by Chris Ward
‘I am sorry Rema,’ she said softly. ‘I am using you. I admit this. I am using you because you are Rema Bowman and head to toe the memory of my Rema.’ Her eyes went a little unfocused then... ‘He came to me Rema. In that fearful cold place he came to me. I heard his voice. He called me back.’ She wept. ‘He told me of his love for me. It saved me Rema.’ She wiped away the tears and Rema was reminded of the warm tears she had wept in their embrace. ‘I need you to promise me something Rema.’ Sylvion took his hands and looked most intently at him; this change in her took him by complete surprise.
‘I think you know that I will do what you want, Sylvion, whatever you want,’ Rema said softly and she saw in him then his love for her, and it made her heart break. It cannot be Rema, she thought, for you are not my Rema, but you are a lovely man and... she could not finish her thought and so forced herself to say what was foremost in her mind.
‘I want you to promise me Rema, that you will take Rayven back to Ramos.’ She looked at him with such earnestness that Rema was once more taken by surprise. ‘Promise me you will do this,’ Sylvion went on insistently. ‘I need to know you will do this for me.’
‘Sylvion you are more capable than I of taking her home, more capable than any of us.’ Rema replied.
‘Promise me Rema!’ Sylvion cried. ‘Promise me you will do this,’ and she squeezed his hands so mightily that he knew she was in deep distress about some possibility which he had not foreseen, and he knew then that she feared she would not be able to do what she wanted him to do, to take her daughter home to Ramos. This thought staggered Rema. It was the one thing he had never considered.
‘The Shadow Blade is hard to bear, Rema,’ Sylvion went on. ‘You have seen what it did to me this last time, and before Zydor...who knows what will become of me.’ She took another breath.
‘Promise me Rema. I will ask nothing more of you.’
And Rema suddenly wished she would...ask far more of him, but he knew this was impossible.
‘I will give my life to see Rayven home to Ramos, Sylvion,’ Rema said, ‘although I have never met her.’
‘You will give your word on this,’ Sylvion persisted.
‘I give my word Sylvion,’ Rema said, and saw that she breathed a great sigh, and then before he realised she fell into his arms and kissed him on the lips. It was the briefest thing, a wild instinctive moment, her way of thanking him, but one which Rema knew would last in his memory forever. And Sylvion felt a shock for she seemed to recall a kiss like this, in her cold place, when her Rema called her.
And she wondered.
Far to the west, three hard days ride away, Zydor fumed in a deep rage. The news of the recent defeat of his army had reached him and he could not understand it. And yet he could. She was there; and with the Shadow Blade had slain the five Nephytrolls without any resistance, and his army had fled. Girdon, his commander, felled by a single chance arrow. One hundred men slain and despite the gates being breached there had been not a single death to his enemies in KingsLoss, as far as he knew. Once more defeat, despite his enormous power.
‘Why?’ he screamed out over Svalbard from on high in his fortress. ‘Why this humiliation when I can rule here without fear. Lord Ungarit I have done your will. Why do you taunt me?’ But Ungarit was silent, and as his rage rolled out over his dark realm those who heard shrunk out of sight and waited for it to pass. Zydor calmed after a time and began to scheme once more.
She will come to me now. I have her daughter, he thought. Do I kill her before she arrives or do I wait and use her as bait? Perhaps I can capture the Shadow Blade. ‘Zelfos has longed for it,’ he whispered into the dark. ‘What if I get it? He will serve me harder then and plead I will give it to him...’ The sorcerer laughed cruelly into the dark. ‘But why share such a weapon. It will be mine, or her daughter will die, and the sacrifice must proceed. Ungarit demands the most worthy and this girl is without comparison.’ Zydor rubbed his hands together over and over. ‘And if I kill the White Queen she too will go to Ungarit. Yes I will wait and she will come to me.’ He walked about invigorated by the immediate pleasure of his lust. ‘Yes... to me, here where I rule, where the strength of my power is invincible.’
He turned once more and looked out over the moonlit plain of Svalbard, between the mighty rocky encircling walls of the caldera and the Horn on which he stood, and cried out so that the Mount echoed with his words.
‘I will rule in Revelyn, and all the lands. AlGiron too! Ungarit I call upon you to deliver to me this realm as you have promised.’ He held his hand high to the moon near full, and shook with the deep emotion which fed his evil heart.
Rayven heard the mad ravings of Zydor. They came to her faintly through her window. She sat there on the ledge and stared out over the plain to the walled town where the slave people, the Varanii lived. She thought about their awful plight and their strange dream of freedom upon a boat. She thought once more about the bravery of Rubii. Rayven was tired and worn down by her loneliness. She was given food but had no contact with any other. She hoped still that her kindma, Sylvion would come for her, but this had faded, and she no longer thought much beyond each day. Four days till the solstice she thought. Time is running out kindma. I am to be sacrificed; but I will do as Rubii did. I will not let them slay me or spill my blood. I will make you proud of me kindma. And then she wept and whispered into the night. ‘I love you kindma. I am sorry for all the hard things I said.’
But the night was silent and her words seemed empty and her heart grew cold with dread.
Chapter 19
In the early morning mist, three days before the summer solstice when the moon would rise full over the land once more, they rode out from KingsLoss. They were surrounded by riders so that any spies would not easily detect that five did not return. Tress led them. She sat easily in the saddle and she seemed to Sylvion to be the most graceful of riders. Tyron held back and allowed his wife the lead. He rode on the flank and kept careful watch for any ambush, but they reached the tree line high above KingsLoss without mishap and rode some distance into the forest along the road which led north to the frozen land of Moran. A league along they came to the junction where the road went west; to Svalbard. They halted there and let their snorting steeds paw the dust and gather breath for it had been a great gallop. Then, when all seemed quiet they rode into the forest to the north so that any watching would not know where they went or what business they were about. Once more a league passed before they halted in a pleasant glade and all dismounted save those appointed to guard. These few remained vigilant in their saddles and rode slowly along the higher ground seeking any who might have followed, or who by some strange chance were close by. But none were found, nor were any thought to be in that part of the forest.
‘You have the map,’ Tyron said to Sylvion. She nodded and patted her saddle bag.
‘It is safe Tryon,’ she replied, ‘and clear enough to read. Three days. We will ride hard.’
‘Remember the wolves,’ Tyron continued. ‘They will come in the night. Not the bewitched ones that we fought on the walls of KingsLoss, but the forest wolf which you have already encountered. The scent of the horse drives it mad. Keep the fire high tonight and make sure you keep on until you reach the cave. In the open, despite your weapons they will be hard to see and so quick...’
‘We will do all that you have said,’ Reigin interrupted, ‘and we thank you Tyron.’ He turned to Tress, ‘and you...all of you. Now we must ride.’
‘One further thing,’ Tryon said, sensing that the five companions were anxious to commence their journey. They all looked at him and he waited until they did so. ‘Avoid the Valley of the Kings. You will pass close by. Keep the horses under a firm rein for they seem to be drawn to the place. Who knows what sorcery will await you in that place.’
‘We will be careful,’ Sylvion replied. And then Tyron did a strange thing. He gathered their horses together and spoke to them in a quiet and whispering voice. Each beast too
k instant notice and put its ears up and forward and seemed to be listening.
‘Bear these riders to safety,’ Tyron said in words almost too quiet for any else to hear. ‘They must come to no harm. You know the path to Svalbard. Take them now and bring them back to KingsLoss without injury.’ They snorted then, one at a time and seemed to nod their heads although Rema thought he could be imagining this. Finally they nuzzled Tyron and he patted them; each one with great affection, and it was clear to all that he shared a special bond with them.
And then they were off. The five companions rode away on a final desperate ride to an evil place where the sorcerer Zydor lurked in a manner yet to be revealed, and where life was sacrificed to placate the darkest of all creatures; Ungarit, Lord of the lower realms.
They made fair progress and their horses seemed tireless that first day. The weather was good and down in the trees there was no wind. They saw many animals, deer and rabbits mainly, but twice they chanced upon a hunting Scythercat which hissed angrily at them, but neither stayed to fight, choosing rather to disappear into the trees and look for easier prey. At dusk and as the shadows lengthened quickly they came to the cave of which Tryon had spoken. It was located on a rocky hillside where few trees grew. The mouth was narrow and easily defended and all about were the remnants of the many fires lit in past times to deter the wolves. The horses trotted right into the cave and did not halt until some distance within the cavern, they stood upon a sandy place which offered them a good roll and a safe place to sleep.
‘We will build the fires before anything else,’ Sylvion directed and they all worked hard for a time until enough dead wood had been heaped in a mighty pile across the entrance.
‘Let us not light the fire until we know the wolves are about,’ Reigin suggested as they rested and brought out what food they had in the last light of the dying day. ‘We can save ourselves some work by conserving the firewood.’ And so they ate in the gathering gloom and listened to the forest and the sounds of the approaching night. Perhaps it was the position of the cave upon the hillside, but all agreed that they could hear many different sounds coming to them from far off. The faint calling of birds gathering to roost, the incessant chirping of the crickets, and the call of the Revel fox which hunts best in the twilight, its bark was common all over Revelyn. At one point Orcxyl directed them to listen.
‘That is the sound of the Traveller Pigeon,’ he said. ‘I would have thought it too cold this far north for such a bird.’ They listened carefully but only Orcxyl could make it out.
And then the howl of the first wolf cut the night air like a knife and all other sounds ceased. Reigin sprang to the fire and lit it quickly with three deft strikes of his flint into the dry tinder which had been collected and placed ready. Within a short time the flames leapt high into the night and several shadows darted back into the dark. The howls of one wolf drew their attention and suddenly they saw a huge beast standing unafraid but a stone’s throw from where they sat. Without a word Gravyn loosed an arrow at the beast and it fell quivering to the ground, shot through the heart. Suddenly it was surrounded by five others and the sounds of their grieving seemed almost human for clearly it was their leader that had been slain.
‘We will stand watch, two at a time to make sure the fires are stoked and the wolves kept back,’ Sylvion ordered. And so they spent the night in safety for no wolf tried to breach the fire, and only Gravyn took the trouble to use his bow, and on each attempt he was unable to find a mark, such was the fear his first arrow had imparted to the wolves. But their mournful howling remained undiminished until the sun lightened the eastern sky and the wolves melted into the morning mist, and the day dawned, still and bright, with no hint of rain. The horses had spent a comfortable night and did not seem at all perturbed by the howling of the wolves so close.
And so they rode on once more, further west and some little distance north. On to Svalbard and whatever fate it held for them.
At the noon they halted high upon a ridge and saw the mighty Ravalin River some leagues to the south and knew from Tyron’s map that the road followed it closely. Turning west Reigin pointed out a low purplish ridge in the haze.
‘The Redoubt Mountains,’ he said quietly. Sylvion took the King’s Eye from its leather sheath and scanned the distance.
‘There,’ she said quietly after a time, lowering the instrument and pointing. ‘That is Svalbard.’ Without a word they each took a turn and were awed by the dark and craggy cliffs which suddenly came close before them through the amazing lenses of the King’s Eye.
‘It is surely a dark place,’ Gravyn muttered.
‘Not a place I would choose to visit,’ Rema added sombrely as he took a second look, and it seemed to all that a sense of dire foreboding came to dwell among them. They rested for the shortest possible time and then rode on. The travelling was easy enough and once more they were engulfed all about by the endless ancient forest. The trees were giant, but well spaced and even the huge horses they rode had little trouble in making good time. Toward dusk Sylvion called a halt and much time was spent examining the map for it seemed they were no longer on the right path. As the shadows lengthened it began to dawn on them all that perhaps they would have to spend the night unprotected in the open, a thought which chilled them to the bone, for they knew their scent was fresh upon the ground and the wolves would soon be tracking them.
Once more it was Orcxyl who solved the puzzle.
‘We have made better time than we thought,’ he said finally after checking the map, and looking about. ‘We have come too far, and we are still a little south.’ How he knew this was a mystery to the others but no one argued for he seemed to have an unerring sense and confidence about him in the forest. ‘I think we should go this way My Lady,’ he said, nodding with his head in a new direction, and they all waited for Sylvion to decide.
‘Lead us Orcxyl,’ she ordered without hesitation. And so he did, and suddenly they all realised that the horses too were more willing to go that way and it proved to be true that they did know the way, for within less than two span they came upon some broken ground where the forest opened out into a large clearing and suddenly before them was the strangest thing; a wide pillar of rock somewhat like a toadstool without a top. The sides were steep but not high, such that a man might easily climb up; but it was clear that it would not be easy for a wolf or beast without skills to find footholds or which was unable to pull themselves up and over the ledge which seemed to jut out at the top.
‘There is a way up,’ Sylvion said. ‘A narrow path with a hidden gate...’ as she spoke there was a sudden howl from the forest close behind them and they all jumped. Gravyn cursed and the horses snorted, turning instinctively to protect their hind quarters, and for a moment there was a panic in the great horses. Three huge wolves suddenly appeared from the dusk shadows under a mighty oak and then disappeared, running off to the north where perhaps they felt there was a better chance to attack.
‘Quickly,’ Sylvion called, ‘let us ride around this strange fort... we must get to safety.’ And so they cantered their steeds in her dust, taking care to avoid the many fallen rocks which had broken off from the sides of what they desperately hoped would be their refuge for the night. ‘Here it is,’ Sylvion said soon after, and within a moment she had dismounted and was leading her horse up a narrow cleft. They all followed and were soon hemmed in by steep rock walls. The cleft wound up and around, no wider than the horses and it was impossible to move in any manner but one behind the other. And so they came to the top which was an open space with a rocky pile at its centre offering a small overhang which promised only the slightest protection from any weather.
But of the gate there was no sign.
‘We will need to guard the path,’ Reigin said, ‘but only a single wolf will pass at a time so if they dare we can slay them easily enough.’
There was no wood for a fire although with some careful examination they found some dry leaves and tinder in the many
rocky crevices. This allowed a small light but no real warmth, and Gravyn hissed that it was worse than useless for it made his seeing in the night greatly weaker. The horses were once more relaxed and it was clear they had spent more than one night in safety upon this strange rocky upthrust. They gathered together in the lee of the central rocky pile and stood quietly as if half awake, and only their ears gave clue to their alertness for every now and then one would flick about, listening to the night.
Reigin set the watches after patrolling the perimeter of their fort.
‘I do not think a wolf can leap this high and I see no path save the one we came up,’ he said in the dull light of their smouldering fire. ‘Rema you must guard that path for you will shoot quickest. If they are able to get up to us they will no doubt do it soon. If we can ensure they do not we will perhaps manage some rest this night.’ He turned to Sylvion and spoke directly to her. ‘Your blade Sylvion. Can you use it?’ She did not respond for a time and all eyes were upon her.
‘I can,’ she replied at last, ‘but I do not wish to. We are close to Svalbard now, I do not unnecessarily wish to signal our position...and ....’ she paused and they all waited knowing there was some other matter on her mind. Sylvion took a breath and spoke to the air as if for herself alone. ‘I do not wish to feel the cold it brings.’ She shivered. ‘The last time I wielded the Shadow Blade was the hardest and I think it gets more so each time.’ She looked then hard at Reigin. ‘I have not felt this way before.’
The great Edenwhood warrior nodded slowly. ‘I thought as much. But you will need to use it soon. Perhaps we can ensure you do not have to wield it before that time.’ Sylvion smiled weakly and nodded, but did not reply.
