by Chris Ward
They left together, the four against a city fallen. They used the main entrance to the Palace, through the small fort with the three portcullises which were still manned by soldiers loyal to the throne, although few remained; the rest seduced by the evil of Gryfnor and his Diabules, a seduction which had even snared one of the mighty Nephilim, and these, the incorruptible ones. Rayven and Reigin went left, towards the east, and as they parted Rayven called clearly.
‘Do your worst, but do not imperil your lives. Flee if you must. I need you both alive.’
And then she and the mighty Edenwhood were swallowed by the city. Gravyn and Rema ran straight ahead down the road to the city market where few remained, for most had gone at Gryfnor’s call to invoke Ungarit and give sacrifice to save the sinking land. They ran down the wide path where four seasons before they had stood shoulder to shoulder and done battle against each other with the bow. They passed stalls and abandoned livestock scattering chickens and ducks, and angry geese that voiced their indignation to any who might care to listen. And so they came quickly to Gryfnor’s tent pitched upon the remaining grass which had been allowed to grow in that place. Beside it stood a strange grey horse and simple cart which throughout the land marked the passing of the magician. They took breath before the magician’s pavilion, and looking around saw that they were alone and none to watch. Rema then walked once around the tent as if to gain the courage for what might come next.
‘A score,’ he said, ‘only a score of paces to circle this thing. What is so important about such a tent?’
‘I think we cut it down,’ Gravyn said with a nervousness to his voice, ‘before the power in your blade is lost.’ And Rema thought a moment, and drew the sword which glowed dully in the morning sun.
‘We shall Gravyn, but first I shall take one look inside. What knowledge I can find here might well give us some advantage with what comes to pass.’ But Gravyn shook his head.
‘I am thinking this is not a good idea Rema, it is enchanted sure enough.’ But Rema would not be put off. He went to the tent and tried to open the flap which clearly admitted any, in or out. But it would not yield to his grip. And so he took his glowing word and slid it easily into the overlap of canvas high up by his head, and with a single downward cut, the magic of the sealed flap was overcome and Rema held it back and went to enter.
‘And what do I do if someone comes now and you are not here,’ Gravyn asked looking all about, and Rema in that moment could not help himself for his blood was up.
‘Smile at them Gravyn,’ he said as if he were teasing his great friend Andes, ‘Smile at them, that will shock them true enough.’ And with that he disappeared into the tent. And Gravyn laughed, for Rema’s word seemed in that moment to have been the right response.
‘You are a funny man,’ he called to Rema, and then he smiled as broadly as he could, and took pleasure in the doing of it... but in the tent Rema heard not a thing.
Reigin followed Rayven for she knew the city like herself. They travelled fast. He was hardly out of breath whilst she was gasping with the effort. They were going down as well as east for the paths and roads she took descended down to the port, or what remained of it, but she knew the way to keep above the crowd and come to the old city wall by another route. She did not want to encounter the great crowd from the rear.
‘The three are upon the city wall which is built into the river,’ she gasped as they ran, ‘there are steps we can use to get up upon the wall and be above the crowd, if we stay higher up.’ And then she had to stop and get her wind for she could not keep up the frantic pace. Reigin stood by and waited. He was completely calm and in that moment he remembered well his previous life long before, as a wolver for the throne, and living here in Ramos but with a different view of all things. And it came to him then how much he had changed and how much of a debt he owed to Sylvion.
We will not let you down My Lady, he thought and then with a grim determination they ran on. They heard the low and resonant chanting some distance off, and the words came clearly to them.
‘Ungarit, Ungarit, Ungarit...’ over and over went the invocation, and it seemed the very stones of the houses and the streets vibrated with the chant. The crowd was indeed very large and in fact they did encounter the rear of it but not enough to prevent a dash up a narrow alley and then by a parallel path to steps which led up onto the old city wall. They took breath again just before they climbed and this time Reigin spoke for he saw that Rayven was not able to do so.
‘We will take the innocents, and not slay any in the crowd,’ he said anticipating her thoughts, ‘this is your wish?’ And Rayven nodded drawing deeply of the air to regain herself.
‘And what of Gryfnor?’ Reigin asked. ‘If you use the Shadow Blade remember I too will be unable to resist it, and the crowd is large and may not all fall enthralled to its light.’
‘I will only go after Gryfnor if the three are safe,’ Rayven replied. ‘But if he is there...and he will be, then I must make him feel some fear. He has to know that his time is short.’
‘Lead on then Rayven Queen of Revelyn,’ Reigin said with a smile which could did hide the eager anticipation he felt, for the wolver in him was not completely submerged, and he was Edenwhood, and loved to use the sword.
They raced up the steps and ran down the wall toward the three who stood with their captors on the edge of death, high above the river which stretched now forever like a sea to the south. The crowd did not notice the two figures running fast. The chanting went on without a break, the evil words floating up from where they stood in solemn assembly in the streets below. Rayven saw that those who were to do the sacrifice were few, perhaps ten, and Gryfnor was not among them, and she muttered bitterly. ‘You have them now trained to murder without your guidance, or your hand.’ And her anger burned hot within her breast.
The sound of their feet suddenly alerted the ones who were about to commit the evil act and they turned and stared for a moment, and in that instant of shock Reigin pounced with deadly accuracy. He swept into them with his sword. Three were soldiers and so he killed them without a thought, and before they had hardly moved; three thrusts, three falling bodies that toppled over and into the water, and Rayven watched in awe. Reigin cut two more who saw what was happening and who went to push the three bound captives into the river, and their blood quickly stained the stone as he deftly sliced the bonds from all three innocents who had hardly begun to understand the sudden intervention on their behalf.
‘Stand back!’ Reigin commanded and grabbing them, pulled them powerfully away from the edge where they stood, and so in a moment they were safe enough and then the others on the wall came at them and Sylvion had dire cause to use the Shadow Blade and she too felled three more and with the flat of it laid the others senseless. And this all took place so quickly that the crowd for the most part still kept up the chant, ‘Ungarit, Ungarit, Ungarit...’ And then Rayven was emboldened and stood above them all and cried out in a voice which shook the city.
‘Enough!’ And a sudden silence fell as she wondered where Gryfnor might be.
The crowd looked up and sullenly understood that the sacrifice had been interrupted, but not a single one responded. And then Rayven saw Gryfnor. He stood to one side of the mob and some distance back. Her eyes caught his and she saw his anger and hate, but also fear, and so she did not hesitate.
‘Gryfnor,’ she cried, ‘you shall not further do evil in this city. Too long have you stood in the shadows and sucked at the life blood of Revelyn. I know your name. It is Zelfos, it is evil, it is sorcery. I shall slay you soon. You are warned.’ And Gryfnor saw that another wielded the Shadow Blade and wondered what had come to pass, but he knew that things had changed for he not been openly challenged before, and had indeed worked within the city with great success. He looked proudly upon his small army of willing servants and thought at the same moment, She cannot harm me for she has not the Royal Sceptre to gain the full power which The White Queen had. And drawing
comfort from this he sought at last to command that which he had always desired to rule; the citizens of Revelyn.
‘Bring those two down, kill them, fall upon them for they have offended Ungarit,’ he screamed.
And Rayven looked down upon the crowd and saw how lost and ignorant they were. At Gryfnor’s command some turned about bewildered and did not know what to do, others took Diabules form their pockets and put them to their forehead and sought solace in a better fantasy. And so Gryfnor screamed once more and three score who were more willing ran to gain the steps which they had climbed, and in an instant Rayven knew they would be cut off and have to slay many to get to freedom. She saw that Gryfnor gloated and so she brought the Shadow Blade up and sent a white hot pulse of burning light across the distance to him but with a hand held up unsteadily he parried the blast whilst falling back in fear. And Rayven thought in anger, this is all you have, a rabble who will hardly do your bidding. Death at every possibility, and ruin, ruin of a once great land. And you will be destroyed. And for what?
A mighty hand then suddenly grabbed her and threw her back along the wall the way they had come. ‘We must run now Rayven,’ Reigin growled, ‘or else we will be up to our armpits in the dead citizens of Ramos. Leave Gryfnor for another time.’ And so with great haste they took the three who had been saved back along the wall and just managed to get past the steps as a great crowd came roaring up to them. There were many swords and clubs and soldiers with the royal hardened steel of Revelyn, and much screaming incoherently for their blood. But on the narrow wall, Reigin sent the others on and alone he held them off and stared them down, cutting many but slaying none, until they slunk away, for after a short fierce fight Reigin sternly warned them that he would kill the next five instantly if steel met steel one more time. And they saw in his eyes the fire of the Edenwhood at war and were cowed and stepped back, none willing to be the first to die. And Rayven ran with the saved ones back along the wall and then by a safe path to the Palace, and was glad that she had not used her Shadow Blade as she could, for her anger was great and she feared she might have slain many.
‘Oh Reigin,’ she whispered thankfully as she ran, ‘you are a mighty man to save me from that which Sylvion suffered.’
Gryfnor cursed. He watched his followers wilt and not know what to do, and those who obeyed were impressive at the start but soon came slinking back empty handed with a story that they were overpowered. He screamed out his feelings in angry vitriolic hate, and they stood and sullenly accepted his abuse, and for the first time he thought that all he had sought was far too small for all the effort he had given.
‘Come we will return to my tent,’ he commanded, ‘and then I will direct you all what next we do, for there I have something far greater than all of you pathetic beings. It is time to release them and let my rule be sealed.’ And with an evil laugh, he led led them off.
Rema stood in shock. The space inside the tent was far larger than the tent itself from without. And there were more rooms besides. Before him were a few crude benches upon which no doubt Gryfnor’s invited few were sat whilst he spoke of what he offered. Andes sat here he thought and yet he did not tell that it was so huge inside. Then he spied a basket full of small rocks. ‘Diabules,’ he whispered and immediately felt some strange attraction to them, but he shook himself. It is the Diabules he thought. That must be it. Once you use them surely you do not remember what this place is like. He stepped across the space and through a loose flap, and there before him was a hallway. Rema shook his head and muttered, ‘I thought it enchanted but this is beyond everything...’ There were other flaps at intervals along the hallway and Rema walked softly down to the first one, then some deep sense made his skin crawl and he wanted to turn away. He composed himself. What lies within should be revealed he thought, and so, taking a mighty breath he held back the flap and peered in. What he saw froze his entire body. A paroxysm held him fast upon that spot, for there before his eyes, not five paces away in a great space, larger even than the first he had stepped into, was a Shadow Hunter. It stood staring fixedly at him and Rema’s blood ran cold.
A moment passed, and then another, and Rema realised that the terrible creature was enchanted too, unable to do anything without the command of its master, Gryfnor. Slowly he let the flap slip shut and with an effort he walked on. The next flap revealed the same, another Shadow Hunter. Rema looked down the hallway and saw many more flaps. ‘This is an army waiting release,’ he whispered. ‘What can we possibly do?’ he took a moment and composed himself and then turned back, but one last flap seemed to draw him on. It was at the end of the hallway. It seemed different. I have come this far... Rema thought, and so with some trepidation he walked down to it. With a quick breath he drew it back, and stepped in and was immediately overcome by the evil which lay there. The space was not as large as the other spaces, but in the centre was a great hole, a great open pit that called immediately to him with voices of subtle persuasion, in words which seemed half formed but yet which drew him on. He could not resist, and so Rema peered over and down and was transfixed for it seemed to fall away forever into another realm. And one word came to him. Ungarit. He knew then in his heart that this was the doorway to the realm of all evil. To the kingdom of Ungarit. And unseen but high up in a corner two Wrythers coiled about each other and whispered in their strange tongue, curious as to who this one was and what right he had to enter upon such sacred ground.
And then Rema moved. He gathered himself and stepped back. He left that place and ran down the hallway and into the meeting space. He took a breath and then stepped back into the world of Revelyn.
‘What have you been doing in there?’ Gravyn growled at him. ‘I have called and called. I could not get in. You have been gone two span.’ And Rema looked at Gravyn and shook his head.
‘No, I have only been in there a short time, but it is enchanted Gravyn, it holds secrets, such terrible secrets...’ And the look upon Rema’s face cooled Gravyn’s anger and he knew that Rema had indeed been walking in a strange place.
‘I am sorry my friend,’ Gravyn said, but we cannot stay long now, surely the crowd and Gryfnor will return soon.
‘We must destroy this,’ Rema hissed and took his sword and plunged it into the tent, but it glowed no longer and bounced right off and made no mark. He went to the ropes and all around and tried to do some damage but the tent could not be harmed. Rema cried out in frustration. ‘We must destroy this tent Gravyn. It holds our death.’ And they looked at each other but knew it was impossible. The tent was beyond them.
‘We could move it,’ Gravyn said suddenly. ‘Gryfnor does it, why not just take it down, and steal it away.’
And Rema shook his head, ‘surely not?’ But Gravyn went and took one of the support ropes off and then another. The tent sagged a little.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Rema said but then he too was taking the ropes off and within a moment the tent was dropped upon the ground. They wrapped the ropes around it and tied them tight, and the bundle was small and light enough for one man to lift. Rema shook his head.
‘If you knew what was in there Gravyn you would have never have thought of that.’
‘So it is well I stayed out here and bit my nails,’ Gravyn replied with a smile. ‘Now what to do with it?’ And suddenly Rema knew.
‘Water,’ he said. ‘In Svalbard that was what took Zydor away. If we hid it, it will be found. Let us take it to the river and get someone with a boat to sink it out in the deepest part. It will never be found.’ And they looked at each other and nodded in agreement for it seemed the only thing to do.
‘Gravyn you are far stronger than I. You take it,’ Rema said. ‘Find a man with a boat. Here pay them all I have,’ and he produced three gold coins. ‘This is a week’s wages for some. You go and I will...’ and at that moment they heard the approaching crowd. ‘Go now Gravyn, I will create some diversion if I can.’ And so Gravyn hoisted the tent and poles and ropes upon his broad shoulders and struggl
ed off down to the sunken port, carrying such things as he could not believe upon his back.
The crowd flowed back into the market square as Rema retreated back and up toward the Palace. They saw him and cried out and all looked his way. Gryfnor appeared then and suddenly saw that his tent was gone and flew into an instant rage. He screamed and cursed, and Rema knew they had done him great damage. He saw Gryfnor turn toward him and behind he could still see Gravyn struggling on with his evil load. I cannot let them turn he thought for if they see Gravyn he is dead. And so he unslung his bow and notched an arrow and let one fly right at Gryfnor’s head. The magician though knew he was in no danger and so stood and putting up a hand turned the shaft to ash. Rema heard him laugh contemptuously.
Well I have plenty of arrows, Rema thought and so he sent three more in quick succession and Gryfnor burnt them all much to the mirth of the crowd. Rema then backed away for he saw the crowd begin to approach him. He saw Gryfnor turn as though suspecting he had been distracted, and at that moment Gravyn disappeared at last from sight. And Rema fled for he did not know what sorcery might follow with Gryfnor in such a rage.
And Gryfnor realised he had been taken for a fool and made to play to the crowd instead of slaying the impudent archer with a single gesture. He turned back but the market was empty save for the fools who stood and dully acclaimed his majesty.
‘Where is my tent?’ he screamed. But the crowd did not know the answer, nor what to do, and a deep fear came upon Gryfnor for he had worked tirelessly to bring up all the Shadow Hunters and provide the sacrifice for Ungarit, and now when his authority was about to break upon Revelyn and ensure his victory, his tent was stolen and with it the remaining Diabules and the creatures that were prepared for the final battle. ‘Who did this?’ he screamed, but no one answered and not a few put Diabules to their foreheads and seemed lost to further abuse.
