by Chris Ward
‘I alone could read the runes for it was my gift and interest in life when I was fully human. And so I had the knowledge the others could not grasp, but they knew it and sought to find out what was written here.’ The ghost seemed to smile. ‘And so I tricked them. I was cunning and gave out a little knowledge now and then but it was all false and misleading so that I came to have a great power and saw my chance, but one which could only work once, and if I failed it would never come again.’ The ghost sat quietly for a time as if thinking with some pleasure on its achievement.
‘I let them all think that the runes taught that the one who would gain the greatest power to take final revenge would be the ghost who could lie in their tomb for four seasons end on end. Then they would be given a power to rule the others forever.’ The ghost sighed then and Orcxyl was surprised at such a sadness in it. ‘You see man,’ it went on, ‘this was our failing. We all wanted power and it blinded us to many things. Even in our terrible state here in this valley of torment it was no different. The lust for power blinded them in the end.’
The ghost then remained silent for so long that Orcxyl could not contain himself.
‘What happened ghost?’ he asked, and the ghost looked at Orcxyl as if suddenly remembering that he was not alone.
‘It took me six score years to get them all to lie in their tombs at the one time. I used all my skills and deceit in cajoling and false reassurance, for always one would rise up and move the flat stone on another tomb in a hope that this would cause that ghost to come out and then lose their place in the race to be the first to lie four seasons without interruption. But in the end I managed it, and had all the flat stones covering the shafts and so they rested, each believing they were the one. And then I only had to keep them there like that for the allotted time for the runes taught that if the sleeper in the tomb remained undisturbed four seasons end on end, they would not rise but remain dead.’ And the ghost then looked accusingly at Orcxyl, ‘and then you and your friends came to the valley. Never had this been foreseen. And you were about to move the enchanted flat stones which would have destroyed my plan. I needed only til the winter solstice.’
And Orcxyl then whispered, ‘And that has passed, and it has been achieved.’ The ghost nodded.
‘Yes they are all gone and only I remain here in this Valley.’
‘So you rule the Valley of the Kings.’ Orcxyl said.
‘But what is there to rule?’ the ghost replied sadly. And they sat for a time and thought upon what had been spoken.
‘Then why will you not help me?’ Orcxyl asked quietly when it seemed right. ‘Why refuse to let my friends out when they wake. Is it your last attempt to rule and have power ghost?’ and in that moment he knew he had named it, the reason for the ghost’s refusal, and he saw it retreat into obstinacy and defiance.
‘What would you ask of me ghost, to give my companions life?’ Orcxyl asked, and he knew suddenly that he had been brought by a greater cunning than he possessed to ask such a question. The ghost answered without hesitation.
‘What are you prepared to give, man?’ it asked watching carefully. And Orcxyl thought hard but he knew what he must say.
‘I will give anything I can if it saves my friends,’ he replied quietly and he saw the ghost relax and smile.
‘Then I ask man that you give your life?’ And the two looked at each other and experienced some different but deep emotions at the statement.
‘In what manner do you wish to take my life ghost?’ Orcxyl asked but within himself he knew the answer.
‘I will open the tomb if you stay on here in the Valley of the Kings,’ the ghost replied. ‘I ask for no more than your life here, for I cannot bear to remain alone. It is a torment worse than all that I fear.’ And Orcxyl did not reply but stood and went out into the sun of the afternoon. He looked about the valley and took pleasure in all he saw. I have all I need here he thought, good hunting and plenty of food, and the tombs full of tools and fine things. I can keep one horse and the ghost might even become good company... And then he thought of his companions. They must survive and go on to defeat the evil in Revelyn. I cannot do more than I have; their skills in war exceed anything I can bring. I am the Great Hunter, not a warrior, hunting is what I do. He smiled and turned to see the ghost standing not far off.
‘I will stay Ghost,’ he said quietly, ‘and you will open the tomb and see my companions set free to go safely on their way.’ The ghost half smiled and Orcxyl thought it happy.
‘How will I know you will not betray me?’ the ghost asked.
‘Because I have not been a King in Svalbard,’ Orcxyl replied firmly. ‘And if we are to spend time here in this place then you must learn to trust me.’ And the ghost seemed chastened, for it smiled and nodded its strange translucent head.
‘Then I will open the tomb when they awake and we will share good times here in the Valley of the Kings,’ it said.
‘And you will call me Orcxyl,’ Orcxyl said and the ghost nodded and tried the name.
‘Orcxyl,’ it said, ‘I have not heard such a name. What does it mean?’
‘It means Great Hunter,’ Orcxyl replied with a smile, and I will call you...?’
‘You can call me ghost,’ the ghost replied with a laugh.
‘It is better than king,’ Orcxyl said, ‘which is what I thought you might request.’
And the ghost shook its head. ‘No Orcxyl there are no kings left in this valley,’ and then with a sudden move he leapt upon one of the horses which had come quietly up and he galloped off down the valley with a mighty cry, leaving Orcxyl to stand and smile and surprise himself with the knowledge that he was happy.
Ah Freya he thought, what a strange turn of events. And then he too found a mount and joined the ghost in thunderous enjoyment.
Two days before the summer solstice Orcxyl went hunting, thinking to bring home enough food for a feast for he thought his friends might well be famished after their enchantment. The ghost walked with him to the boundaries of the valley and charged him to take care.
‘I cannot leave this place to give you assistance should you require it Orcxyl,’ the ghost said with some concern. ‘That is the law. It is written in the runes.’ The Great Hunter smiled and teased the ghost.
‘I do believe ghost that you are becoming more human each day. You are concerned for me.’ And the ghost shook its head and made a simple excuse but it was a moment of warmth between the two that Orcxyl thought a good omen. He then travelled quickly west for he found the best hunting in that direction. He took three Revel hares and a small leaping deer which had attempted to flee by climbing a mighty oak, but it could not escape, and was soon brought to ground where Orcxyl as always performed his ritual of thanks and sharing. Then he hid the four creature together in a tree and went on further. He rested for lunch by a broad stream and dozed as the dragon flies buzzed all about. He lay for sometime in a beautiful warmth and felt the majesty of the forest. After a time he realised he was staring without much concentration across the stream and there in the shadows was a man; a statue of a man who was watching him. They were no more than fifty paces apart. Orcxyl narrowed his eyes and cleared his mind from the fog of his repose. The man was tall and wore a flowing gown. His hair was grey but his face was hidden in the shadows.
‘Greetings friend,’ Orcxyl called for he could think of nothing better to say, and it was clear each was aware of the other. But the man turned and walked off into the forest to the north. Orcxyl was immediately curious. A hermit, he thought, a member of some tribe. And so he followed as quickly as he could. The stream was shallow but cold and this brought his hunter’s senses to the fore. He was at the spot where the man had stood in a moment. He examined the ground and looked all about. He smelt for a scent, his nostrils flaring and then he stood and scratched his head. For the first time in his life he had not the smallest sense of a clue to follow. He looked for footprints for the soil was soft and easily disturbed by the weight of a man, and there
were many other animal tracks about, but there was nothing.
‘This is most curious,’ he whispered into the air, and then walked slowly north in the direction he had seen the man depart. Within a hundred paces he was rewarded with a glimpse of the man walking slowly away. His keen eyes saw the man steady himself on a branch as he went below an oak and so with this as his goal Orcxyl walked to the branch and found the exact place where the hand had rested. He closed his eyes and smelt the bark.
There was nothing, just the familiar smell of a forest oak. Orcxyl shook his head in amazement, and then a terrible thought came to him. I have lost my gift. A wave of panic swept through him and he felt vulnerable and small, his confidence gone. But then a calm returned and he saw some rabbit droppings; these he smelt, and sure enough a clear trail emerged showing where the small creature had hopped away into the trees. I am still able to track, just not this man he thought. He walked on then in the general direction the man had taken and once more in a short time he caught sight of him walking slowly away. Orcxyl started to run and to his surprise the man seemed to increase in speed but gave no indication as to how and once more when Orcxyl came upon the place where the man had been he could find no tracks. This is another ghost he thought, the forest is haunted as well.
And then suddenly a voice at his side startled him.
‘You seem lost my friend.’ Orcxyl turned with a jump, and there was the man, right behind him.
‘How did you get there?’ Orcxyl asked in sheer amazement, for no one could come close to him when he hunted, no animal nor human; not without him knowing. The man smiled and Orcxyl was taken with the deep warmth and humour in his eyes.
‘Follow me hunter,’ he said and once more Orcxyl found himself being led off into the forest. In a short time they came to a camp where a fire burned merrily and the smell of good cooked meat and other tasty things filled the air. ‘Please,’ said the man, ‘take a seat and share a meal with me.’ And Orcxyl did so, intrigued that this man could be so mysterious and so comfortable living in a forest which by night was so dangerous. He thought the man far older than even Giraldyn who had seemed the oldest man he had ever met.
‘What is your name?’ he asked as the man handed him a delicious portion of roasted Revel hare.
‘I am known by many names,’ the man replied with a deep rich voice and a chuckle. ‘But perhaps in these times it is best you address me as El-Arathor.’ And immediately the name was given Orcxyl felt a thrill run through his body. He had heard the name before. Sylvion and Rema had talked of this one, and Reigin too. He sat quietly and felt he could do no more than that for he was aware he sat in the company of greatness. The old man called El-Arathor sat opposite Orcxyl and also ate heartily.
‘Have you heard of the Varanii?’ El-Arathor asked after a time. Orcxyl shook his head and found it hard to concentre for the meat he ate was the most delicious he had ever had. No Revel hare ever tasted this good he thought.
‘They are a people in great need,’ El-Arathor went on, ‘they have been slaves in Svalbard for many generations and now they are leaderless.’ Orcxyl nodded but found the food distracting. ‘Orcxyl, are you listening to me?’ and the Great Hunter was suddenly focused on every word the man said, for he knew he had never given his name and yet it was known.
‘You know my name?’ he said with a puzzled look upon his face. El-Arathor smiled.
‘You would be surprised the number of names I know,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘now back to the Varanii. They are aimless at the moment and struggle since their escape from Svalbard.’ Orcxyl nodded and wondered what any of this could possibly have to do with him. But El-Arathor went on assuming he was following.
‘You will find them when the time comes. There is a great boat floating in the lake in Svalbard. Go there when the time is right. They need a hunter. They need a leader. I think you are the one they search for.’
‘I cannot leave my home,’ Orcxyl said, suddenly taken by the fact that he now called the Valley of the Kings his home. The old man nodded.
‘You are faithful, this is good. I like those who stand by their word. No matter. Please enjoy your food.’ And with that El-Arathor stood and walked off into the forest. Orcxyl thought perhaps he had gone to relieve himself and waited for his return, but he did not come. The fire burnt lower and Orcxyl looked at the sun. It will take me till dusk to get back to the cabin he thought I cannot wait longer... and the ghost will be fretting. He stood and threw the bone of his meal into the coals. He looked about hoping perhaps that the strange man, El-Arathor would suddenly reappear but he did not, and so with a shake of his head Orcxyl walked back into the forest toward the Valley of the Kings. He retrieved his four kills and then turned his mind to the great feast he would cook for his companions, and suddenly he knew that it was upon him. They would awake in two days and he realised how much he had missed them. But as he walked the name of the Varanii would not fade and so it remained there sitting just to one side of his consciousness.
And so it would be, till the time was right.
Chapter 21
Sylvion suddenly knew that she was awake. She was staring at the roof of the vault, and the light from a small shaft directly above her illuminated the space and gave her a clear view of a tiny patch of blue sky. It took but a moment for her to gather her thoughts, and then she laughed.
‘You fool Zydor, you thought to make me sleep for four seasons and it has been only one night. We feared for nothing.’ She swung her legs over the side of the stone bed upon which she lay and was surprised at the stiffness in her joints. Perhaps I am getting older, she thought, instinctively feeling for the Shadow Blade, and was reassured to find it as always by her side. She looked over at where Rayven lay and was overcome with deep emotion, realising that she had almost lost her daughter. In a moment she was at her side and stroking her brow.
‘Rayven, wake now,’ she whispered and kissed her forehead gently.
‘You slept well?’ a voice inquired from close by and she turned to see Rema now awake.
‘Indeed I did,’ Sylvion replied. ‘And such a dream I had, and then as she remembered it she shook her head and thought, a lifetime in a single night. How amazing. And looking at Rema she remembered her time with her Rema in the dream, and it caused her a deep pain.
‘It was just a dream after all,’ she whispered and turned back to Rayven with a tear. ‘It seemed so real.’
Rayven woke to see her kindma standing over her and for a brief moment recalled her childhood and the many lovely waking moments when she had felt so loved by this woman who had never aged. ‘Hello kindma,’ she whispered and the two embraced.
Reigin was next to stir and he seemed to spring easily from his stone bed with a greeting. Only Gravyn remained asleep and his gentle snores made them all laugh, which then woke him and he suddenly realised that all were staring at him, and so with a nod but not a word he stood and stretched.
‘To think we only slept one night,’ Sylvion said helping Rayven up. We feared so much but it has been so quick, and they all thought on this and agreed. It could have been no more than just that one night.
‘But I feel mightily restored,’ Reigin said. ‘The best night’s sleep I ever had. I dreamt...’ he started but he did not finish for the memory was intimate and not for other’s ears. They all spoke then of their dreams, not the detail but the vividness and the joy of what they experienced.
‘We have a problem,’ Sylvion said quietly after a while, and they all looked at her. ‘Orcxyl has left for KingsLoss... I would think early this morning after the forest wolves have gone, and will not return till the time of the enchantment is complete. I told him to take the horses. We have no means to get back to KingsLoss.’ A silence ensued which was broken by Reigin in the end.
‘Well let us first get out of this place. One night in here is sufficient.’ And so they took up their weapons and possessions and made their way up the narrow passage to the stone door. Light streamed in, and in a momen
t they were standing outside once more in the warm sun.
‘Look,’ Sylvion cried, pointing down the valley, the horses are still here, Orcxyl has not left yet. What good fortune!’ Reign shook his head.
‘Something is different,’ he said quietly.
‘Over there,’ Rema said, ‘look...’ and they followed his direction, and were amazed to see a solid timber cabin built around a massive leaning stone, a chimney from which smoke wafted skyward, and a vegetable garden and many plants; there was also a wood pile which had been well used, and an axe upon a splitting log. They stood in silence.
‘It was dark when we arrived last night,’ Sylvion said, ‘but surely there was no one else here?’
And then they gasped for Orcxyl appeared at the cabin door and waved, and came running.
‘What is going on?’ Reigin whispered.
Sylvion turned about in confusion. She did not see the ghost sitting above her on the burial mound frowning down at them, but she did see the door to the tomb which was only partially open and there upon it were the neat rows of marks which Orcxyl had made. Eighteen score and one hand. Her jaw dropped, just as Orcxyl came up, but he saw their confusion and held back from speaking. With a smile he stood and waited for realisation to sink in.
‘Oh!’ Sylvion said, ‘look.’ And she pulled a piece of fabric from her pocket and held it out. ‘Look,’ she said again, and there upon it was the depiction of the five upon five stone beds and below this the stone upon which many marks were made. ‘The last of the prophecy,’ she whispered hoarsely.
‘One for each day My Lady,’ Orcxyl said suddenly making them all jump. ‘Welcome back, I have missed you all greatly.’ And they turned and stared at him and could not speak, but the ghost above scowled for it did not trust the warmth between them all.
