by Chris Ward
‘They are of the Nephilim,’ Germayne whispered as they went, ‘from the land of giants far to the west and over the sea. They have always been the Night Guard. You will not meet more dedicated soldiers. They can be so gentle but when angered few can stand before them.’ Rema had no trouble in believing this for the man seemed to fill the corridors they travelled, a mighty sword at his side, the size of which Rema thought might slay a horse in one strike. They descended slowly into the earth, further down than the Wisden’s wonderful room until they travelled in tunnels hewn straight from the rock.
‘The Mountain Trolls made many tunnels in this hill,’ Germayne explained, ‘you can tell by the wonderful marks their axes make, all so neat and even. The White Palace was built upon their vast network which is older than any other made thing in Revelyn.’ Rema noticed that the markings on the walls matched those he had seen in the strange stairway he and Andes had used to descend from the Highlands after barely escaping the evil shadow beast. All made by the Mountain Trolls he thought. A whole people and their history all lost to us.
Suddenly they halted and the huge Night Guard called an order through a massive iron gateway.
‘Prepare for the Queen. Stand ready all!’ His words rang long through the tunnels, as the gate was thrown open by another man, far smaller, and dressed rather shabbily. He clutched a large ring of keys which jangled noisily as he walked.
‘My Lady,’ he said bowing low, ‘we did not expect you. Had we known we might have made things more presentable...’
‘Silence man!’ the Night Guard thundered, ‘the Queen has no interest in your excuses.’ The Queen however signalled with a gesture that all was well and they passed through into a huge circular cave with a high domed roof. There were many openings cut into the wall, each with an iron door of thick bars. In the centre of the cave was a mighty hearth and a fire burning in it. This apparently warmed the whole cave and Rema thought it not unpleasant. He had been excepting a dank and wet place in which the dripping of water was a continual irritation.
‘The new prisoner,’ Germayne inquired of the keeper of the keys, ‘the intruder on the walls, where have you put him?’
The keeper of the keys bowed low once more and spoke most obsequiously.
‘Ah My Lady, over there.’ He pointed to the far side of the cave. ‘A strange one he is. He does not speak or show any emotion. He eats little. He sits and stares at the walls and rocks back and forth.’
‘They all rock back and forth you fool,’ the giant Night Guard growled. ‘Just show the Queen where he is.’ The keeper of the keys nodded furiously.
‘Over here, this way.’ They all followed.
Orcxyl sat on his rude wooden cot. He looked at the wall opposite, three paces distant. He considered himself fortunate to have the cell to himself, for others nearby clearly shared with others and their arguments irritated him continually. Since his capture he had quickly retreated into a safe place inside his head where his thoughts were forever running in great circles, from one memory to another, keeping to the happy things, reliving his best hunts, and the times with Freya; always the good times with his beloved twin. Deep within Orcxyl believed he would be released, but for now at least he was in the Palace, and the White Queen must be close by. He would find a way to escape, and finish his quest; fulfil his vow. He forced the panic back, refusing to allow the reality of his position to overtake him.
I will see this through to the end. I will not give up. In the end I will kill the White Queen. He thought this over and over between the circles of all the good memories until he was convinced that all would be well. He found a gentle rocking helped calm his mind so that it was better ordered.
‘Prisoner, stand!’ The command broke through the circles in Orcxyl’s head. He refocused his eyes and obeyed slowly not sure just what to now expect.
‘This is the one My Lady,’ the voice of the key keeper came clearly now.
Orcxyl turned and in shock saw the White Queen not more than a few paces from him. He knew immediately that it was her for he had seen her in the Judgiem two days before. The same white gown and the veil. It was her. There was another there, a man and a woman too, a tall woman. The man seemed familiar. Another shock.
‘Orxcyl,’ the man spoke in great surprise.’ Orcxyl what are you doing here?’ Rema could not contain himself for he was completely stunned. ‘My Lady, this is the man I spoke of. He is the Great Hunter, the one who can track beyond all human ability.’
The White Queen of Revelyn stood silently at the bars and stared in fascination at the man.’
‘What a strange name,’ she whispered. ‘You climbed my walls Orcxyl the hunter. I am told it was a drunken wager, and here you are in my dungeon. A foolish wager, and you don’t look like one who drinks at all. And I am told by my friend Rema Bowman that you can do magical things in pursuit of your prey.’ Orcxyl found he could not think clearly.
How is it that this man Rema Bowman is here with the Queen? Then he remembered the archery contest and quickly realised that this must be the reason; but how can I make use of this? How is it possible to find some advantage in what has so amazingly presented itself before me?
‘I think perhaps I have a way for you to win your freedom, Orcxyl the Hunter,’ the White Queen said, and Orcxyl new that she was serious.
I knew I would not long be here thought Orcxyl. Perhaps it is fated that I will strike her dead, and so he bowed his head before the Queen.
‘I am your willing servant My Lady,’ he said.
‘He speaks,’ the keeper of the keys hissed.
‘Look after him well jailer,’ the White Queen ordered and then suddenly Orcxyl was alone; the last thing he saw of this strange group was of Rema Bowman shaking his head at him in wonder. He smiled back and shrugged, a small but seemingly friendly act which Orcxyl knew would reassure the man.
I must show them my willingness to do what I am asked. I will hunt her with a deviousness which she will never suspect and then I will strike. This violent thought manifested in Orcxyl suddenly punching the air before him several times. He then took a deep breath and resumed his seat on the cot. The circles in his head returned easily and he spent the rest of the day in the happy place, deep in his mind, planning his greatest kill.
They did not return to the Queen’s rooms. Germayne was directed to complete some royal business and Sylvion instructed Rema to follow her once more. This time they climbed higher and finally came to a place in the centre of the Palace at the highest point where a great tower had been constructed. It was clearly the highest turret by some considerable margin and was more solid and beautifully made than any other. A single locked door was set in the base.
‘Welcome to the King’s Eye,’ said Sylvion indicating a polished plaque by the doorway. Rema did not recognise the words upon it. ‘Old Norse I believe,’ Sylvion continued, but that is its meaning. Cremorne the Mighty, king of all Revelyn in its three hundredth summer built this so that he could see any approaching army. There were many wars in those times. Would you like to see what he could see Rema? It is will take your breath away.’
‘Well if this outdoes what Andes saw yesterday it will be something to tell him,’ Rema replied.
‘No-one but the ruling monarch is allowed up to the top of this tower and those few chosen,’ Sylvion said quietly. ‘Only Germayne and Rayven have ever been up here with me, and I carry the only key.’
‘Then perhaps I am excluded as well,’ Rema replied.
‘Unless you are given a Royal invitation,’ laughed Sylvion, ‘and that has just been given.’
‘Then lead on Sylvion the Mighty,’ teased Rema, and the Queen opened the door and they entered. A spiralling stone stairway wound around the inside wall, going ever up and filling all the available space.
‘Six score and three steps’ said Sylvion. ‘You would have thought Cremorne would have made it an even six score but for some reason he added another three. No need to count them Rema, for I am not in error,
I have checked many times.’
‘I suppose you have had more time than most to get it right,’ whispered Rema and Sylvion smiled at his wit.
You are so like my Rema she thought, and with that she removed her veil and placed it on the lowest step. The door was locked from the inside and the two began their climb. Rema was surprised at Sylvion’s ability to spring easily up and he was breathing harder than she when at last they emerged out onto the wide platform at the top. The view was indeed breathtaking and Rema did not speak for some considerable time. He walked around and around. In every direction for many leagues the land lay before them and below. Sylvion watched him from the shaded side of the tower which rose only taller than was required for a doorway and a roof.
‘What is the ladder for and the strange railings upon the roof? Rema inquired after a time, ‘I would have thought it was high enough just to stand upon this platform; another few cubits would make little difference, surely?’ Sylvion nodded.
‘This is what I thought for more than a lifetime Rema. I could not imagine why this top part was added, and all in Depletium which does not rust but stands timeless in the weather.’ She smiled as though expecting a further question, which indeed she was.
‘So what have you discovered?’
The Queen nodded. ‘This had always been called the King’s Eye and so it is, for the king or any ruler can stand up here and see who approaches from far off. Cremorne’s idea is fully realised in this much, or so I thought until another solved the riddle.’
Rema frowned. ‘Riddle?’ he said.
‘Come look at this,’ Sylvion said and led Rema to a narrow alcove inside the doorway. ‘What do you see?’
Rema was startled, firstly because he had missed the hollow altogether and secondly for what it held. ‘I have never seen such a thing. Is this some new metal? A tube of polished metal.’
‘Take it out Rema, it is quite sturdy, you cannot break it.’
Rema did as he was instructed; he took hold of the tube and found it came away from its resting place with an almost inaudible click. He now held in his hands a tube in two parts which when fully extended was near three cubits in length. He held it up and looked down it. It was hollow but tapered, the larger end being almost a full hand span in width, the narrow end much less than half this. At each end were strange twisted groves which Rema did not recognise for never before had he seen anything like them. ‘What is it?’ he asked after examining it for some time.
‘That Rema Bowman is the King’s Eye,’ Sylvion replied in a whisper as if she were in awe of the thing. Rema shook his head.
‘I am at a loss Sylvion.’
‘Look again in the hollow Rema.’ He did so and saw at the back hidden at first by the tube were two small packages. ‘Take them out and give them to me,’ the queen continued. Once more Rema did so. Sylvion took them with great care and as Rema held the tube she took each end in turn and twisted each object into the grooves, one at each end. Rema was amazed that such things could fit so closely. Then he saw that only the surrounds of each of these new objects were metal in the same polished finish. In the middle was a material he had never seen before. It glinted in the light and seemed clear right through.
‘What is this made of?’ He asked peering at the larger end of the tube.
‘That Rema is glass. It is as solid as rock but will let the light pass through.’
‘A magical material?’
‘I am informed that it is common in other lands.’ Sylvion replied.
‘But what does it do?’ Rema inquired. Once more Sylvion gave him a mysterious smile.
‘Bring what you hold up onto the roof Rema and you will see. In fact you will more than see.’ Sylvion laughed happily at her own wit which quite escaped Rema. Using the ladder he carried the tube with its special ends up onto the roof and Sylvion followed. ‘Now put the tube through that ring and you will find it fits so well it will not slip.’ Sylvion indicated a ring set on top of a pole standing in the centre of the roof. It stood waist high. The tube was now securely held at its centre, and such was the cleverness of the ring which held it, was now able to rotate around and up and down in any direction which one might care to move it. ‘Now raise the pole a little Rema, take out the pin and lift the outer casing higher up and put the pin back in.’ Rema saw that this was also possible. Once more he did as he was instructed as Sylvion guided him. ‘A bit higher, no lower, that’s about right for you.’ Rema slid the pin into a hole which seemed to locate the device and then stood back.
‘Now what?’ he said, and realised immediately that this was the question which Sylvion had been waiting for.
‘Now you look down the tube Rema.’
Rema lifted one end.
‘Not that end, always the small end.’ Rema obeyed. ‘Shut one eye.’ Again he did as he was instructed. ‘Point it at something in the distance.’ Rema looked out over the land to the north and saw a distant hill with a lone tree near the top; he judged some five leagues off. He aimed the tube at it and looked down the tube.
‘I see nothing, just a blur.’
Sylvion continued patiently. ‘Take your hand and adjust the object at your end. Turn is slowly. It will move in or out as you desire.’ Rema did so and suddenly his heart jumped in his chest. The tree was right before his eyes. He turned the object a little more, back and forth and there it was, perfectly in his eye, so close he could count the branches and he could see a bird on one limb. He lifted his head and looked at the tree without the tube. It was there right enough, far off but without any great form. He looked down the tube once more and could not believe what he could see. He turned the tube to another place and saw a man walking on a ridge. He looked down into the Port and saw a boat being loaded. He could see faces and count the fingers on a hand. He walked around the rooftop and turned the tube in every direction looking in amazement at what he could see. Sylvion let him do so without interruption knowing it would take some time before the magic of it all would release him. Finally Rema stood back. He shook his head.
‘It is powerful magic, this glass. I cannot begin to understand how this device works but it is truly a mighty eye for any who would stand here and use it.’
‘It was a secret lost to us Rema. When I took the throne there was no record of such a thing. The hollow place in the stone where it now stands was empty. The tube and objects all lay forgotten in the royal vault with other things, the Royal Sceptre and precious jewellery. No one had any idea that it was to be used up here like this, and even solving the riddle of the ends was beyond any.’
‘So who solved the puzzle?’ Rema asked and was again surprised that he knew the answer as Sylvion gave it.
‘Rayven,’ she said. ‘Rayven was intrigued by them when I once allowed her to enter the vault with me. She was only in her thirteenth summer, but was already able to solve puzzles which would have challenged even the Wisden. Her mind Rema is amazingly logical; that with the gift of her father, the deeper insight of the Wisden allows her to surround a puzzle from all sides at once. She sees what other will never see. It took her so little time.’
‘And where did the Eye come from?’
‘Rayven solved that as well,’ said Sylvion. ‘She found a record in the parchments in the Wisden’s room. These were written records, not the invisible sort which you saw today. She searched the records from the time of Cremorne the Mighty and found it spoken of. Cremorne paid a small fortune for the device. It came from far away in another land where they know the secret of glass and the making of the objects for each end. It was called then an eyeglass, and it is the only one to ever come to Revelyn. Cremorne had this place made especially for it, and as you can now bear witness, it gives the king a powerful eye for many leagues. No force can advance against the Palace without good warning, and the records show that since this was built none ever did.’
Rema shook his head in amazement. ‘It is almost beyond belief. I do not think I could explain it to any other, without them thin
king this place is one of great sorcery.’
‘Then don’t Rema. I never have, although Germayne knows of it. One other who has been sworn to secrecy is allowed to use this, and that is all, apart from Rayven.’
‘This is what you wished to show me?’ Rema asked, and Sylvion nodded.
‘Yes. I thought it right, but in truth there is something else I must reveal to you. I feel you can help and this seems the place and time. So much has brought us to this point. Let us put away the King’s Eye and I will speak of what is on my mind.’ In a short space they stood on the platform looking out over the south lands where the river had breached its banks and the great lake had formed from the sinking land. The Eyeglass was safely stored in its place by the door to the stairs and Rema waited for Sylvion to speak once more. They stood side by side resting against the parapet which had no crenulations, for it was a tower not built for defence.
As they stood together they each felt the closeness of the other. For and instant his hand brushed hers ever so gently. Neither could dismiss the simple enjoyment of that one touch.
I could so easily believe it was you, thought Sylvion.
I have never felt this way before, thought Rema, it is exhilarating and yet so impossible.
‘I have been tormented by dreams,’ Sylvion spoke quietly, choosing her words with great care. ‘I was told many winters ago by the last of the Wisden that I would suffer in this manner. He said that when things came to an end I would have visions; I would dream and I would not know how to understand them. I did not take this to heart at the time, but since Rayven left on her strange quest it has come true.’ She took a deep breath and continued in a whisper. ‘So many nights now and I cannot find peace.’
‘I will listen if that will help,’ said Rema, unsure just how he could, and realising that such matters were deeply personal. ‘But surely Germayne is close to you, cannot she give you some comfort?’
‘Oh she has tried Rema, and I have heaped much upon her but to no avail, she cannot help me no matter her willingness.’
