Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls

by Chris Ward

  ‘Please do whatever is required,’ said Rema quietly, ‘from what I have seen, rather from what I have experienced so far, you seem to be able to do far more than is humanly possible. I cannot be in better hands.’ He paused a moment, then added quietly ‘But in all truth I have many questions.’

  ‘And some shall receive answers, Rema, but not all. Now lie back and let me do what I can.’

  Rema obeyed and watched in wonder as Mentor washed his leg with a warm and sweet smelling liquid. It burnt at the start but slowly his leg went numb. Not enough so that he did not need to grip the bed at times as his wound was cleaned, but enough for him to remain conscious and see Mentor open the wound with a sharp knife and remove the black pus and clean the edges of all the dead flesh. His wound was filled with a warm poultice which Mentor brought from another room and then it was all strapped shut until a suitable time has passed and then reopened and the substance removed. He lay alone for a time with many thoughts and wonders racing through his mind. Rema felt the pain lessen as time passed, and he knew his fever had diminished, and his sweating disappeared completely. Finally Mentor took a needle and thread and sowed the wound edges together in the common manner he had seen before when a child.

  But the most amazing thing happened at the end. Cleaned and stitched the wound was no longer black and swollen, but reddish and less threatening, although Rema knew he would not walk well on it for many days. The infection had done its work. But Mentor was not finished.

  He sat on a stool by the bed and placed both hands on Rema’s thigh and spoke quietly in a tongue which Rema had never heard. It was like a chant but had elements of prayer-like conversation and he understood not a word. As Mentor continued, Rema felt his leg warm and strengthen and then to his utter amazement the stitches fell out and when Mentor removed his hands he could see no evidence at all that he had ever been wounded. His thigh was as strong and healthy as his other leg.

  ‘Get up and try your weight on it,’ said Mentor sitting back with a weary smile, but they both knew there was no need, for Rema was healed.

  For a time they sat without a word, but finally Rema could contain himself no longer, and questions poured forth in such a torrent that Mentor stopped him and gently spoke.

  ‘I think it best if I speak and you listen, that way we will not get confused with unnecessary detail, and I will most likely answer some of your questions, but not all mind, there is much which cannot be told, and perhaps some you will not even remember.’

  With that Mentor brought some simple food and cool cordial and settled himself by the window. Rema half expected that he might conjure a pipe from somewhere and smoke awhile as all the wise men from his childhood would do. But this did not eventuate. Mentor just talked, quietly and with passion, and Rema listened and tried to understand.

  ‘There are things unseen which men do not know and cannot understand. There are those who hear, but refuse to learn. There are things which you should not know but events beyond your control have led you here and so there is a little you can be told.’

  This start was like a riddle to Rema who immediately went to ask a question, but Mentor spoke more firmly.

  ‘Silence Rema Bowman, this will be done as I see fit. Listen carefully and you may well be given a gift of understanding beyond all in this land at present.’ His eyes were fierce and almost cutting, and Rema sat back chastened and waited.

  ‘There are realities beyond this world which have existed beyond time and will last to the other side, when the measuring by days and months and years and seasons as humans do will be forgotten. There are beings who create and fulfill and others which pull apart and destroy. These are beyond the normal reach of man and woman, but not always, for there is a love of justice in the space between spaces, and a passion held for law and order, and what is right over wrong and evil, by those who have created, and these are not unknowing of the travails and sorrows of the created.’

  Mentor paused a moment to let the strange words linger and not be lost. Rema was enthralled and found he could not move, his mind more alert than he had ever known. He felt a breathless excitement which was almost too much to contain. Before long the conversation continued.

  ‘I sit before you as Mentor of Revelyn, and that is enough for now. You are safe in my home here. It is not my only home, and when you arrived I showed you a glimpse of what it is in the lower levels of its splendor, but only to show you that I am not to be trifled with and that I am to be believed. That memory will fade, but you must not forget what you have seen.’ Mentor’s glowing eagle eyes held Rema’s for a moment as if to make an important point.

  ‘This land is in danger and has already fallen low. There is a growing evil which must be defeated, but not by magic or sorcery or any other power. It must be done by man and woman, or it cannot be. As with the healing of your leg, it could be done even more quickly than it was, but that is not the way it should be. I wove together the human way and a higher way, because time is short, but you will find that though your body seems healed, it is will carry a reminder of what has been, since the way it was healed was not as it should have been. In the same way the evil in this land must be dealt with in the proper way or else it cannot be lasting and final.’ He paused.

  ‘What I am saying Rema Bowman, is that it is the people who must save Revelyn; and you will lead them.’

  At this Rema felt a surge of excitement and pride which was quickly perceived by Mentor.

  ‘All will fail if pride is mistaken for even the least of virtues. Humility is the white robe of power which will take you forward. Never forget this.’ Rema once more felt chastised but Mentor continued on.

  ‘Come Rema Bowman, I have something to show you.’ Mentor stood and led Rema to a large wooden door, intricately carved with patterns he had never seen before; but he had not time to examine them.

  ‘Follow me,’ commanded Mentor. The door led out onto a steep hillside and immediately Rema recognised the clearing which lay below and the forest which stretched endlessly before him. He was standing high above the place where he had fought the Wolvers. He could see the flat rocky ground where he had fired his three arrows, and lying in the grass close by was a single shield. Of the dead Wolvers, there was no sign.

  ‘You were watching,’ he said quietly. ‘You saw me kill those men.’ Mentor said nothing, but gazed thoughtfully down on the now peaceful scene.

  ‘How incredible,’ said Rema, ‘that I should end up here, after that chase through the forest, that I should by chance come upon this place and you should be here.’ He shook his head in wonderment.

  ‘You think it was chance Rema?’ Mentor spoke almost whimsically. And Rema had no reply.

  They returned through the door and once more Mentor spoke.

  ‘You are right that I watched you. You have a great gift with the bow Rema, and you are rightly named. A bowman you are, and it will be as a bowman that you will quite possibly save this land from a long and destructive tyranny.’

  ‘Only possibly?’ inquired Rema.

  ‘Nothing is certain where humans choose,’ replied Mentor. ‘Free will is the greatest of gifts but with it comes risk and consequence, as those three Wolvers found out at your hand. You will discover that failure is real. You may not succeed.’ With this he smiled reassuringly. ‘But I am sure you will give a good account of yourself. Please let me continue.’ Rema sat quietly once more.

  ‘I followed you to Efilon. A sad place. Spell it backwards and you will see that others agree. A rather poor joke, but one which that town has chosen to live by. Names are important, another thing you should not forget. I was not at this moment going to involve myself with you, but events became rather serious as you will recall, and so I did. The manner in which I brought you here is not for your understanding, and as I have already indicated, it is not always successful; but I am glad for you that it was. I cannot do that often and it will be at least a month before I am able again. As Mentor of Revelyn I am limited and that act
ion may yet have unforeseen outcomes.’ He shook his head several times as though a deeper concern lingered within him.

  ‘Anyhow, I now have a question for you.’ Rema was surprised but willing to comply.

  Mentor looked at him almost fiercely and commanded, ‘Tell me your real name.’

  Rema immediately protested indignantly. ‘I have sira; Rema Bowman is my name and always will be. I am proud of it and my people of the Mighty Mountains…’

  Mentor cut him off sharply. ‘Your real name, it is important.’

  Rema was puzzled, what could he possibly mean? ‘I’m not sure what you want, I’ve told you my name.’

  ‘Come here,’ said Mentor firmly. Rema did so. ‘Kneel before me.’ He complied. Mentor took both his hands and brought his face close to his. Two all-seeing eyes bored into Rema in such a manner that he felt completely exposed and naked.

  ‘Your real name,’ Mentor commanded, and suddenly Rema could not resist.

  ‘Remy Cantira’ said Rema without the slightest hesitation, but in a whisper from far, far way. And then he felt for the first time in many years, tears upon his face.

  ‘Well done,’ said Mentor gently, ‘you do remember. This is of the utmost importance. Now sit for a moment and think on your real name, for it is with this that you must begin.’

  ‘You will rest now, night falls, and in the morning a long and difficult journey begins. You must think upon things. I will be close by. You are not permitted beyond this room. Should you wish to relieve yourself please….’ Here Mentor indicated the door which led to the grassy slope overlooking the clearing and the place he had killed the Wolvers. And then Rema was alone. He felt desperately weary now and yet full of competing thought and emotions, his mind raced with possibilities and struggled to put the events of the last hours into any sensible order. He paced the room testing his leg which seemed completely fine; although he detected an ache deep in the bone which he hoped would pass in time. He ate some more from the tray of food which Mentor had brought some time before, wild berries and a type of flat bread he had never tasted before, but which filled his stomach with a wonderful warm glow. There was venison and more cool cordial than he could possibly drink.

  After a time he followed Mentor’s direction and stepped out into the early night to relieve himself, and having done so, stood looking down into the moonlit clearing. All was quiet, there was no wind and the sky was cloudless. The deep shadows of the forest were dark and foreboding, and he wondered what creatures lurked there, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting. As he watched he caught a movement out of the corner of one eye, then another, the vaguest of shapes, not more than a shimmer, but he squinted hard trying to make out what it was. He shivered involuntarily for a moment.

  Suddenly he saw the eyes of a creature hunting, two red eyes hidden in a deeper, darker shape which had no edges. The eyes glowed dully against the forest shadows. Whatever it was, it moved quickly back and forwards, soundlessly, like a hunting dog, sniffing the ground, and every now and then it would stop and look up as though scenting the air. Finally it stopped on the flat rocky ground where Rema had loosed his arrows at the Wolvers. It lifted its head and Rema felt a shiver of deep fear run down his back. It looked at him, he was sure of it, and it gave a small and evil cry, unlike anything Rema had ever heard. He felt transfixed, unable to take his eyes away. He could discern no real shape to the creature; it was just there, evil and malevolent, and Rema knew without doubt that it was hunting him. He stood, fearfully transfixed on the moonlit hillside. Suddenly, with another cry the creature turned and disappeared, gone in an instant, vanishing quickly into the forest, and try as he might Rema could not remember what it looked like. He had no idea what it was, but he knew it was unlike any creature he had ever encountered or read of in all of the long history of Revelyn. He shivered uncontrollably and not from the cool night air. And suddenly his leg ached.

  He lay on the simple bed having ensured the door was well secured, and the curtains to the small window were drawn close. The room was warm, and enough moonlight found its way in so that it was not completely dark. As he felt sleep creep upon him he went over the events of recent days.

  It seemed more than the twenty days which had passed since he had set out from Farview on the eastern edge of the Central Upthrust. Farview was one of his favourite places. It sat right on the edge of the great escarpment which plunged down two thousand cubits or more to the Lowland plains. On a good day you could see the distant Vigarn River shimmering in the sunlight, and beyond to the vast Plains of Amrosi, and sometimes, if the air was crystal clear and still after the rain, the top of the Eastern Upthrust could be seen just peeping over the horizon. Rema liked to think that a map of Revelyn looked a lot like an Eagle’s head and the small Eastern Upthrust formed its eye, but his good friend Goldsmith Cantor, who was never one for looking at drawings and maps would say he was dreaming, for he couldn’t see it.

  He’d left Sylvion there. She had planned to visit her kindma on the plains below in her old hometown of Wildwood on the southern edge of the great Wildwood forest, where the fast flowing Vigarn traveled rapidly east before swinging more slowly around in a vast loop and heading southwards towards its junction with small and mystical Snake River. He had tried to dissuade her going; there had been renewed outbreaks of violence at Morraine not far from Wildwood. Houses had been burnt and farms destroyed, and the indiscriminate nature of it all had worried Rema, but Sylvion had just laughed at him. She was full of spirit and would not be persuaded that she might be in any danger. It was her home and nothing would stop her seeing her precious kindma.

  She had poked him hard in the ribs and laughed. ‘You worry about me Rema Bowman, and you, off to Ramos where the King sits. He will imprison any man from the Mighty Mountains without reason. He has grown paranoid and fearful beyond all sense. It is you who should be staying, not me; there is fifty times the danger in that sad city for you than I will face in my simple town.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go by choice,’ Rema had replied solemnly, ‘But Serenna is in trouble and I cannot ignore her request.’

  ‘Serenna is always in trouble,’ Sylvion tossed her dark hair in anger, ‘she has no sense at all, running off and marrying that idiot Jycob, just because he has money and position, and to defy her parents like that. She is trouble.’

  ‘She is still my favourite cousin and I grew up with her. Headstrong she may be, but I cannot ignore her request. And speaking of headstrong, who are you to talk.’ Rema grabbed Sylvion around the waist and swung her laughing in a wild circle. She kissed him as her feet hit the ground; they embraced for a time and then stood right on the edge of the mighty cliffs gazing out over the plains, and happy beyond words.

  ‘Take care,’ he had said, ‘For I cannot lose you.’ She smiled back.

  ‘I will be safe. You too must take no risks.’ She had given him a simple gold ring which was inscribed in the old Revelin language, Infini amoran, which means ‘forever my love.’ And so they had parted.

  Rema lay on the soft straw mattress and remembered. He missed her so much and now with all that had happened he was deeply worried for her safety. The dying Wolver had breathed her name. This was incomprehensible. Something serious was unfolding. He played unconsciously with the ring of gold on his right middle finger and vowed soundlessly upon it that he would make right whatever had befallen her.

  The news that his cousin Serenna was in trouble had not surprised him. She was always getting herself into difficult situations, They had grown up together high in the Mighty Mountains in the remote village of The Safeness. They had chased the swift Orax mountain goats together, mimicking the nimble, quick and surefooted creatures until they too could fearlessly roam the mountain slopes in safety. Serenna was older, taller, possessed a flaming mass of red hair, and was absolutely fearless. He had lost count of the number of times she had broken a bone or sprained an ankle. Once she fell from a cliff and was only saved by clinging to a stunted bush on the very edge of
a sheer drop into a raging stream. It had taken all of Rema’s skill to throw a rope and secure her and help her scramble to safety. She had just laughed in exhilaration and then kissed him full on the lips in a simple show of young affection which had at first embarrassed him. They had grown to be soul mates and he would always forgive her while others condemned.

  Her behaviour became more reckless as she grew older and she fought with everyone. Only Rema remained her friend; and finally as though to defy her parents she had disappeared just after her eighteenth birthday and was not heard of again. There was no news of her until three years before when she sent him word that she had married a cloth merchant, Jycob Menin and was living in Ramos which was the King’s city. Worn out with worry and hurt, her parents disowned her, but Rema had kept up an infrequent communication, sending word perhaps twice a year. He had heard nothing back until she had sent a short letter just recently. Serenna begged his forgiveness and asked for help. Her husband Jycob had threatened to throw her out on the street and she hinted of beatings and other more sinister things. Of course Rema felt obliged to respond to her call. He knew that no other would.

  He had left Farview and Sylvion on the last full moon. He’d traveled alone; Goodman Cantor his closest friend was unable to leave his work. Goodman was a skilled swordsman and a singer whose reputation had begun to come to the notice of the Council, but he still worked daily in his father’s growing business as a candlemaker; and there was always a demand for the quality wax candles of Cantor.

  Looking back Rema was glad now that he had left Fairview quietly under cover of darkness. He knew he would be traveling into some danger. Any Mighty Mountains man was treated with suspicion in the Lowlands and the situation in Ramos was reported to be highly unstable as King Petros Luminos seemed to be descending into some deeper form of madness; as if he could get any madder. His violent ways and unjust dealings with his subjects had stripped much of the peace from the land he ruled and the Council was concerned that he was turning his eyes to the vast resources of the Central Upthurst which was causing serious concern.