by Chris Ward
‘I do not think so Rema, we need a surer method.’
‘We should have followed the river,’ Gravyn whispered but not so any could hear.
‘This problem is not unlike the one we faced on the Swifft River Rema,’ Andes said as he looked about. ‘You could perhaps use your gift once more.’ And Rema nodded in agreement but was a little taken back that he had not thought of this himself.
‘And what further gift do you have to surprise us with Rema Bowman?’ Sylvion inquired in a mostly friendly manner, but Andes answered for him.
‘He can see from the arrow tip in its flight My Lady.’
The others could not fathom such a thing, but Sylvion remembered from the past and smiled. ‘So you have that gift as well Rema.’ They looked at each other and the sense of personal understanding between them seemed to strengthen; it was Sylvion who looked away, not wanting to allow herself to become further entangled in the emotions which lay close by.
‘Please chart a course then Rema,’ she said with more the tone of a queen than any other, ‘we have near enough to a hundred leagues to the northeast to cover.’ Having spoken thus she rode her steed some paces off and sat alone with her thoughts.
‘And which direction is northeast from here?’ Germayne asked for she had only the vaguest idea.
‘The sun rises north of east at this time of year,’ Rema said quietly working it out. It will arc to the west and it had been up for some time, so...’ he took an arrow from his quiver and pointed it at the golden orb. ‘The sun is almost half way to its zenith at about the noon. So near enough the sun indicates the direction at this moment, half way between east and north. What think you Andes?’ The big man scratched his chin and nodded, then shrugged.
‘Near enough for me,’ was all he said. So Rema took an arrow and fired it high toward the horizon below the sun, and travelled with the tip. He made a note of the country which was flat and gently undulating without any point to mark easily in his mind. Two arrows later he decided upon a rocky hilltop a league off in the right path, and standing a little above the grasses. With a call he led them off in the direction he thought would take them there. Orcxyl rode at the rear. He knew how to travel in grasslands and make a path which would take him where he willed. He marvelled at Rema’s gift for he too would have chosen in a similar manner. You would be a great hunter in my land Rema he thought, but it is lost now, and once more his face was wet with the tears of bitter memories and grief. They rode silently, pushing with difficulty through the thick stalks, and only Orcxyl riding behind noticed that the grasses which were bent by their passing stood up and closed over their tracks as soon as they passed.
‘There is a strange magic to this place, he whispered. ‘We will not be able to find where we have come from, even a short time past, for the tracks are lost. The grasses seem to know we are here.’ He paused and said no more but thought, they seek to confuse us, to trap us perhaps.
They rode slowly on using Rema’s method to locate a point to the northeast, then took care to find it, but it was slower going than any of them imagined. The horses were strong enough to push through the grasses but only at a good walking pace; a canter was too sapping and a gallop impossible. Rema used up many arrows finding some feature to which they might strive. Once there was a stunted tree, but mostly it was rocks and hilltops with a peculiar feature, but although they moved slowly Rema was confident that their heading was true enough. They halted two span after the noon on the top of a hillock with three strange tors to mark it, the easiest of all their travelling for the day. They ate in silence and gazed out across the grasslands. From horizon to horizon in every direction was a waving sea of golden grasses. Great waves of ripples rushed endlessly toward them from the direction they had come, and all realised that with the wind at their back it was much easy going than if they also had the wind to best.
‘Do we travel truly Rema?’ Sylvion asked at last.
‘Yes, My Lady,’ he replied and knew immediately that his formality irritated her. You cannot have it both ways he thought and then chided himself for his pettiness. He knew they were both caught in the strangest of situations, but he said nothing further whilst Sylvion turned her mind to Fellonshead.
Ah the memories which await me there, she thought. I am not sure how I will manage, but I must not let this overcome me for in truth far more important matters need my attention.
‘Look!’ cried Germayne suddenly, breaking the silence and pointing at the sky to the southwest. And as one they all did so. What they saw was shocking. Where once the cloudless sunny sky had stretched above them in all directions, now huge and dark storm clouds rose boiling to great heights. As they watched they seem to grow and build so that within a span the sky behind them was become a line of sinister fast approaching darkness.
‘Look at the lightning,’ Andes whispered, ‘have you ever seen such a show of it?’
‘Twice before,’ Rema replied in awe, ‘and both times in volcano clouds which marked much destruction.’
‘But this is no volcano,’ Sylvion said.
‘No, it is something different but nonetheless it speaks as if it was.’
‘Death,’ Germayne whispered.
‘Death indeed, but how?’ Rema replied and quickly sprang up onto the tallest of the tors. Looking back to the bank of boiling clouds he measured their movement. ‘They are fast approaching and the lightning strikes the ground in many places!’ At that moment the first sounds of the thunder reached them and the ground shook as it rushed upon them.
‘What threat is there in thunder and a bit of lightning,’ Andes offered optimistically, and for a moment they all thought it was but a passing storm. They stood like statues and watched it build.
‘There it is, the lighting set the grasses to fire.’ Rema pointed to where a huge bolt had suddenly struck the plain.
‘And there too,’ Sylvion cried, pointing elsewhere, and suddenly there was a tumultuous display of lightning and then the flames could be seen growing together and forming a wall of flame which raced toward them, driven by the wind which once they had blessed for its direction.
‘This is no natural thing,’ Sylvion whispered in horror.
‘It is two leagues off, no more,’ Rema cried again, ‘quick we must ride ahead and see what shelter we can find, this hill is death, it offers nothing. The sky darkened as the sun was blocked by the storm clouds and the growing smoke. In a moment they were mounted and riding as hard as they could, pushing through the grasses which only seemed thicker and higher the further they went. A span after they had left the hilltop the smoke reached them and it stung their eyes and spooked the horses. Their steeds sensed the coming death for they feared fire above all things. They snorted loudly, rearing now and then as if to see how far off the wall of flames might be. The riders pushed their horses into a canter and the mighty steeds kept it up for a league, but then they began to tire and without a word they all knew that they would be overcome, for the crackling of the fire could be heard now and there was no place to seek protection, no hill or rocky ground, or place where the grass grew lower so they might gallop ahead. Rema looked left and right and saw the flames stretched in a line behind as far as he could see.
‘We cannot turn and get past to the side, it is too far,’ he called to the others whilst standing tall in his saddle and looking about in fear, ‘we are lost unless...’
‘There is a way!’ The call came from Orcxyl. ‘We must halt now for we cannot outride this.’ But none was willing to call a halt for the flames were rushing down upon them.
‘My Lady!’ Orcxyl cried desperately. ‘You are the Queen. Command a halt, for I know how we can be saved,’ and seeing that there was no hope in pushing on further as they were, Sylvion obeyed.
‘Stop all of you and give ear to Orcxyl, we must try something other than this pointless riding.’ They reigned in their steeds and in a trice Orcxyl had dismounted, handed his reins to Andes and with his small sword cut several thick stalks
and twisted them together into a simple bundle. Then before the others could stop him he took his flint and lit the dry grass which burnt suddenly like a torch.
‘You are mad you fool,’ Gravyn called and instinctively went for his bow to shoot the man dead, but Orcxyl ignored him. ‘Quick!’ he cried, ‘each of you do as I do.’ Andes you hold the horses for they will be hard to calm for a time. And then with Gravyn’s arrow aimed at his back he set about lighting the grasses before them. The wind quickly whipped the stalks into flames and soon a second fire was burning and instantly Rema and Sylvion saw their escape.
‘It clears the land behind it, it might just work!’ Sylvion called, ‘Put your weapon away Gravyn and give help,’ and so then they all made torches and lit them and walking off to either side of their path they set the plain alight as Andes took the horses a short way back into the grasses toward the fast approaching wall of flames. Only a man of his great ability could have managed such powerful beasts but with curses and brute strength he managed it. For a moment they were all then trapped between two walls of fire but the flames they had lit burnt quickly, searing the grasses to the roots and opening up clear ground behind.
Will we have time to clear enough was the thought of all. The crackling of the fire behind them was now deafening and great clouds of smoke engulfed them. Creatures of all kinds began to appear, driven on by the heat and the fear instinctive to them all. The fire they had lit was a hundred paces across and burnt away downwind from them leaving a swathe of dead and open ground in its path. Andes brought the horses as soon as it seemed safe to walk out upon the hot black land which Orcxyl’s fire had created. They all joined in and led their steeds a pace at a time out into the smoking blackness, following their own fire and caught between the two walls of flame, whilst all around were other smaller creatures which cried out in pain as the hot ash burnt their paws or underbellies; and so in this way many died despite what looked like escape. The flames behind the desperate group climbed twenty cubits tall and the approaching heat now scorched any skin which was not covered, but the safe ground which they had made kept growing and at last they looked back and saw that they would be saved, for the huge wall of fire roared up to the line of black ground they had burnt and died out within moments for all the fuel before it was consumed.
‘Fifty paces,’ Sylvion breathed in awe, ‘we gained fifty paces on every side. It was just enough.’
‘Had we waited any longer to dismount and try this mad scheme we would have been too close. We would not have survived,’ Germayne said in a voice which seemed to echo about them although the fire on either side raced passed in pursuit of their own smaller fire. And suddenly they stood on an empty blackened plain, and it was over, save for the smoke and lessening sounds of the fire which had raced fearfully past.
‘Well done Orcxyl,’ Sylvion said, and the others all joined in with their own grateful thanks, and Orcxyl felt strange indeed.
I saved the one who I must kill, so I could do so. He shook his head as this thought sunk in, and the others took this to be a most humble acceptance of their praise. At least the others were not harmed. I do not regret saving them, although Gravyn is one who would do well to watch his back henceforth.
They were now a sorry looking group. Black with soot and red raw skin in places. Only their black horses seemed a lighter shade for the ash was not so dark as their coal black hides. But it was not over, for suddenly it began to rain. It was just a mist at first but within a span the sky seemed to open up and torrents washed the land clean and settled the dust and ash and halted the fire’s mad rush into the distance. They stood and let the water wash them clean and with upturned mouths drank what they could, and Rema and Sylvion, suddenly and unknown to the other, thought one common thought.
El-Arathor.
As they mounted once more the rain eased and the clouds above dispersed until within two span they travelled as they had before, under clear skies but now over easy ground which stretched for several leagues ahead, until they found the fire’s end and once more entered unburnt grasses and with Rema’s gift secured their path and travelled on until by nightfall they made camp upon a gentle hilltop. There under a wonderful moon they fell senseless into sleep, whilst all about them the waves of rippling stalks kept on and on in endless procession as the ceaseless wind moved eternally across the plains.
The grasses seemed not to impede them thereafter, for their progress was easier and Rema had less trouble finding points by which to mark their path. They travelled easily in this manner for two days without further mishap, and then a mountain appeared on the horizon ahead and to their right.
‘That is the Vaudim,’ whispered Sylvion to herself and then more loudly to the others. The name sent a chill through the group for all but Orcxyl had heard of the place, such was its standing in the history of Revelyn. ‘You have guided us well Rema,’ she continued, ‘and we have made good progress.’ She laid as small map upon her steed’s neck and thought deeply about what next to do. After a time in which she looked about and calculated their position from what could be seen and related to the map, Sylvion declared, ‘We are a little west of the path to Fellonshead which means the small town of Alstun is not far off. I did not plan this but we will camp east of it and I will take Rema and Andes and Gravyn to see what supplies we might procure. Germayne and Orcxyl will remain with the horses and see that the camp is set up.’ And with this simple command which was agreeable to all, the map was folded and tucked inside her blouse and once more they rode on and watched the top of the Vaudim grow closer and taller. Just after the noon they crested a large hill and Rema called,
‘Look right, there is another mountain range.’
‘It is the top of the Eastern Upthrust.’ Sylvion exclaimed immediately. ‘It is AlGiron, land of the Edenwhood,’ and at this name Andes felt a chill run down his spine for he knew that this was where his blood came from, in part at least.
The grasses of the plains slowly gave way to more familiar fields and meadows although in living memory it was uncultivated land , for it had remained so for half an age since the Edenwhood had lived in Alderyn, known commonly since as Fellonshead. This was before they left the Lowlands and made their home in high AlGiron. And so the group made their way to a safe campsite on a beautiful stream which ran lazily west to meet the mighty Vigarn. Sylvion judged their camp to be five leagues to the west of Alstun, and so once they had set down what loads they carried she left with Rema and Andes and Gravyn to see what Altsun might offer by way of news and fresh supplies.
‘I crave an egg,’ Rema said as they rode quickly west.
‘Some fresh bread would do me well,’ Andes replied and Gravyn then suggested ale which of course did not really need to be named for it went without saying that such a staple would be high upon their list. Sylvion though did not care for the food, for she felt sadness in the air, and now so close to the Vaudim and the ghosts of the past, indeed so much that had defined her, she could not easily join the shallow banter about what best food to procure in Alstun.
But Alstun was no more. It was deserted. And half under water.
They rode into the town in silence, not knowing what to expect and with no words to describe their emotions. The water was but ankle deep and no threat to life, but the land was flat and so the whole town was now set amidst a shallow lake. The only life they saw were pigs and wild ducks. Finally they came in silence to the market square so common in the centre of every country town, and there they halted and stared in horror at what lay before them. No one spoke for dread had captured their hearts. Sylvion alone dismounted and walked slowly over to the bodies which lay in the centre of the square. The others remained in the saddle and allowed their queen to go on alone for they had no need to go any closer to see what ghastly thing had come to pass.
Sylvion stood and wept.
At her feet lay the bodies of three children, two boys and a golden haired girl, hardly more than a dozen winters each. They were richly dress
ed and carefully laid out in the manner of a sacrifice for it was clear that this they were, as all about them in an orderly array were flowers and other offerings of some description. Their open eyes stared to the heavens, their throats bloodied by the knife which took their lives.
‘Oh Revelyn,’ Sylvion cried in deep anguish as she fell to her knees before the grisly scene. ‘What have we come to that we will sacrifice our children? What evil can deceive the hearts of a whole town into this?’ And she sobbed with a deep grief, for in that moment she knew such a thing was beyond her. She did not resist as Rema came and held her close and gave what comfort he could although he too was weeping openly. Andes came and stood close by and wept with them, and whilst Gravyn kept his distance, his face seemingly as always, unmoved, his cheeks were wet with silent tears.
They remained thus for quite some time until finally Sylvion’s grief turned to rage. She stood suddenly and broke free from Rema’s gentle clasp as if it were not there. She marched about in anger and cried into the air.
‘I will not stand for this in my land. Not whilst I am the Queen of Revelyn. Do you hear me, whatever evil lurks nearby and gloats at such fell things. Do you hear my vow? I will not allow it. I will hunt you down whatever shape or form you take and I, Sylvion Greyfeld, Queen of this realm. I will destroy you utterly. She hurled her anger heavenward wards, over and over, and then she drew her blade and Rema sprang to remonstrate with her, but he was invisible to the great rage which burnt in Sylvion’s breast. In an instant the Shadow Blade glowed with a white light which could not be resisted and for all but Sylvion the world stood still and time outside of her stopped and waited as she proclaimed herself to all creatures and all realms.
She cried her vow again and with a mighty crack the shaft of light soared up into the sky and for an instant even the sun itself seemed dimmed; and then out over the land went a great thunderclap of sound which shook the ground and made even the air to shimmer at its passing.
