by Wacht, Peter
“You said it was Killeran’s fort. It’s not there anymore?”
“No,” laughed Oso. “Killeran brought us there, but we escaped within a few months. When we did, we freed the enslaved Highlanders and Thomas burned the Black Hole to the ground. You might have noticed Killeran’s animosity during the Council of the Kingdoms?”
“It was hard to miss.”
“It was justified,” smirked Oso. “Thomas seems to have made it his mission in life to make that bastard’s very existence as miserable as possible.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they passed through the last of the flowing grasslands. Kaylie thought on what the big Marcher had said, Oso apparently content to ride by her side, a comforting and calming presence.
“Can I speak plainly, Princess?”
Kaylie nodded her assent, a touch of worry settling in her stomach.
“Thomas is different. That’s probably the easiest way to put it. No offense, but your anger and pouting …”
“I’m not pouting,” Kaylie declared indignantly in her own defense.
Oso just stared at her, maintaining his silence and waiting her out, his experience with Anara coming in handy. Kaylie relented.
“Fine. You may be right, if only a little bit.”
“As I was saying, Thomas was raised by his grandparents. He’s always been an independent type, always surviving because of his wits. As a result, he is very direct. He doesn’t like games. He goes right to the heart of the matter. I can tell he likes you, Princess, but he probably doesn’t understand what’s going on right now. His grandparents taught him many things. For example, the fastest way to kill a Shade or an Ogren, as you’ve seen. But he has very little experience with women or with all the doings of the court.”
Oso’s words deflated her entirely. She had been acting poorly. She had known it from the start but gotten comfortable in her vexation and melancholy. Kaylie closed her eyes for a moment, now irritated with herself. She had been acting as would Corelia, daughter of the High King, playing a specific role in order to gain an advantage. That thought embarrassed her more than she cared to admit.
“You seem to think that he toyed with you in the training circle. He didn’t. I’ve sparred with him many times, and he’s defeated me just as fast if not faster. Do you know how he learned to use a blade? A bow? Pretty much any weapon you can employ on the battlefield?”
“No, he hasn’t told me much since we began riding together.”
“That stands to reason. After Tinnakilly …”
“You know about Tinnakilly?” asked Kaylie, mortified. “I swear, I didn’t have any idea what …”
“Please, Princess. You don’t need to try to convince me of anything. Yes, Thomas told me, at least roughly, what happened. He doesn’t blame you. But he’s cautious.”
“I know. It’s like he’s built a wall around himself, and no matter what I try I can’t get past his defenses.”
“Why would you expect it to be easy? If you haven’t noticed, Thomas can be incredibly stubborn. All you can do is keep trying. I’m not suggesting that you’re guaranteed success for your efforts. It’s hard to gain his trust. But if it matters to you, keep trying. Put your own obstinance to work for you rather than against you.”
“Thank you, Oso. I’ll remember that.” She felt better for the first time in days, her anger flowing out of her and leaving her with a lighter spirit. The big Highlander was right. “You never finished explaining how Thomas became so skilled in weapons.”
“His grandfather had him fight ghosts.”
“What?”
“You know of Thomas’ ability in the Talent?”
“Yes,” answered Kaylie, keeping her own increasing skill in the natural magic of the world to herself.
“Well, his grandfather, Rynlin, and his grandmother, Rya, have the same ability. Thomas told me that Rynlin — and just let me say that without even speaking a word Thomas’ grandfather can be scarier than the Shadow Lord himself at times — used the Talent to awaken the spirits of great warriors, such as Antonin, First Spear of the Carthanians, or Fergus Steelheart, Captain of the Golden Blades. Thomas sparred with them daily, receiving the finest weapons training in all the Kingdoms.”
“You can’t be serious.”
How could this even be possible? Kaylie knew that Antonin and Fergus were heroes from another age, from even before the time of Ollav Fola, the first High King of the Kingdoms, if the stories were to be believed.
“I’m completely serious. Rynlin even showed me how he did it once, because I didn’t believe him. That was a mistake.”
“Frightening?”
“In part, but rather more enlightening.”
Oso would never forget the beating he received from the spirit of Alicia, Hunter of the North. Alicia had barely come up to his chest, and her thin frame belied her strength and skill. He had fought her in the training circle using a quarterstaff. By the time it was over, and it didn’t last long thankfully, his body was covered in angry, blue bruises and welts, Alicia demonstrating an ability with that weapon that was almost ethereal. It was an embarrassment he would never live down since Thomas and several Marchers had the opportunity to watch. Of course, after Alicia had defeated him, and much to Oso’s annoyance, none of the other Marchers had deigned to step into the training circle and challenge the famed hunter themselves. Cowards every one of them. Or maybe they had been smart enough to know they didn’t stand a chance either.
“The point I’m trying to make is that Thomas has received training that no one else has. You’ve seen him. He fights like a demon. When you sparred with him, the first two rounds he used your anger against you. In the last round, once you controlled your temper and allowed your instinct to take over, you did well, probably better than any of us could have. You believed that the Marchers and soldiers who watched thought you failed, right?”
Kaylie nodded reluctantly.
“You’re mistaken. That’s not the case. They were impressed. Very impressed. Don’t let your anger cloud reality.”
Kaylie sat on her horse somewhat chagrined, the cold wind buffeting her, pushing her to the east. She had misinterpreted the entire event, and as a result had made the lives of everyone around her miserable for days.
“Oso, thank you for explaining this all to me. I do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Princess.” Oso gave his horse a slight nudge in the ribs so he could pick up his pace. “Just remember, if you believe Thomas is worth it, it’s worth the effort.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Teasing Conversation
Kaylie spent much of the rest of the day thinking about what Oso had said. That night, she found Thomas sitting on a knoll that allowed him to look beyond their small camp and catch the first glimpse of the blue water of the Inland Sea just a league off to the east.
“Good evening, Kaylie.”
The Princess of Fal Carrach stopped in her tracks, halfway up the hillock. Thomas hadn’t bothered to turn around, still gazing at the shimmering water, the last rays of the sun imbuing it with an orange hue.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Where’s the fun if I give away all of my secrets?”
“You know, Thomas, you can be extremely difficult at times.”
Kaylie reached the top of the tor, spreading out her riding dress as she sat down next to Thomas on the thick grass.
“So I’ve been told. Many, many times.”
“I wanted to apologize. I’ve acted badly since our contest.” Kaylie shifted in her seat, somewhat nervous. “I’m sorry for that.”
“There’s no need. But thank you.” Thomas finally turned toward her, smiling. “You did quite well, you know. I’ve faced few opponents faster than you. Even that Shade a few days ago.”
“Oso explained it to me earlier today. He told me how you received your training.”
“Yes, it was a unique approach. But then again, my grandfather is a unique individual.�
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Thomas turned back toward the Inland Sea, watching as the last rays of light touched the water before the sun dipped below the western horizon.
“Why so fascinated with the water?” asked Kaylie.
“It reminds me of growing up on the Isle of Mist. I haven’t been back for a while. I used to spend a lot of time on the beach, looking across to the Highlands, wondering when I should go back.”
“Why did you go back?”
“You must do what you must do,” replied Thomas cryptically.
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s something Rya says quite often. ‘You must do what you must do.’ It stuck with me. Before I escaped the Crag, my grandfather Talyn gave me that charge. To reclaim the Highlands. But Rya and Rynlin convinced me to wait, knowing that if I tried too soon, I’d die. When I joined the Sylvan Warriors, I was finally able to travel the Highlands on my own. That’s when I met Oso and confirmed with my own eyes what was happening there.”
“Was it difficult, knowing you had this responsibility following you around?”
Kaylie could relate. She felt the burden of one day ruling Fal Carrach, oftentimes dreaming about what it would be like if she had complete control of her life rather than having a large portion of it already decided.
“Extremely. To be honest, it wasn’t until I returned to the Highlands and saw for myself the depredations of the reivers that I knew I had to do as my grandfather had required. Growing up in the Crag, the Highlanders treated me as an outsider. Most people feared my mother because of her skill in the Talent. And when I started to exhibit some of the same abilities, well, you can imagine what happened.”
“It must have been lonely.”
“Sometimes. Talyn tried to help when he could, but he was busy. He did allow me to wander the forest surrounding the Crag, which was a welcome break.” Thomas turned toward Kaylie, his gaze knowing. “But I’m sure you’ve experienced something similar, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Kaylie grew up surrounded by children her own age, but there were times when even with people always around her, she felt isolated and alone. “I always wondered if my friends were my friends because of who I was or who I would become.”
“A valid concern,” said Thomas. “Particularly after meeting some of your friends in the Burren.”
“Yes, that was an eye-opening experience.”
Kaylie laughed, remembering how foolish she had been to think that picnicking in the Burren was a good idea. The two Ogren that appeared had dissuaded her of that notion immediately. If not for Thomas and Beluil, she and her friends likely wouldn’t have survived.
“I learned a lot that day, not only about myself, but it also confirmed that some of my so-called friends, such as Maddan Dinnegan, were all talk and no action.”
“Better to learn that sooner rather than later.”
“Agreed.”
Norin Dinnegan, Maddan’s father, was the richest man in Fal Carrach and perhaps all the Kingdoms, or at least had been. Though both Norin and Maddan had insinuated many times that Maddan was the perfect match for Kaylie, her father always hesitated, putting them off every time they attempted to pursue the matter. Kaylie never understood why until that day in the Burren. Her father had seen something that she had missed, beyond Maddan’s obvious immaturity and conceit. And that failing was made plain when Kaylie stumbled onto Norin Dinnegan’s plot to kill her father and claim Fal Carrach for his own.
She and Thomas settled into a comfortable silence, the grey dusk turning to dark. For a time, she looked up at the clear evening sky, watching as the night’s stars slowly took the stage. Kaylie noticed that Thomas had closed his eyes, his attention elsewhere.
“What do you see?” she asked.
“Why don’t you tell me what you see, Princess.”
She recalled the time in the glade, before Thomas had been betrayed at Tinnakilly, when he had taught her how to use the Talent for the first time. She wanted to work with him again, though felt that it would presume too much. But now he was giving her that opportunity.
Remembering her lessons with Rya, Kaylie reached for the Talent, reveling in the energy that filled her. Gradually she extended her senses to the north, stretching her perception for leagues, imagining she was a hawk winging her way to the Clanwar Desert, then swinging to the west into Kenmare before turning south for Eamhain Mhacha. Finally, she looped back to the east before settling on the Inland Sea.
“Nothing to worry about,” she said, releasing the Talent, a huge smile on her face. “But there was something in the Inland Sea, close to the western shore. Several large fins cutting through the water.”
“Great Sharks,” muttered Thomas, not surprised.
The Shadow Lord was flexing his muscles, Thomas thought. The massive beasts normally didn’t make their way through Stormy Bay then up into the Inland Sea, preferring the waters along the coast. Or perhaps the Great Sharks being there had a more direct cause. Oso had killed the dark creature that resembled a Nightstalker, one that Thomas had never come across before nor wanted to see again, just a few days before, so the Shadow Lord probably had sensed Thomas’ location when his friend had killed that demon. Perhaps his nemesis hoped that Thomas would take a boat across the Inland Sea and his Great Sharks could attack during the journey.
“Really!” said Kaylie with some excitement. “Sailors coming into Ballinasloe tell tales of Great Sharks. Many said that they actually attacked the ships. But the Great Sharks rarely came close to the port.”
“They prefer deeper water,” said Thomas.
Often fifty feet or more in length, the terrifyingly large sharks could easily swallow a man whole or destroy a small skiff. Though the beasts would track the larger merchant vessels knowing that these ships were too large to be prey, from time to time they would attack smaller craft with some success.
“You’ve seen them before?”
“Many times. I spent a lot of time on the beach at the Isle of Mist, at a place aptly named Shark Cove. You could swim out about a hundred feet, then the sea floor dropped precipitously. You didn’t go beyond that point, because that’s where the Great Sharks waited. At certain times during the year, sea lions would use the beach to raise their pups. Most of the time, the sea lions escaped the Great Sharks, but sometimes not. The Great Sharks stayed below the sea lions, then would swim up toward them, often breaching the water’s surface with a sea lion between its jaws. It was a tremendous, scary sight.”
“I can only imagine,” said Kaylie. “Seems like a lesson to be learned there.”
“You’re right about that,” replied Thomas with a straight face. “Don’t go swimming when Great Sharks are about.”
Kaylie looked at him for a moment, then broke out into a laugh. Thomas laughed as well, his green eyes sparkling brightly with mischief.
“Are you teasing me, Thomas?”
“Yes, Kaylie. I am.”
Kaylie blushed slightly, glad that the darkness hid her reaction from Thomas. They sat there quietly for some time, watching as more stars appeared in the sky, simply enjoying the quiet of the early evening and each other’s company.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
A Symbol
The next morning, the Highlanders and Fal Carrachians made their final preparations to go their own ways, the Marchers to the north around the Inland Sea and then into the western Highlands, the Fal Carrachians to the south to make for Ballinasloe. The hustle and bustle of breaking camp consumed much of the early morning, but as the soldiers for both sides mounted their horses, Thomas pulled Gregory aside, drawing their horses away from the others.
“I wanted to give you this. To serve as a symbol of peace between Fal Carrach and the Highlands, which has lasted for almost one thousand years. And also because you and Kaylie need a little help from time to time.”
With a grin, Thomas handed Gregory an intricately carved horn, which spiraled much like a unicorn’s horn.
Gregory chuckled at the quip, somewhat ve
xed but acknowledging the truth in Thomas’ words. Looking more closely at the horn, the King of Fal Carrach ran his hands along the carved metal, then his breath caught in his throat. He drew his horse closer to Thomas’ steed.
“This is a Horn of the Sylvana,” Gregory exclaimed.
“Yes, it is.”
“The only way you could have gotten one of these is …” Gregory studied Thomas with a keen eye, noting the young man’s serious expression and the complete lack of guile. “But that would mean you’re one of the …”
Gregory struggled to finish his thoughts, so Thomas pulled his necklace from beneath his shirt so that the King of Fal Carrach could see the silver amulet twisted in the shape of a unicorn’s horn.
“They were only a myth for so long, and then you come along, and everything changes,” said Gregory.
“The Lost Kestrel was a myth as well, Gregory, yet a myth stands before you in flesh and blood. Do with the horn what you will. But know that a ruler of one of the Kingdoms has not had in his or her possession a Horn of the Sylvana since the High King tried to make the Sylvan Warriors his own centuries ago.”
“Thomas, why?” asked Gregory. “I appreciate this gift, and I understand its value. But why now?”
Before the traitorous High King destroyed the Sylvana’s faith in the Kingdoms, every ruler in the Kingdoms had a Horn of the Sylvana to call for aid when attacked by the dark creatures of the Shadow Lord. Gregory knew the lore. If you blew the Horn three times, the Sylvana would come. With an unmatched vengeance and wrath.
Through the ages, many had sworn that they could put words to the three blasts from the Horn, for the Sylvan Warriors always answered with three blasts of their own before appearing as if out of nowhere, swords drawn, spears and battle axes poised, lightning bolts and fire clearing a path: We hear. We come. We conquer.
“Times are changing,” replied Thomas. “You can see it as well as I can. Dark creatures travel unimpeded across the Northern Steppes and plague the Highlands, some trickling into other Kingdoms. We spend more time and effort now killing Shades and Ogren than we do the remnants of Killeran’s Army of the Black Sword. Look out on the Inland Sea as the fins of the Great Sharks cut through the waves. When was the last time that happened?”