by Peter Wacht
“If you join the Sylvana,” continued Rynlin, “you will receive your own necklace. In a way it will tie you to us. You’ll find that out when you join us.”
Thomas knew with a certainty that Rynlin had not spoken mistakenly. When you join us. Rynlin was expecting him to become a member of the Sylvana, and from the look on Rya’s face, she expected it as well. It was an exciting possibility. Rynlin knew that Thomas had read about the Sylvana before. That had been the only time Thomas had answered one of his dreaded questions correctly. The Sylvana, or Sylvan Warriors as they were also known, protected the Kingdoms and nature from the Shadow Lord. They had last ridden forth during the Great War, when they stood at the Breaker against the hordes of Ogren, Shades, warlocks and other hideous beasts that had come from the north.
“The Sylvan Warriors,” he said. Legends come to life. Two were his grandparents, and he could be one as well. “Neither of you carry any weapons. Do the other Sylvana?”
“Some do,” said Rynlin. “Others don’t. It really depends on their abilities. It doesn’t matter how we fight the Shadow Lord, it simply matters that we do.” At the mention of the Shadow Lord, a chill ran through Thomas’ body, as if he had been touched by ice. Instinctively, he looked to the north. He felt drawn there, as if that was where he was supposed to be. Not now. No, not yet. But at some time in the future. A future that didn’t feel very far away.
Rynlin continued, “As I said, some Sylvan Warriors have the Talent; others don’t. That’s not what determines their worth as a Sylvan Warrior. Rather, it is their closeness to nature. As you already know, there are other ways to fight than just with metal.”
In a flash, a small ball of fire appeared in Rynlin’s hand, less than a fingerbreadth from his palm. Thomas was mesmerized by it, as he watched the orange flame turn white hot, then back again, in a never-ending process.
“Remember that Thomas. Remember what Ari explained to you earlier today. Strength plays a part in any fight, whether with the Talent or steel, but it’s what’s in here,” said Rynlin, pointing to his head and his heart, “that will determine the victor.”
“This,” continued Rynlin, grabbing hold of the sword propped against the table, “is easy to fight with, but this,” the ball of fire grew rapidly in size, outgrowing Rynlin’s palm, “requires a bit more skill.”
Thomas sat back in his chair, impressed by Rynlin’s display.
“Stop that, Rynlin,” snapped Rya. “Your showing off is not helping matters any. Let’s get back to what we were discussing.” The ball of fire disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Rynlin huffed in indignation, but Rya ignored it. When she had something to do, she did it, and she wouldn’t let anything, or anyone, get in her way.
A scratch at the door interrupted the conversation. Thomas rose and opened it. Beluil sat there on his haunches, waiting patiently. In his mind he formed a greeting, which was returned by the large black wolf as he padded silently to the fireplace and lay down on his favorite rug. It would be a cold night. As confirmation, a strong gust of wind rustled the leaves of their home and gusted through the door. Thomas quickly pushed the door closed and moved his chair closer to the fireplace.
“We have told you some of this before, but not all of it,” she said. “As you know from your readings, the Sylvan Warriors are a small group of women and men dedicated to perhaps the most important task in all the world. “The stories say that we, the Sylvana, are the guardians of the forest. In a sense, that is true. But it is not completely accurate. Rather, we are the guardians of nature. As a result, one of our primary duties is to protect the forests and the creatures that live within them, for the forests are the focal points of nature. They are the greatest and most prominent example of nature’s power, and its goodness—”
“You see, Thomas,” said Rynlin, “it is because of the forests that there is life. It’s what sustains us. Thousands of years ago there was a specific sect of people known as druids, who supposedly gained mystical powers from the forests and in return cared for the trees. A tree can provide many things. Shade for the weary. Food for the hungry. Protection from the elements. Without trees, life would end.”
“And that’s why we do what we do,” interrupted Rya. “We keep the forest healthy and strong.”
“You care for the trees?” asked Thomas, slightly confused.
“No, not in the way you mean,” said Rya. “The trees of the forest are a part of nature, and they will live or die as nature desires, according to the basic rules of life. For example, the tree that stands closer to the sun has a better chance of survival than one that is shielded from it. Nature does not play favorites. Instead, we protect the forests, and nature, from what it cannot fight back against. We protect the forests from what can kill it.”
“You mean like a fire?”
“That’s a good question, Thomas. But you’ve confused things somewhat. Fire is a part of nature. Even after a fire, the forest rejuvenates. Life returns. You know of Ogren and Fearhounds and Shades, yes?”
Thomas nodded. His desire for revenge on those who had destroyed the Crag had not diminished with time.
“Those creatures are normally found in the Charnel Mountains, and they form the bulk of the Shadow Lord’s army.” Without thinking, Thomas looked to the north again, then turned quickly back to Rya. He couldn’t help it. Every time he heard that name, he felt a small tug at his heart.
But Rynlin hadn’t missed the movement, and he stared at his grandson with a curious look. In the last few days, his thoughts had headed down a particular path. One that he hoped would be avoided. Lately, though, little things, like Thomas’ quick glance to the north, twice now, confirmed his suspicions even more.
“Why do you think the Charnel Mountains are sooty, almost black?”
“I don’t know,” replied Thomas.
“The Shadow Lord has lived for thousands of years, but there was a time when he did not exist. No one is sure exactly where he came from. Anyway, before the Shadow Lord came to be, the Charnel Mountains looked very much like the Highlands, with the hidden valleys and lakes, the wind-swept peaks, lush trees and vegetation. When the Shadow Lord took up residence there, and began creating his servants — the Ogren, Shades, Fearhounds, as well as other things now thankfully hunted to extinction — those mountains slowly transformed into what they are today.
“You see, Thomas,” said Rya, leaning forward, now less than a foot away from her grandson, “the Shadow Lord and his creatures kill nature simply by walking within it. They are an evil so great, they kill whatever they touch.”
“So if a Shade stepped on a blade of grass, that blade of grass would die immediately?”
“Not immediately, but it would, in time, if that blade of grass was in a land ruled by creatures of the Dark Horde. The land itself would begin to change, resembling the Charnel Mountains — a land of sooty, black soil in which nothing grows. A dead land. That’s what happened to the Charnel Mountains. The Northern Steppes, again before the time of the Shadow Lord, used to be farmland. It was the primary source of wines and fruits for all the other Kingdoms, but no more. Because of its proximity to Blackstone, the land is covered by a dry, withered grass.
“However, the Northern Steppes should teach you something else, Thomas. The evil of the Shadow Lord is very strong, which is why nothing else can grow on the Northern Steppes, but that territory is not his. Nature is still fighting there and trying to live. If the creatures of the Shadow Lord continue to use it as an avenue for their raids into the Highlands, nature will eventually lose the battle. All of the creatures of the Shadow Lord enjoy only one thing, and that is to kill.”
“Can the Breaker hold back the Shadow Lord’s evil?” If the creatures of the Shadow Lord were killing the Northern Steppes as they marched across to the Highlands, then they must be having the same effect on the Highlands, though at a slower pace. Worry grew in his heart. Talyn had said the Highlands were his responsibility.
“To an extent,” replied Rynlin, ag
ain earning a sharp glare from his wife. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when there was a story to tell. “The evil of the Shadow Lord is actually carried within his scions. In a very real sense, they are vessels of evil. It is through them that he increases his power. Those creatures are an abomination, an affront to nature. Everything created by nature was done so for a purpose. For example, Beluil,” he motioned to the wolf, now lying half-asleep in front of the warm blaze, “hunts deer and other animals, but only enough to eat. If he sees two deer he can bring down, he will only kill one. That’s all he needs to survive. But Ogren and Shades and Fearhounds, they kill simply because they can. That’s why we fight them. As the guardians of nature, Sylvan Warriors have a natural ability to sense the evil of the Shadow Lord, and the evil within his creatures. When they enter our territory, that’s when it’s our turn to hunt.”
There was a wicked gleam in Rynlin’s eyes. He obviously enjoyed fulfilling that obligation. “You can do it as well, you know. You said before that when the Crag fell, you had a bad feeling, as if there was something wrong in the surrounding forest.”
“Yes,” said Thomas, remembering that day vividly. He had, indeed, sensed that something was wrong within the Highlands. He just didn’t know the cause.
“What you were feeling were the Ogren traveling through the forest toward the Crag.” Rynlin saw Thomas bow his head and knew what he was doing. He reached toward his grandson, taking hold of his forearm and giving it a hard squeeze. “Don’t blame yourself, Thomas. There was nothing you could do. You were a boy then, and you didn’t know what you were feeling. Now you do. You can only blame yourself now if you fail to act.”
Thomas nodded. Still, there was a nagging doubt. Perhaps there was something he could have done, should have done.
“The Breaker does hold back the Shadow Lord,” said Rya, bringing the conversation back on track. “Guards used to stand atop that massive wall, especially after the Great War.” Thomas tried to imagine what the Breaker looked like. He had read that it was three hundred feet tall and one hundred feet wide. He knew it was true, but he really wouldn’t believe it until he saw it. “As time passed, the Kingdoms grew lax, and the number of soldiers who formed the First Guard — those waiting for the next attack by the Shadow Lord — dwindled in number. Now, no one waits, as most of the Western Kingdoms believe the Shadow Lord is dead or simply a myth. But the Breaker still stands, and I have a feeling it will be put to use once again.” Rya exchanged a look with Rynlin. Sooner than we know, they both thought. Before we, and perhaps you, Thomas, are ready.
“We have been fighting that abomination for a long time,” said Rya mournfully. “The Sylvana were first called together to fight an evil in the far north, which had entered the Charnel Mountains. At the time, those mountains were known as the Northern Peaks, and as I said before, they were a beautiful sight to behold. That was the first time the Shadow Lord tried to conquer the Kingdoms. In the beginning, the rulers of the different lands didn’t see him as a serious threat, since it was far to the north and the Northern Steppes stood in the way. So only a few went into the Northern Peaks to fight. They did the best they could, but were heavily outnumbered by the Dark Horde. They fought valiantly, yet could only delay the inevitable advance and hope that help would come.
“The other Kingdoms soon realized the great danger they were in, but it would take weeks for them to call together their armies and march to the north. At that time, druids still held sway over the land, and often served as advisors in the courts of the different kings. The chief druid, a woman named Athala, suggested that the Kingdoms send their best warriors to her, and they would fight the Dark Horde until the massed armies of the Kingdoms could take the field.
“The other rulers thought it was an excellent idea, and the greatest warriors of that time met Athala on the Northern Steppes, for the Dark Horde was pushing hard for the south and would soon break out of the Northern Peaks. When that happened, the Kingdoms would have no chance to stop them. Athala called her small army of only several hundred Sylvan Warriors, naming it after a mythical band of soldiers who, the stories told, appeared in times of need and fought for those who had been wronged.
“The Sylvan Warriors met the Dark Horde at the edge of the Northern Peaks, and there they battled for three days and three nights. The Sylvana fought desperately to hold back the Shadow Lord’s advance. In the end, they succeeded. They forced the Dark Horde to retreat. Before the Shadow Lord could recover, the armies of the Kingdoms arrived and pushed him even deeper into what was then already being described as the Charnel Mountains.”
Thomas was captured by Rya’s words, clinging to every one. Images of the battle came to life in his mind thanks to what was often described by his grandparents as his overactive imagination.
“But they couldn’t destroy the Shadow Lord. They could only defeat him. So the rulers of the Kingdoms again followed the advice of Athala and made the Sylvan Warriors a permanent fighting force, with no ties of allegiance to any country. Their sole purpose was to fight the Shadow Lord, and they have done so ever since. That was the first time the Shadow Lord tried to conquer the Kingdoms, but not the last. He continues to attack, and we continue to defeat him. Yet, he grows stronger each time, and it becomes more difficult for us to hold him back.
“Many great men and women have been members of the Sylvana. Rynlin’s family used to rule a kingdom larger than Fal Carrach and the Highlands combined, but the Keldragans prided themselves more on being part of that original group to fight the Shadow Lord. Ollav Fola, the first High King, was a Sylvan Warrior before assuming his throne. Yet even when he ruled as High King, he could not break his ties fully with us. They were too strong.”
“Why was that?” asked Thomas. He had listened in rapt attention to Rya’s story. Some of what she had talked of was discussed in the history books he had read, but much of it, in fact most of it, was not mentioned.
“When you join the Sylvana, Thomas,” said Rynlin, “you are marked.” Rya had been waiting to see when Rynlin was going to interrupt her again. She was amazed he had not done so earlier. Since he had behaved himself for so long she decided she would permit this one transgression, adopting the pose of an indulgent schoolteacher allowing her favorite student to speak. She knew that Rynlin found that posture extremely irritating, and he confirmed it with his brief scowl. How easy it was to play with her husband’s mind. Rynlin again pulled out his necklace to make his point.
“You are bound to nature for the rest of your life. That is the purpose of your life, to protect nature and those who live within nature’s touch — people, animals, trees, life in general — from the evil of the Shadow Lord. It is not a decision to be made lightly.”
Thomas took in Rynlin’s words and wondered if he would some day have the opportunity to join the Sylvana. One day perhaps he would. But he had a promise to keep to his grandfather and the Highlands. Would that interfere?
“The Sylvana held the Shadow Lord at the edge of the Charnel Mountains?” asked Thomas for clarification. They both nodded. “Then why was the Breaker built?” He had wondered about that. He knew the obvious reason: to hold back the Shadow Lord. But he wondered why that would be necessary if the Shadow Lord could not extend his power outside of the Charnel Mountains.
“Because there used to be hundreds of Sylvan Warriors,” said Rynlin in a sad tone, the sorrow readily apparent in his face. “As the years passed and the number of battles grew, our numbers have decreased. Now there are no more than a hundred. Because there are so few of us left, the Breaker is our last defense. If the Shadow Lord attacks, and breaches the Breaker, the Kingdoms will fall, and with them nature itself.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” said Rya, seeing Thomas’ concern. “There are still enough of us left to defeat the Shadow Lord, and he hasn’t stirred for more than two hundred years, since the Great War.”
“So where are your unicorns? I thought unicorns were the steed
s of Sylvan Warriors.” Both Rynlin and Rya stared at him in surprise. They were both taken off-guard by the question. Rynlin decided to give him the truth. Thomas usually smelled a lie from a mile away.
“They live in the Valley of the Unicorns and come out into the world when there is a need.” Thomas had been curious about that since he had first learned that Rynlin and Rya were both members of the Sylvana. He knew from the history books that the Sylvan Warriors did not ride horses. Instead they rode unicorns into battle, but it was always very vague as to why that was the case.
“Are unicorns only white, or can they be different colors?” Again, the history books only spoke of white unicorns, but Thomas doubted their accuracy.
“Why do you ask, Thomas?” Rya sensed that Thomas was asking these questions out of more than basic curiosity.
“No reason.”
“Thomas.” He had heard that unyielding tone of voice from Rya many times before. Holding back information now was not a good idea. He had hoped to get answers to his questions in a roundabout way. He now saw that it would be impossible.
“Because I keep seeing unicorns in my dreams,” he replied. Both Rynlin and Rya leaned forward, gazing at him intently, but for some reason were not surprised. Thomas cleared his throat, somewhat nervous under their close scrutiny. He decided to tell his grandparents everything. “Recently I’ve been having the same dream, where a black unicorn stands before me in a huge valley of green. Then the unicorn approaches me. He bends his head and touches my palm with his horn and I wake up.”
“How often do you have this dream, Thomas?” Rya asked the question calmly, but on the inside she was having a hard time controlling her emotions.
“When I first had it a few months ago, maybe once a week at most. Now it’s several times a week. Is that a problem? The books that I’ve read only speak of white unicorns, not black ones.”
“No, not at all,” said Rya. “Unicorns can be many different colors.”