by Chris Ward
On the street the four reacted as if one to her cry, and ran to the house. The wounded Shadow Hunter met them on the threshold. It filled the doorway, slamming into the frame and demolishing part of the wall which held it. Instantly Rema and Gravyn put two arrows each into its chest, but they seemed to be absorbed and do no damage. It was Andes who finished the fight for his mighty sword was suddenly swinging in a deadly arc. It glowed fiercely by some inner power as though by its very self it smelt the fell creature which it had been created to destroy. Andes leapt without fear up into the very face of the charging beast. It swerved and screamed in pain, its severed limb gushing a foul black blood. Andes’ blade took off its other limb but he had no chance to finish it, for the wounded, limbless creature fled, disappearing quickly down an alleyway, and then only its evil screams of pain marked its path away into the city where all manner of animals froze in fear at the sound of its passing; that and a fearful black ooze which burnt the cobblestones with a hiss.
The four raced into the building and up the stairs to find Orcxyl unconscious with a mighty quivering limb still attached to his throat. They went to his aid in an instant, whilst high above Sylvion closed upon her quarry. She knew it was almost cornered now, high up with no other place to run, and her blade once more broke the night with its amazing light, a light now fueled by her deep anger at the creature’s very existence. She paused before a final door, slammed shut in her face. She took a deep breath and smote the barrier into pieces with her blade. She entered and found… nothing. She looked about; the light of the Shadow Blade exposed all things.
But there was nothing.
And then a window. She raced to it and there far below outside the city wall and fleeing fast upon a steed was the one she had chased. It turned back briefly; now beyond the power of her blade, and she saw its evil eyes glow red, and its visage of human likeness, but it was not large and seemed but puny to her, when compared to the Shadow Hunter.
‘You flee. What power do you have creature!’ she cried after it into the night. ‘I will hunt you down. You will not escape me…do you hear me you beast?’ And then with her breath coming in great gasps she fell silent and her light withdrew into the blade and all was quiet save for the distant bark of dogs which marked the path of the other fleeing creature.
Sylvion descended through the awful building slowly, and carefully. Her eyes were able to see like a sabrecat in the dark, for the Shadow Blade was unsurpassable in what it gifted to the one who wielded it. She searched everywhere for anything which might tell her something more of what had come to pass almost beneath her gaze in Ramos. A Shadow Hunter and some other fell creature have sought shelter here she thought. Such evil does not visit without a deadly plan. How is it that I have missed it. Surely there is something here which will reveal it to me? The shadows seemed full of dead creatures, and the smell now sought to overpower her. It was the smell of fear and death and an immeasurable desire to rule with violent force.
On the level above where the others had gathered to aid the wounded Orcxyl, Sylvion found another clue. She stealthily entered a room and was shocked to see a small ornate timber throne sitting in the centre of the room.
‘This is what I dreamt,’ she whispered in a voice which was choked by the memory of dark nightmares. ‘This is what I have seen. Some beast from the abyss has sat here and planned evil against Revelyn.’ She circled it twice as she spoke whilst her anger rose like liquid fire and in an instant she wielded the Shadow Blade, once more filling the room and all about with the light which none could stand against. In a sudden violent moment she had demolished the throne into a pile of splintered pieces, hacking it as though it were able to fight back and do her harm. When it was no longer recognisable than anything other than timber rent asunder, she stood back, and breathing hard knew she must take hold of herself, and with the deep inner strength which had become one of her greatest gifts, the White Queen of Revelyn once more regained her royal composure.
Descending the tortured stairs she rejoined the others and saw that Orcxyl was alive, but greatly bruised around the throat. He saw her for a moment as she came to them, as he lay with his head upon Germayne’s lap, for she had immediately sought to comfort him. Gravyn stood back, his disengagement in the moment apparent to all. Rema knelt by Orcxyl and seemed to be talking quietly to him. Andes was wiping his sword which was proving a difficult task for the black ooze which was the Shadow Hunter’s blood held thickly to the blade. But Orcxyl had eyes only for the Queen.
You saved my life, he though in an inner turmoil the instant he knew the White Queen of Revelyn also gazed upon him. What am I to do now; how do I seek to slay you now, for I am in you debt? But such was the depth of his cold hatred and desire for revenge, cultivated over many winters, that he pushed the thoughts aside and buried them deep. I cannot allow such kindness to sway me, for that would betray Freya and my vow is to see her avenged.
But the Queen’s kind words cut to his heart.
‘He is alive then. I am pleased, for he was fearless, this Orcxyl. He was ready to stand against the Shadow Hunter. He is a brave man and Revelyn owes him a debt. He has well earned his pardon.’
And Orcxyl thought, that is true. Revelyn owes me a great debt. And then he fainted away and did not know more until he revived a little upon the giant’s shoulders who carried him effortlessly back to the Palace.
The night was old before Sylvion retired. She had made sure her guests were comfortable and well fed. Orcxyl was to be watched continually, and a trusted maid servant was given this task. A Night Guard stood close by to do her bidding should she require assistance, but Orcxyl seemed to be sleeping peacefully when Sylvion left him. He had huge bruises surrounding his throat and could not speak easily but had managed to indicate that he would be well enough by sunrise. Rema and Andes had gone off together and Sylvion judged them satisfied with the outcome of the evening’s excitement.
‘We all returned and it was the Shadow Hunter who fled…and the other creature you speak of,’ Rema had said on parting, ‘we might have lost Orcxyl or any one of us.’
‘I should have taken its head off,’ Andes had berated himself, ‘but it feinted left, I was not quick enough…’
‘You did well Andes, Sylvion had said in genuine admiration, ‘this creature is not of this world, it cannot be easily bested.’ She had paused then and ordered them to rest.
‘Sleep now my friends. In the morning I will speak of what comes next. I need to consider many things.’ But she knew in that moment that she had no clue what it would be. Gravyn returned to his quarters and Germayne escorted her Queen to her chambers. They parted with a warm ‘good night’, and were each happy to let sleep restore them to a place where plans could be made.
But Sylvion could not sleep despite her injunction to the others. Her mind was full of the evil which had grown and festered so close to her throne. It galled her greatly. She could not yet sleep while she had any way to bring some sense to it all. And now there was the book. She knew it held some power to release her dark nights; and her mind was set on this path only. To unlock her dreams and discover what next she must do, for she knew that the secret lay here, in the night when she was overtaken by some deep powers, unbeknown.
Finally, after a time in which she paced back and forth, going over her violent confrontation that night, and regretting bitterly that once more the strange human-like creature had escaped her, Sylvion lay upon her bed and took up the book.
‘I wish you were here now Rema,’ she whispered wearily, ‘for your company would soothe me greatly.’ She stroked the book lovingly and it fell open at the mark she had made where last she read. A sudden anticipation overtook her, and taking a single deep breath she continued.
There are many things which I cannot know in all truth. Herein I write at times from words and recollections offered by other than myself. At the time of Sylvion’s imprisonment on Bald Cape, I was of course unable to communicate with her, and, as I have already writ
ten, other matters conspired to keep me from mounting any sort of rescue. Serenna had occupied my time, for she was in great need of help. Her fool husband, Jycob and the evil Zelfos and Lord Petros whom I had not yet encountered had planned an elaborate trap to capture me using Serenna as bait. It was at this time that I first crossed paths with a Shadow Hunter. One cannot describe the vile evilness of such a creature. They were terrible to behold and truly froze my heart the first time I was close by one, on the banks of the Luminous River, the day after I had been saved by El-Arathor. I swear that all life for a league about turned to stone in fear until it departed. However, at that time Sylvion was lost to me. It was the bitterest of truths, for I felt powerless to do anything which might resolve the situation. I had set out with Serenna aboard a strange vessel, the Scoria captained by one Lethyne Tyne, by which means we both barely escaped the clutches of the evil which pursued us in Ramos. I had been grievously wounded by a wolver and it almost cost me my life. Serenna was quick witted and by a clever diversion saved us both. I made the decision that I would travel north, about by the east coast to see if by some means I could gain advantage over those who held my love and also find a way to meet with the Edenwhood. These strange folk had long lost contact with the Lowlanders and were a race apart. A prophecy which the Wisden had revealed mentioned their part in the defeat of Lord Petros. But we had no idea what this might then be. I look back now as I write and see how ill prepared I was. It seems I stumbled from one desperate situation to another. But my love for Sylvion was so strong. I remember that as if it were yesterday. How strange that things turn out so differently than that which one plans.
Sylvion’s eyes were full of tears as she read these simple words.
‘I remember those times Rema,’ she whispered, ‘I remember what you did, but I asked so little about what you endured when I had the chance. I should not be reading this now as something new…’ she put the book down and using the fine woven quilt she wiped her eyes and took time to recover for at that moment she could not see to read further.
After a short while she read on, so desperately tired but unable to let go the wonderful enveloping bitter sweet closeness she felt to the one she had missed for longer than any person had ever endured.
I have had some cause over the seasons to laugh about my concerns for Sylvion. She proved herself extraordinary in her skills to accommodate her situation and plan a brilliant escape. I write now of matters which I cannot fully understand for in truth it is beyond me, indeed almost magical, but I spoke at some length about this with Reigin, ….
At the mention of Reigin’s name Sylvion sat up sharply and caught her breath. Her heart suddenly was pounding in her chest, and she knew some deep memory had shifted closer to her consciousness.
‘Reigin,’ she whispered, ‘I have not thought on you for many seasons. Of course you were at the heart of this…’ Sylvion shook her head gently and she read on.
The Vault was a large hall, a castle’s Keep by Reigin’s description. This was Sylvion’s prison. It had great history and that is important for it seems that for a great many generations it was hung with huge banners in such a manner that they formed a mighty canopy above the vault and softened the space.
Sylvion gasped as the memory struggled to surface. She felt something happening and read on eagerly devouring the words…
My love devised a plan whereby they secured themselves within the Keep, keeping the guards at bay. Reigin had turned, giving his allegiance to Sylvion at this time and he became the most trusted of allies. By some knowledge which Sylvion possessed she used the banners to form a net or linen basket… I do know how best to describe it for I never saw it… but this thing when sown together, a task which took two frantic days in Reigin ‘s recollection… it trapped hot air from a fire held below it in a great cauldron of sorts, and which by magic was able to lift them into the air and away to safety. I cannot myself see it, but Reigin’s description was powerful. He said it was like a great coloured monster…and at times he was scared by what it could do…
Sylvion sobbed and rocked herself and cried out in grief. ‘I should have told you these things, not Reigin. You should not have heard it from him. I should have told you…… It should have been me…’ and she gave herself over to a bitter regret which brought sharp pains which like a dagger, stabbed her heart. In time she calmed but was now unable to read on, and so with the treasured book resting close by her head so that she might smell the leather and the remnant which was her Rema, Sylvion let her weariness at last overcome her, and she slept.
In the early morning as the Night Guard stood imperiously outside her chambers, as always ever vigilant, for they had been trained to go long periods without sleep and listen for the smallest sound which might tell of danger, Sylvion dreamt. It was massive dream. It was the same dream; and this time she saw more clearly than ever what was before her. She travelled upon the hot air, held aloft by the mighty canopy which had taken so much pain and effort to create. Reigin was there. He fed the fire in the great copper cauldron. They flew high in the heavens above the earth, above the clouds, seemingly held fixed in a single point for nothing moved, or else all moved together so it was impossible to tell. She looked up above at the canopy with all its colours and the many stories and images woven into it which told of….
And suddenly Sylvion cried out and woke, instantly awake as though thrust under a shower of ice. She stood, amazed at her body which shook with an uncontrolled agitation.
‘I see it!’ she cried. ‘I remember. It is the canopy. It is there. All the time it was there and I saw it every night I lay as a prisoner looking up at the banners above me planning my escape. The secret is there I swear it.’
She paced about trying desperately to hang on to that which she had never been able to, once woken. ‘I know where the secret lies,’ she said loudly as if to bring it forth, ‘It is there, it is in the canopy…’ over and over she spoke these words willing it to show itself. She thumped her brow and clenched her fists but try as she might the secret would not be revealed. Finally, exhausted with the effort, Sylvion sat on her bed and calmed herself.
‘I may not see it, but now I know where it is,’ she cried finally. ‘Now I know where it is.’
The enormous Night Guard outside her chambers heard her cries and did not flinch. He was not concerned by the Queen’s ravings in the night. He had heard it oft’ times before, and she would come to no harm. Not while he was on Guard. No danger would befall her. He would give his life for the White Queen of Revelyn.
Chapter 11
The Queen sat before the few she had chosen. She was on her simple throne in her private rooms where it was the custom to entertain guests on polite and social occasions, but deep down Sylvion, The White Queen of Revelyn knew that what she was about to ask of these few was far more serious than anything they had faced before. This was anything but social. It had taken her the rest of the sleepless night to make up her mind. She would act this day with the dream fresh upon her. No more delay. No more waiting in the Palace for matters to unfold before her, frustrated by her impotence. No more. The White Queen of Revelyn would act.
She measured her resolve and found it strangely empowering.
This now is what must be, she thought. And these few perhaps will aid me.
Before the sun had cast its first shadow she had called for Germayne and given instructions to bring the group together, knowing that by some fate she had a group with great skills close by, a group which might never again come together if she let them disperse. Her command was simple.
‘Bring Rema and Andes the giant, and Gravyn the archer. You too will be required Germayne, and I want Orcxyl, as well; but later, not till I have spoken with the others. He need not be guarded, just have him escorted and I will deal with him once I have a sense of those I have just named. Provide a breakfast and enough seating. I want a map of Revelyn on the large table. Is this clear?’
Germayne was immediately struck by the n
ew energy which seemed to emanate from her queen.
‘My Lady,’ she had replied, nodding in acceptance of her task, but as she left Sylvion called her back.
‘Germayne I want this note delivered by carriave, immediately. At this moment it is for your eyes only and will remain a secret until I reveal the outcome, whatever this may be.’ She handed Germayne a small parchment on which a brief note had been written. ‘Transcribe this in the usual manner and destroy this original. Do you understand?’ The tone of the White Queen was firm and almost overly directive. Germayne found herself suddenly confronted with the person of one far older, and from a different time, who knew her mind and would not be diverted from whatever it was which had so overtaken her. Their friendship, so treasured and important had receded to make way for a new future. She felt an ache because of this, but did not show it.
‘My Lady,’ she repeated, and quickly read the note before departing to ensure she understood its meaning. What Germayne read made the hair on her neck stand tall. She shivered, and suddenly knew that something great was upon her. The two women, the mighty White Queen, ruler of all Revelyn for more than one hundred and thirty summers, and the young courtier looked at each other. Without a further word they both knew that they would no longer be the same together, or to each other.
‘My friends...’ the White Queen spoke in a calm and clear voice which did not reveal the pounding of her heart. ‘...My friends I have asked you to come together for I have a request which I must ask of each of you.’ She let the words sink in to the four seated before her. Their faces were full of mild puzzlement, but she could discern no lack of interest. She continued.
