the mark running along the metal near the mouthpiece. The unicorn’s lance, just as it was carved into his amulet.
"This is one of the Horns of the Sylvana. Once, all the rulers of the Kingdoms used them to summon us during a time of great need. Those days are over, and the Horns have been taken from those who care more for wealth and power than for the welfare of those they are duty-bound to protect. Use it wisely. This functions much like the necklace. Blow on it three times. We will hear. We will come. We will conquer. Woe to any who stand before us." The bitterness at the failures of the Kingdoms remained for Tiro. Thomas didn’t doubt that many other Sylvan Warriors felt the same way.
In Thomas' opinion their feelings were justified. Based on everything he had learned of the Sylvana from Rynlin and Rya, as well as a few more objective resources, the Sylvan Warriors had once been a great ally to the Kingdoms. That had changed with the Great War when the political squabbles of the different Kingdoms almost led to their own downfall and the needless deaths of many Sylvan Warriors. The Sylvana withdrew from the affairs of man because of it.
The power of the Sylvan Horns was legendary. Thomas even remembered a story that involved one of his relatives, the Highland Lord a few generations before his grandfather. Though the Sylvana had taken most of the Horns from the Kingdoms, at the time a few had remained with those rulers not blinded by personal ambition and greed. The Highland Lord had traveled through the Highlands and out onto the Northern Steppes to confirm reports of forays by the creatures of the Shadow Lord into his kingdom. After he and his men had marched a few leagues beyond the safety of the Highlands, several thousand Ogren and Shades making their way south ambushed them. The Highland Lord did his best to hold them off, but his hundred or so men could only do so much against a force several thousand strong. In desperation, he blew three times on the Horn of the Sylvana. The three strong notes echoed across the Northern Steppes and the Highlands, and beyond, but he had already lost half of his men and held little hope for survival.
Those soldiers still able to resist the onslaught had formed a tight circle around his banner, fighting ferociously against the Ogren and Shades, but they knew it was only a matter of time. Much to the Highland Lord's surprise, only a few seconds after he had pressed his lips to the Horn, far off in the distance he heard an answering cry. A second note then came from the west, clearer and stronger than the first. The Highland Lord tried to rally his men and give them hope of rescue, but the overwhelming number of Ogren and Shades pressed in on all sides.
Then a third note sounded, even stronger and clearer than the previous two. The sound caused the earth to shake and the wind to howl, and as it lingered in the air, the rumble of hooves echoed across the Northern Steppes. A misty cloud suddenly formed around the battlefield and from its midst charged the Sylvana, bolts of fire and lightning shooting out from the sorcerers among them, blasting into the Ogren and Shades that dared to venture from the Charnel Mountains. It must have been a magnificent sight, Thomas thought. Tiro's voice broke through his daydreaming.
"As you know, each Sylvan Warrior is given charge of a particular land, and we now give you one that has lacked our assistance for almost a century. Rise, Thomas Keldragan Kestrel, and take your place among us as a Sylvan Warrior. The safety and freedom of the Highlands falls to you."
Cheers rang out from the Sylvan Warriors arrayed below him as Thomas rose to his feet. He felt the warmth of his new necklace brush against his chest. In a way, it felt like a new chain of added responsibility choking off his freedom, yet strangely he also experienced a new sense of purpose. Maybe he could do more with his life rather than focusing strictly on revenge and winning back something that he still didn't know if he wanted.
Darkbane. Darkbane. Unbidden, the name ran through his mind. Darkbane. Darkbane. Darkbane stands on high. Darkbane. Darkbane stands on high. Thomas turned to the north, unable to resist the urge to do so. From his vantage point, he could just make out the tips of the Charnel Mountains peeking over the horizon. Though a small part of his mind screamed in denial, refusing to accept i
t, Thomas knew the truth deep within his heart. It was as if a part of his mind, which had remained closed to him up until now, had suddenly sprung open. With it came a frightening recognition and a new knowledge.
Rynlin had been right. The words of the prophecy streaked through his consciousness, mixing with his one overwhelming thought: When a child of life and death, stands on high, drawn by faith, he shall hold the key to victory in his hand. Darkbane. Swords of fire echo in the burned rock, balancing the future on their blades. Darkbane. Darkbane. Light dances with dark, green fire burns in the night, hopes and dreams follow the wind, to fall in black or white. Darkbane. Darkbane. Darkbane.
He was Darkbane. He knew it in the very core of his being, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. The course of his life had already been decided, and no matter how he tried to change it, the way his life would end had already been determined. He was the Defender of the Light. A whisper tickled his ear, one that he could barely make out, but he knew its source: The time has come. Let the duel begin. Thomas focused on the whisper, struggling vainly to hear more, hoping for some clue as to what would happen next. But there was only silence.
Thomas spun around as footsteps pounded up the Stone. Rya arrived first and gave him a hug, tears of joy visible in her eyes. Rynlin then gave him a few claps on the back, his pride obvious in the huge smile he wore. Rynlin was not one for displaying his emotions, except his anger of course, so Thomas appreciated the gesture.