by Peter Wacht
With those final words, Talyn disappeared.
Thomas stared across the crown at empty space for a moment, hoping his grandfather would return, but knowing it was not to be. He turned his attention to the crown. Reaching down, his fingers closed around the silver circlet.
At the very same instant, he finally felt at peace with himself. He knew who he was now, what his responsibilities were, but unlike before when he saw his duties as burdens, he now saw them as a gift. He had been chosen for this task because there was no one better to assume it. The fate of the Highlands rested on his shoulders, and he accepted that responsibility humbly and willingly.
Turning from the column, he walked back through the Ravine. But this time, he did not have to squeeze past the walls. The magic of the place opened up the path so that it was wide enough for two carts. Thomas exited quickly, physically and mentally exhausted. He walked slowly across the plateau toward the ring of Highlanders, the silver circlet clutched tightly in his hand.
When they saw Thomas coming toward them, a huge roar erupted, shaking the very plateau upon which they stood. The Highlanders again made way for him as he strode slowly toward the Pinnacle, many inclining their heads, acknowledging Thomas for who he was. As he ascended the Pinnacle, the roar grew greater in intensity. Coban raised his hands for silence, and in an instant quiet once again reigned on the plateau.
“Thomas Kestrel has passed the Third Test,” declared Coban, his voice ringing triumphantly. “If there is no one to challenge his claim, then—”
“I challenge his claim,” said Shagan, stepping out from the crowd. Ripples of anger threaded their way through the Highlanders, but Shagan ignored it. “I issue a challenge. The boy isn’t fit to rule. Does this Lost Kestrel have the courage to accept the challenge?”
Coban sighed in frustration. He should have known the bastard would try something, but there was no way around it. If Thomas refused the challenge, his claim was forfeit.
“Do you accept the challenge?” Coban asked.
“I do,” replied Thomas.
Though he stood atop the Pinnacle calmly, his eyes burned brightly with anger. Shagan may see him as only a boy, but he would soon discover that he was mistaken. Distinct from the first Test, now there would be no mercy shown during the challenge. No mercy at all.
“Then return here in one hour,” said Coban. “The challenge will confirm if Thomas Kestrel is to be the next Highland Lord.”
CHAPTER FORTY
The Challenge
“Is what happens in the Ravine real, Coban?”
Thomas stood beside the Swordmaster at the steps of the Pinnacle, the Highlanders once again having gathered around for the challenge. Many of them, some former Marchers for his grandfather, had already come up to congratulate him.
Even Renn and Seneca, the two Highland chiefs he had defeated in the Tests, had offered him claps on the back and good wishes. For them there were no hard feelings. They had done their duty, as had Thomas. Though they knew it was a bit premature to offer congratulations — Thomas had to survive the challenge – it was clear that few if any of the Highlanders actually hoped that Shagan would succeed. But it was an important part of the making of a Highland Lord, so they abided by the traditions.
“I don’t know, Thomas. I wish I did. Why? What happened in the Ravine?”
“I’d rather not say,” Thomas replied quietly, the shock of meeting his mother, or at least her spirit, having worn off, but his father’s words still haunted him.
Coban grunted that he understood. As he had explained to Thomas before he had taken the third Test, no Highland Lord had ever revealed what happened in the Ravine. And, honestly, Coban really didn’t want to know.
A murmur rose in the crowd as Shagan pushed his way through, carrying a huge axe that was as long as a broadsword. His wicked grin made the scar on his face appear all the more gruesome.
“Time to die, boy,” said Shagan, chuckling softly. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your life, because it’s about to come to an end.”
Thomas ignored Shagan, instead pulling his claymore free from the scabbard on his back. The last rays of the day’s sunlight caught the steel, bathing Thomas in a golden glow. He looked into the crowd and locked eyes with Oso. His friend nodded.
They had spoken before the challenge. They both knew that despite Shagan’s size, Thomas should win if he didn’t make any mistakes. He was younger, faster and a better fighter. Yet they had both agreed that Shagan would not have made the challenge if he didn’t think he could win. So Oso promised to keep his eyes open for any scheming or trickery.
Coban stepped forward between the two combatants and the crowd fell silent.
“A challenge has been issued. Thomas Kestrel has passed the three Tests. If he wins, he is truly the Highland Lord. If Shagan wins, he earns the right to take the Tests. Are you ready?”
Both Thomas and Shagan nodded.
“Then begin.”
Not wasting a second, with a bloodcurdling cry Shagan charged forward, swinging his massive axe down in a savage blow. If it connected, Thomas would have been split in two, but he ducked under it and brought his sword up. Shagan recovered with remarkable speed, slashing at Thomas’ throat, but Thomas caught the strike on his claymore and turned it away.
Shagan continued his assault, probing for some weakness, but each time his axe met the steel of Thomas’ blade. The speed of Shagan’s attack surprised Thomas, but he allowed the larger man to maintain his pace. Thomas used the time to study Shagan’s style. The longer Shagan maintained his attack, the more it worked to Thomas’ advantage.
Seeing that his assault gained him nothing, Shagan tried a different approach.
“So Green Eyes wants to be the Highland Lord, does he? Our little goblin? The Highland Lord? Now that would be a sight.”
The taunt jolted Thomas, and he almost paid for it with his life. Shagan swung high, then turned the blade in mid-air, aiming the slash toward Thomas’ chest. Thomas turned his sword just in time to deflect the blow, but it took him longer to regain his concentration. No one had called him goblin for such a long time, it had taken him by surprise. Only the children at the Crag had done so, which meant Shagan had been there as well. That fact sent Thomas’ mind down a shadowy path. Something just wasn’t right. But what?
“What was it like, boy, being the son of a witch? Did the bitch know what a tiny pup you grew up to be, so unlike your father and grandfather?”
Thomas’ eyes smoldered with anger, unable to ignore the jibe. It was time to end this. He had learned Shagan’s weaknesses. Now to make use of that knowledge. Thomas sidestepped another slash, then lunged forward, his sword scoring on Shagan’s thigh. Though not a serious wound, Shagan screamed more in shock that he had been wounded than in any real pain.
Thomas didn’t stop there. His sword became a blur as he attacked, Shagan having a hard time maintaining his defenses. Thomas scored another hit on Shagan’s chest, then across his forearm and side. Thomas continued the furious pace of his assault, waiting for the right moment. Then he had it. Seeing the opening he wanted, Thomas brought his sword up for the killing blow.
He was just about to deliver it when the Dark Magic struck him. He was blind! Thomas fell to one knee, not expecting this type of attack. Then he realized it couldn’t be Shagan, it had to be someone else. Thomas quickly staggered back, trying to get a feel for his now foreign surroundings, but he stumbled and fell on his back in his haste. The crowd murmured in surprise and concern, thinking just moments before that Thomas was about to defeat the challenger. They had not expected such a reversal.
Sensing that the tide had turned, Shagan laughed as he stood over Thomas.
“A good day to die, don’t you think?”
The large Highlander brought his sword down in a vicious blow. Thomas sensed the motion and he quickly extended his senses. He may not be able to see, but he could still defend himself – or at least try to.
Thomas brought his sword up ju
st in time, catching the axe on his blade. Nevertheless, Shagan refused to disengage, pushing with all his might, the muscles bulging in his neck from the effort. Thomas felt the blade of the axe getting closer to his throat, but he wasn’t strong enough to throw the axe off his sword. Knowing that if he didn’t act quickly, he was going to die, Thomas lashed out with his foot, catching Shagan between the legs.
The blow caught the big Highlander by surprise, and he stumbled back in pain. Thomas immediately pushed himself up from the ground, having gained a brief respite. Shagan couldn’t work Dark Magic. Thomas would have known if he could immediately. That left only a few other possibilities, and regardless of what type of creature it was, it had to be close.
Before he could solve the mystery, Shagan was on him once more, having recovered from Thomas’ last-ditch defensive tactic. With his vision gone, Thomas had no choice but to focus all his concentration on using all his other senses to fight, which meant he could do nothing with the Talent. If he mistimed its use, he could very well die from Shagan’s blade before he found the source of the Dark Magic.
No, he had to try something else. Thomas’ movements grew jerky and less certain, sending a rumble of concern through the crowd. Finally, Thomas had an idea. He charged forward, swinging his sword blindly and forcing Shagan to defend himself. He quickly broke off the attack. Thomas used the few seconds to his advantage.
Oso, Thomas called, using his senses to connect to Oso’s mind. His friend was clearly taken aback by the communication.
Thomas, how did you do—
That’s not important, Oso. I need your help. Something is aiding Shagan. I can’t see. Something has used Dark Magic to blind me. You’ve got to stop—
Thomas was forced to break the communication, Shagan once again taking the offensive. But Oso knew what to do, his face turning an angry red. He should have expected something like this. And judging by Thomas’ movements he had to hurry. His friend’s life depended on it.
Oso pushed his way through the crowd with Aric and several of the other Highlanders from Raven’s Peak following. He explained to them quickly what Thomas had communicated. They all searched the crowd for something out of place, but saw nothing. Then Oso realized that anyone using Dark Magic would clearly stand out, so he led his men past the crowd and toward the tents and pavilions. He knew exactly which one to check first.
Thomas continued to do his best to avoid the blows, darting from side to side and keeping his sword in constant motion, trying to keep Shagan at bay. But eventually Shagan would break through. All Thomas could do now was hope Oso succeeded. Just then Thomas stumbled under another ferocious attack. Thomas slipped to one knee as Shagan’s blade finally struck true, slicing across Thomas’ left forearm. His hands quickly became wet with blood.
Shagan refused to give him a chance to rise, driving his axe down for the kill. Thomas caught the blow on his blade, but because of his weakened forearm, the grip on his sword slipped and it fell from his hands. Thomas grabbed Shagan’s hands, keeping the axe from his head. He tried desperately to dislodge the large Highlander, but he couldn’t. Shagan was too strong. With a cold certainty Thomas knew this was the end.
“You’re going to die,” whispered Shagan, his grey whiskers scratching against Thomas’ face. “Ironic, isn’t it? In that in a way I killed your father and grandfather, too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Vengeance
Oso drew his sword, his men following his example, as they approached Shagan’s tent. No one was around, as every Highlander now watched the challenge, and clearly from the sounds Oso knew he better hurry. He and his men burst through the tent flap, momentarily blinded by the dark interior. Then Oso saw the movement off to one side.
A Shade!
Screaming in rage, he charged forward. The Shade was so engrossed in his use of the Dark Magic, having to maintain constant control otherwise Thomas would be able to break free of the spell, that the creature didn’t realize he was under attack until the last instant. Still, the Shade was fast enough to draw his sword and meet Oso’s blow. However, he had not expected the three other blades that followed after, all three sinking deeply into its chest.
The Shade dropped to the floor, a black liquid that could only be its blood flowing out onto the grass. Still, the Shade’s milky white eyes held onto life, so Oso brought his sword down with all his might, severing the creature’s head from its neck.
A Shade could survive many things, Oso knew, but not that.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Standing on High
Shagan’s confession unlocked a door in Thomas that he had kept closed for half his life, his rage rushing forth like a torrent. He finally had a target for his hate and anger. And just then, his vision returned. It was as if the spirit of his grandfather smiled down on him, but he knew it was truly Oso. His friend had succeeded.
His growing rage filled Thomas with a new strength, and with Shagan’s axe closing in on his throat, in a sudden burst of strength, Thomas threw the larger Highlander off of him. Thomas stood slowly, wiping his bloody hands on his shirt, then taking up the Sword of the Highlands once more with a renewed purpose.
“You must now fight me on your own,” said Thomas in a quiet, determined voice that traveled the length of the plateau, Shagan’s face turning white with fear. The large Highlander knew in his heart that somehow the Shade had failed. “Now you will pay for what you have done to my family and to my homeland.”
Thomas attacked with a savage energy, his sword a whirlwind of motion. His eyes burned a bright green, his face twisted into a vicious snarl. Thomas’ attack was too much for Shagan. A crosscut from Thomas knocked the axe from his hands. Though he knew his opponent was now unarmed, there was no mercy for traitors. Thomas brought his sword down in a vicious blow, splitting open Shagan’s head, the gore splattering some of the Highlanders in the first few ranks.
A cheer erupted from the Highlanders, but it quickly died. Oso walked through the crowd and into the open space, Aric and the others behind him. In his hand, he carried the head of the Shade. All the Highlanders had seen such a sight before, but none had ever expected to see a Shade here in their most sacred place. Their shock was evident.
Coban stepped forward. “Oso, where did you—”
“Shagan’s tent.”
He dropped the head on the ground by the dead man’s body.
“There’s your traitor, Coban,” said Thomas, pointing to Shagan. “There’s the man who destroyed the Crag.”
For a moment Coban just stared, his face twisting with spasms of pain and memory. Then he spit on Shagan’s body, his anger having no other outlet. The traitor died too well in his opinion. Then he turned his mind to other things as the Highlanders continued to gaze upon the head of the Shade, the milky white eyes holding them in rapt attention.
The Swordmaster ascended the Pinnacle with Thomas right behind him. The movement broke the spell, yet the Highlanders didn’t know whether to cheer Thomas’ victory or yell in outrage at the knowledge that a former Marcher and a Highland chief had allied himself with the Shadow Lord’s spawn. Coban didn’t give them a chance to decide.
“Thomas Kestrel,” he pronounced, taking the silver circlet from where he had left it on top of the Pinnacle and placing it on Thomas’ head.
“You have passed the Tests and the challenge. More important, you have avenged the destruction of the Crag by finding the traitor among us. I declare you the Highland Lord.”
Gasps issued from the crowd and Coban jumped back a step. Standing next to Thomas Kestrel was the spirit of his grandfather, Talyn. The image remained for an instant longer, then disappeared, but the approval in the former Highland Lord’s eyes was apparent.
Then the cheers rang out long and hard. Coban having stepped down from the Pinnacle, Thomas stood there on his own taking it all in. The noise lasted for several minutes, and only stopped when Thomas raised his bloody hands for silence. He suddenly realized that he still carried his
sword in his hand, the blade still red with Shagan’s blood. But he didn’t care. He had done it. He had fulfilled his promise to his grandfather and become the Highland Lord. Now the truly difficult part was about to begin. He had to fulfill the promise he had made to his people when he assumed the responsibilities of the Highland Lord while in the Ravine.
“I must be honest with you. I am a Kestrel, true, but my mother wasn’t a Highlander. And I have not lived among you for half my life, during a time when you and your families suffered. For that, I am sorry. But that, in part, is why I returned. I could not allow what has happened in my homeland to continue, and I knew that my coming home and serving in the position once held by my grandfather was the only way to do this. I cannot ask you to forgive me for my delay in returning. All I can ask is that you give me a chance to prove my worth.”
Thomas ran his eyes across the Highlanders, many obviously having that question of why he waited to return on their minds, but still giving him the benefit of the doubt.
“For almost a decade, the Highlands has been silent, forgotten by the Kingdoms,” continued Thomas, speaking from his heart. He had never thought past this moment, so the words flowed from his mouth unbidden.
“The High King’s reivers have ravaged our land, stealing our resources and murdering our people. As a result we did something we rarely do – we defended. We did not attack.”
“How were we supposed to attack?” someone shouted from the crowd. “We have no defense against the warlocks’ Dark Magic?”
Several Highlanders nodded their agreement.