The Lost Kestrel Found (The Sylvan Chronicles Book 6)

by Peter Wacht

  Kaylie smiled as well. Substantial skill in the Talent sounded very appealing to her.

  “So tell me, Princess, how did you first learn you had some ability in the Talent?”

  “I met a boy in Tinnakilly at the last Eastern Festival,” Kaylie started, hesitating for a moment, a catch in her throat, but realizing there was nothing to be gained by holding back, and then everything poured out. “He won the archery contest. There was something about him that caught my attention. He wasn’t like the boys here in the Rock, the sons of lords and wealthy merchants who see me as a prize rather than as a person. And I had met him before when I was in the Burren with some friends. He saved us from two Ogren. Well, it wasn’t just him, but also his friend, this massive wolf that’s as large as a small horse. It was the most incredible experience.”

  Kaylie continued on, offering more details about her encounter in the Burren, until Rya held her hand up, signaling for her to stop. Rya smiled to herself, remembering that evening when Rynlin and Thomas had returned to the Isle of Mist after spending time in the Highlands. So much had changed since then, except for the fact that Rynlin, her husband, as usual had failed to provide her with a full explanation of what had happened that day. Typical. So typical. They’d have to have another long talk about that when next she saw him.

  “Let’s focus on my original question, Kaylie.”

  “Oh, yes, sorry,” Kaylie said, somewhat chagrined. “Anyway, I met this boy at the Festival. After he won the archery contest, we went for a walk in the woods surrounding the tournament fields. He showed me some of the things he could do with the Talent, and then he showed me how I could do it as well. Before we parted, he also gave me some lessons on how I can try to improve my skills, at least to a certain extent, on my own. So I’ve been doing that a bit as time allows. But nothing more than that.”

  Rya struggled to control her temper before responding. She should have expected as much. Sometimes that boy was more trouble than he was worth. Playing at the Talent without competent instruction was too dangerous. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she turned her attention back to the young woman sitting before her.

  “I see. And Thomas didn’t mention the rules or consequences for the use of the Talent, did he?”

  “No,” she replied, surprise evident in her voice. “How did you know his name?”

  “That boy will be the death of me some day,” said Rya, shaking her head in dismay and ignoring Kaylie’s question.

  “You know him?”

  Kaylie was surprised, but then also pleased. This might be an opportunity to learn more about the young man she continued to think about and mourn, the events in Tinnakilly still weighing heavily upon her.

  “I have some history with him, yes. Sometimes more than I would like. But that’s not relevant to our discussion right now. Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “I betrayed him,” she replied, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

  Kaylie explained what had happened when she and Thomas went on a picnic the next day. How Ragin had appeared with soldiers and captured Thomas, but not before Thomas, even though heavily drugged, killed several of the soldiers.

  “I swear I didn’t know what was going to happen. I don’t even remember anything from when Thomas and I first sat down to eat and then arriving back at the fortress and seeing Lord Chertney standing there smiling in the rain as they dragged Thomas off to the dungeon.”

  “Wait a moment,” said Rya, leaning forward in her chair, the intensity of her gaze making Kaylie uncomfortable. “Chertney was there?”

  “Yes, he was particularly pleased. He came across as just having won the golden goose at the local fair.”

  Rya sat back, taking a moment to contemplate this new information, but not surprised by it. She should have expected as much. Her grandson was impetuous, but not stupid. And he was also very good at forgetting key details when asked for explanations. If Chertney had set the trap, that would explain quite a bit.

  “Everyone makes mistakes, girl. But you need to let this one go. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kaylie had carried this burden ever since Thomas had been taken. When he escaped, and apparently died doing so by choosing to jump from the battlements rather than be skewered by the crossbow bolts shot at him by the guards, her anguish had been extreme. She was the cause of his death. Thinking of her betrayal tore her heart apart.

  “I mean you were caught in the middle of something over which you had no control.”

  “Still, it’s because of me that he’s …”

  “You, Thomas and I have the ability to use the Talent,” cut in Rya. “Did Thomas explain where the Talent comes from?”

  “He said that the Talent was a magic that came from the world around us. Those who can use the Talent are harnessing the power of nature.”

  “Correct. Did Thomas tell you about others who can make use of this natural power but for their own ends?”

  “No.”

  “That fool boy,” said Rya, huffing in disbelief.

  She rose from her chair, needing to walk in order to release some of her pent-up exasperation. You’d think with all the training that she and Rynlin had given Thomas, he would have been smart enough to teach Kaylie properly if he was going to reveal the power lurking dormant within her. She stopped to study Kaylie one more time. Perhaps there was a reason why he hadn’t gotten very far. She could see how quickly Thomas could have become smitten with this beautiful young lady.

  “When I first arrived, you asked how I found you.”

  “Yes, you said it was because I could use the Talent.”

  “Yes. I could sense your ability in the Talent. What Thomas didn’t explain was that there are others who can use a similar power, but in this case Dark Magic, granted to them by the Shadow Lord. It’s an affront to nature and it comes at an unimaginable cost, but there are those who are willing to do anything, to sell their very soul in fact, in order to gain power. These individuals can also sense Dark Magic or the Talent, as the two powers are closely related, how they are used, for what purpose, being their primary distinction. And that’s what I mean by consequences. If I can find you, so can someone who can use Dark Magic, unless you learn how to shield your Talent from those with the ability to find you.”

  “Can you show me how to do that?” asked Kaylie, fearful of what might happen if she ran across someone who could use Dark Magic.

  The fact that there were some people who could use Dark Magic didn’t unsettle her in the least. With all that had happened to her in the past year, she didn’t think anything could fluster her anymore.

  “You can count on it. In fact, I’ll teach you how to mask your ability before I leave tonight. But let’s go back for a moment. Chertney can use Dark Magic. You said Thomas had been drugged. That was to dull his senses so he couldn’t use the Talent.”

  “That makes sense,” said Kaylie. “But if Chertney could use Dark Magic …” She stopped for a moment, her mind working quickly.

  “Go on, girl. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Kaylie had kept the thought to herself, not wanting to appear foolish, but Rya wanted her to take a risk. So she did.

  “I was thinking that if Chertney could use Dark Magic, he could have used it against me so that I wouldn’t know what I was doing.”

  “Well done, girl,” said Rya. “Thomas being taken wasn’t your fault. You probably had no control over your actions. You were simply being used as a way to get close to Thomas. You had no choice in the matter. No control over your decisions or actions.”

  Kaylie felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her chest, yet she still felt responsible. And angry at being used.

  Rya sensed the emotions roiling within her. “Everyone makes mistakes, girl. You must move on.”

  “But, he’s dead because of me. I …”

  Rya's voice turned unexpectedly harsh. “From what you said, his death was ne
ver confirmed. Did you see a body?”

  Kaylie was shocked by the fire in Rya’s words, not knowing how to respond.

  “Strong tone for a lady, yes? But I’m trying to make a point. Dead or alive, Thomas isn’t the issue here. What’s done is done. What we need to focus on is your father. Now, what do you plan to do about these assassins?”

  “Me? But I …”

  “You already started, girl. With your father away, you rule the Rock and Ballinasloe. Your plan from last night, though brave, was a foolhardy and dangerous first step. We can chalk that up to inexperience. Now, examining the challenge and the threat more thoroughly and with greater forethought, what are we going to do next?”

  Kaylie stared at Rya for a moment, then collected herself. Rya was right. She ruled Ballinasloe while her father was away. It was time for her to act like it.

  “Where do we start?” asked Kaylie, looking at Rya with both anticipation and consternation. She felt overwhelmed and hoped that the strong woman sitting before her would help to guide her.

  Her fears threatened to get the better of her. She feared for her father, and for her city and Kingdom as well. Yes, she had been trained since a very young age to assume her father’s place on the throne, but this was all too real. Too unexpected. Too fast. She didn’t feel ready to handle so much responsibility. And the consequences of failure were more than she could bear to consider.

  “You tell me,” replied Rya. “One day you will rule Fal Carrach. You will be responsible for this Kingdom. This is your problem to solve.”

  The petite woman sat calmly in the chair facing her, an expectant look on her face. Kaylie sensed that Rya could tell her exactly what to do, but had no intention of doing so. She growled in irritation, her aggravation threatening to get the better of her. She realized that this, in itself, likely was her first lesson with her new instructor.

  Fine, she would approach it as such. Kaylie tried to remember all that she had learned, particularly from her father, the many times he had attempted to educate her in the intricacies of power and ruling a Kingdom, despite her being more interested in chasing after vapid boys at the time. As several of her lessons came back to her, with greater confidence she began to put the pieces together.

  “With Kael Bellilil away with my father, call on Garlan, Captain of the Guard. Have him increase the guards for each rotation, but quietly. Charge them with searching the Rock for any additional secret passageways that we may not be aware of. Send out loyal soldiers to the waystations on the roads extending from Ballinasloe so that they can warn my father before he returns. Disperse some trusted men throughout the castle and the town to see if they can discreetly root out more information before the assassin can strike. The more information we can obtain now, the better our decisions will be in the future.”

  Rya nodded approvingly. “That’s a good start. Let’s go meet this Garlan.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Change in Plan

  The Shadow Lord stood on a balcony that allowed him to peer out over the windswept, broken, and deserted city. He had waited so long, so long that his patience wore thin. But he could wait a bit longer. He needed to if he wanted his plans to come to fruition.

  His long black cloak didn’t stir despite the breeze. He seemed impervious to the elements, such as the wind that blew great gusts of blackened dirt into the air, creating small dust storms that spun through the abandoned streets of Blackstone. Through it all, he stood there calmly, still as the dead stone of the city he had made his own. The shadow seemed to follow him, swirling around him, hiding him. At times only his blood-red, blazing eyes gave him away, burning with a malice and hate centuries old.

  Chertney’s efforts had disappointed the Shadow Lord. He had never failed like this before. With the power that Chertney wielded, the power that the Shadow Lord himself had deigned to give him, he couldn’t understand how a boy yet to reach his full potential could continue to escape him. And this boy was becoming more and more of a problem. The Shadow Lord still needed time before setting the final parts of his plan in motion. He wasn’t strong enough to step out of the shadows. Not yet. This boy had to be removed before he revealed himself, and the time for that to happen continued to slip away much like sand through an hourglass.

  “I must change my plans, Malachias. We must move faster, before the boy can interfere again.”

  The raspy voice of the Shadow Lord, barely a whisper, carried to the back of the chamber. A tall, thin man stood in the shadows, his sable robes hiding his shape. His bald pate reflected what little light trickled into the room, nevertheless his mesmerizing black orbs were visible despite the gloom.

  “Yes, Master. I understand.”

  “You will not fail me, will you, Malachias?”

  “No, Master. I will not.”

  “For if you do, you will pay a price. A price you will not want to pay.”

  “Yes, Master. If I must, I will.”

  “Then go and do as I have commanded, Malachias. Show me that you deserve better than Chertney. Show me that when the time comes for the Dark Horde to descend on the Kingdoms, you deserve a place at my side.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  With barely a sound, Malachias faded into the mist surrounding him and disappeared. The Shadow Lord continued to stare out over the desolate landscape. After waiting all these centuries, he was ready to reclaim what belonged to him. He had been denied the Kingdoms once. It would not happen again. Yet a boy stood in his way. He found the entire notion inconceivable, almost humorous. But if matters progressed as he expected with Malachias, the boy wouldn’t be a problem much longer. And if Malachias stumbled as Chertney and so many others had, perhaps the traitor who could get close to the boy would succeed. Either way, he could finally lay his worries aside. For the boy finally would be dead.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Touch of Shadow

  Rodric Tessaril grimaced with distaste as he walked into his son’s room. Despite the brightness of the day, the heavy drapes remained closed with just a tiny slit open to allow a thin line of light to illuminate the gloom. Once the High King had taken pride in his son, believing that he resembled the High Kings of old. Tall. Handsome. Regal. All the characteristics that he himself seemed to lack. All the perceived shortcomings that drove him in his quest for power, in his quest for the respect he felt others perpetually denied him, yet would never be denied his son. But no more. Now when looking at his son he experienced only disgust and regret. Ragin’s pride and arrogance had cost him dearly. Not only his son, but also himself, for Ragin’s stupidity had made Rodric’s task all the more difficult.

  Ragin stood at the window, peeking through the open slit. Hearing the door open, after several long minutes, he turned reluctantly toward the sound, knowing who the visitor would be as no one else came to his room anymore. Ragin’s failure had taken from him more than his good looks. It had also threatened his path to the Armaghian throne. Ragin faced his father, his lips curling into a sneer. A horrible, weeping scar ran down his right cheek to the base of his neck. An eye patch covered his ruined right eye. Yet more frightening than his disfiguring injury was the glint of feverish madness that sparked in his good eye.

  “This obsession is quickly becoming insanity!” screamed Rodric, his face red with rage, spittle flying from his lips. “You were a fool to challenge the boy, even in his weakened state. You’d seen his abilities, his skill with a blade. You paid the price for your own arrogance! You have no one to blame but yourself.”

  Ragin’s sneer grew larger, the scar cracking with the movement of his cheek muscles, making his appearance all the more difficult to look at. His father felt the need to have the same argument every time he deigned to enter his son’s apartment, as if the first dozen times hadn’t been enough.

  “You forget yourself, father. If I had succeeded we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And your plans almost would be complete.”

  “Maybe so. But you didn’t succeed, Ragin. You failed. And
now we both must pay the price for your foolishness and incompetence.”

  Rodric stared at his son awhile longer, expecting a response but receiving none, wanting the argument to continue so that he would have an outlet for his rage. Instead, Ragin ignored him and turned away, having tired of the game. He stared out the window once more, mumbling to himself too quietly for Rodric to make out the words.

  With nothing more to say, the High King turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him as he left. Rodric sensed a change in his son. The arrogance and feeling of entitlement remained, yet a shadow resided in him now. A darkness had seeped into his heart, and that unsettled Rodric. Although he wouldn’t admit it to himself, it also made him afraid.

  Ragin waited impatiently for his father to leave, taking small pleasure in the fact that he had irritated him so easily. Alone once more, he relished the quiet, the opportunity to think, to plan, to scheme. He knew. He didn’t know how, but he knew. He knew in his heart the boy survived. He didn’t die on the rocks as everyone said. He knew the coward who had scarred him survived the fall. And he knew they would meet again.

  But when they did, he would need to be ready. For his father was right. The boy surpassed him with a blade and apparently had abilities Ragin had never considered. If Ragin were to have any chance at success, he needed to even the odds any way that he could. And he would. He’d do anything necessary to obtain his revenge. Even sell his soul.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Spider’s Web

  Rodric left his son’s chambers unable to shake the sense of foreboding that had buried itself within his gut. He knew his son’s weaknesses and had ignored them for years, thinking that as he matured sense would replace his impetuousness and conceit. Clearly it had not. But now, his son’s failure appeared to have changed something within him, as if those weaknesses had been pushed closer to the surface and had taken control of Ragin’s decision making, whatever clarity he had once had now replaced by an unmitigating drive for revenge.