by Wacht, Peter
“What’s on your mind, Rya?” asked Anara. “I get the sense that you’re thinking on something.”
“Thomas is returning,” she replied, her hand holding onto the amulet carved in the shape of a unicorn’s horn that hung from a silver chain around her neck. “He has the Key.”
That last comment drew everyone’s stares.
“How do you know?” asked Renn.
“We can feel him,” answered Rynlin. “Where Thomas is. Where he’s going. He’s coming home. Rya is right. He has the Key.”
“He did it,” chuckled Nestor. “I never doubted that he would, but even this appeared to be almost too much for him.”
“What does that mean for us?” asked Anara. “Is that why the Ogren are giving us space to breathe?”
“My guess is that the Shadow Lord is pulling back,” said Rya. “The attacks were constant for weeks, and now nothing. And no sign of dark creatures crossing the Northern Steppes toward the Highlands.”
Rynlin nodded in agreement. “The Shadow Lord will want to ensure that Blackstone is protected now that Thomas has the Key. Perhaps he has given up here as well. His minions have failed to gain any ground in the Highlands. With that route blocked, maybe he will turn his full attention to the Breaker now.”
“So what’s our next step?” asked Seneca.
“Continue to defend our northern border,” said Anara, a dagger dancing between her fingers as was her habit. Thomas had charged her with keeping the Highlands free of dark creatures, and she meant to continue doing that. “At the same time, we prepare to march. When Thomas calls, we must be ready to answer.”
39
Unexpected Visitor
“Is this the right place?”
Kaylie stood at the bow of the ship provided by Dendrick, the Lord of the Distant Islands, at Ariel’s behest. The two were great friends, and a quick explanation and request by the Sylvan Warrior had set plans instantly in motion to get Thomas and his Marchers to the east as quickly as possible. Dendrick had provided his fastest ship and provisions for the journey, getting them out of the harbor and into the open sea in a matter of hours. They had avoided the Whorl, which remained fixed just outside the Kenmarian port city of Faralan, by first sailing north and then made good time as they cut east across the Winter Sea, landing at a hidden cove where the Clanwar Desert met the northwestern tip of the Breaker, the towering wall of black granite slabs running as far as the eye could see toward the Highlands that appeared as no more than a hazy smudge far to the southeast. After their experience in the mountains outside Afara, they had expected trouble from the Shadow Lord and his minions on the journey home. But much to their surprise, no attack, not even a hint of danger, had materialized.
“Yes, it is.” Thomas scanned the barren shore in the dark of night with his sharp eyes, seeking any sign of movement while he also searched the nearby coast with the Talent. Kaylie did the same and they both nodded when they completed their tasks. There was nothing but the play of the breeze across the sand and the reeds that grew thickly along the shore. Few inhabited the rolling hills that partitioned the desert from the Breaker, which rose just a few leagues to the north. “But let’s stay wary, nonetheless. We’ve come a long way, and I’d hate to lose a step so close to our objective. Our luck has held since leaving Afara, but that might be coming to an end.”
Once Thomas was satisfied that all appeared to be well, the sailors brought the sleek vessel as close in to land as possible, lowering several longboats and rowing the Marchers to shore with strong, consistent strokes that rapidly cut through the calm water of the small bay. In the cold of the early morning, the only light came from the bright, shining stars, which made the white sand of the beach glow dimly. Once their passengers were safely ashore, the sailors returned to their vessel, turning back to the west and their home isles. The Marchers hastily spread out along the shore and then into the lowlands, setting up a defensive perimeter. All was calm and quiet, but that didn’t mean it would remain so.
Thomas stood calmly in their midst, extending his senses once again. Pleased that no hazard threatened, he turned back to Oso and Kaylie, somewhat surprised. He had located an unanticipated visitor waiting for them.
“Daran Sharban, a Sylvan Warrior, is just up this way. I’ll walk up to meet him. There doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger near, but my gut is telling me that something isn’t quite right. Oso, keep the Marchers sharp.”
“Of course, Thomas.” Oso scrunched up his face, which made him resemble a cantankerous old man. Clearly, this discovery didn’t please him. “Were you expecting to be met?”
Thomas turned to Oso, thoughtful, his mind working furiously to put together several disparate pieces of a puzzle that Thomas feared was about to reveal a nasty truth. “No. That’s what worries me.”
The large Highlander issued the necessary commands to the Marchers as they followed Thomas off the beach and into the scrub that marked the border between sand and sparse forest that rapidly gave way to a series of knolls. The Marchers remained alert, hands close to the hilts of their swords. They could feel it as well. No imminent sense of danger or threat, but an uneasiness, as if something was about to happen, but what it could be they could only guess.
Kaylie’s thoughts remained on what needed to be done. With Thomas having gained the Key, the battle with the Shadow Lord approached quickly. Faster than she would have liked, but she kept that thought to herself. Rallying the Kingdoms to fight at the Breaker was the next step and the only way to keep the Dark Horde on the Northern Steppes. But so much depended on Thomas. She resolved that she would do all that she could to reduce as much of his burden as possible.
Thomas was having similar thoughts, knowing that the time for him to go to Blackstone and meet his fate was approaching. He was resigned to it and realistic about the likely result. But before that he would do all that he could to ensure Kaylie’s safety. Fighting the Dark Horde was not something that she needed to do, though he was certain that she would argue otherwise. He needed to find a way to get Kaylie to her father. She’d never forgive him for it, but better that than he be the cause of her being placed in mortal peril.
His thoughts were interrupted as he walked over the final dune and recognized Daran Sharban, his red hair bright even in the darkness of night, standing calmly at the edge of the forest. The Sylvan Warrior charged with protecting this part of the world, he grinned as Thomas approached.
“Well met, Daran. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
“I spoke with your grandfather, Thomas. He asked that I offer what assistance I could when you arrived.”
Daran stepped forward jauntily, the smile never leaving his face, though it didn’t translate to his eyes, which Thomas interpreted as anxious. The Sylvan Warrior gripped Thomas’ hand strongly, then stepped back.
Thomas kept his face impassive, but he studied Daran closely. The feeling of wrongness continued to plague him, in fact having grown more persistent as the Marchers had left the beach, but he still couldn’t identify the source of his unease. Yet he did sense a tension in Daran that he had never encountered before. It was distinctly out of character for the Sylvan Warrior and that sent a bolt of warning through him.
“Quite a journey, from what I understand,” said Daran, taking in Kaylie, Oso and the Marchers coming through the scrub from the beach. “And all went well? Did you find what you were looking for?”
“As well as could be,” replied Thomas, his eyes locked onto Daran, measuring him. Weighing him. Finding something lacking. For some reason, the conversation that he had engaged in with Kincaid about why he and the Sentinels had never revealed the location of the Key came to mind.
Kaylie stepped up next to Thomas, taking in this tall, red-haired stranger. She noticed the moonlight glint off the silver necklace he wore, identifying him as a Sylvan Warrior.
“The Princess of Fal Carrach, I presume,” said Daran, giving her a slight bow and a wide smile. “I have heard much about you.
I am Daran Sharban, Sylvan Warrior and protector of these lands.”
Thomas stepped in front of Kaylie, his unease blossoming and his instincts warning him of danger. Kaylie noted his movement. At first, she was surprised, but then she understood. Her hand naturally drifted toward her dagger in response.
“No one knew that we were coming in here, Daran.” Thomas stared at his fellow Sylvan Warrior, his gaze hard and unwavering.
Daran’s always present smile fell for a moment, then quickly returned. “Thomas, why the concern? I’m simply here to help you and your Marchers. It’s the least that I could do for a fellow Sylvan Warrior. Rynlin asked that I look out for you. I’m just doing as a good friend asked.”
“Thomas, what’s going on?” asked Kaylie, her own anxiety growing. She glanced behind her, noting that Oso and the other Marchers were still several hundred yards away.
Thomas studied Daran carefully, his inspection incisive. Even in the dim light provided by the moon, he could pick out every feature of Daran’s face. And on this frigid night, he noticed sweat beading on the tall Sylvan Warrior’s forehead and running down his temple. Even more telling, Thomas’ necklace, once worn by his mother, had grown ice cold. He had used the Talent just moments before to confirm that there was no danger in the vicinity. But he had never known the gleaming silver pendant to be wrong, the icy metal suggesting that he was in peril. In fact, if there was a threat as the magicked amulet implied, it most likely stood in front of him.
“You never answered my question, Daran. How did you know I would be here? No one knew.” The hair on Thomas’ neck prickled as the tension within Daran built, observing how his friend flexed his fingers nervously and couldn’t seem to stand still as he shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Not even my grandfather.”
Daran’s smile disappeared for good, his eyes now sharp, his voice cold. “It didn’t have to come to this, Thomas. It could have been much easier.” He sighed in resignation. “But if this is the way it has to happen, then so be it.”
In an instant Thomas felt the pull of the Talent as Daran took hold of the natural magic of the world, enclosing Thomas, Kaylie and himself in a shimmering dome of energy that blocked out the sound of the ocean waves slamming against the shore and the nighttime noises of the forest. The barrier glowed dimly in the night, its light blue radiance catching Oso’s attention, the large Highlander remembering what Thomas’ grandparents had constructed to keep the Shadow Lord’s creature contained during the battle in the Highlands. He and the Marchers sprinted forward, some with their blades drawn. But they had to stop when they reached the magical barrier, unable to break through the glowing dome with their fists or steel to reach Thomas and Kaylie.
Much to his frustration, Daran had raised the dome before Thomas could push Kaylie clear. Now they were both trapped, the pellucid barrier muffling the cries of outrage as Oso and the Marchers were prevented from coming to Thomas’ aid. Kaylie pulled her sword, ready to fight. Thomas simply stood his ground calmly.
“How long since you sold yourself to the Shadow Lord?”
The bluntness of Thomas’ question caught Daran off guard. He saw the Marchers trying to break through his magical dome, but he wasn’t worried. They could pound on the shield for days and it would have no effect whatsoever. But he did feel some urgency to what he had to do next. He had been given a task to complete, and he would within the specific time frame, but he had always found a good conversation too hard to resist.
“Long enough,” replied Daran, a smile back on his face. “It was an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. The Sylvan Warriors were decreasing in number. We all knew the Shadow Lord had survived the Great War and would return eventually. The odds and my desire to live a long life pointed me in this direction.”
Thomas’ mind worked rapidly, finally piecing all the discordant fragments into a recognizable whole. Little things that didn’t seem to fit were coming together to solve the larger puzzle.
“There were fewer Marchers because of you. You provided the information needed to find them when they were alone. You guided the Shadow Lord’s creatures right to them. And you helped them follow us when we came out of the Highlands on our way west, guiding them in our direction.”
“Guilty as charged,” laughed Daran, a glint of desperation sparking in his eyes, then disappearing just as quickly.
“You were at the Roost, and again in the forest before we reached the Clanwar Desert. The cowled assassin.”
“Yes,” confirmed Daran, giving Thomas a small bow to acknowledge his deductive skills. “But in my defense, I would have taken no pleasure from your death. It was simply an assignment to be carried out. You got lucky both times, Thomas. If not for that we wouldn’t be here now.”
“Are you sure about that, Daran? If I recall correctly, you were the one running away both times. What makes you think that you have the strength to face me now?”
Daran stared at Thomas, his expression filling with rage at the slight, yet Thomas identified fear there as well that the tall Sylvan Warrior, try as he might, failed to hide.
“We’ll just have to see who is stronger,” replied Daran, though his voice wavered, as if the uncertainty resulting from his previous encounters with Thomas had already begun to worm its way beneath his confidence.
“How could you?” demanded Kaylie. “They were your friends. Your brothers and sisters.”
Daran laughed again to hide his increasing misgivings. “It was quite easy, Princess. Quite easy, indeed, when you consider the master who I serve.”
“Was it worth it?” she asked, her distaste clear.
He stepped forward, looking Kaylie over with a lecherous grin. “You’re more beautiful than I expected, Princess. Quite a catch, in fact. If my master gives you to me, then perhaps it will be worth it in the end.”
Thomas took hold of the Talent, allowing the energy of nature to flow through him. Daran noticed immediately, stepping back.
“She is already spoken for, Daran. Now what is it that you want?”
“Well, as I said, the Princess of Fal Carrach would be a wonderful gift,” Daran replied through a forced chuckle. “But I’m here for a bigger prize, Thomas.”
“Me.”
“You.”
The silence stretched for more than a minute, Daran now serious, the two Sylvan Warriors facing off against one another. Kaylie was afraid to breathe. The Marchers remained outside the magical dome, their frustration clear, not able to hear anything but still watching the standoff intently.
Daran moved first, raising his hands quickly and shooting bolts of black energy toward Thomas and Kaylie. Thomas wove a shield made from the Talent in front of them, the white radiance pulsing brightly every time it deflected the quarrels of Dark Magic.
“Stay down,” said Thomas, as he remained in front of Kaylie, holding the shield.
The intensity of Daran’s attack increased as the traitorous Sylvan Warrior sought to destroy Thomas’ defense right from the start, the black energy trying to envelop the shield. But the barrier held; in fact, it grew stronger as Thomas streamed more of the Talent into it.
“Thomas, I can help,” Kaylie yelled.
Thomas grinned at Kaylie’s insistence, despite what they faced, drawing her to him even more.
“I know you can. But Daran is almost as strong as I am in the Talent. And he’s been practicing since before the Great War. You have the strength, but not the training. If I’m to fight him, I can’t worry about you as well.”
Kaylie wanted to protest, but his logic made sense. Reluctantly she nodded in agreement.
“Thank you.”
Thomas kept his attention on Daran, maintaining his shield. The attack continued, but with no effect other than the bolts of black energy deflecting off the shield to dissipate against the barrier. Thomas actually was thankful for the dome. Though having Kaylie here behind him was a concern, the magical barrier kept Oso and his Marchers safe. For now.
“But ther
e must be something that I can do?” Kaylie growled in frustration.
“There is. You had mentioned that Rya was teaching you how to defend yourself with the Talent.”
“She was.”
“Did she teach you how to do what I’m doing now? To craft and hold a shield?”
“She showed it to me, but she never had the chance to take me through the process beyond a few attempts.”
“No matter,” said Thomas, his focus still on Daran, who continued to shoot shard after shard of Dark Magic toward them. “I need you to form a shield like I have. Are you willing to try?”
Seeing no need to answer, Kaylie grasped the Talent, allowing the power to flow through her. She examined what Thomas had done and instinctively tried to imitate the flows. At first, the ball of energy that swirled in front of her didn’t resemble anything at all. But gradually it took shape, slowly mimicking the shield that Thomas continued to use to defend against Daran’s attack. It was a bit smaller than she would have liked, but she fixed that quickly.
Thomas glanced back. “Excellent, well done.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stay here, close to the barrier. Keep the shield in front of you.”
“What are you going to do?”