Revelyn: 2nd Chronicles - The Time of the Queen

by Chris Ward

  ‘We slept four seasons?’ Sylvion asked when she could, and Orcxyl nodded.

  ‘Indeed My Lady,’ Orcxyl said quietly for he guessed what they had thought. ‘Today is the summer solstice.’

  ‘You carved these marks, one for each day?’ Reigin asked and went and ran his hand over them.’ Orcxyl nodded.

  ‘Then you did not leave,’ Sylvion said suddenly, turning to him ‘You stayed Orcxyl. Why?’

  ‘Well My Lady,’ he said with a simple shrug, and then a pause. ‘I thought it best.’

  ‘The horses are well?’ Reigin inquired.

  ‘Never better,’ said Orcxyl. ‘Now come, I have been cooking since sunrise. You need a good meal.’ And the five all suddenly realised they were mightily famished and so followed Orcxyl to his cabin, where upon the ground outside in the warm sun he had laid out a banquet. They all marvelled at the cabin as they ate his wonderful feast of roast Ravel hare and deer and taters and wild onions, followed with as many berries as they could eat. The water from the stream was judged the best tasting they had ever had. All the time the ghost sat close by with a mournful look, but it did not interfere for Orcxyl had said that if it did he would reconsider his agreement.

  And then they sat in the sun and talked and laughed about what had come to pass and their amazing sleep and the defeat of Zydor. Orcxyl asked Rayven to assist him in the cabin and there he presented her with his gift of the tunic he had made, and she was completely overcome, for it fitted beautifully, although a little tight around her bottom at which she chuckled and commented that even after such a long sleep she had lost little there. Orcxyl blushed deeply at her forthrightness and quickly showed her a pair of riding boots made also from wolf hide but with the fur left on and trimmed short. They were a perfect fit and Rayven proudly showed off her new clothes to great acclaim, and then Orcxyl had to tell of his experiences and how he had built the cabin and survived the winter. He deftly answered all their questions, even about how he now had an axe and where the horses sheltered when the snows came, whilst all the time the ghost sat close by and listened; and it mourned that it was now a ghost and in life it had not ever known the joy of such an honest meal and such good company.

  ‘Did we really sleep four seasons end to end?’ Sylvion asked after they had all eaten their fill and began to turn their minds to what they must next do. But the question needed no reply for it was clear enough; just very hard to grasp. And then Sylvion saddened. ‘What will we find in Revelyn?’ she said with deep emotion. ‘So much time has passed. Gryfnor will have done much evil. I fear we are too late.’

  ‘To late for what?’ Reigin asked.

  ‘I am not sure,’ Sylvion replied, and she could offer nothing further on this...‘but we have stayed here long enough. We must leave.’ She looked about, and smiled sadly. ‘I am sorry Orcxyl for all the work you have done here, but I am glad you did not follow my request, for in some manner you have once again stood by and protected us all. I am sure we will never know how much.’ She stood and walked around the cabin and thought it a very pretty sight.

  ‘It is a pity Orcxyl to leave it, but we must go.’ And then the ghost came close and stood by Orcxyl, unseen by all save the Great Hunter.

  ‘Please do not leave me,’ it whispered in some distress, and Orcxyl smiled.

  ‘I am not coming Sylvion,’ he said, and his words were like a sharp axe cleaving a dry log right through on a single strike. The others all turned to him in shock, their faces showing great surprise. ‘I am not a warrior Sylvion... my friends,’ he continued looking around the group, ‘You go to war against evil, you all have skills in this which I do not have, besides, I am a hunter. I am happy here and so I am not coming.’

  ‘But Orcxyl...’ Sylvion started, but the Great Hunter held up his hands.

  ‘No,’ he went on interrupting her without any deference to her position for he was clearly determined in the course he had set. ‘I have had much time to consider this. I have done all I can for you My Lady. I am staying here in this Valley. It is my new home. All I ask is a horse. Nothing more.’

  And so it was agreed, but not without much heartache, and they all wished Orcxyl well and said how important his many skills had been, and to it all Orcxyl nodded and smiled and felt awkward, especially when the white Queen of Revelyn hugged him firmly and kissed him upon each cheek.

  ‘You have indeed done more for me than I had a right to expect Orcxyl. Take care of yourself and may your hunting be always successful.’ To which Orcxyl replied without any sense of arrogance.

  ‘It always is My Lady,’ and she allowed him to address her thus despite having forbidden it in the past, for she understood his way and accepted it. Only Gravyn held back and seemed to ignore Orcxyl, but then to the surprise of all, he spoke, at the end when there was no more time to linger. The great archer stood and they looked upon him with great puzzlement for he was weeping. Great tears poured down his stony face.

  ‘I must speak,’ he whispered hoarsely and they all saw it was great a effort for the man, for he was usually quiet, and often judged rude because of it. ‘Please hear me out,’ he said and they sat and let him speak.

  ‘When I was a child,’ he continued, ‘We had many dogs which I feared for they were large and vicious, and my kindpa enjoyed my fear and his drink in equal measure.’ He took a great breath and then revealed his deepest hurt. ‘I was attacked by the dogs one day when I was eight summers only. They tore my neck,’ and at this point Gravyn held back his long hair and revealed the awful scars upon his flesh. ‘I could not speak from fear or damage for many moons,’ he went on in the softest words, but each one fell amongst the listeners like a knife. ‘I learnt to hate the dogs. I learnt to hate all dogs, for my face would never smile again and I could show no more emotion than a statue despite my feelings being no different to any other.’

  And so they learnt why Gravyn was as he was.

  ‘But I was not named as I am, now. I was called Rueben, but my kindpa changed it to Gravyn for he thought it best as it suited my new demeanour. And so it has been always.’ He fell quiet for a time and wept some more and none knew how to comfort the man. But he went on...‘And so I hated dogs and indeed I hated many things and gave all my time to the bow. When I was older I hunted every dog I could find. At nights in Ramos I would go out and kill any dog I came across, and yet my anger and hate was undiminished, but I became the best archer in the land.’ He smiled to himself and then suddenly continued. ‘But that is not what I wish to tell you, although it must be said, for now I am filled with shame.’ At that moment he turned to Orcxyl, and spoke most directly.

  ‘I have treated you badly Orcxyl,’ he whispered. ‘I saw you like a dog, for your skill required you sniff the ground or other things and find the clues to what you hunted. I know this, but I could not...no in truth I would not see you as anything else, a dog-man. I called you such names and in my heart I refused to see you as you are, a man of great gifts and brave and humble and so much better than I can ever be...’ and then Gravyn held his hand over his face as his body was wracked with mighty sobs. He went to Orcxyl and fell to his knees before the great hunter.

  ‘Please forgive me, Orcxyl,’ he said with his stony tear lined face lifted to him. ‘Please forgive me, for my hate consumes me and it has held me captive all my life. I need to be released and you need to hear my confession.’ And as soon as these words were out Gravyn seemed to breathe more easily, but no one was expecting what was to come. Orcxyl scratched his head for he was bewildered by what has just been said. He took a moment to compose his racing thoughts and then put a hand upon Gravyn’s head.

  ‘I forgive you Gravyn,’ he said. ‘Your story moves me deeply. I understand. Surely I forgive you. Go in peace.’

  And then Gravyn changed. In a moment his faced seemed suddenly to light up and the awful thing which had held him all his life was no more, and so Gravyn smiled and he was graven no longer.

  The ghost watched this with utter amazement. It co
uld not understand such a thing. ‘Forgiveness,’ it muttered, ‘what place has this between men?’ And its words rippled the air and a sudden chill came upon the ones that lived. Rema shivered and Reigin looked about in puzzlement. Orcxyl glared at the ghost, but it did not understand why; instead it went and sat upon the cabin roof and frowned down upon them.

  ‘This is still a haunted place,’ Reigin said quietly. ‘I do not know Orcxyl how you could stand to live here for so long. Did you not experience strange things?’ But Orcxyl shrugged.

  ‘I have seen ghosts all my life,’ he replied in such a manner that the others did not know if he spoke in jest, and as he was no more forthcoming the conversation turned to other things.

  ‘We will leave now,’ Sylvion said seriously. ‘I do not wish to delay longer. It is two day’s ride. We must make the cave tonight and be in KingsLoss tomorrow by sundown. I must get back to Revelyn.’ And so it was. Orcxyl called the horses which came quickly and eagerly, greatly enjoying the attention which was heaped upon them as re-acquaintances were made. They were then saddled and all required their girth straps adjusted for they had put on some condition over the four seasons since they had last worn them, and Reigin praised Orcxyl on how well he had kept the leather and saddle bags and other things from any deterioration.

  And then soon after they were ready; each gave Orcxyl a firm handshake or a kiss or hug, or some combination of these, and Gravyn was not the least in any of it. They mounted, and with a wave departed the Valley of The Kings, leaving Orcxyl, a lone figure amongst the standing stones and the mighty burial mounds, although Sylvion thought she caught sight of another figure from the corner of her eye when she turned her head quickly the last time to wave goodbye, but it was a momentary thing and was soon forgotten as the mighty horses gathered speed and galloped thunderously south to meet the east road to KingsLoss. They made good time for the horses were most willing to gallop for long periods, seeming to enjoy the task of carrying a rider once more. They headed north off the road in the afternoon and by some careful deduction and with the horse’s knowledge they arrived at the great cave where they had spent their first night when long before they had set out to Svalbard. The horses luxuriated in the sand bed at the back of the cave as the tired riders prepared a massive fire at the mouth to ward of the wolves. To their surprise only a single wolf came in from the dark, hard upon the scent of the horses, and this a little after sunset. It was not a large wolf and its howls seemed a most lonely lament for they went unanswered, causing Reigin to comment...

  ‘The forest perhaps is less fearsome with the fall of Zydor,’ and the others thought his words to be true. Rema spent some time by the fire reading his book which by now was well worn and suffering from the trials of the long journey, but he found it full of comfort, especially when he read of El-Arathor who seemed always to be watching over Revelyn and gave advice or direction when it was most required, and most unexpected. Between his readings of passages Rema watched Sylvion who sat with Rayven and talked deep into the night.

  They are so alike and yet so different, he thought. Both beautiful, like sisters, and yet...he shook his head in wonderment, they are not. He watched Rayven carefully and saw in her kindma’s manner, the smile and laugh, and the way she moved her right hand to keep hair from her face. But he saw too a deeper wisdom in her face, and the great confidence with which she seemed to speak, and although he could not hear a word or their quiet conversation Rema knew from the look on Sylvion’s face, that her daughter was telling her much of importance which seemed at last to make sense to the White Queen of Revelyn. And so he felt his heart warm to Rayven Greyfeld, heir to the throne of Revelyn. He turned from time to time and saw Gravyn sitting alone as always, for he took a simple pleasure in his own thoughts and company which his stony nature had forced upon him for so long that it had become more natural than not. And Rema saw him smile, and the tears upon his cheeks, and Rema marvelled at the transformation in the great archer. He caught Gravyn’s eye once or twice, and they smiled and nodded and Gravyn seemed completely unashamed of his emotions as he embraced a new beginning.

  Reigin stood watch by the fire. He kept it well fuelled and looked continually out into the dark as if expecting some attack, suspicious that it was so quiet despite his previous words, and not yet convinced that the ferocious wolves of the forest had vanished. But there was no attack or any threat, and so they all slept well to wake to a pleasant day and a final hard ride to KingsLoss. And as they came to the final bend beyond which lay their goal a sudden thunder encompassed them and in a moment they were surrounded by riders on the same great horses as they rode and there was Tryon and Tress and others... a score at least and a mighty cry went up, a cheer for they were welcome.

  ‘We had news of you last evening, from a watcher on the road,’ Tyron said in great excitement, ‘we could not believe it but the message said the five horses were from KingsLoss so we knew it had to be you.’ He looked about at them all. ‘This is wonderful, we knew that Zydor is dead and Svalbard no more, we have even been there and seen for ourselves the great lake which covers all... we searched for many days, but of you there was no sign and we thought you had all perished in slaying Zydor... but now...’ he could not finish such were his emotions and there were great handshakes and tears and then they rode together in a thunderous final charge down the hills and into the safety at last of KingsLoss, accompanied by the cheers of the people of that happy place, who stood upon the ramparts and gave voice to their amazement and pleasure.

  They were given the best rooms and whatever they wished and having washed and rested and in some manner cleaned the dirt of the past seasons away, they assembled in the room high up in the fortress by the same roaring fire as before and ate a hearty meal and told of all that had come to pass. But one was missing.

  ‘And what of Giraldyn?’ Sylvion asked quietly when all was told, and the marvelling had diminished for the listeners could not easily believe the story of Zydor’s spell and the long enchanted sleep in the Valley of the Kings. Tyron smiled and Tress shed a tear at this simple question and they all knew the answer but wanted to hear what was to be said.

  ‘Giraldyn died soon after Zydor’s fall,’ Tryon replied with dignified emotion. ‘He knew this would be the way of it, and in the end so too did we all. He was our leader until the fall of Svalbard. He was gifted a long life and he lived it well and went to his rest peacefully. He is buried on the flat land by the river.’ A silence fell upon them for a time as they remembered the great man and then Tress asked...

  ‘And you too return without a full company. What of the hunter, Orcxyl?’

  ‘He is alive,’ Sylvion replied, ‘and well, and as we have told you. He watched over us all the time we slept in the tomb in the Valley of the Kings. But he remained behind. He, I think, is somewhat enchanted by that place. He has built a lovely cabin and has all he needs. He could not be persuaded to continue with us.’

  ‘He is happy surrounded by ghosts,’ Rema said with a chuckle, ‘so it seems he is in good company in that place, but for me...I was happy to leave that place.’ He shivered and he was not alone in this.’

  ‘And what do you now plan Sylvion?’ Tyron asked suddenly turning all their minds to the things to come.

  ‘We must return to Revelyn,’ Sylvion replied. ‘The evil there has grown surely, for Gryfnor who is Zydor’s twin by a different name, Zelfos as I once knew him...has had four seasons to increase.’ She paused and frowned. ‘ With Zydor’s fall he has suffered much, the Diabules are lost but that alone will not stop him for he has perhaps enough supply of these evil things, and even so he has power enough of his own by the will of Ungarit to steal a people and bring down all that is good and truthful.’ She looked seriously at Tyron. ‘We must cross the river and head south tomorrow. We cannot stay longer. Can you help us Tyron? We need out horses back, those we brought here, and passage across the river, a few supplies and that is all...’

  At that moment the fortress see
med to shake, an almost imperceptible vibration but one which they all felt. Tyron went quickly to the stone walls and placed his hands upon them. ‘There it is again,’ he whispered. ‘Three times now this day...’

  ‘And this is not the first time,’ Tress added. ‘We felt this first almost a moon ago. And since then each day...we do not know what it bodes.’ The shaking lasted no longer than the conversation and then it ceased. They looked at each other in great puzzlement till Reigin spoke.

  ‘We felt this before.’ And they looked hard at him.

  ‘In the cave south of Waterman,’ he continued softly but with great seriousness. ‘Do you not remember Sylvion...Rema, and then the water came in.’

  ‘The land was sinking,’ Sylvion whispered in awe. And Reigin nodded.

  ‘What does this mean?’ Tyron asked fearfully. No one spoke for a time but finally Sylvion broke the silence.

  ‘It means we face a greater thing than all the wolves and enchantments of Zydor,’ she said in a hoarse whisper. ‘They fought it with evil sacrifice... but it is not to be fought.’

  ‘What is happening then?’ Tyron asked. But Sylvion shook her head.

  ‘All I can think is that there is some bond between the evil of Zydor and Zelfos who is Gryfnor and the land sinking. We must get to Ramos and slay Gryfnor and halt the evil sacrifice and all associated with it. This to me is the only escape for the land.’

  ‘And if you do not?’ Tress whispered.

  ‘Then all Revelyn sinks into the sea. All of it and this mighty fortress with it,’ Rayven said forcefully, and they were all shocked at her words and her boldness in their delivery; and the awful fact of what she said. And in that moment Sylvion knew something deep within her. She looked upon he daughter and knew it to be true. The time is come she thought, and she looked upon Rayven and understood.

  ‘We will help you of course,’ Tryon said then. ‘Your own horses will not suffice. You will take the steeds you rode out from here to Svalbard. They will bear you well and they are the least we can offer for our fate seems tied to all in Revelyn. We will take you across the river at first light. I will make preparation this moment, and you must rest for no doubt you will need all your strength in the days ahead.’ And then he paused and looked at his guests, before adding quietly, ‘but what if the land sinks, even here... what of the people here in KingsLoss, they stand opposed to Zydor, we have always stood against his evil. What becomes of us?’ And to this Sylvion had no answer nor any of the others save Rayven who spoke once more, and it seemed then to Sylvion that the blood of the Wisden flowed truly in her.