by Chris Ward
‘Orcxyl you will climb this pile of rocks and see what lurks below,’ Reigin continued in the manner of a great leader. ‘Your eyes and skill in these matters are the best. Gravyn and I will walk the perimeter and repel whatever we must.’ He drew his mighty sword and finished with an abrupt... ‘let us see to it then.’ And so they did.
The wolves gathered in a great pack to the south of their refuge. At first Reigin and Gravyn struggled to make out their vague shapes, but the beasts made no attempt to hide themselves, and as soon as the moon rose, one night short of full, the light it cast was knife edged and then the red eyes of the enemy marked them clearly, even in the shadows beneath the trees. They howled at the moon and ran about sniffing the ground endlessly for the horse scent seemed to drive them to a frenzy. High up on the rocky pile at the centre of the platform Orcxyl watched with the keen eyes of the great hunter and saw that the number of wolves was great.
‘Two score I’d wager,’ he muttered into the cold still air. ‘If they can leap up here only Sylvion’s blade will save us. There are too many to shoot before they will be upon us.’
At that moment the sharp thwack of a bow string cut the night and a mighty howl rang out.
‘Rema!’ Sylvion called anxiously.
‘It is alright,’ came the confident reply. ‘One wolf came up the path. It is dead.’
Rema’s words gave them all some comfort, but then the howling increased such that it hurt their ears and the horses suddenly became more agitated and snorted in fear, sensing that some attack upon them was imminent.
Gravyn then fired an arrow and dropped a large wolf dead where it stood some three score paces off to the south, cutting off its eerie cry so suddenly that the other wolves ceased their own noise and looked momentarily at their fallen companion.
‘Fine shot Gravyn,’ Reigin said quietly, ‘kill as many as you wish but save some arrows for any which might leap up here...’ And Gravyn saw the sense of it and fell to waiting and watching.
Rema killed another wolf a short time later, this time there was no sound for the cunning creature had crept up the path so silently that it was only by his great vigilance and quick action that it failed to leap upon him. As it fell Rema noticed that in the side of the cleft in which the narrow path lay there was a vertical cut and suddenly he realised that it would not have been easily seen coming up the path, and so with care he walked back down to where it was and reaching into the shadow he felt iron. He pulled at it and with a sudden creaking a strong iron gate swung out from where it had been hidden and in no time the path was secured, for no wolf was able to leap that gate, or risk being impaled on the fearsome points at the top. Rema pushed home the locking bolt and was met with a snarl and gnashing of teeth as another wolf attacked, crashing into the gate and then yelping in pain as Rema thrust his own small sword through the bars and deep into its shoulder. Pouring blood it limped back down the path leaving a dark stain in its wake. Rema made sure the gate was secure and then went back to inform the others.
‘The path is safe, I found the gate,’ he said to Sylvion who sat quietly in the white moonlight under the small overhang on which Orcxyl sat higher up... ‘Sylvion are you alright,’ he inquired, for he had never seen her like this. ‘You do not seem yourself?’
‘No, in truth I do not feel quite right,’ Sylvion whispered and smiled at him. ‘I feel the closeness of the evil in Svalbard Rema, and it is no little thing. It tires me even here.’ Rema went and knelt by her. He took her hands and Sylvion did not resist.
‘You will find a way Sylvion, Queen of Revelyn,’ he said with a grim conviction. She smiled again. ‘I will stand with you,’ Rema continued, desperately wanting to encourage her, wanting so much to see her strong, for this sudden weakness unsettled him.
‘I know you will,’ Sylvion whispered. ‘I do not deserve it Rema, but I thank you.’ And she took a hand and stroked his face, and repeated her thanks, this time with tears; and as she gazed upon him she saw another from long before and it made her heart leap and weep in the same instant. Love and regret entwined in a sweet grief and a deep longing. And Sylvion felt a tiredness she had never known sweep through her body.
And in that fleeting moment Rema knew her mind, and understood.
‘I will check the path,’ Rema said quickly, thinking to excuse himself from her gaze which did not see him. Sylvion nodded, and Rema returned to his previous position and then walked quietly down the path to the gate. He rested his forehead against the cold iron and thought of Sylvion. ‘You are beyond me,’ he whispered once more into the night. A slight sound caught his attention and he froze. A blur in the shadows. Another wolf, larger than the others was creeping toward him. It had not yet realised that death waited for it and so Rema slipped into the cleft where the gate had been hidden, drew his bow and stood like a statue as the fearful beast came slowly up the path toward him. It came to the gate and growled softly. It sniffed the air and Rema knew that he had been detected. He saw the mighty beast take one of the iron bars in its teeth and bear down upon it. The gate shuddered but stood firm and the wolf let it go. Its red eyes darted about as it sniffed the air repeatedly, then it settled its deadly gaze upon Rema standing motionless and half hidden, his arrow pointed at its heart. The wolf snarled but that was all that it managed before the arrow struck home, and such was the force and angle of its attack that it disappeared completely into the wolf’s body. It fell kicking to the ground. Rema watched it die and then gasped as a cold shiver ran right up his spine. He saw that as its hind leg jerked spasmodically it revealed a great spur behind its claw, and instantly he knew they were in great danger.
He turned in fear and ran back to the others.
‘Reigin, Gravyn,’ he called in desperation. ‘These wolves are the same we fought at KingsLoss. They have the spur. They can climb.’
Rema’s word hit them all like a thunderclap. Reigin did not wait to inquire whether Rema was sure, but ordered Gravyn to kill as many as he could, then spoke urgently to Rema.
‘Rema we must kill them before they attack. Over there...’ he pointed to the shadows where the wolf pack still lingered.
‘And to the north now!’ Orcxyl cried. ‘I see four to the north.’
Gravyn and Rema instantly sprang into action. Six arrows felled as many wolves in short time. The howling suddenly increased.
‘They attack us now!’ Orcxyl called, ‘quick, the ones to the north are upon us!’
Rema ran to where Orcxyl pointed and quickly killed one on the ground below but two leapt high up toward him and with their spurs managed to find some hold upon the rock. He killed another as it tensed to spring up and it fell back with a howl to the ground below. The other though sprang at him from the left where it had scrambled over the edge. Rema only had time to draw and fire as the wolf landed upon him, but his arrow was true enough and it was dead as they fell together. He smelt the animal and it was foul. He rolled out from beneath it as Gravyn suddenly called for help. Two wolves had made it up on his side; he felled one but the other was easily going to tear him apart for the great archer had no time to draw again. Rema loosed another arrow, whispering thanks that his arrows were shorter and he was not hampered by the great length of the long bow which slowed Gravyn. His arrow took the wolf in its flank and passed right through. The wolf fell in agony and then turned in circles trying to pull at what it thought was some spike in its side. It fell and bled to death as other wolves came quickly. Reign stood on the very edge of the rocky lip, and using Anderwyn in a blur cut two wolves down as they came over edge. Gravyn then felled two more at a distance where they lurked under the trees seem way off to the south, and suddenly all was quiet. The wolves retreated and then only their reds eyes below in the moonlight gave any clue to where they sat in the shadows watching.
‘Sylvion, climb up with Orcxyl,’ Reigin ordered and no one thought to oppose his command, for the mighty Edenwhood was quickest of mind and seemed to know what needed to be done before the wolves attac
ked once more. ‘Gravyn, how many arrows do you have left?’ he continued quickly trying to work out what was required.
‘Six arrows only,’ Gravyn said sombrely.
‘And you Rema?’ Reigin went on.
‘I have all the arrows I require,’ Rema replied evenly and Reigin frowned. ‘El-Arathor,’ Rema said. Just the one word as their eyes met, and Reigin worked it out.
‘Can you use Rema’s arrows Gravyn?’ he asked turning now to the grim faced man.
Gravyn shrugged. ‘I have not thought ...’
‘Try one,’ Reigin ordered not waiting for Gravyn to finish. And so he took one of Rema’s shorter and spirally-grooved arrows and drew his bow three quarters for that was all the length of the shaft would allow. He sighted to a wolf and let it fly. The arrow travelled truly and the wolf fell with a sudden squeal.
‘Good,’ Reigin said. ‘Rema give Gravyn a handful and keep supplying him. Rema obeyed and when he had done so he counted the arrows in his quiver and sure enough it was full. Reigin smiled at him knowingly and nodded.
‘We have much to thank El-Arathor for,’ the Edenwhood said quietly and Rema nodded.
The wolves came then. All together. And Orcxyl thought more than a score. From all sides they sprang up at the five defenders and their defenceless horses.
Or so they thought.
They felled five as they came up the walls. Each arrow finding its mark. Rema took three and Gravyn two. Reigin cut down another and stood at bay with two more before him. Gravyn dropped one and then turned back to see Rema take two with a single arrow, the first passing through the wolf and finding its mark in one behind which kicked and howled before finally lying still. But still they came, and high up on the rock pile Sylvion drew the Shadow Blade and waited, torn between the knowledge that she could slay all the beasts singlehandedly, and the deadly cost which she would pay if she did. The mighty horses saw the wolves and suddenly changed. They turned their rumps to the rocks and made a line, side by side so that as three wolves approached them, salivating in the anticipation of feasting on their flesh, they reared up and with mighty blows from their huge flailing hooves knocked two dead and then advanced on the third which fled some distance before turning, only to have an arrow from Rema’s bow shatter its hind leg. With a great howl it limped away and fell over the side of the rocky platform to thud painfully onto the ground below, whereupon it dragged itself away into the shadows.
Still more wolves came, and Reigin, Rema and Gravyn were hard put to hold them off.
And then a mighty roar was heard. It came from some distance off in the forest to the north. The wolves froze as if recognising some new threat. Rema took the opportunity to kill another as Gravyn, unused to Rema’s shorter arrows overdrew his bow and the shaft fell useless to the ground. He cursed and then the roar came again.
The wolves fled.
In a sudden flurry of fear they leapt off the rocky fort and ran for the trees. The five companions stood confused and waited. A tree to the north splintered and fell to the ground.
‘What beast do we now face?’ Orcxyl whispered to no one in particular, and Sylvion beside him shivered.
Then out of the forest came a mighty shape, and another close behind.
‘Forest trolls!’ Reigin cried in astonishment, ‘two great forest trolls.’ And indeed they were. Huge creatures, and the true forest troll, not some creation of a sorcerers whim. They stood fifteen cubits tall and each carried a club and a spear. They were arguing about some matter but not in a tongue which any who listened could discern. But they seemed in pursuit of the wolves for the first troll leapt upon an injured wolf and crushed it with a mighty foot. It yelled in leering triumph, and seemed to be indicating to its companion that it had now been bested in some private competition. The other Troll just sneered and ran for the trees where the wolves had gathered. For such a large creature it moved quite fast, and it was soon joined by the first troll, and so began an amazing contest in which the huge trolls lunged and clubbed at the wolves which were mostly able to avoid them, but still did not seem to want to leave their own battle for the horses. And so Rema and Gravyn took the opportunity to shoot whatever wolves they could, much to the pleasure of the trolls who celebrated every death by crushing each newly felled wolf underfoot, and then claiming it as their own. This enraged the other but it too did the same and so within a short time only five wolves remained and with a howl they fled into the forest with the trolls in lumbering pursuit, the sounds of which lasted long after they had been lost to view.
In the moonlight the bodies of many wolves lay crushed and broken, and as silence finally fell about them the five companions took breath and came together to calm the horses and talk of their strange battle. Sylvion returned the Shadow Blade to its sheath and breathed a sigh of relief, for she had dreaded to use it and was thankful that this had been avoided.
‘They must have seen us,’ Rema said as they sat together having soothed the horses.
‘No doubt,’ Reigin replied, ‘but it was the wolves they were after sure enough.’
‘And we perhaps aided them in their strange duel,’ Sylvion added, ‘for it was clear that we were killing the wolves for them.’ They sat in silence before she added quietly. ‘I have seen many things over the seasons, but those two trolls would have to be the strangest.’ She shook her head. ‘What drives them I wonder...?’
‘We will need to rest,’ Reigin said suddenly with a worried look, and bringing them all back to their present predicament. ‘If we manage to get to Svalbard, kill Zydor, save Rayven and escape again, and that I fear is challenge enough, but then we are faced with a another problem.’
‘What is that Reigin?’ Sylvion asked, her mind still not yet focused on his words.
‘It is a day’s hard ride to Svalbard. We will need the night to do what we must in that fell place, leaving the horses high above the tree line where Tyron says the wolves won’t come.’ He paused and looked around the group and saw all eyes were upon him. ‘Assuming we succeed,’ he continued seriously, ‘then we will need to make a very hasty escape. Where do we sleep? Can we last to get back here? That will be two full days and then we will face the wolves once more and we cannot rely on forest trolls to distract them a second time. It will be a great test of our endurance.’ He paused and they all now understood his meaning. ‘So we must rest,’ he went on, ‘I suggest we all sleep. The horses will let us know if any wolves return, but without sleep will not get through the next two days.’
And so they found what comfortable beds they could upon the hard rocky platform close by where the horses stood, and they slept. It was not an easy sleep for the cold surrounded them in the early morning and a wet dew soaked them slowly despite the partial shelter under which they lay, but they took what rest they could and woke to a bright day with a warm sun which lifted their weary spirits and dried their clothes. As soon as the light was sufficient Rema and Reigin dragged the dead wolves from the pathway and opened the gate, marvelling at the way it swung back into its hidden recess.
And then after a simple meal they rode west once more and soon caught sight of Svalbard looming closer on the horizon every time they crested a rise. Just after the noon they rode out of the forest and found a river before them blocking their way.
Sylvion consulted their map and pronounced...
‘It must be the north Ravalin River,’ she said. ‘It seems we are in the right place. We must cross it.’ And so they tried but it was too deep and flowing too fast. They rode north along the bank and after a time they found a suitable place to ford where it was shallower, and spread wide in a valley allowing it to branch into many smaller streams. There were bears about catching fish in the water and they stood up and watched the riders but did not show any more interest than that for they were fat and well fed, and so large that they had no fear. The horses though seemed more nervous of the bears than the wolves and so it took some time to find the safest place to cross, but it was finally managed without
incident and then, suddenly, they all seemed aware of how close Svalbard was, for it loomed high now above the forest to the west and was almost close enough to touch. And they all felt the evil of it for it cast a foul shadow over the land.
The forest under Svalbard was empty of life. It was quiet and eerily so. The horse’s every step seemed to echo and Rema felt that they were watched, whilst Orcxyl knew they were. But by what, he did not know, for that was beyond even his keen skills. And so they came to Svalbard by the north route. It was a path which few travelled and then but rarely. It led suddenly out of the forest, and by a rocky track which goats would more easily use they climbed up onto the sheer slope of the mighty caldera which held the sad remnant of the ancient ones of Ravalin now in thrall to Zydor the sorcerer, servant of Ungarit, lord of the lower realms. And as the light began to fade they found a place high above the forest which gave a commanding view back to the east from whence they had come, a view of an endless forest stretching to the horizon in every direction. And there they rested, where a rocky outcrop offered a level place to tether the horses in the lee of a mighty boulder, which seemed to do little to cut the icy chill of the wind. It blew constantly such that if it had snowed it would have surprised no one. The five rested and took what refreshment they could from their meagre supplies. And then Sylvion spoke, having waited till they had eaten; and so she told them of her plan.
Rayven wept silently, for she would not let anyone know of her grief. The stone cell was cold, but that had not changed, nor was it the cause of her misery. She knew she had failed, that today she would die, and it would be at her own hand, for she would not let Zydor have that control in the end. On this account she had been torn between ending it all here in the cell which had been her home for many days, or waiting until the sacrifice to allow Sylvion every chance to come for her. And to die as Rubii did would embarrass Zydor at his moment of triumph, and this seemed at least a small victory, so she had decided to wait.
