by Chris Ward
There before her was the grave of the last Edenwhood warrior which Reigin had told them was of such importance to all of his kind. But now the massive slab upon it was moved aside. The grave was open.
‘Andes,’ Germayne said aloud to the echoing ruin. ‘Andes it was you. It was always to be you. You are the last great Edenwhood warrior. Reign said the grave would open at the right time. This is your grave Andes. It has always been your grave.’ And once more Germayne wept, for the knowledge was overwhelming.
When she had recovered Germayne looked down into the open grave and saw many steps descending. Without fear she went down and found a large cavern cut from rock and in its centre a mighty platform upon which it was clear a body must rest. There were no ornate carvings or any markings save the words upon the wall which were the same as those inscribed upon the headstone above.
‘One last journey Andes,’ Germayne whispered. ‘If I could carry you last night I can do so once more.’ And she went to bring his body to the grave. She found it easier than she expected and within a span Andes lay upon the massive platform deep in the ground. Germayne placed Elwand upon his chest and folded both great hands about the hilt. She smoothed his clothes and washed away all blood and cleaned his wounds. And so the last great Edenwhood warrior lay still in the grave. Germayne kissed him once upon the lips.
‘For Fryn and all of us,’ she said and wept. ‘Rest here in peace Andes. I will never forget you, nor will Revelyn or the Edenwhood in turn.’ She paused upon the steps and looked down at him one last time, and then with the deepest of sighs she returned to the sun and sat by the grave and waited. I swear, she thought, I will not leave this place until the grave is closed for I will not allow any beast to disturb your rest Andes. You are owed that much at this time.
At the noon as Germayne dozed, the slab moved silently back of its own accord by some deep magic so ordained, and when she woke with a start, the grave was sealed. She brought flowers and made a wreath and placed them upon the grave and then saw with a smile that upon the headstone the imprint of a sword had appeared standing vertically. It was Elwand clear enough and so a sign was given that the prophecy had come to pass.
Germayne then gathered the horses and what few things she required and left that place for ever. She was deeply moved by all that had been, and now faced the future with a new resolve.
If Andes can rise in such a manner, then I too will make my queen proud, she thought. I cannot slay Gryfnor but I can surely do much else. I will be queen for a time and I will make this time count.
She rode on alone, grieving but content, and with a powerful memory of many things.
Chapter 14
Reigin woke suddenly with a start, and attempted to sit up, but his head came into hard contact with an unyielding deck beam just above his bunk. He cursed at the pain and shock, and shook as a sudden shiver of fear ran through his body. The boat was sailing smoothly enough and Rema below him was asleep, but an awful dread crept upon him, as a deep revelation made itself known.
‘No, it can’t be,’ he whispered, but the knowledge remained and would not be dismissed as a dream or the blurriness of a sharply interrupted sleep. Reigin slipped from his bunk and went up on deck, for all sleep had fled. The first rays of the early morning sun were dancing beautifully upon the sea which was calm enough to allow an easy motion for the ship, and yet the wind was driving her along at a steady rate. He looked and saw Captain Jorges at the helm and one other sailor tending the ropes. They nodded at each other, but no words were exchanged. Reigin went to the bow and stood holding the foremast stay and desperately hoping that what had come to him was in some manner wrong. A wave of deep nausea passed through him and he spat bitterly over the rail into the sea.
‘What is wrong Reigin?’ the voice came sharply to him and he turned to see Sylvion there. They stared at each other for a moment, an instant in which Sylvion knew something was dreadfully wrong. ‘Reigin?’ she whispered softly, tell me what has upset you.’
Reigin took a deep breath. ‘Andes,’ he said quietly. ‘Andes is dead.’ Sylvion felt a hand grasp her heart and she felt the pain of it.
‘Andes? Dead? How is this possible? How do you know it?’
Reigin did not reply and so Sylvion persisted. ‘Reigin speak to me,what causes you to think such a thing?’
‘I was asleep Sylvion,’ he replied quietly, hardly loud enough to be heard above the winds and the waves. ‘It was not a vision. It was deeper, something more certain even than that...’ his voice trailed off.
‘How could this be true?’ Sylvion asked gently, worried that it might be, but utterly confused by Reigin’s confident assertion that it was. She was about to speak again when Reigin suddenly changed. He looked directly at Sylvion, his eyes wide and hard as polished marble, but tinged with grief. He staggered and would have fallen save for his firm grip upon the forestay. Sylvion felt the hand grasp her heart again and in that instant, when pain met understanding she knew Reigin spoke the truth. The great man turned to face the warming sun.
‘The grave is open Sylvion,’ he whispered in awe.
‘Which grave Reigin, you do not make sense?’ The sun now lit his powerful face and added to the gravity of his solemn words.
‘The grave of the last Edenwhood warrior. It has opened in Fellonshead.’ A silence sat between them as this new knowledge was considered. Reigin’s face was wet with tears when he continued and Sylvion felt his great grief and went and held his arm. They stood together facing the sun.
‘It was told me that the Elder would know... I see it now in my mind. It is open and Andes lies dead nearby...’
‘What has come to pass?’ Sylvion whispered, but Reigin shook his head.
‘I cannot see that, but Andes lies with Elwand, so he fell in battle.’
‘With what...what battle?’
‘I do not know?’ Reigin replied from far off, ‘but it must have been some mighty evil, some fell creatures, some ....’ and he could not finish. Instead he looked at Sylvion and wept in silent grief. ‘Andes is dead and this means the end time of the Edenwhood is nigh,’ he shook his head in sorrow. ‘I am to be the last Elder Sylvion, and Andes the last great Edenwhood warrior. This much is clear to me.’
Sylvion was overcome with sadness, for despite her puzzlement she understood what Reigin said to be true, and she wept with him and the sun warmed their tears.
‘What of Germayne?’ Sylvion asked after a time.
‘I cannot see that, but if the grave opens surely it needs one to lay the body in it. She must be that one, or else the rest is not true... and it is.’ Sylvion breathed a small sigh of relief at this wisdom and silence once more enfolded them.
‘Andes was given Elwand for a reason,’ Sylvion said finally, ‘El-Arathor knew what he must face. He has played his part, now we must play ours.’ Reigin nodded but said nothing for a time until he too thought of a question.
‘Do we tell Rema?’
Sylvion considered this for while.
‘Yes we tell him the truth, that is the only way; but not yet.’
Reigin nodded. ‘Not yet; yes I think this is the best.’
‘I will tell him when the time seems right,’ Sylvion whispered but wondered how she might possibly know such a time. ‘They were the closest of friends. He will take it hard.’
‘And feel some guilt that they were not together,’ Reigin added and Sylvion knew this too was right and once more she nodded but did not speak. ‘He died a great warrior,’ Reigin whispered finally as a further understanding came to him. ‘His sacrifice has perhaps allowed us to continue without fear of pursuit, for it was surely he who was the means of Gryfnor tracking us...’
‘The Diabule marked him,’ Sylvion interrupted, nodding. ‘Yes that must be true and with his death we are free; Gryfnor or whatever deeper evil is his master cannot know where we are now. I was right to separate him from us, but I sent him to his death Reigin.’ She paused and took a breath, and sighed sadly. ‘That muc
h too is true.’
‘And so we must go on Sylvion.’ Reigin turned to her. ‘This one chance is given us. I feel I should return to my people but greater things call. We must see this through.’
‘Indeed Reigin we must see it through,’ Sylvion said confidently now as though she were able to allow herself a way forward. ‘The years have passed but once more we stand together.’
‘It will be a privilege My Lady,’ Reigin said and nodded in respect.
‘As it is for me, Elder of the mighty Edenwhood,’ Sylvion replied returning Reigin the honour.
The ship sailed on through the morning light, on a course north to the western shore of Bald Cape by the Wall of Iridin-Rune. The travellers sat on the deck and talked little but enjoyed the easy passage, although Orcxyl spent much time with the horses in the hold, where they were nervous and somewhat unsettled by an unfamiliar motion which was constantly demanding of their stance. Rema sensed that Sylvion was keeping her distance from him and wondered for he caught her glancing at him several times, and Reigin too, but he did not inquire as to why, instead he turned his thoughts upon his amazing journey and wondered what next would befall them all, and wondered how Andes might be faring. I hope you see more in Germayne than you have, he thought with a smile.
Before the noon with the Cape coming hard up on the starboard quarter Captain Jorges sent a man aloft and was then seen in deep discussion with him on his return to the deck. The captain glanced about and stood long on the starboard rail before calling Sylvion and the others to a meeting in the stern.
‘I have sailed these waters all my life,’ he said when all were assembled. ‘From Fisher to the mouth of the Ravalin River, and all palaces in the Norz Gulf. I know these waters like I know my ship...’ he shook his head in obvious puzzlement before continuing, ‘but something has changed, the current and the drift are most extraordinary. The lookout I sent aloft says that the western coast of the Cape is not the same, for the sea seems to overflow in places where it has never reached before. I am too old to climb the mast but I am concerned.’
‘What would this concern be?’ Sylvion asked.
‘I cannot tell yet but the ship is pulled along by some current which should not exist. The steering is light and this is dangerous for we need the water fast over the rudder to give us steerage...’ he ran a grizzled hand though his grey hair. ‘I wish to warn you is all, we will know soon enough. My plan is to set you down on good ground by the Western end of the great Wall of Iridin-Rune, but...’ his voice died away and none spoke, though all waited anxiously for his next words; words which did not come, for the Captain suddenly strode to the foredeck and climbed up upon the starboard rail and held himself as high as he could, braced only by a single rope which ran aloft to the masthead. With equal abruptness he sprang down and was quickly back with the small gathering in the stern.
‘I see it now,’ he cursed, ‘the land has sunk. The sea is pouring inland, and we are caught in the flow.’
‘Is this dangerous?’ Rema asked, trying hard to visualise what the captain had seen.
‘More than dangerous my friend,’ Captain Jorges hissed.’ The flow is strengthening and we cannot sail against it.’
‘We will be washed inland?’ Reigin queried and the captain nodded.
‘And likely smashed to pieces upon the rock of the cape below the Wall.’ He ran two hands through his hair, clearly thinking of what should be done.
‘Can we not anchor here until the flow recedes?’ Reigin asked but the captain shook his head fiercely in reply.
‘No, the water this side of the Gulf is far too deep, this is why I can sail easily up to the land. No we are caught and will have to sail the ship to a place which is of least threat to us all but we do not have many ways to do this. Now leave me to sail the ship and perhaps secure what possessions you will, for in a short time you will likely be swimming for your lives.’ And with that he called for the crew and turned back to the wheel leaving the travellers in some shock and bewilderment.
‘What of the horses?’ Sylvion said aloud to no one in particular.
‘They cannot be saved,’ Rema said. ‘They need to be hoisted up and the crew will be occupied sailing the ship, we can only hope when we come to rest that they escape.’ But they all knew that this was most unlikely.
Reigin went to the rail and gazed at the land coming up quickly now and sensed the pull of the current which drew them on, even so fast as to leave the sails flapping for the ship was travelling almost as fast as the wind. He shook his head. There must be some way of escape he thought. But none came to him. The land approached ever more quickly as the ship was drawn on by the massive rushing of the waters which were seemingly pouring in over once dry land; and then the great crags of the Cape suddenly revealed the hand of man for the western end of the mighty Wall of Iridin-Rune came clearly to view. As soon as Captain Jorges caught sight of it he gave the wheel to an able crew member and went once more to stand at the starboard rail. The others gathered about him sensing that he would reveal something further of their strange predicament. And they did not have to wait long.
‘Now I see it,’ he said in awe, ‘the wall reveals the extent of what has happened.’ He pointed to the ramparts of the ancient barrier which had in ages past been built to make a fortress of the southern cape and keep back the waring Ravalin from their constant southerly raiding.
‘The wall has always stood some hundred cubits above the sea,’ he continued, once more running ancient hands through his grey and thinning hair, ‘I have been past here many times. The height of it was well decided; this is the best place is to build such a thing, for the cliffs below are steep and any scaling these would then be faced with the defence of the wall...’
‘But the sea is at its base now,’ Sylvion whispered.
‘Aye,’ the captain replied sombrely, ‘which means the land here has sunk a hundred cubits, which means the whole Cape is now likely an Island for this water is surely rushing past with the tide to meet the Faero Sea to the east.’ He stopped and thought, a sudden realisation dawning upon him. ‘By the Gods I am right, this water is not rushing in over the land, the land is submerged entirely, we are in a tidal race. Look to the north the sea reaches perhaps ten leagues. I see trees and hills there. We are in a channel, and beyond sailing...’
Indeed as he spoke the ship was caught in a violent eddy which turned it broadside and then full in a circle, the sails left flapping and useless.
‘Look at the water at the base of the wall,’ Rema cried, pointing, for now they were close upon the ramparts which towered above them and not more than a quarter league off as the ship was drawn suddenly east. They all saw the racing waters were foaming and tearing at the rocks and the wall which in places now stood in the sea. A sudden cry came from the stern. A member of the crew was pointing to the water off the port bow. They all raced to the opposite rail and saw the water was now churned to a muddy brown, and great trees and debris of all types had suddenly formed dangerous obstacles all about the ship.
‘The water is tearing the land below apart,’ Captain Jorges said. ‘It is forming a new channel and we are caught in it.’
‘Well at least everything travels at the same speed,’ Gravyn observed sombrely breaking his usual silence. They all watched and sure enough, despite the seeming danger the ship and the choked waters did not seem to be at a point where any mighty collision might take place. Nevertheless the captain ordered what crew he had to position themselves with oars and poles to fend off any tree or floating danger, and so they held their breaths and let the racing water take them where it would. After a time it seemed that the very speed of the current was their salvation for it kept them away from the rocks and gradually they relaxed.
Orcxyl eventually came up from the hold where he had calmed the horses, and stood alone watching the mighty ancient wall pass by. At first he was as awed as the others by the spectacle, for it was a massive structure which had taken great labour and ingenuity t
o construct. But as he stood and watched he saw things which the others could not see. In places he saw strange ghostly figures walking upon the wall. He felt the hair creep upon his flesh but he knew he saw things no one else could see, it was his gift, and so he stood and gazed upon the ancient dead of the Wall of Iridin-Rune, those who had died in defence of their lands to the south, those who by some law beyond understanding were fated to march endlessly in an eternal ghostly defence. At one place the current swept the ship in close to where the wall was no more than a stone’s throw away, and Orcxyl gasped for a sudden grouping of the ghostly warriors let loose a cloud of phantom arrows which came toward them but they fell harmlessly in the sea all about and vanished in an instant. Without thinking Orcxyl raised his hands toward them, palms out and empty, a signal that there was no threat, and he was amazed when the eerie figures stood back and took no further action. Sylvion and Reigin noticed Orcxyl’s strange gesture and each raised an eyebrow and shook their heads but made no comment and soon the ship was swept further out and once more resumed its speedy flight.
‘The current is less captain,’ came a call some time later, and sure enough the foam upon the rocks was now greatly diminished, and they travelled less swiftly past the Wall. Captain Jorge ordered the crew to tend the sails, for once the ship travelled slower than the wind it became possible to sail the ship once more. Within a short time the boat was able to make some headway and Captain Jorges set a course for the land far to the north, but within a span he changed his mind and ordered the sails be set free to flap in the breeze. He called the crew and all the travellers together.
