by Peter Wacht
Bagpipes
The stars had just appeared in the night sky, a cold wind buffeting King Gregory as he walked the battlements of the Rock. He wanted some time alone and this was how he often obtained it. He had felt anxious the past few days following the rescue of his daughter and the quashing of the assassination plot. Moreover, he was still coming to terms with his daughter’s newfound ability. Though a bit disconcerting at first, her growing skill in the Talent certainly had come in handy. Moreover, in just the few weeks he had been gone, Kaylie appeared to have acquired a new level of maturity, likely due in part to the guidance of Lady Keldragan. As these and other thoughts flitted through his mind, a grave expression never left his face as he walked the parapet. His wandering had more to do with reminiscing than checking on the guards and his defenses. He liked to meander when he wanted to think and remember his wife.
Sadness always threatened to overwhelm him when reminiscing about Laura, what she had missed since her passing, not seeing Kaylie grow into a beautiful and strong young woman, the years they didn’t have together. Yet his responsibilities to Fal Carrach continued to intrude on his personal thoughts.
His worries multiplied as he prepared to travel to Eamhain Mhacha for the Council of the Kingdoms. Rodric could take the Highlands once and for all with the ten-year regency expiring. That would be a terrible result for all the Kingdoms, but particularly for Fal Carrach, as he saw such an occurrence as triggering several other immediate challenges, much like a falling domino. In his mind, the Highlands functioned as the linchpin. If that Kingdom came under Rodric’s sway permanently, he had no doubt that the scheming High King would fix his attention next on Fal Carrach with Benewyn to follow.
As he approached the northern battlements, which faced the Highlands, he could just barely make out the outline of the higher peaks through the dark. He began to hear the lilting song of the bagpipes, drifting down from the southern Highlands. He stopped for a moment, surprised, thinking it might be something else. But then the gusting wind confirmed his initial belief. He hadn’t heard the bagpipes in a long time, almost ten years in fact.
A soldier walking the parapet stopped for a moment, staring at Gregory in concern, the king of Fal Carrach apparently caught in a daze.
“Are you all right, King Gregory?” asked the soldier with some worry. “Is there anything I can do?”
Gregory came back to himself upon hearing the soldier’s voice.
“I’m fine, thank you, Derric. I was just listening.”
“The bagpipes?” asked the soldier. “I wasn’t too sure myself, but I’ve been catching snatches on the wind for the past few hours.”
Gregory wished Derric a good night, then continued along the wall. He quickly became lost in thought once again, pondering why the bagpipes were being played after such a long time. He stopped once more, peering at the Highland peaks, an image of Thomas popping into his mind.
The last he’d seen of the boy, he was jumping off the parapet of Tinnakilly’s fortress in an attempt to escape the High King. He owed more than he could ever repay to that boy, appreciating that he’d saved his daughter’s life and his own and that of many of his soldiers. The image of Thomas bravely standing on the hill, calmly firing arrows down at the charging Fearhounds, played through his mind, never to be forgotten.
Yet Gregory had failed the boy in Tinnakilly, unable to keep Rodric from his plans of torture and an eventual slow death. This boy who brought the memory of Talyn Kestrel to his mind, only at a much younger age. The last Lord of the Highlands had been his best friend, yet then as well Gregory had not been able to prevent Talyn’s death, much as with this boy. He should have seen the resemblance between the two in Tinnakilly, but he had been concentrating on other things. Could the boy have been the Lost Kestrel? Gregory shook his head in frustration. Now he likely would never know.
When Thomas took that fateful step off the Tinnakilly parapet, his daughter had changed. Kaylie was always serious, but the loss of her friend made her almost severe in some respects. She threw herself into her training with Fal Carrach’s Swordmaster, Kael Bellilil, with a vengeance, to the point where she had become a better sword fighter than many of his soldiers.
She blamed herself for Thomas’ death, believing that she was responsible for his capture. And now the training she had received from Lady Keldragan had given her another point of focus, a way to center herself on the present rather than the past. Learning that his daughter could use the Talent, the natural magic of the world, still unsettled him. But he was proud of her as well.
Nevertheless, though all evidence suggested that Thomas had perished from the fall, he still couldn’t believe it. There was something about the boy that made him stand out, a quiet power or strength that he didn’t think anyone could silence easily. Yes, the boy leapt from the battlements, but no one had ever found his body. Gregory just couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy still lived, no matter how unrealistic that thought might be. Perhaps it was the bagpipes, the notes becoming stronger, more insistent as the wind picked up. He’d heard this rhythm before, a long time ago when he and his friend Talyn Kestrel had rode out together against brigands who had sought to make the Burren their base of operations. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the Highland call to war.
Perhaps there was hope after all with the Council of the Kingdoms fast approaching, slim though the chance may be of an outcome that didn’t leave Rodric strengthened and a greater threat to Fal Carrach and the other Kingdoms. Gregory stood on the wall for quite awhile, finally returning to the memories of an easier time, when his wife Laura was still with him. The cold finally seeping through his cloak and into his bones, Gregory made his way to the steps leading down to the courtyard in search of Kael. Maybe his Highland born friend could confirm what the bagpipes meant.
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Reclaiming Their Homeland
The Marcher chiefs sat around a fire just inside the walls of Anselm. Crendall had taken a squad of Marchers from the village into the valley to burn the bodies of the reivers, Ogren and Shades that littered the landscape, several bonfires already illuminating the night. They also established a stockade for the captured reivers. Nestor had disagreed, suggesting instead that pushing them off the precipice as they did the Ogren offered the easiest and best solution.
Many of the Highlanders likely agreed with him, and took a great deal of pleasure in discussing it in front of the defeated reivers. Thomas refused to sanction the plan, noting that no matter how deserving of such a fate the reivers might be, the Marchers would hold to their code of not killing prisoners. Nestor expected as much, but he didn’t see any harm in having a little fun at the reivers’ expense.
Thomas looked up, gazing at the flag of the Highland Lord flying above the village’s scorched gates. His grandfather Talyn would be proud, but just for a few minutes, as the previous Lord of the Highlands already would have turned his focus to all the work that still needed to be done. The Marchers had routed the reivers, but they had not completely driven them out of the Highlands.
Moreover, the hardest task remained. Rodric wanted the Highlands, and he’d do anything to take the rugged land. Even if Thomas successfully declared himself the Highland Lord and the other rulers acknowledged his claim, the threat of an Armaghian invasion only would increase. He had no doubt that Rodric would find some excuse to press his claim. The High King’s strategy for conquering all the Kingdoms depended on first assuming control of the Highlands. Thomas viewed it as a game within a game. Time was running out for him to reclaim the Highlands and end Killeran’s regency, but something also needed to be done about the larger concern of Rodric’s expanding power throughout all the Kingdoms.
As Thomas ate his stew, Coban explained to the other chiefs the need to rebuild the Crag. Knowing that Rodric would attack eventually, the Crag could once again serve as their primary fortress and staging ground for the Highland response to any invasion.
Oso glanced at his friend, who di
dn’t seem to be paying much attention. Thomas ate mechanically, his thoughts apparently elsewhere.
“Thomas,” said Oso. “What’s on your mind?”
“That it doesn’t work,” he replied, setting his bowl down on the ground. “It’s a good thought, but it won’t work this time.”
The other chiefs stopped their conversation, considering Thomas’ words.
“What are you thinking?” asked Coban.
“I was thinking that we’re focused on reacting, defending.”
“That’s not true,” responded Renn. “We’re planning how to drive out the reivers.”
“Yes, Renn, I was listening. But that’s not enough. We can drive them out. We will drive out the few who remain within our borders. But they’ll just come back in larger numbers with Rodric offering some other excuse for the attack so that we remain isolated. And the Ogren and Shades we just faced here are likely only the beginning. The dark creatures are still crossing the Northern Steppes and trying to raid the northern Highlands. That won’t stop. In fact, I expect those incursions will increase in frequency.”
“Did you have something else in mind, Thomas?” asked Seneca.
“All the Kingdoms know that we’ve never had a large army, and our numbers have dwindled during the last decade. But they’ve always feared us because we can fight.”
Thomas rose from his seat and began to pace around the fire, his energy infectious.
“Then what do you propose?” asked Coban.
“We have many concerns that need to be addressed,” began Thomas. “But let’s focus on the three big ones. The threat from Rodric, the declaration, and the Shadow Lord.”
“The Shadow Lord?” asked Seneca, jumping up from his seat on a log. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious. Deadly serious.”
Seneca caught the look in Thomas’ eye and promptly sat back down.
“Thomas is right,” said Coban. “The Ogren and Shades we just fought prove his intentions. They offer proof of his return, even if the bastard is still hiding behind the High King.”
“The Shadow Lord is a threat,” stated Thomas. “For more reasons than you know.”
“But he hasn’t attacked for centuries,” protested Seneca, not yet ready to acknowledge such a troublesome and frightening reality.
“Not only am I the Highland Lord,” said Thomas. “But remember, I’m also a Sylvan Warrior. We have not forgotten our struggle with the Shadow Lord. Other members of the Sylvana have confirmed that the dark creatures hiding in the Charnel Mountains stir. That can mean only one thing. Besides, we all know that our northern border has faced more forays by dark creatures in the last year than in the previous twenty combined. That is not happenstance. The Shadow Lord tests us. And as we’ve just confirmed, he’s allied to the High King.”
“Thomas is right,” said Coban. “Rodric is in league with the Shadow Lord. And Killeran has been his lackey ever since the Crag fell. I don’t think it was just Rodric who wanted the Kestrels murdered that night. I believe the Shadow Lord ordered the attack on the Crag. Rodric was more than happy to become involved because it served his purposes as well. But Thomas threw an unwanted twist into his plans by surviving that cursed night.”
“I agree with Thomas as well,” said Nestor. “We don’t have as many fighters compared to the other Kingdoms. Rodric wants to follow in the footsteps of the first High King, Ollav Fola, and create a single Kingdom. But he’s spread thin at the moment and can’t devote the necessary resources to the Highlands, not with Gregory of Fal Carrach and a few other rulers watching him closely and continuing to resist his entreaties. But we must focus on the most immediate concern. If Thomas doesn’t appear at the Council, Rodric takes the Highlands by law and he moves forward with his plans. Then the Shadow Lord has a staging ground much closer to the Kingdoms and no longer has to worry about forcing the Dark Host beyond the Breaker. I doubt that fool High King even recognizes the likely result of whatever bargain he’s made with the Shadow Lord. His rule will last for only so long as the Shadow Lord allows.”
“Nestor speaks sense as well,” said Renn. “Why have we never eliminated Killeran and his reivers before? Obviously the warlocks made it difficult. But there have always been times when there weren’t enough warlocks to do Rodric, or Killeran’s, bidding. Whenever we gathered a large group of Marchers, dark creatures always seemed to threaten our northern border, requiring us to split our forces. It was a good strategy and helped to keep us weak and disconnected.”
“I can see where you’re going with this,” said Coban. “By allying with the Shadow Lord, Rodric has effectively tied us down, forcing us to defend on two fronts against two enemies we aren’t strong enough to fight at the same time.”
“Correct,” said Thomas. “But no longer. Now we’re going to do something about it.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Nestor.
Thomas glanced at Nestor, giving him an appraising look and happy to build off of the grizzled Marcher’s gentle prod. Nestor had figured all this out before anyone else, but he didn’t share his thoughts until he assumed everyone else had reached the same conclusion on their own. Thomas would have to remember that approach and how beneficial it could be in the future.
“First, we eliminate our vulnerabilities,” began Thomas, pacing around the fire once more. “We don’t have many villages along our northern border. The Shadow Lord usually sends a few hundred of his dark creatures at a time across the Northern Steppes. My guess is that he doesn’t like to be without too many of his Ogren and Shades because he’s still building up his strength. But those raiding parties could easily devastate any of the villages located there.”
“So we pull them together,” said Coban, reaching the same conclusion Thomas had.
“Yes, we pull all the small northern villages together for a time. That many Highlanders in one place can defend themselves against anything the Shadow Lord may send across. Then we set up more signal towers along the very edge of the border peaks. We also send one war party of Marchers to the north. If any large group of dark creatures tries to cross our northern border, we’ll know, we’ll be ready, and we’ll defend ourselves.”
“I like it,” said Nestor. “In fact, I have family in the north. It’d be an honor to take on this assignment.”
“Done,” said Thomas, grateful for the offer. “Second, we rebuild the Crag. We don’t want to be tied to a fortress, as our ability to move quickly is more important. But just making the effort to rebuild the Crag will send a strong message to our people and to the other Kingdoms. We need the Crag as much for a defensive stronghold as for a symbol.”
“It also might centralize any outside attacks,” said Coban. “In most wars, the attacking force usually wants to capture the other side’s capital, even if it holds no military value. That could work to our advantage. When Rodric or Killeran attack again, if they come for the Crag, we’ll have multiple opportunities to ambush them and whittle away at their strength.”
“Quite so, Coban. Will you take on that responsibility?”
“It would be an honor, Thomas,” replied the old Swordmaster.
“Thank you, my friend.” Thomas stopped pacing and looked at his other chiefs, the two who had been required by law to try to kill him when he sought to become the Lord of the Highlands. “Renn, Seneca, I would ask that you take your war parties to the south and west, respectively. Prepare the signal towers, rebuilding those that once stood along the edge of the Highlands and adding any more that you deem necessary. But we will not defend. Again, the towers are a method of communication and a symbol more than anything else.”
“And once that’s complete?” asked Seneca.
“We attack,” answered Thomas simply. “We defend no more. We will not wait for reivers or Rodric’s soldiers to enter the Highlands. If any enemy decides to encroach on the Highland borders, eliminate them. Let our enemies remember the price they will pay if they try to enter the Highlands without our p
ermission.”
“With pleasure,” said Renn, the aggressive strategy playing perfectly to his personality.
“What about me, Thomas?” asked Oso.
“Oso, I ask that you lead the reserve of Marchers at the Crag,” said Thomas. “Renn, Seneca, Nestor, if more men are needed send word to Oso and expect an immediate response. Remember, we will not be tied to any one village or location. Our defense will be our offense, which will extend to the very edges of the Highland borders. Rather than waiting to be attacked, we will do the attacking.”
“I like the way your mind works,” said Nestor.
“I had a good teacher,” replied Thomas, his chiefs acknowledging the truth of that statement.
“And the declaration?” asked Coban. “What of that? The deadline approaches. The Kingdoms will gather in only a few months, and according to the law Rodric will get the Highlands if you don’t appear.”
“Over my dead body,” said Thomas. “I’ll be taking thirty men. Coban, I ask that you join me. Oso, you as well if that’s all right.”
“What do you mean?” asked the large Highlander. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I just think you should speak with Anara first. You saw how well she fought today. I’d like to stay in her good graces if at all possible.”
The Highland chiefs laughed heartily at Thomas’ humor. Oso attempted a chuckle, then grimaced. How would Anara react to his leaving? Should he speak with her? Despite the fact that they had almost a month before they’d have to set off for Eamhain Mhacha, his increasing worry set his heart racing.
“While we’re away, I’ll ask Anara to manage things here at the Crag. Send any requests for fighters or supplies to her. Renn, Seneca, Nestor, protection of the Highlands falls to you until we return. Once the Council is over and our claim legitimized, we will put our larger plan into action.”
The Highland chiefs nodded their understanding.
“But won’t they try to kill you, Thomas?” asked Seneca. “If Rodric suspects you’re coming, he’ll try to take you on the road where he can bring a bigger force to bear. Besides, you maimed his son, which will add oil to the fire. He has multiple reasons for wanting you dead.”