Revelyn: 2nd Chronicles - The Time of the Queen

by Chris Ward

  The horses galloped on and just as dusk approached they called a halt for a moment where a road led off to the north. Once more the mighty steeds milled about and seemed to communicate with themselves, and none sought to control them for they were beyond such a thing. Suddenly a howl came to them and then another.

  ‘Look!’ cried Sylvion pointing further along the road they must travel, and there they saw the most chilling sight. The red eyes of the great forest wolves glowed eerily in the dying sunlight which shone over the desperate rider’s shoulders.

  ‘There are too many,’ Reigin whispered, and for such a man to say such a thing brought dismay to them all. ‘Too many,’ he repeated searching with keen eyes where the creatures mingled, ‘more than three score...more.’

  ‘And more will come,’ Sylvion added. ‘That way is blocked.’

  And then before any could say another word, the horses, as if of one mind took off once again and turned north along another road and soon left the wolves behind, although their howling travelled clearly enough upon the breeze and they knew a mighty pack was on their scent. Rema rode his horse up alongside Sylvion and called out.

  ‘Where does this lead, we need to go east?’

  ‘I do not know,’ she replied in a voice which betrayed her weariness. ‘I cannot think where...’ but as soon as she said it a cold hand gripped her heart for she knew, and she tried then to haul in her reins and halt her horse, but she could not. Rema called again.

  ‘Sylvion, what is it, why do look so afraid?’

  ‘This road takes us to another doom, Rema,’ she called back, ‘it takes us to the Valley of the Kings.’ And as soon as she had said it the words seemed to echo about and bounce off every tree so that all the riders heard her. And then they too tried in vain to stop the mad galloping of their steeds, but it was impossible for they were too strong and given their head nothing could turn them from their course. And so, almost mad with desperate tiredness, chased by howling wolves and faced with the dreaded Valley of the Kings they rode on, powerless to change whatever would come to pass.

  But as they rode Sylvion wearily resigned herself to the inevitable and thought upon their plight, and as she did some deep memory came to her and she realised that all was not lost, indeed perhaps an amazing provision had been foreseen. And she looked about and saw the horses and knew they were not fleeing a howling pack of wolves in fright...they were galloping to safety, they knew where they going, they had never intended to reach KingsLoss.

  You were riding for the Valley of the Kings all the time she thought, you sought to reach the road before the wolves came out to hunt. And you did it.

  And then Sylvion rode her horse to the front and urged the others on.

  ‘We will be alright,’ she cried, ‘keep on now, do not fall asleep, we are almost safe!’

  And they marvelled at her, for she was truly inspired them in that moment.

  The sun had set but the sky was still aglow with the last of its light as they rode into the Valley of the Kings, and the sounds of the pursuing wolves ceased suddenly as if the frenzied animals knew the chase was over. They entered a silent place. No sound of bird or animal came to them. Huge standing stones greeted their approach and upon each were the runes of an ancient people. The valley was perhaps a half league in length and half as wide, surrounded by steep slopes well treed. The grass under hoof was lush and green, and suddenly they saw the tombs of the dead. Nine mounds sat in the stillness and the gloom, spaced evenly around the valley’s plain. These were lined about with mighty stones and overlaid with turf and grasses whilst a huge stone door sealed them shut.

  Save one.

  ‘We are watched,’ Reigin said with a shiver, ‘we are not entering this place unknown.’ And they all felt it; the ghosts of the Valley of the Kings.

  ‘Tyron said to avoid this place at all costs,’ Rema said looking around and feeling his skin crawl with sensations he had never before felt nor could he explain.

  ‘Are you sure this is right?’ Reigin asked Sylvion. She did not answer at first but rode her horse slowly to the only tomb which remained unsealed, its huge stone door standing open as if inviting the dead to enter. She dismounted and stood looking all about.

  ‘Come here my friends,’ she said at last and the calmness of her tone surprised them, but they too slipped off their horses and led them to her. She turned to them and smiled. ‘It is a fact that we need to sleep. We are done in and weary beyond words. We could not survive in the forest, and despite your bravery Orcxyl you would have failed to get us to KingsLoss.’ She patted her horse. ‘These great creatures understood our desperate need to get to safety. They did not ride to make KingsLoss, they rode to make this place. They needed to make the intersection of the roads before the wolves came out ... and as we saw, they did, but only just...’

  ‘But why this place?’ Rema asked, his skin still crawling with a strange sensitivity.

  ‘Because no wolf will come here,’ Sylvion replied. ‘There is protection here from those fell creatures that Zydor thought would kill us when we fell under his spell, and this we cannot avoid.’ She paused and took breath and looked at them all, one at time, in the eye. ‘We will sleep,’ she continued gravely. ‘We will sleep the full four seasons, and we will sleep here in this tomb.’ And with a nod of her head she indicated the open door and blackness which it offered.

  ‘I am not as eager as you to enter such a place,’ Reigin said quietly. ‘Why in this haunted place would we do such a thing?’ And they all looked at Sylvion who smiled and went to her saddle bag. She fumbled for a moment, looking for something which clearly was of great importance. Finally she withdrew a piece of crumpled fabric and laid it on the ground, smoothing it out for them to see.

  ‘As we rode,’ she said quietly in barely more than a whisper, ‘I remembered this which I cut from the banners of the great flying machine which we used Reigin, to escape long ago from the Vault on Bald Cape. In the cave where we found it we discovered there was prophecy in the images it offered. This one I did not understand but now I do. Look!’

  And so they did and were amazed to see her meaning. Upon the fabric was the clear depiction of five people lying upon five stone beds, and as realisation dawned they all turned and looked at the open tomb.

  ‘I think we will find our beds in there,’ Sylvion said. ‘It has been foretold. And because of this I believe we will survive this ordeal, but we cannot escape it.’ There was silence for a while before Reigin walked to the open door. He shook his head.

  ‘I recoil from this, but I can see no other way,’ he said, and suddenly they all felt greatly weary. The mad ride had kept them awake, but now each knew they could not long hold off the sleep which sought to take hold of them.

  ‘I will take the horses,’ Orcxyl said quietly, ‘if you wish to look further.’ He nodded toward the tomb. And they were then reminded that he was not a part of what stood before them and so they gave the great hunter their noble steeds and he unbuckled the saddles and took off the bridles and gently eased the bits from their great foaming mouths. He spoke with soft praise to each for the mighty gallop they had performed. As he did so the others ventured into the tomb, and found a torch ready to be lit inside the door. Reigin’s flint immediately brought forth its light and so they went down into the tomb. It was not large and quickly opened into a circular vaulted space in which they were now not surprised to find five stone platforms upon which a body might rest. They stood quietly and wondered what it would be like to rest there.

  Sylvion once more spread the fabric on the nearest slab and they paused to gaze upon it.

  ‘It is indeed just as it is shown,’ Reigin whispered. ‘The way these are arranged is just as the fabric shows.’ He shook his head in awe. They all did.

  ‘And what of this?’ Rema asked pointing once more to the fabric. ‘I see another thing, this stone upon which many marks are inscribed.’ They all looked about but there was nothing to resemble such a thing within the tomb.
Sylvion shrugged.

  ‘Perhaps that will become clear, but for now we have no choice. We will sleep here. We will be safe. I do not fear the ghosts for the prophecy seems true enough.’

  ‘Unless it shows our final resting place,’ Gravyn whispered sombrely.

  ‘Then what will be, must come to pass,’ Sylvion replied with equal gravity. Then she gestured toward the slabs. ‘I suggest you pick your bed,’ she continued with a grim smile, ‘for I feel that sleep is about to claim me.’ And at the very mention of the word Rayven could no longer hold herself up but slumped down beside the nearest slab. Rema went to her and lifted her up.

  ‘We hardly know each other,’ he whispered with a grim humour, ‘and now we will spend long nights together.’ And to his surprise Rayven replied through a fog of fast approaching sleep.

  ‘I could think of worse things Rema Bowman,’ and with this she fell asleep and he placed her gently upon the slab and laid her as comfortably as he thought it best. Sylvion came to her then and kissed her upon her forehead.

  ‘Sleep in peace my daughter.’ She smiled at Rema, and indicated the slab next to her. ‘Take this place Rema, for you are charged with getting Rayven back to Ramos.’ she said.

  ‘But you survived Svalbard,’ Rema replied quickly, ‘You will lead us back to Ramos.’ At this Sylvion held his eye and did not speak, and he wondered what she was thinking, but his mind was not able to hold the thought for he suddenly yawned and felt a great weight upon his shoulders.

  ‘What of Orcxyl?’ Reigin said.

  ‘I will go and speak with him,’ Sylvion replied. ‘He must take the horses back to KingsLoss, and tell them of our plight. I will not hold him further. He can go where he wishes. He has done enough.’ Reigin nodded.

  ‘I will come with you,’ he said but Sylvion refused him.

  ‘No Reigin, I wish to speak to him alone. You stay and find your bed.’ She smiled then for the sound of Gravyn snoring came to them suddenly. He had taken a place upon a slab and was fast asleep, his stony face the perfect image of the sleeper in a tomb.

  ‘I suppose at least we will not be woken by his snoring,’ Reigin said and laughed. Rema too smiled broadly and sat upon the slab next to Rayven. Sylvion left and as she did she saw Rema looking upon her daughter with a soft affection upon his face. She paused for the briefest moment and measured her emotions.

  I should be jealous she thought, but it is good that I am not. And then she walked up into the deepening night to find Orcxyl standing still and staring off into the darkness.

  ‘Orcxyl,’ she called, ‘We must talk.’ But Orcxyl remained standing as he was, and this irritated Sylvion for she was Queen and used to being obeyed, not ignored, and her great weariness gave her less forbearance that she might at other times have shown. ‘Orcxyl,’ she repeated in a harsher tone, ‘please attend ...we must talk.’ The great hunter seemed however to be preoccupied with other things and did not move or speak. ‘What has so taken your fancy Orcxyl?’ Sylvion went on. ‘I see nothing but the dark.’ Finally Orcxyl turned to her and smiled, but she knew it was not because of her, he had discovered something which she could not discern and whilst she knew this, she had not the energy for any discord or long discussion, her body was screaming now for rest.

  ‘My Lady,’ Orcxyl said quietly now looking at her.

  ‘I asked you not to call me that,’ Sylvion replied, tersely.

  ‘I am sorry My Lady,’ Orcxyl relied evenly, ‘but just now you spoke as though this is what you expected...’ And his words strung Sylvion for she realised her abruptness had been without thought.

  ‘Forgive me Orcxyl,’ she said quietly, ‘I am weary and need to sleep.’ Orcxyl nodded.

  ‘I understand. What would you have me do?’

  Sylvion took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind from the fog of approaching sleep.

  ‘I want you to take the horses to KingsLoss. Tell Giraldyn and Tyron what has come to pass. That Zydor is dead and we five are under a spell, to sleep for four seasons, till the next summer solstice.’ She paused. ‘You have been faithful my friend, you are free to go, back to your people, or wherever you wish.’

  ‘And what of you?’ Orcxyl replied looking hard at Sylvion. ‘How will you fare supposing you survive this ordeal?’

  ‘Ask Giraldyn for advice.’ Sylvion replied. ‘He may know what best to do, but we need some means to return to KingsLoss when we wake. I can think of nothing more.’ And now she felt her mind slowing rapidly and all she wanted was to lie down and sleep and in that moment it seemed that four seasons end to end would not be enough to restore her, such was her weariness.

  ‘I will do as you say,’ Orcxyl said gently. ‘I will make sure that you are not abandoned here. You have my word on this... Sylvion.’ He smiled at himself for using her name in such a familiar manner. Sylvion returned the smile and took his hands.

  ‘I owe you a great debt Orcxyl. I do not know what will become of me... or Revelyn. Zydor has had some measure of triumph in this, but we have done all we can, and you more than most.’ And then she felt her legs tremble and being to fail her. Orcxyl quickly caught her and she steadied. ‘I can think of nothing else Orcxyl. I am sorry that we part like this...’

  ‘It has been an honour My Lady,’ Orcxyl replied unable then to put aside his normal manner of addressing her. ‘I am sorry I ever thought you capable of evil. Go now and leave matters to me.’ And with these words he gently took her arm and escorted her back to the tomb. ‘Go now,’ he repeated. ‘I will look to the horses and will come see that all is well...soon.’ And Sylvion could do no more than stumble back down into the gloom of the tomb and find a place upon the remaining slab. She sat for a moment and looked about. All the others were sound asleep, lying peacefully enough despite their grim surroundings. The torch on the wall flickered and cast eerie shadows and Sylvion wept.

  I do not know what will become us, she thought, or Revelyn... and all my life I have sought to ensure it was secure. She looked at her companions. ‘And I did not get to say anything before you slept,’ she whispered through her tears. ‘You have been so faithful...all of you. She looked at Rema, and shook her head. ‘You are amazing Rema Bowman,’ she continued, and on a spur went to him and leant down close over his face. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, ‘but I may not ever wake to know this life again, and with that she kissed him on the lips, and the softness and intimacy of it took her back to another time and she wept deeply and then in a sudden realisation remembered another similar kiss when lost in the cold unconsciousness which followed her battle at KingsLoss. She stood back and looked at Rema, her face quite puzzled as her mind began to put faint suspicions into some order, but then her weariness overtook her and she collapsed and rested against the slab before slowly rolling onto her side; she was asleep a moment after.

  Orcxyl looked for a moment at the glow of the faint soft light coming from the tomb into which Sylvion had disappeared. Then he turned and called the horses. They came to him from the shadows and he talked to them. ‘Stay close tonight,’ he said, ‘there are strange things about,’ and they pricked their ears and seemed to nod in agreement. He then went and gathered firewood as the last glow of the western daylight faded to black and lit a fire under a huge standing stone of once towering height, which had fallen over, but not completely and now stood such that what was once its highest point stood no more than five cubits off the ground; it offered a roof above and room enough beneath for sleeping out of the weather.

  If it falls completely, Orcxyl thought, I will be killed outright, but I need a place to sleep so I have no choice. And so he made a camp and as he did so he looked about into the night for he knew he was being watched, this much he had discovered whilst Sylvion had called to him in frustration. ‘I saw you ghost,’ he whispered quietly and smiled, ‘like those upon the walls of Iridin-Rune, I saw you watching me... but you do not know that I see you.’ And when his simple camp was as comfortable as he could make it for that first night he walked aro
und to the base of the mighty leaning stone and walked up upon it, and having gained some height he looked about the Valley of the Kings. And some deep intuition came upon him and he felt the hauntedness of another world all about, and he shivered slightly, but not in fear, indeed he felt a sudden great anticipation of some new understanding and experience which had not yet been revealed.

  And suddenly he saw the ghost again. It sat upon a tomb some fifty paces off. It shimmered gently and Orcxyl seemed to think he could see through it to the shadows beyond. It was a kingly figure sure enough for upon its head it wore a crown. He could not be sure but he thought it was somewhat agitated, but then the great hunter thought...what do I know of agitation in a ghost. Orcxyl looked about not wanting to give the ghost any clue that he could see it, but clear enough the strange and eerie figure was watching him, without the slightest wavering.

  ‘I see you ghost,’ Orcxyl whispered. ‘What will you do I wonder for I trespass upon your ground?’ He paused and thought. Will you slay me...I think not. No you will haunt me, thinking I am a normal man...but you are wrong ghost, I am not as other men. I have seen ghosts all my life.’ And Orcxyl smiled and then walked over to the open tomb and thought to go in and see that all who slept within were secure and comfortable. But as he stepped through the open stone door he halted, and then went back into the night and from the side of the tomb with great effort he pulled loose a large stone some cubit in length and a good hand span high and wide. He carried it to the doorway and placed it where the mighty stone might close.

  ‘I do not trust you ghost,’ he whispered into the night, ‘perhaps you would close the door and trap us all inside.’ And then he went down into the tomb where the torch still burnt upon the wall where Reigin had placed it. The sight which he looked upon touched Orcxyl mightily. All save Sylvion lay asleep upon a separate stone bed. They rested upon their backs, their hands and weapons by their sides, and everything seemed quite peaceful. He then went to where Sylvion lay and bending down he picked her up and laid her gently upon the empty slab. He made sure she lay as comfortably as he thought she would have lain herself down, and then stood back and looked again at what lay before him.