by Chris Ward
‘Lord Ungarit has sent a Dragyn,’ the ever present Wrythers chorused together.
He is pleased with me thought the beast.
‘He thinks you need more help for you have lost two Shadow Hunters and he is not pleased!’ the Wrythers cried and instantly they became a blur of wild excitement for their words had caused the beast an immediate fear and panic. ‘And he demands more sacrifice...’ With a vile curse the beast angrily swept them from his presence and turned to look upon the Dragyn.
‘You will serve me well Dragyn,’ it hissed with an enveloping covetness. ‘I was about to create my own from the Shadow Hunter which remained and yet I have you.’ The Dragyn looked without feeling upon its new master.
You are three times a Shadow Hunter and need no darkness for your work, thought the beast. You think like a human so you can outwit any such creature and you are eternal save for the power of the Shadow Blade... it shuddered, there is none can stand against that evil.
The Dragyn stood eight cubits tall. Its limbs were muscular and strong as steel. Its head was long and narrow and two small horns rose from its skull behind its ears. It had a long tail with a killing bone at its tip, so sharp it could slice a small tree easily through the trunk.
‘You will seek out the bearer of the Shadow Blade, Dragyn, and kill her and steal it for me. It must be done with speed for if you stand to fight her you will perish. You will ambush her, and like lightning will at one stroke destroy her and any with her, for once the Blade is in your hands there is none who can stand against you.’
The Dragyn’s red eyes registered these commands; it nodded but did not make a sound, indeed it rarely spoke, although, unlike the Shadow Hunter it was able to do so.
The beast took a small vial from a shelf and undid the top. It extracted a single hair and offered it to the Dragyn. ‘Smell this and you will know where to track the Blade. This belongs to one I own who travels with them.’ And the Dragyn did so, its nostrils flaring with the scent which registered deep within its evil brain.
‘Go now Dragyn, go via Fellonshead and bring me the Blade and news of death to all who you find with its bearer.’ And in an instant the Dragyn was gone, compelled by a higher will which it could never refuse. It disappeared into the night as fast as a horse but with little need for rest or sustenance. It gave an eerie howl at the city gates which froze the blood of all who heard, and then passed on, north toward Sheldon, stopping every now and then to sniff the wind, guided by a sorcery which none in Revelyn had ever encountered before.
The beast turned back to another creature.
‘You are useless to me now,’ it hissed angrily to the hapless thing. ‘I gave you a simple task to deceive those who might look too closely at me. But they found you out and you ran and they do not fear you. So perhaps they will not fear me.’ The beast took the ugly man who had stood by the magician’s tent in the market place. It lifted the doomed man high with a single jerk and smiled as the crack of the neck indicted that death was quick. It tossed the lifeless man aside and stood, and slowly took on the human form of Gryfnor the gentle magician. He stepped outside his tiny tent and saw that all was well.
It goes well enough, he thought, but Ungarit is not to be trusted. I must succeed. I need the Royal Sceptre to ensure my victory and we must find more sacrifice. Lord Ungarit is right in this. It has not been enough. He smiled gently, but his thoughts were of innocent blood and a people and a land at last in his thrall.
Chapter 13
‘Do you feel that? ‘Reigin said suddenly with a tinge of alarm in his normally steady voice. The others looked about them and without exception they knew that something strange was happening. A giddiness enfolded them which gave a taste of nausea, a strange ripple in the air seemed to reach into their head. ‘Feel the walls,’ Reigin continued and they saw that he now stood with both hands upon the rock which entombed them. And so they did.
‘It murmurs,’ Rema whispered. ‘The rock is speaking.’
‘It is moving,’ Sylvion added. No more was said but they all felt a fear as they waited for what might come to pass.
‘It has stopped,’ Reigin said finally, and they took deep breaths and stepped back wondering what it meant. Sylvion was about to speak, but it was Orcxyl who first found voice.
‘My Lady,’ he said in a tone which did not seem to fit his usual self. ‘If I may be permitted, there is some matter I must lay before you.’ He looked at Sylvion in such a manner that she was immediately intrigued. Suddenly his eyes, which until this time had been like shutters to his soul, spoke of a deep sadness and bitter regret, emotions she had learned to discern over many years.
‘Speak Orcxyl; I will hear you of course,’ she replied.
‘First I speak to Gravyn,’ Orcxyl said and turned to look at the great archer. ‘Ready your bow my friend for when I am finished speaking you must shoot me dead, and I know that you have wished this often enough.’ He turned back to the Queen before Gravyn had any chance to respond. His manner was so strange that no one knew what to say or do, and Gravyn did not move at all, although his weapon was close by.
‘My Lady, I must inform you that I have betrayed you.’ Orcxyl’s words hit them like a thunderclap, but he continued without pause. ‘I came to Ramos to slay you. I have long planned this deed. In my country which was sinking like much of Revelyn, my tribe was caught in the hands of evil which I have believed until this moment to be your doing.’
‘Orcxyl you are making no sense.’ Sylvion said in complete shock. ‘I know nothing of your people and I do not do evil.’ Her voice was suddenly loud and indignant.
‘I see that now My Lady, but that is not what I believed.’
‘Then explain yourself Orcxyl,’ Sylvion said and none there could doubt the fearsome retribution which lay close by for she put her hand to the hilt of the Shadow Blade and there it remained as Orcxyl told his story.
‘I was sixteen summers old when our shaman took my twin. She was called Freya and I loved her more than life itself. Indeed she was my life. She was sacrificed by the sea to hold it back. Her throat was cut. I saw them do it and screamed against it, but I could do nothing. She was the first, and the tribe...my tribe allowed it. I was too young to know what to do.’ There were tears on his face now and all could see he was deeply moved by what he was saying, and Germayne sensed that it was the first time he had ever spoken such words to any other. ‘The sea had risen, the land had sunk, it did not matter which back then, but our whole land was threatened. Winter by winter the sea took the land. In desperation we sent our wise one, our shaman east to Ramos for we had heard stories that the great White Queen who ruled there would know what we must do. We heard of her Wisden, we were told of what she had achieved in many summers and winters in Revelyn. We believed that she would direct us.’ He paused and looked about and all saw his great confusion and deep grief. ‘It seems foolish now that we would follow the advice of the shaman, but when he returned after many moons, he ordered that we must give up a life; one life to be sacrificed on the summer solstice when the moon was full. I did not understand or even believe it, but the shaman had a way with words and he convinced us all that the great White Queen had directed him so. This great sacrifice alone would hold back the sea.’ He looked sadly at Sylvion. She looked back in anger.
‘I have never had any meeting with such a person. And I would never say such a thing. To kill innocents is against all I stand for...’ but Orcxyl interrupted her.
‘My Lady, now I see that, but I was young and like my tribe I believed the one who was our shaman. His power was very great. But I stood against it, and I believed that only great evil would want such things, and I believed it was you, My Lady who had advised our shaman. And so I burned with hate and revenge, and I fell out with my people, and in the end when the land was lost and the last sacrifice proved useless, I bound myself with a vow.’ Orcxyl took a deep breath and looked Sylvion firmly in the eye. ‘I vowed I would avenge my Freya and travel to Ramos and find you
My Lady, and kill you, even if it cost me my life.’
There was silence for a time as Orcxyl’s sad and bitter words sunk in.
‘So you climbed the walls of the Palace...’Sylvion whispered in anger.
‘To get to you My Lady. To slay you.’ Orcxyl interrupted her. Gravyn reached quietly for his bow and before any could intervene, he had an arrow on the string and the weapon full bent, instant death pointed at Orcxyl’s heart. He did not loose the shaft but held and waited knowing that the one before him would die a quick death at his hand. His face was as of stone. His heart beat slow and powerfully. It was his way.
‘Hold!’ Sylvion ordered the archer, and he did so but he did not relax his draw.
‘You saved my life on several occasions, Orcxyl. We would have all burnt to death save you, the sabre cat in Fellonshead, the serpers, why stop them from killing me...;
‘I had vowed to take your life My Lady,’ Orcxyl continued. ‘Your death was to be at my hand, no other.’ Sylvion shook her head, dumbfounded.
‘You hated me that much?’ Orcxyl nodded.
‘I did, My Lady. It was hate and anger that blinded me, and yet...’ he hesitated.
‘Yet what?’ Sylvion insisted.
‘The longer I was in your presence the more doubts rose to block my path. I tried hard to push them aside for I had vowed what I had vowed. I could not release myself from that, and it filled my life, and when doubts stood before me which I could not understand, so I fell back upon that which I knew... which was my vow. To avenge my Freya. To slay you My Lady.’
There was silence for a long time. A silence in which Sylvion the great White Queen looked only at Orcxyl and he at her, and the others at them both. Rema watched in breathless awe and saw Sylvion change. He saw her tense and relax several times as though in her mind she was dealing with many great emotions, and finally her face seemed to soften and her hand left the hilt of her Blade.
‘You have been convinced by this Orcxyl?’ Sylvion swept her hand toward the oak table and the great canopy and its many depictions. ‘You see now that Gryfnor is the one who advised your evil shaman, not I?’ And Orcxyl nodded sadly. ‘That your shaman came back to your people and told them lies; for why would they believe a magician, they needed to hear that I the great White Queen had given instructions. Do you see this now Orcxyl?’
‘My Lady, it is as you say.’ Once more a silence held sway for a time.
‘I have betrayed you My Lady. And I deserve to die. Let Gravyn here slay me as I would have you.’ He knelt on the sandy floor of the cave and looked up at Sylvion. ‘But I ask your forgiveness before I die.’
Sylvion turned and walked to the oak table and looked at all that was before her, and it was clear to the others that she was deep in thought. Suddenly she unbuckled the belt which held the mighty Shadow Blade so close to her. She took it off and cast it, sheath and leather and deadly sword upon the great table which held so much that had been revealed. She turned back and went to Orcxyl, and to the great surprise of everyone watching, she knelt before him and took his hands in hers.
‘I have killed many men, Orcxyl,’ she said in the most gentle of voices. ‘Each one I believe I had a reason to slay, and each one I still see before me in the night. I have no reason to kill you. I forgive you, and I ask that you forgive yourself. You were young. You were hurt. Let us journey together for we have greater things to bring about than fulfilling the ill-informed vows of our youth.’
And suddenly she held him as he fell against her. His body wracked by mighty sobs and all save Gravyn felt tears upon their faces. The archer put away his weapon but muttered darkly to himself as he did so. And Rema was amazed at Sylvion’s beauty and wisdom. You truly are the great White Queen, he thought. Forgiveness and mercy when justice demands death. And yet it is right. He shook his head and was unashamed of his tears.
Sylvion stood at the right moment and ordered Orcxyl to stand.
‘You have yet to assist me in the task which is allotted for you Orcxyl. I demand that of you, but more... I ask you to stay with me on this quest, for I fear it will have many twists and turns yet before it is done. But in the end, if we are successful, the ones who are guilty of the blood of those in your tribe, and in all Revelyn who were slain for evil’s sake, these creatures will be destroyed.’
‘My Lady I will do whatever you ask of me,’ Orcxyl replied humbly, ‘if the magician Gryfnor is to be defeated than I will accompany you to the end of all things.’
At that moment Andes spoke. He had watched with the others and was deeply moved by Orcxyl’s story and Sylvion’s mercy. Now he like Orcxyl surprised them all.
‘Sylvion,’ he said stepping forward in a manner which indicated that he too would like to speak frankly. ‘I also have some matter which needs to be revealed.’ Germayne tensed knowing just what was about to happen but unsure, in the light of the canopy’s revelations, that her queen would react as favourably as she had to Orcxyl.
‘Speak Andes,’ Sylvion smiled. ‘It seems we are in a place and the time is right that secrets are coming to the fore. It is good, for we have much which lies before us, and if there exists matters which trouble us, they must be dealt with now.
And then Andes found he could not speak for he was not one for words and with all eyes upon him he was struck dumb.
‘Go ahead Andes, speak your mind.’ Sylvion encouraged him as the great giant stood awkwardly before her at a loss for any right word. Then knowing he needed help, Germayne suddenly went to his side and took his arm.
‘It is alright Andes. I will speak for you.’ And Andes was suddenly overwhelmed at this great show of love. He nodded, for that was all he could manage. Rema was dumbstruck at what was happening.
‘My Lady,’ Germayne said. ‘Andes came to Ramos at the request of his friend Rema.’ She smiled at him then turned back to Sylvion. ‘He was lonely from the start and missed his love, a woman by the name of Fryn. You will remember we have spoken of her.’ Sylvion nodded but was greatly puzzled at what was happening.
‘I am afraid My Lady, that Andes, in a moment of weakness fell under the spell of Gryfnor.’ At the mention of this name Sylvion felt her heart pound furiously in her breast and she knew what was being revealed.
‘You entered his tent, Andes,’ she said. ‘You took his offering. You posses his Diabule?’ Andes nodded in misery, and for all his great size the giant seemed suddenly quite hapless before the queen.
‘You bear his mark?’ Sylvion demanded. ‘Show me.’ And Andes obeyed, holding back his long fringe, and there for all to see was the faint purplish stain of the Diabule high up in the centre of his forehead. Sylvion walked angrily to the oak table and buckled on the shadow Blade.
‘I meant no harm, My Lady, I was just using this to see my Fryn,’ Andes said quietly, ‘I had no idea...’
‘Gryfnor is a beast,’ Sylvion interrupted harshly. ‘A vile evil creature, the one who is at the heart of all that is threatening Revelyn, of the abomination of human sacrifice... and you take his mark Andes?’ She spoke in anger, turning on him, and the others knew she was suddenly fighting for control. Her hand was upon the Shadow Blade and Rema looked at Germayne and saw horror upon her face. You know your queen, he thought she is about to do something...
‘And you too Sylvion,’ Rema said boldly, ‘you too have allowed Gryfnor to remain despite your own daughter’s advice. You long had time to see his work and think upon it. Andes had but a few days. He did not know, and indeed you did not know; none of us did, until just now...’ He pointed to the table and at the same time wondered at the power of his pounding heart. Sylvion was immediately taken back by the force of his bold accusation. Her eyes widened and then she blinked strongly several times, shaking her head. She walked to the fire and stood with her hands clasped before her face. Three times she thrust them against her chin then turned back to address them.
‘Rema, your words were timely. I thank you. You spoke the truth when I needed most to hear it.’ She t
urned to Andes. ‘You have done no greater wrong than I.’ She paused and then spoke with an insight which was beyond them all. ‘However this changes things Andes. You made a choice and choices change our lives. I hope that the Diabule gave you the peace you were looking for, although I can imagine at best it is an illusion for it comes from the hand of one who is a master of lies and deceit.’ Andes nodded sadly and they all knew he was agreeing with what was spoken.
‘I believe the Diabule gives Gryfnor some power over those who accept it,’ she continued. ‘Perhaps he selects some more than others. Perhaps Andes you were his means to follow our journey.’ The sudden impact of her meaning hit them all very hard as she continued... ‘We felt that some fell thing was following us, looking for ways to thwart us, even kill us...’
‘You mean he has used me for this?’ Andes whispered in horror, and Sylvion did not spare him. She nodded.
‘Yes Andes I do. How else to explain the strange threat in Sheldon, then the fire on the Plains of Amrosi, the sabrecat perhaps and certainly the Serpers which Reigin tells us are never found anywhere but in AlGiron. All these things came to us in quick succession, and each might have killed all, or at least myself.’ Andes shook his head in misery.
‘What price did you pay for the Diabule?’ Sylvion asked. And Andes looked in shock for he knew she had driven to the heart of it.
‘A single hair,’ he said softly, ‘all he asked was a single hair. I did not think much of it for my thoughts were taken with the promise of the power of the Diabule.’
‘And with that hair, by some evil sorcery he has used the Diabule and entered your mind to know where you are travelling and with that he has been able to know something of our journey.’ Andes looked white and said nothing. All else knew that Sylvion was right.
‘Whenever you use the Diabule he sees something of you, of where you are, and perhaps things close by you. All who bear the mark of this creature belong in some sense to it,’ Sylvion said angrily. ‘It is how he is infecting the land. Where Zelfos tried by outright violence and armed force to subjugate, Gryfnor and whatever other evil he represents is entering into the will by lies and trickery and illusion.’ She pointed to the depictions on the canopy stretched wide across the oak table. ‘You see here the people of this land, and the mark of the beast upon them.’ She paused and then sadly whispered. ‘I wonder how many now bear the mark.’
