by Chris Ward
I am old she thought. I always wondered what I might look like. I see my kindma now. And she ran her hands around her face and traced the lines and wrinkles which had appeared in so short a time. ‘I wonder Rema if you would have loved me as I am now,’ she whispered.
And then Sylvion led her horse around to the back of the barn into an open space and knelt by the grave of her dear parents. And memories overtook her, and she wept.
‘You were so good to me, both of you,’ she said between her sobs. ‘I remember you so well. I owe you so much.’ And then she picked some flowers and decorated the grave. Finally with an effort she climbed upon her horse and rode slowly off and entered the forest, pausing for the briefest moment to look back upon her childhood home; a final glimpse, and then on.
‘I am coming one last time, Equin,’ she called as the forest swallowed her, but her voice had lost its strength, and so she reached into her saddle bag and took out the small horn which she had never given up, and with which she once called her beloved Equin when a child. She blew upon it and once more the note rang out clear and true and echoed through the trees. She rode on deeper and deeper into the forest through glades and open places until at last she reached her favourite place where many times she had sat with Thunder and the others and talked and felt a special bond which only she would ever know, for the Equin never gave themselves to any other. She rode slowly to the stream that meandered through the wide meadow and slumped wearily down beside it. Once more she drank and saw that she had aged even in that short time. She stood, but could no longer pull herself up upon her horse and so she led it back to a higher place, where she had sat so often before and was surprised that though her body was failing her memoires were clear and true. She took the horn and blew it again and then lay upon the grass and watched the sun set and loved all that was about her, for her world had shrunk to just that place upon the sward.
Through the night she lay and dozed, aware at times of her horse close by feeding on the grass and then coming to stand and bend down to nuzzle her with great affection. The day dawned and still she lingered. She tried once more to blow her horn but had not the strength. Her breathing came with more effort now.
‘Please come,’ she pleaded but no one heard. She dozed in the warm sun as it passed its zenith and into the mid noon. She woke with a start and lay watching the clouds and then with a great effort Sylvion lifted her head and gasped softly, as her tears flowed. The Equin were there and they were dancing. It was slow and beautiful and took her back to other happier times, before all the death, and they went on and on and all the while her mighty steed stood by her side and watched with her, the wonderful sight of the Equin of Wildwood forest.
And finally she lay back exhausted, but content. The sun was low and her body so very frail. Sylvion knew she was fading, that her hold upon Revelyn was at an end and still her horse stood by her and watched with care as if it understood.
And then a sudden rush of wonderful memories came to her and she smiled, and with the softest sigh she breathed her last. And so Sylvion Greyfeld the great White Queen of Revelyn, the bearer of the Shadow Blade, departed her beloved Revelyn by the door which is death.
And so she lay still and her horse nuzzled her and whinnied gently and then the Equin came, five score in all, the remnant of that mighty breed. They stood around and looked upon the frail old woman and did not know her. And then a man emerged from the forest, and he came and stood with the horses. He wore a cowl and a long flowing robe. He smiled down at Sylvion and then bent and with a single loving motion closed her sightless eyes and whispered,
‘Well done Sylvion, now enter your rest.’ And then he turned and spoke to the Equin, and they went to the stream and each took a stone and brought it to where she lay, and placed it carefully close by her, and each horse made a hundred trips and so a mighty cairn of ten thousand stones rose up upon her body, and when it was done, well after the midnight they reared and snorted under the moon and having greeted Sylvion’s faithful steed which was of their kind, they all as one galloped like thunder into the forest and everything was still. And of the man, there was no sign.
And so was the passing of Sylvion.
The time of the Queen was ended.
Rema held Rayven. Reigin and Gravyn knelt beside him, and looked upon her. They were all in shock at her collapse and quite bewildered.
‘What is it?’ Rema asked, ‘what has happened?’ Reigin felt her wrist and relaxed a little. Her heart is strong, and look, she breathes.’ And then a shiver ran through her. And then as suddenly as she had fallen she opened her eyes and saw only Rema.
‘She is dead Rema,’ Rayven whispered in words of quiet and desperate anguish, and as her tears flowed they understood. Sylvion was no more, and the deep bond she had with her daughter had carried in some manner across time and space, and so at the very time of her passing it had brought Rayven down with a terrible blow. And they all wept then for the White Queen of Revelyn was deeply loved, and had been renowned in the land. And so they made a fire and sat quietly together. They spoke few words but Rayven sat close to Rema and put her head upon his shoulder, and he an arm about her and for that time she was no more than a grieving daughter, and the events of that day in which she had claimed the Shadow Blade and made a stand in Sheldon seemed like another time.
‘The people never really knew her,’ Rayven said at last when she could trust her voice again. ‘The white veil was perhaps a good ruse but it meant she lived a lonely life, with few friends and even fewer close ones.’
‘Indeed to have her pass this way without acknowledgment seems a hard thing,’ Reigin said. ‘I think upon the farewell we gave to Elder Anderlorn. All in AlGiron came. So much celebration and naming of the things he had done...’ His voice trailed off. ‘It is a shame,’ he finished.
‘At least we can do something. Indeed we must,’ Rema said and stood quickly. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘bring your weapons. Reigin you have Anderwyn, Rayven the Shadow Blade. I will fix an arrow to my bow and Gravyn you can do the same. Stand with me now.’ And so they did, the four alone in the forest to say a sad farewell to Sylvion the White Queen of Revelyn who lay far off under a growing cairn of rock, her body still warm.
And so they stood around the fire and brought the tips of their mighty weapons together above it. Two great swords and two deadly arrow heads, their shafts upon the bows. And Rema spoke, and now with a new confidence.
‘We salute you Sylvion. Your life and your time. You have been a faithful Queen to your people and to Revelyn. And more...you have been a good friend. Go in peace and may we meet again.’ And they all joined in the simple ‘Go in peace’ several times, and although it was not in unison it was heartfelt and the Shadow Blade glowed suddenly and in a single amazing moment the light from it crackled out and encompassed them all, dancing about from one to the other in a wonderful display of white and blue, and it came from the Blade which Sylvion had borne at her side almost all her long life, and it joined them, indeed sealed them as the ones who knew her best and were her friends until the end. And as the light of the Shadow Blade died away, far off a final rock was placed upon her cairn, but this was not a timing known to them.
‘Thank you Rema,’ Rayven said and hugged him. ‘That was very special.’
‘Indeed well done Rema,’ Reigin said and Gravyn even reached out and grasped him by the shoulder and with a mighty hand squeezed him hard, and his smile told of his approval.
The last day of their journey to Ramos was a sad one, for the knowledge of Sylvion’s passing was close enough to bring tears at any time, and Rayven saw that the three wonderful men she rode with were truly able to show how much they felt for her kindma. And she too struggled to keep her vision clear and focus upon their course. And so they rode the great road between Sheldon and Ramos. They passed more folk and saw that there was movement either way in roughly the same measure. They did not stop and indeed their thunderous approach caused most to step aside and watch in admi
ration as the great horses galloped by. And so they came to Ramos. A final crest and there stood the mighty city and the White Palace at it centre and high above on its rocky mount. Rayven felt the saddest thrill for it was a sight which always moved her, but the knowledge that she returned without her kindma Sylvion brought strange emotions to the fore. They halted for a moment and allowed their tired horses to recover.
‘We will not enter by the main gate. I want no trouble this day,’ Rayven said, ‘and I am sure our approach will have been brought to Gryfnor’s attention.’
‘How then do we enter?’ Gravyn asked.
‘By the tunnel,’ Rayven said, still looking steadfastly upon her home.
‘There is such a thing?’ Gravyn continued.
‘Indeed there is, but it has long been a secret.’ She paused and then looked at her companions. ‘Long ago, well before I was born a pig farmer was digging a well just north of the city. He had a farm there about a league from the city wall. He knew there was water for he could hear it running underground, but when he dug down to it he apparently broke through into a massive tunnel which the Mountain Dwarves had dug from the Mount of Ramos, directly north. He explored the tunnel and found that it ran right up and into the Palace. In fact he broke through a wall and was arrested. You can imagine the upset, a pig farmer wandering around deep inside the Palace, but he was found to be genuine and so Sylvion acquired his farm and established a compound which was for her use only. It was let known that the Royal House wanted a place outside the city but close by to stable horses. A wall was built around it...’ Rayven spurred her horse and they trotted forward as she continued,
‘Sylvion was wearing the white veil by now and this new place gave her the ability to ride out into Revelyn without being noticed for no one knew who she was. And when I came along we would both ride together. I was known well enough, but any who saw me thought Sylvion was a friend.’ She took a deep breath, for the memory of those times came sadly to her. ‘We travelled many places...they were happy times.’ With a hand she wiped the silent tears from her eyes.
‘And now we will use the tunnel to gain entrance to the Palace unseen and hopefully unreported.’ She pushed her steed into a gallop and they rode on toward the city but some three leagues off Rayven turned down a path and they rode north until in a lovely valley in sight of the city walls they came upon a large high-walled compound which was secured by an equally impressive iron gate. Rayven dismounted and went to the wall and some distance along to her left she reached into a crevice and pulled forth a key. With this she opened the gates and signalled them to enter. Then she secured the gate once more. They looked around and realised they were now completely out of sight, for the walls were high enough to block out any view, even from the hills of the valley in which they were. It was a perfectly secretive place.
‘Welcome to Little Ramos’ Rayven said. ‘I called it this from the time I could speak, and it is one of my favourite places, for when I was a child I was allowed to play here and groom the horses. I learnt to ride here and on the hills outside.’ They looked around and saw that there were large stables and plenty of hay, with room to exercise several horses, and a wonderful sand bed for a horse to roll about and rid itself of any itch.
‘But we cannot linger,’ Rayven said. ‘We can let the horses roam free, they will be safe enough for a while. They have water and feed.’ And so they removed their saddles and bridles and let the great steeds explore their new quarters, as Rayven led her friends to a locked gateway in a building to the rear. Once opened with another hidden key they walked down a ramp and into a large underground tunnel. To their right it disappeared in a gentle downward slope to the north.
‘Where does it go?’ Rema asked, looking in the direction.
‘No one knows,’ Rayven answered and a thrill ran through them all. ‘The slope is wet and slippery and hard to get down. There are gases too. No one has been more than a league down there and still it goes on.’
‘The mountain dwarves seem to have tunnelled most of Revelyn,’ Reigin said quietly, as he peered down into the damp darkness. Even in AlGiron we are always finding new tunnels.’
‘Well we go this way,’ Rayven said nodding with her head to the left and south. She took a torch from the wall. ‘We are lucky this is the last one.’ She struck a flint from one lying in a niche and the torch flared brightly. ‘The last league,’ she said quietly and led off. They followed easily for the tunnel was wide and high and apart from some mustiness the air seemed fresh. ‘We go uphill,’ Rayven explained, ‘and the air is drawn in where we entered and by natural circulation rises up to the Palace which has a vent into the lower passages. The air in this part of the tunnel is always good. Not so the other way.’ She paused and laughed. ‘I used to think it was haunted.’ She laughed but Rema felt a chill and could not help a quick look over his shoulder at the enclosing dark which followed them.
And so they came to Ramos.
A huge Nephilim guard was waiting and opened an iron door and ushered them into the lower passages of the White Palace.
‘Tuban, it is good to see you again,’ Rayven said to the mighty man. Tuban to whom she spoke nodded and smiled slowly.
‘It has been a long time Rayven,’ and then he saw the Shadow Blade at her side and instantly he knew. His great face became immediately serious. ‘The Queen?’ Rayven could not help herself. She blinked back tears and tried to be strong but was unable to be completely composed.
‘Yes,’ she whispered to Tuban. ‘The White Queen is dead. No one knows this, so you must not say a word until I allow it.’
‘Of course My Lady,’ Tuban replied immediately using the royal salutation, and dropping to one knee. ‘I am grieved, she was a mighty Queen,’ he continued. ‘And you have my loyalty My Lady.’ At this Rayven seemed embarrassed.
‘I am not the Queen yet Tuban.’ The mighty Nephilim stood and smiled.
‘I will take you to Germayne. She will be most happy that you have arrived safely.’ He then nodded at Gravyn. ‘Greetings archer,’ he said and was most surprised at the smile which was returned for he was used to a stony silence at best from the one he addressed.
‘Greetings Tuban,’ Gravyn said with a chuckle, and then they were led off by the perplexed Nephilim who completely blocked the passage with his bulk.
Germayne greeted them with a shriek. And tears.
‘Oh you have returned!’ she cried, ‘I have waited so long,’ and embraced Rayven in a manner that showed the two were very close. ‘I was so afraid that you were lost,’ she said with an unashamed affection to the new bearer of the Shadow Blade. ‘Come in and we must talk, so much has happened. I have been...’ But then she stopped and welcomed Reigin and Rema with a powerful hug, and Gravyn too when she saw his mighty smile to which her dumbfounded reaction gave them all cause to laugh, not least the great archer himself. The tall and graceful Germayne whose Edenwhood blood marked her clearly, then stood and wept and she was not alone. It was a most emotional reunion.
‘Sylvion is not with you,’ Germayne said finally, ‘I thank you for your message Rayven. What news of My Lady...’ and then she saw the Shadow Blade at Rayven’s side and a look of awful horror claimed her features. She put both hands to her face and whispered, ‘No, it cannot be. Not her.’
And once more the two women embraced as Rayven held her close and Germayne shook with a terrible grief.
‘What happened?’ Germayne asked finally and they all took seats and knew they must share all that had come to pass.
‘Sylvion gave up the Shadow Blade,’ Rayven said softly. ‘She was not slain, or lost. She knew her time had ended for the cost to bear it had become too much. She went to Wildwood, three days ago, four, no ...’ She shook her head. ‘So much has happened I cannot remember, but she went home and I think to the forest.’
‘To the Equin,’ Germayne breathed quietly, nodding. ‘Surely she went to see them one last time, they were so important to her.’ They were all quiet for a
time and food was brought and ale and the fire stoked, for the night had become cold. They sat around a mighty table and the meal was both happy and sad, full of laughter and tears, and deep emotions which cut through to the heart of each. Germayne looked at Rema.
‘Your dear friend Andes is dead,’ she said as gently as she could. I had no way to let you know,’ and then when she saw little shock upon their faces... ‘But you know this?’ she asked somewhat puzzled, and Reigin told of how this was so.
‘He was mighty, Rema,’ Germayne whispered when the Edenwhood had finished. ‘We were assailed in Fellonshead by a creature which would make a Shadow Hunter look tame. It was a huge beast of such power and ability that I hid, for I could do nothing, nothing at all. I was truly afraid of this thing.’ And Germayne shuddered at the memory. ‘It could speak in a fashion and was cunning and so fast, and so very, very powerful.’ She spoke now with tears in her eyes and much awe in her voice.
‘But Andes was like lightning. With his sword he was everywhere.’ She turned to Reigin. ‘You would have known his blood was true Reigin, for he was a great warrior then. The fight lasted through the night and Andes was not injured in the least as far as I could tell, but he cut this awful creature... a devil dragon I would call it for it came from no realm which humans know. Over and over he cut it, and slowly, he brought it down. I heard the fight all over Fellonshead but I was there at the end. Andes was hit with its mighty tail and would have been slain instantly but for the cloak he wore which I am sure gave him protection. But he lay broken, and the evil creature too, and it taunted us fearfully...’ And at this moment Germayne wondered whether to talk of her part in the Dragyn’s end, but she chose not to, for Rema’s sake and wanting Andes to take the glory. ‘And so the creature died of its wounds and Andes too.’ She took breath and they all wept a little or much, as their emotions overcame them.
