by Chris Ward
‘I thought we might make landfall to the north but I am wrong. We are in slack water. If the channel has cut through to the Faero Sea the tide will turn about long before we will make land and it will be shallower there and all manner of obstacles from the ground below will threaten the ship.’
‘What shall we do then Captain?’ Rema asked on behalf of them all.
‘If this new channel is now open to the tides,’ the old sailor replied, ‘which I am sure it is, for nothing else can explain the great speed of the water, then within two span we will be travelling back to the west with the change of the tide, and will make no headway at all. I suggest we sail back while we still can to the great Wall and find a place where it is protected by some jutting headland. We shall secure the boat and wait for the tide to turn again and then we can travel on. In this manner we will likely reach the far coast and out into the eastern ocean and safety, but I do not wish to travel back with all the debris which might be carried back with us. We have been lucky so far, but I fear we will be holed afore long.’ The wisdom of his words struck home and so it was that the ship was turned about and with the breeze just strong enough to give them passage, they made slow progress through the floating debris, back to the Wall which now stretched endlessly in each direction along the rocky crags of the Cape to the south. The captain took his ship in close and they sailed gently along until, just as the tide began to build to the west, they found a place where the wall jutted north and formed a small sheltered bay. With great care they made their way in, hoping that no rocks beneath would sink them. Twice they felt a jolt and the ship heeled over slightly but the tough oak held, and as the current began to swirl about them they made the ship fast to the rocks at the base of the mighty wall and settled down to wait out the tide.
It was soon apparent that the Captain’s choice was wise indeed, for soon all manner of debris was seen to be passing westward as the tide swept ever faster through the newly formed channel, but now the wind was against the flow and so great waves grew quickly and tumbled over each other and churned the trees and bushes and the muddy waters in a most alarming manner. The ship was well protected by the jutting headland and suffered little although every now and then a great tree would sweep in towards them and all hands were called to push it away and save the hull. They ate and rested in the shade of the great Wall of Iridin-Rune, and watched the massive unstoppable flow of the sea carve out what it would as it separated Bald Cape from the mainland of Revelyn and by so doing create a new island. Orcxyl sat alone in the bow, his interest elsewhere, for he watched entranced as many ghostly figures passed upon the wall and looked down upon them. At one point Rema came and sat with him, for he had noticed the great hunter’s fascination. After a time he spoke.
‘You see strange things Orcxyl?’ he commented quietly. Orcxyl nodded.
‘I do Rema Bowman, but I have seen strange things all my life. Still what I see above us is quite strange as you say.
‘What do you see?’ Rema asked, not knowing if he would be permitted an answer.
‘I see the ghosts of men,’ Orcxyl whispered after a time. ‘I see the sad remnant of warriors who have been doomed to walk forever on the wall upon which they fought. Why this is so I have no idea, but nevertheless this is what I see.’ He did not look at Rema but whispered in a far off voice as his eyes all the while jumped about from one ghostly figure to another, which gave him a somewhat disturbed visage, one which Gravyn had not failed to notice, and this confirmed in the mighty archer that Orcxyl was quite mad. But Rema believed him.
‘I see nothing Orcxyl, but I am sure you do. Tell me what are they like?’ But Orcxyl could not find the words to describe them. Rema watched him struggle to find some simple thing to say but he could not.
‘It is as if they cannot be described for the real world,’ Orcxyl said at last, as much amazed at his inability as Rema. ‘I see what I see, and I have the clearest picture, but when I go to speak of it...I cannot do so.’ He paused and then with a mighty effort continued. ‘They are sad, Rema, if that is any description at all, but it is the best I can do.’ Rema looked hard up at the ramparts and saw nothing but ancient rock and broken stone, and he shook his head in wonder.
‘You are a strange man Orcxyl the Hunter,’ he said finally.
‘Great,’ Orcxyl replied with a smile. ‘Great hunter, Rema Bowman, and don’t you forget it.’ They both laughed then and Gravyn turned and wondered what could possibly be passing between them.
When the tide finally turned once more they cast off and with great care sailed slowly out into the channel and let the current take them once again. The wind was with them continually and so the water was smoother travelling east, and they managed to find a path between all the tangled debris which floated with the tide. The water seemed less muddy now and they were able to find shelter once more when the tide turned again. They spent the night safely secured to the rocks beneath the ever present wall and with the new day Captain Jorges informed them all that should the current hold firm, they should make the eastern sea later that morning. This time they sailed further out into the channel and when slack water came by the noon, the eastern end of the Wall of Iridin-Rune came into view and the mighty Faero Sea was entered. The waters were deep and cold and clear, and the ship sailed easily over a long swell which was hull high but with great valleys between the crests, so the well-found ship had no trouble making her way more northerly but well out from the shore.
‘We cannot land to the north,’ Captain Jorges informed Sylvion and Reigin once more. ‘There is too much danger in holing the ship. The sea bed has changed altogether and I cannot risk it. I will sail north around the next Cape and will give you landfall at the ancient ruins of Ravalin. It is far further than we agreed I would take you, but I have an interest now to see just how far the sinking of the land has been. Perhaps the ruined city is now completely submerged in which case you might wish to return to Fisher with me.’
‘You are kind, captain,’ Sylvion replied. ‘Indeed if the city is no more, then all we search for will be lost. I will pay you well for your trouble.’
‘Indeed I would charge for you being such trouble,’ Jorges replied immediately, ‘but since you are not I will leave the matter rest.’ The big old sailor laughed heartily and both Sylvion and Reigin felt a deep admiration for the man.
They sailed safely through the night and in the early hours the ship turned west again around an unnamed cape and was soon protected from the mighty ocean by its mass. At sunrise they were tacking south west, and at noon they were all called by Captain Jorges to the stern.
‘We will be in Ravalin, or what is left of it before sunset. I think the land is not sunk hereabouts for the shore line seems unchanged. I think we will find the ruins above the water, at least those that were always above the water. You will find much of the city submerged. It has been this way for half an age. I warn you though that it is a haunted place, and you will find nothing living there. Even the ruins beneath the sea are still free from all growths or decay. It is a city frozen in time. I advise you stay together and do not wander alone for you will surely encounter strange things.’ He paused and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. ‘I do not think all of you will return,’ he concluded quietly, looking from one to the other. His words hit hard amongst them and the Captain knew it for he turned quickly away and gave orders to the crew and would not further speak of such things.
They spent time collecting their few possessions and readying the horses, and then waited and watched for the land now drew close, and they all knew that they neared their strange destination. The ship was sailed finally upon a calm and glassy sea with a ghosting breeze which made the handling of it quite a task, but the crew were well trained and had complete faith in their captain. Sometime before nightfall they rounded a final headland and the ship turned directly west, and there before them were the remains of the Ravalin’s mighty lost city. They crept in silence toward the shore and as they did the water gave
up some secrets from below.
‘Look!’ called Sylvion pointing to the depths, and they all followed her guide. They found they could see the bottom of the sea with great clarity, but it was covered in many submerged houses and streets. Stone of the finest kind gleamed white and unstained up at them from where the sea had claimed them.
‘It is like we are flying over a city,’ Rema said, and indeed they all knew that was exactly what they were doing.
At that moment the captain called all hands and the sails were dropped. They still held some forward motion and with the greatest of skill the ship was brought to a gentle halt by the rooftop of an almost completely submerged building. Ropes from the bow and stern were made fast to two convenient columns, and then all fell quiet and the group stood and looked about in awe at the deserted, haunted city, as a strange silence engulfed them.
The beast in Ramos stood in stunned silence, his rage fuelled by the news just delivered. The Wrythers were before him and their highly ecstatic convulsions only enraged him further; but for once he was lost for words, either curse or spite. Finally he managed to croak in disbelief.
‘The Dragyn is dead?’ The Wrythers danced before him and spoke in perfect unison.
‘Dead and bunt to ash, we saw it all, a mighty battle Lord, but the sword of the Edenwhood was too great...’
‘That foul El-Arathor has cheated me once more,’ roared the beast. ‘Another Blade to subdue, where is it now, did you pause enough in your evil glee to know of this?’
The beast paced furiously about its tent whilst the Wrythers took care to stay beyond its deadly reach. Suddenly it transformed into the softer humanness of Gryfnor the magician, only its red and evil eyes lingered on for a time to give clue to a deeper evil.
‘This means that the shadow Blade is not in Ramos, and it is true that the White Queen has left on some foolish quest, and in the wrong direction.’ Gryfnor then thought for a time. ‘I must secure the Royal Sceptre for that is the power of the Blade in the end. Now is the time.’
‘And increase the sacrifice,’ the Wrythers hissed from a dark corner.
‘And increase the sacrifice,’ Gryfnor repeated whilst thinking still of the Shadow Blade. With a jolt he realised what he had just said. ‘I have increased the sacrifice,’ He hissed. ‘Lord Ungarit should be well pleased. Almost all the people bear my mark, and willingly allow the sacrifice. They now even seek out those I require. More and more. There is blood freely to be shed, from Ramos to the Eastern Sea. You go tell Lord Ungarit that it goes well and tell him that my land still sinks. He gave me to believe that it would cease with the sacrifice. I have done all and will do more, but I want my kingdom. You tell him that you Wrythers. I want my Kingdom.’ And with a cackle the spectres vanished to do Gryfnor’s bidding.
The sun had set and the gentle dusk light illuminated the empty city before them with a wonderful light. It seemed that it was as if the buildings were trying to climb from the sea onto dry ground for close about where the ship was safely moored, many structures could be seen partly submerged, and roads and laneways ran down from the higher ground right into the sea. Those houses and buildings which had not been inundated stood cold in the warm evening glow, empty for half an age but without decay save for the thatched rooves and timber beams which time had slowly stolen; and still, in places these too remained. The city was built on a gentle, somewhat circular hillside, which formed the bay in which their ship now lay, whilst to the north a mighty rocky headland jutted out into the sea and gave protection from any storm which might sweep down from that direction. They looked for a long time in silence for the place was strange indeed, and none had the words to capture it at all.
‘There is nothing moving,’ Rema whispered.
‘Not even a bird,’ Sylvion added with equal quietness.
‘I feel there are eyes upon us,’ Gravyn said as he scanned the scene before him; and Orcxyl nodded twice. For once we agree on something archer, he thought, but he could not discern from where the eyes might be gazing, or if indeed they were human eyes.
Sylvion finally turned to the captain. ‘How long are you willing to spend here?’ she asked. The old seaman did not look at her but instead scanned the city and ran his hands through his hair. He seemed to be thinking hard upon the matter and finally he replied.
‘I will stay for the morrow,’ he said. ‘We are safe enough moored here. In the morning we will bring the horses up and you can easily swim them to shore. I will perhaps spend a further night if you require it. I have a horn. This I will blow three times before I leave. If you hear it you will know that time is short.’ He paused before continuing. ‘If you miss the boat it is a long hard journey back to Revelyn.’ These final words were full of sombre truth, and they all realised that they were now travelling in a foreign land.
‘You have served us well Sira,’ Reigin said after a time. ‘We could not expect anymore.’
‘No,’ the captain replied, nodding his old head with a toothy smile. ‘You could not.’
They slept aboard and the night passed without incident although the eerie quiet of the darkness seemed somehow full of malevolence. In the morning the horses were brought up and hoisted onto the flat roof of the stone house to which the ship was moored. They left them there to stretch and prance about whilst the ship’s rowboat was used to take the travellers the short distance to land, where, in response to Rema’s request of Sylvion, ‘as to what they were to do,’ she replied with a shrug...
‘Look for any sign that someone has passed this way. It should not be too hard in a deserted city which had stood this way for half an age.’ She paused... ‘If there is some sign it will be clear enough.’ They split into two groups. Sylvion and Rema went north together, Reigin, Orcxyl and Gravyn more southerly but at first climbed up the hillside to where they could see the whole sweep of the bay. They worked with no pattern, the city was vast and all knew that it would be by luck alone that any clue might be stumbled upon. Rema enjoyed being alone with Sylvion, and she too responded to him with a warm and easy banter and with a closeness he had not felt since they had first met in Ramos. They talked of their journey, and explored in wonder at the strange empty city, marvelling at the many buildings and the great craftsmanship which had seen so little decay in many lifetimes. At one point they reached high up upon the hillside and looked around the bay. They rested together on a roof parapet side by side, sitting so that their bodies touched more than a little, and sensed that there was a desire in each for something more.
Sylvion held herself in check, measuring her emotions, enjoying the warmth and strength of Rema’s body, but thinking of another, although the longer they sat thus these thoughts blurred and she found it harder to separate her memories from the present reality.
Rema felt an overpowering desire to hold Sylvion close and kiss her, but he knew it was not the right time, and despite their closeness, he judged that Sylvion would not want this, and so he accepted the simple feel of her hip against his, her shoulder leaning into him, and her hand resting next to his, a single finger touching... and allowed himself the hope that perhaps the captivating but wonderful glimmer in their strange relationship might grow into a stronger flame.
‘The ship is so small from here,’ Sylvion pointed down to where the boat floated safely at her mooring. ‘The horses seem to be settled...I count all five so none has tried to swim ashore and escape their strange new world.’
Rema nodded. ‘It is beautiful from here. This city is wonderfully planned and yet it has fallen. I wonder why the ancient Ravelin would not have stayed on here. They could have built more houses further back to replace those which have sunk...’ he looked around, and did not at first hear Sylvion’s reply.
‘Andes is dead Rema.’ She spoke quietly and placed her hand upon his thigh. It was simple gesture which at once inflamed him and momentarily hid her meaning. He turned to her and said nothing, gathering his thoughts which in that moment were strangely competing.
‘
What did you say? Andes is dead?’
Sylvion nodded and immediately he saw the pain and tears in her eyes. Rema felt a sudden tearing in his heart. She is speaking the truth, he thought, I do not know how she knows it but it is true. They sat and looked at each other in silence, and then Sylvion explained all she knew, retelling as best she could what Reigin had revealed to her. Rema listened in an agony of silence as his thoughts became increasingly muddled.
‘I am sorry Rema. So very sorry,’ Sylvion finished at last, ‘he was a great man and perhaps one day we will know what battle he fought, and how he died, but now we can do no more than bear his memory with us. And you most of all.’ She put her arms about him and small though she was Rema felt himself comforted and through his own blur of tears he found a few words.
‘I almost forced him to come with me Sylvion. Not that I could of course, but with words and a challenge he gave in to me, in the end. Poor Fryn...’
‘Poor Rema,’ Sylvion interrupted with a gentle whisper and hugged him tight. Rema found his emotions greatly challenged. Here I sit, he thought, with Sylvion’s arms around me at last and for all the wrong reasons.
The other group wandered in a similar fashion, torn between the beauty of the lost city and the search for some clue that Sylvion’s daughter Raven Greyfeld had managed to find her way there. They exchanged few words for Gravyn had no time for Orcxyl, nor he for Gravyn, and Reigin found himself thinking much upon what was to become of the Edenwhood and what part he would play in all of it. They rested at noon, and high up from the south looked north to the mighty headland which protected the bay from the ice and storms from that direction.
Orcxyl sensed it first. Reigin soon after, and Gravyn too when he realised that the other two were staring hard at the headland. He also felt something which chilled his marrow.
‘There are ghosts in that place,’ Orcxyl said, not caring what the other two thought for he knew what he knew, and none else could feel like he did.
