by Chris Ward
But the time had come as she knew it would. A full moon would soon rise over Svalbard; it was the night of the summer solstice. It was the time of sacrifice. Rayven had lost hope of any rescue and slowly her mind had numbed to acceptance of her fate, but there were regrets which seemed always present and she had found no peace either by day or by night.
Whilst she sat on her crude bed, contemplating the sad fate which awaited her, the door to her cell swung suddenly open, and Zydor entered. He was dressed in his magnificent robe but Rayven did not look at him nor turn at his order. She faced away and would not acknowledge his presence.
‘Woman you will stand and prepare yourself.’ Zydor spoke now with the petulance of a child denied. His anger was clear for he could not stand to be opposed. Rayven felt herself obey for his sorcery was not to be denied. He made her stand then, by the sheer power of his mind. She stood before the lord of Svalbard, completely in his power. ‘You will be offered to Ungarit tonight when the moon is highest in the sky,’ Zydor informed her. ‘You must be attired appropriately. This you will wear.’ Zydor snapped his fingers and a guard appeared with what looked like a simple gown. ‘Take this and put it on,’ Zydor ordered; but Rayven did not move. ‘You will do it woman or I will have my guard here dress you, and I am sure he will enjoy the task.’ Zydor leered at Rayven but still she did not respond. She held his eye and thought of better men.
Zydor stamped his foot in frustration and screamed at the guard.
‘Do it. Dress her!’
The guard did not hesitate, for that was more than his life was worth, and so in a moment he stripped Rayven of her tunic so that she stood naked before them. Still she did not flinch and held Zydor’s eye and he saw the contempt she had for him and he was powerless to do anything about it. Rayven saw his powerlessness and smiled and he knew she felt that a small victory had been won.
‘Cover her guard,’ Zydor growled and the simple gown of white was thrown over her head. It fell full to her ankles, and the sleeves covered her arms completely, only her finger protruding from them.
Then Zydor seemed to relax. ‘That was not so hard Rayven...’
‘Do not call me that,’ Rayven interrupted with words of venom, and so suddenly that Zydor stepped back in shock. To be so confronted... and before a guard was insolent in the extreme. Had this woman no fear or sense of place. But the woman was not finished.
‘My name is not for you sorcerer,’ she said in a voice full of contempt. ‘Call me woman if you will, but you have no right to my name.’
Zydor did not know what to say. She looked at him with such ferocity that suddenly he felt small. He shook his head in disbelief.
‘You will die this night woman. Do you not understand that I have complete power over you now. Your last moments alive will be in my hand.’
No they won’t, Rayven thought. No they won’t. And then summoning all her contempt she spat words at him faster than he could respond. ‘You fool sorcerer,’ she said. ‘You fool. Do you really think that your pathetic attempt at worship to placate the demyn Ungarit will make any difference to your fate? Do you think this Ungarit has any care for you? You fool...I die this night but so will you. This much I know. You have underestimated the powers which stand against you. Fool!’
Zydor could not believe his ears and yet she spoke with such confidence that he could not dismiss her words. Did she have some knowledge which he did not? Was there some plan afoot which he had not discerned? The Shadow Blade was in KingsLoss but there was no sign of it on the road. No hint of any attack upon the gates to Svalbard. I am a fortress within a fortress, he thought, I am invincible. And if she comes I will use this wench to win the Shadow Blade, for here in Svalbard its power is not what its bearer thinks... Zydor took a breath and calmed his racing thoughts.
‘You think to scare me woman. Me...Zydor.’ he replied haughtily, but the look in her eyes made the sorcerer shudder, and he felt a shiver of fear run up his spine for it was true. Ungarit did not care. Ungarit could only be placated.
‘We go to the sacrifice woman,’ Zydor said at last, and so they left the cold cell and commenced the final walk to the summit of the horn of Svalbard where waited the last moments of Rayven Greyfeld, heir to a mighty kingdom, daughter of the bearer of the Shadow Blade, the White Queen of Revelyn. Rayven walked proudly and no longer wept. She felt the cold stone upon her bare feet and the chill of the night which embraced her as she walked. The moon was now rising above the rim of the caldera and Svalbard lay below like a drawing in shades of grey... a drawing of a land which lacked colour even under the sun.
Sylvion spoke quietly for she had not the strength to make a show of her words, nor was it necessary. She looked for a moment out over the mighty forest in the soft evening light, and then turned to face her companions.
‘We are tired,’ she began, ‘and yet we have much to do. You have been faithful to me and I thank you. Reigin old friend, you have known me like no other, and have come when I called. Once more I need you by my side.’ She turned then to Rema. ‘Rema you are a special man, with gifts that none other in Revelyn or anywhere else I suspect, possess. I am weary with the load I bear, and without you I cannot complete what must be done.’
Rema smiled at her, and felt a familiar pounding of his heart. He nodded but did not speak for it was not the time. Sylvion turned now to her champion archer.
‘Gravyn, I salute you. Your faithfulness and skill have been a great comfort. I wish others in Revelyn could be like you...so dependable, so true. I need your skill also.’
Gravyn nodded and whispered, ‘My Lady,’ in words which were full of emotion although his face gave no hint of it.
‘Orcxyl,’ Sylvion continued, now looking at the great hunter. ‘I do not know how to thank you. You have saved my life, indeed all of our lives, and yet you set out to do other than that for reasons which I understand. Shortly my demands of you will be over and you will be free to go back to your people or wherever else in the land you wish, but this night I will have a special request of you and I feel that there is still more you have to do which remains unseen. I thank you too for your faithfulness.’
Orcxyl smiled but did not speak, and Sylvion gathered her thoughts.
‘We may not survive this night,’ she said seriously addressing them all. ‘I do not plan to storm Svalbard despite being the bearer of the Shadow Blade. I cannot survive what I would endure if I took the battle to this place. I cannot again slay many, those times are past, but I can choose my time and place and tonight I will slay Zydor and rescue Rayven my daughter... but only with your help. I cannot do this alone.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I need to know you are all with me...’ and she looked about at each familiar face and knew that she had their pledge to stand by her whatever might come to pass. No words were spoken, but all knew that they were of one mind. They would follow Sylvion Greyfeld Queen of Revelyn into Svalbard and do her bidding, or die in the trying.
Sylvion turned to Orcxyl.
‘Orcxyl I want you to remain here with the horses.’ The great hunter stood immediately to protest, but she held up her hands. ‘Please Orcxyl.’ He sat. ‘The fighting which might come to pass will need the archers and the skill of the sword, not your hunting skills. And if we return here we will need the horses. They are our salvation through the forest. Only you have the skills with these creatures to keep them safe here. We cannot leave them alone. Tyron claims that the wolves will not come up here above the tree line or onto this fell mount, but if he is wrong I need someone here to protect the horses.’ Her words were given with such a quiet authority and clear sense that Orcxyl had no reply. He nodded.
‘I will do this, but I am willing to fight for you, I am not afraid to die.’
Sylvion smiled. ‘We all know that Orcxyl. You have nothing to prove.’ She paused and gathered her thoughts. ‘The rest of us will go into Svalbard. We must travel quickly and with care. We have much climbing to do. The Horn of Svalbard is the place of sacrifice. We will su
rprise Zydor on the summit, but we must arrive before the moon is at its zenith or else Rayven will perish. We take only our weapons and some water.’ She looked at the three who were to travel with her. ‘Make ready, we leave immediately.’
And so they left Orcxyl with the horses and climbed up into the night. The going was hard for the moon had not yet risen and the track was almost impossible to discern. Only Sylvion carried anything other than her weapon and some water. She bore the King’s Eye in its leather sheath slung over her shoulders and this proved a hard thing to carry on such a steep slope, but she would not allow any other to take it from her, and so they made their way ever up toward the crest which seemed to be always just one more ridge above. After some time of scrabbling and slipping and cursing, the moon rose over the horizon and suddenly their way became clear for the light it gave from its fullness was more than enough to show every feature about them. And so they came to the top of the outer rim of the mighty encircling caldera and they rested, and looked down upon the strange kingdom which was Svalbard.
The mighty ancient crater on which they now stood was some five leagues across; at least Reigin claimed this in an awed whisper and no one disagreed with his estimation. Its cliffs were of almost equal height in the great circle that it made. And at its centre was another smaller mount, but one which beckoned evilly, the place that had drawn them on for so long and through so many dangers, The Horn of Svalbard. It stood stark and grey in the moonlight, and towered over the flat plain on which it stood although it was not quite as high as the outer caldera walls. It too was rugged and steep and they could make out many buildings upon it, although mostly it seemed they were on the hidden southern side so that from where they stood the nearest slopes of the Horn were barren.
‘Rest a moment,’ Sylvion said as she expertly took the Kings’ Eye, and with an intense concentration examined the Horn of Svalbard.
No one spoke, but instead waited patiently for her to inform them of what she saw, grateful of the chance to take breath for the climb had been exceedingly hard. Sylvion took it all in and quickly saw that her plan would be possible but that time was against them for the moon rose quickly now and she suspected that at its zenith the time of sacrifice would arrive.
She lowered the King’s Eye and spoke quietly, but in a manner thta revealed her mind was sharp and working constantly.
‘I see on the summit a platform. It reaches out over a mighty shaft down into the Horn. What lies there I do not know. There are people there and torches but I cannot make out any I would call important...mostly guards I think.’ She took a breath and pointed down below them. ‘See, it is as Tyron said, there is a raised causeway running from the cliffs we are on to the Horn. It is well treed and will give some protection. It is above the plain so we will be able to see any who might approach. We must get down there now and make haste to the Horn. I think the climb will be harder than what we have done.’ She pointed now to the rim of the far summit of the Horn. ‘I want to get to the top at its high point so I can see down to where those people are.’ Again she took a deep breath and they knew she was fighting for control of her emotions. The life of her daughter was held by a thread and only they together could save her. And once more the fate of Revelyn lay with her and the Shadow Blade, and all knew she now feared to wield it at all. Whatever evil power Zydor had in his own fortress might well be too much. This they thought, but no one gave it words, for to even speak of it seemed foolish.
‘Zydor must die tonight and I cannot leave here without Rayven.’ Sylvion spoke now with great passion. ‘You may all leave tonight without me, but if this is to be, then you must leave.’ She turned to Rema. ‘Remember your promise Rema. You will get Rayven back to Ramos.’
Rema nodded, his heart pounding. ‘I will do it Sylvion, or die trying,’ he replied. Sylvion smiled, and suddenly she was putting the King’s Eye back in its sheath; then without further pause she led off. ‘We must go quickly,’ she said. ‘There is little time.’ And so they followed, finding the track down to the strange causeway to be easier for they were descending, and the slope was not as severe, but still great care was required for the scree was loose and a fall might mean a tumble which would not be easily halted short of death.
They met the trees some distance above the plain and were immediately thankful for the cover they offered, for they all had felt exposed in the bright moonlight, on their mad decent. The causeway was a rocky ridge which stretched from the base of the outer caldera wall right across the flat ground, almost a league to the where the Horn of Svalbard rose steeply up once more. It stood no more than ten cubits above the plain, and was perhaps no more than twenty wide. It was an old larva flow which had solidified as it oozed its way down the side of the Horn, many ages ago, and now was covered in trees and broken weathered rock which caused their footfalls to clink unnervingly and frustratingly slowed their progress so that they did not give warning of their approach. Reigin led the way now and his speed and agility was most useful in finding the best way forward. Sylvion followed with Rema and Gravyn was last. They did not speak but travelled quickly, catching their breath and summoning their strength for the climb ahead which seemed a mighty challenge, for the Horn of Svalbard was steep indeed.
As they approached the base of the Horn, just to the south side of the causeway, on the plain, Reigin saw something which caused him to hold up a hand and silently brought the group to a halt.
‘I see something down through the trees,’ he whispered, and pointed. ‘I hear voices too.’ They all listened and sure enough the sounds of men talking came clearly to them. The voices were slurred as if from drink, and Sylvion felt a sudden panic...they had no time.
‘I see a cart...no two carts,’ Rema whispered.
‘And over in the cliff wall there is a cave... a mine perhaps.’ Reigin added softly. They all peered in the direction he indicted and sure enough the dark entrance to a cave could be clearly seen.
I see two men by the carts,’ Rema continued. ‘And the carts are heavily laden.’
Sylvion cursed under her breath. ‘Why this...why now when we need to move on?’
She peered down upon the carts which stood in the shadow of the Horn of Svalbard by the cave entrance. The two men were standing nearby and clearly did not suspect that they were being watched. She looked again at the carts and had a sudden feeling that they were important, but this only frustrated her. Sylvion did not want to be distracted, but the feeling she had would not let her move on. She sighed and took the King’s Eye from her shoulder and looked down upon the carts once more. The amazing instrument seemed to gather the night light, making it easy to examine the men and the carts. The guards, for that was what they were, carried several weapons but these did not concern her; she knew they were more than a match for many such men. She looked at the carts and saw they were piled high with rocks. She tensed. The rocks were very small, too small to be anything other than made by human hands.
‘What are these things?’ she asked of no one in particular.
‘What do you see Sylvion?’ Reigin asked. He too knew they needed to move on but was now intrigued by Sylvion’s sudden interest in the carts.
‘There is something familiar about...’ Sylvion started to reply and then froze. Like a bolt of lightning she knew.
‘The carts are full of Diabules,’ she hissed in great anger, surprising herself that she was suddenly so emotional. There not fifty pace away was the source of so much evil and misery. Revelyn had been brought low by these enchanted rocks. Zydor and Gryfnor had used them to steal the minds of her people and by all accounts many others as well. Suddenly from deep within, Sylvion felt such a loathing that it possessed her. She needed to do something. They must be destroyed, she thought; and again... I must destroy them. Instinctively her hand went to the Shadow Blade and her grip firmed upon it. She felt a familiar anger pulse through her and then just as she went to draw it an iron fist clamped hard down upon hers and she could not move it further. She
turned, her eyes wide in disbelief. And there was Reigin.
‘No Sylvion. No, not now. Whatever you feel, you cannot do this now.’ The great Edenwhood warrior spoke in manner which could not be ignored, but Sylvion tried to break her hand free.
‘What are you doing Reigin. Why do you oppose me? Those are Diabules. Two carts of them. Do you know how much evil they can do...?’
‘Not now,’ Reign repeated earnestly... but Sylvion’s mind could not let the matter rest. She turned to Rema.
‘Rema shoot the guards now,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘they do not deserve to live. They too are evil. They must pay for their work. They too are responsible...’
Reigin, Rema and Gravyn looked at Sylvion in horror. She had suddenly changed, and was at the point of doing something which would betray all they had set out to do that night. Rema was astounded. Sylvion had just ordered him to slay two men; men whom he did not know. Two half drunk men who posed no threat at all. They stared at each other for a moment, Rema not knowing what to do, Sylvion angry and consumed with hate for all that stood against Revelyn.
Reigin saw a terrible thing about to happen and acted as only he could. With blinding speed and power, he removed Sylvion’s hand from the hilt and took the Shadow Blade from her sheath before she had the chance to draw it and held it beyond her reach.
‘Reigin! Give it back,’ she demanded, ‘You have no right to it. The Shadow Blade is mine.’
Reigin stood his ground.
‘I do not want it Sylvion,’ he replied firmly. ‘I do not claim it. The blade is yours. But what have you become in this moment? You order the death of two men you do not know. Is this what you really want?’ The mighty Edenwhood shook his head and softened. ‘No Sylvion this is not what you want.’
And Sylvion heard him. She stepped back and put her hands to her head and rested weakly against a tree. What am I doing? she thought. How can I....’ Her thoughts were suddenly confused. She shook her head as though trying to rid herself of a great darkness. I am doing what I have always opposed. To grasp at power and wield it indiscriminately, without thought of who might suffer...
