by Chris Ward
‘What news Zelfos?’ The king joined his cloaked physician.
‘Good news desire. The girl has been captured. She is indeed the one we sought. By now she will be imprisoned as we planned at Vault. Word of her situation has been circulated. The trap is set.’
The king smiled evilly. ‘Well done again. At least she will not live to inherit my kingdom. That much at least we can ensure. Who guards her?’
‘There is a troop of ten score soldiers, fresh and ready to carry out their orders. The Captain in command is a ruthless man who understands that to fail me, er..us, is not something he wishes to think long upon.
‘And the Wolver?’
‘The Wolver is there. He is the best of all of them.’
The king breathed a sigh, then clenched his right fist. ‘We can prevent the prophecy.’ It was a statement said with optimism, but not complete of conviction.
‘Desire, it would seem so, however it has been rarely done, so we must do all we can. The Wisden have given us a name. Until the archer Rema Bowman is dead and the girl Sylvion Greyfeld with him, we cannot relax for a moment.’
The king paced angrily up and down the balcony for a time.
‘You are right of course. I hope to hear news anytime of the death of this archer fellow. He was detected in the city three days ago but eluded capture. I am told he was wounded. The Wolvers found his track just to the north by the edge of the forest. He fled before them.’
‘Then I am sure we have achieved his end.’ Zelfos had great faith in the Wolvers, and he too relaxed a little. ‘In which case I will send a message by carriave and the last remnant of the house of Hendon will cease to be a threat. Our kingdom will be secure.’
The king nodded, but added with a hiss. ‘My kingdom.’
‘Your kingdom desire.’ Zelfos smiled deferentially.
Suddenly Lord Petros turned and strode toward his large four-poster bed. He flung himself upon it and lay looking up toward the heavily embroidered canopy. Underneath, and seen only from the position he now occupied, was fixed to the cloth roof, a parchment on which was scribed in large letters, a prophecy.
‘I read this every night, Zelfos, It is the last thing I see at night and the first thing in the morning. It drives me mad.’ He spoke loudly for Zelfos to hear clearly. He read it out slowly and with every sentence, he seemed to fall more and more under its spell.
The prophecy of the Lord of Light and his fall
There is honour enough in madness
As the battle rages forward.
But there is madness without honour
Which is evil’s own reward
Whilst the Lord of Luminescence
Shines his darkness overall
Binding in the shadows
Holding all in thrall
And it shall ever seem to be
This way forevermore
Until the fighters muster and from eagle’s eye set forth
Until the archer rises
And stands with back to wall
Until the final battle
And the last arrow falls
As the king spoke, there seemed to descend upon the room a cold and fearful mood, and a silence between each word which spoke itself of doom. Zelfos was horror struck, realising what was happening, but seemed unable to move until the final word had cut the air.
Suddenly he shook his head and cried out as he ran to the king’s bed, jumping upon it and grabbing the parchment in a single violent act. He stood over the king with a face dark with fury.
‘You are foolish desire, this action has risked all. Do you not know that to speak the prophecy is to give it power? Every time you look upon it, every time you utter a single word of it, it comes closer to truth! This is why you have been not yourself. What possessed you in this?’
Lord Petros Luminos looked up at the bald and ageless man in fear. Fear for his kingdom, and for the first time fearful of the one who stood over him on his royal bed.
In an instant Zelfos jumped from the bed and dashed the crumbled prophecy into the fireplace where the coals still faintly smoldered, waiting for the servants to clean and rebuild it for the new day. In a sudden flash, the parchment caught and flared so brightly that both men shielded their eyes instinctively. The sound of an anguished cry echoed momentarily around the stone walls, the heavy curtains by the balcony doors were sucked outwards by a rush of wind into the new morning, and then it was gone, consumed, leaving no ash.
‘I have been foolish.’ The king whispered quietly looking at the fireplace. His face was pale.
‘Very foolish,’ Zelfos hissed, his eyes glowing evilly, ‘and we have yet to know the measure of it.’
After a few minutes in which a silence hung painfully between them, the King spoke.
‘Come, we will go to the hall. I have sent for the Captain of my Guard. I hope to hear good news.’
‘After what has just happened, I look forward to good news,’ Zelfos replied quietly, but his brow was furrowed and his unease did not go unnoticed; in fact, despite his own disquiet, the king found himself taking some pleasure in it.
The hall was large and rudely furnished. It had a simple throne at one end on an elevated platform, but it was not elaborate as the space was reserved for public access, and the daily business of running the kingdom. Merchants and folk with disputes which needed a royal decision, would begin to arrive before the hour of the midday meal, and were organised into some sort of order. Those who could be dealt with by senior officials might not require an audience with the king, but on a busy day, the hall could be a noisy smelly place, which the king increasingly disliked. People with obvious diseases or deformity were never allowed to enter, but he suspected that there were many who entered who never showed symptoms of illness, but were able to pass on some plague or other unseen. He had taken to having a barrier placed half way down the hall and no one was allowed to pass on pain of death. He would sit remote with a few advisors and make his rulings from a safe distance.
The time was still early when Lord Petros and his physician entered the hall. It was empty since it would not open for business for quite some time yet, but the Captain of his night guard was waiting. He stood below the throne dressed in full uniform, carrying his ornamental shield and sword, which was lighter then the full battle dress. He was an impressively large man, even for a nephil. He had the bearing of a soldier who had looked death in the face and survived more than once. He bowed as the king entered, his eyes glanced very briefly at the other man but he remained focused on his commander.
‘I hope you have good news for me, Captain Leander.’ The king spoke harshly, as though by ordering it so, he could ensure that he would only hear the news he desired. He sat back on his throne; each arm resting royally on the arm rests, which he gripped a little too tightly.
Captain Leander spoke quietly but there was steel in his voice. ‘If you are inquiring about the pursuit of the archer Rema Bowman desire, I cannot yet bring you the news you seek.’ The king tensed.
‘But the pursuit was successful? The Wolvers could not have failed, surely?’
The captain was perspiring slightly, knowing the reaction which was about to be forthcoming. However, he was a man who saw no reason other than to tell things as they were, and so proceeded with his report.
‘As you already know desire, a squad of soldiers followed the reports of sightings of the archer to the edge of the forest. There is a timber camp there in the lee of some hills, called Newtown. He must have seen us approach for he was only a span or two ahead of us. The Wolvers found some of his possessions in a hut and his tracks leading into the forest. I assigned three to the pursuit. They told me that it would be over before nightfall, and it was only two spans before that when they left.’ He paused.
‘So what happened, Captain? Where is my prisoner or his body?’ The king sat forward on his throne, puzzled and anxious.
‘I cannot tell you with any certainty where the archer is desire.’
‘
What do your Wolvers say?’ Zelfos cut in quickly. ‘What is their report?’
The Captain took a breath then went on.
‘I have not seen the Wolvers again. They did not return.’
There was silence for a short time whilst the three men considered the significance of the statement.
‘Captain,’ the king spoke icily, ‘No Wolver has ever not returned. I have heard that they are wounded in battle. I understand that this can happen when arrows fall all around and death can come unpredictably. But on a simple tracking mission! A simple following and killing of one man, alone in a forest, where the Wolvers are master. What do you mean they have not returned? Have they disappeared? Is sorcery involved? What have you to say man?’
As he spoke, the king became increasingly shrill, and by the end of his speech he was standing and almost screaming at the captain, who bravely stood, unflinching, before the onslaught.
‘The three Wolvers were chosen for their speed and forest ability.’ The captain spoke without emotion. ‘That they have not returned can only mean that they are dead, either at the hand of the one they pursued, or by some sorcery which is beyond my understanding.’ He paused for a moment before continuing. ‘The archer however has been seen since.’
‘What?’ Both the king and Zelfos spoke in unison.
‘I have a report from a Captain Loof of a unit which patrols the north edge of the forest. One of the towns under his supervision is called….’ He paused for a moment and pulled a small piece of parchment from his tunic. Squinting he read… ‘is called Efilon. He received a report of a wounded man asking there for lodgings. The informant was suspicious and thought he could make some money so contacted the captain with some story about the man. I believe he claimed the man was an outlaw, a thief, horse stealer, or something. Apparently the man was wounded and had walked out of the forest at nightfall the day after the pursuit by the Wolvers commenced.’
‘But who was it? How do we know it was the archer?’ the king asked anxiously.
‘Wounded in the right leg. A stranger. Timing. My Wolvers not returning. All points to it being the man we were after.’ The captain continued.
‘So what did this Loof do?’ Zelfos interjected.
‘Took a squad and apprehended the man. He was ill and it was quite easy.’
The king and Zelfos relaxed.
‘So he is caught then. This Loof will be well rewarded.’ The king spoke as one relieved.
‘Actually, as I said before, the whereabouts of the archer is not known.’ The captain continued with his report.
‘You speak in riddles Captain Leander,’ Zelfos was angry, but the soldier went on doggedly.
‘The report I received last evening by carriave is peculiar. It seems that as they were taking the archer into custody another man arrived, a monk of sorts who asked to be allowed to give some aid to the prisoner. As he did so both men disappeared.’
Captain Leander swallowed hard, and waited for the expected reaction.
‘What did you say Captain?’ The king spoke icily, as though he was being ridiculed. The Captain did not reply. He knew that both men had understood him.
Zelfos asked quietly. ‘This monk is a sorcerer, a wizard. He just made them disappear?’
It would seem so, sira,’ said Captain Leander. I can only report to you what has been sent to me.’
‘You had better send a reliable squad to interrogate this Captain Loof…
‘Already left desire.’ The captain knew his job.
Silence descended upon the three. Finally the king spoke.
‘So three Wolvers go missing and have not been seen, so are presumed dead, and likely at the hand of the archer. Unheard of! The man we want has been seen, wounded, and unable to protect himself, but is whisked away at the last moment by some wandering wizard, and had not been seen again.’
‘That is my report desire.’ The Captain stood his ground and waited. He knew his king was unpredictable. This could be his last day of freedom.
Lord Petros sat back on his simple throne in a daze; he rubbed his chin absently with his left hand. Zelfos paced behind him, with a furrowed brow and angry eyes. He was muttering inaudibly about a monk. The Captain stood as protocol demanded, ready to receive orders and obey. After a short time in which a great many thoughts passed through the minds of all the men, the king spoke once more.
‘Captain, about the illness at the Merchant’s Gate.’
‘Yes desire.’
‘I want you to personally carry out my orders. Today.’
‘And what would these orders be desire?’
‘Anybody who is ill within half a league of the Gate is to be killed and their body burnt outside the town. This includes any person with a skin disease of any sort, a lesion or a running sore; they are to be treated in the same manner. Men women and children. No exceptions. This town cannot risk being infected with disease. All business and properties belonging to any so discerned is to become the property of the crown. If you carry out these orders to the letter, you personally, Captain Leander will be given the choice of any property or goods to the value of ten years service. Do you understand what I am ordering you to do Captain?’
‘Yes sira.’ The captain was not expecting such a change of direction, but he quickly understood the gift that was offered him. He knew that his wife’s brother who had never liked him, and whose constant criticisms had made his marriage impossibly diffucult, lived in a large house close by Merchant’s gate. He also knew that at that moment, he was in bed with a serious coughing illness. I could live well in that house thought the Captain.
The king’s final command brought him back.
‘Report to me when you have achieved this, and I also want to know as soon as you hear about the interrogation of Captain Loof. The capture of the archer is to be your only other priority. Leave us!’
Captain Leander turned smartly and in a moment had disappeared, leaving the king and Zelfos to discuss the implications of his report.
The king sat quietly for a while. Zelfos was occupied with private thoughts as well, and paced slowly behind the throne.
‘I can hardly believe this. Three Wolvers. It does not seem possible.’
‘Indeed it is a hard thing, but in the end they are still human desire,’ Zelfos spoke carefully as he thought aloud. ‘A cunning hunter might shoot them, although all three seems impossible. I think there is sorcery at work here my Lord. The wandering monk has some part to play. They disappear, together. I have never heard of such a thing, not even from the most powerful of wizards.’
‘Something more powerful than a wizard?’ King Petros whispered. ‘Is this possible?’
The king could not see Zelfos’s reaction. If he had, he would have been greatly alarmed for it seemed that the physician had suddenly realised something. His eyes narrowed and brought his hands together, at his face, in an almost prayer-like manner. ‘It cannot be,’ he whispered evilly to himself. ‘I have covered all my tracks. Surely not?’ He took a deep breath and quickly changed the subject.
‘I must visit the Skolar. I left him with some work to do and in the mood I’m in, he had better have had more success than I’ve heard today.’
‘Ah, the Sacred Sceptre. I don’t know why you are bothering,’ said the king, before continuing in a different tone. ‘I have held it, and it confirmed my authority. It functioned as it should. The power was evident; I survived. It was witnessed, and testified to. I am the true king of Revelyn. I am the Light of my people. Lord Petros Luminos.. Without me, they will not survive. It has been ordained!’
As the king spoke, he stood, lifting both arms towards the vast roof high above, and raising his voice, transformed the mere words into a royal declaration of authority, which echoed off the thick stonewalls well after he had finished.
‘Desire, you are correct of course, but there is also the matter of the Shadow Blade which needs resolving. It is a fearsome weapon and it no longer resides in the royal household. I believe
that somewhere in the history of Revelyn some accounts exist which can inform us more accurately about these two objects. Further, in the light of the prophecy and your obsession with it, and the news we have just received, I believe we need to know all we can about all things.’ Zelfos too had become more animated, and the hall once more resonated to strong words.
‘Go then and I will look forward to your report.’ The king sat once more upon his throne, proudly erect now, comforted and confirmed by his own echoing edict, in the vast empty hall.
Helgas happened to be passing a door towards the back of the hall as the king gave his last orders to the Captain of the night guard, and she stopped, intrigued by the voices. She carefully looked in, making sure she was not observed, but she heard every word. Her vision of these most powerful men in all Revelyn made her shudder. For the first time she saw an ugly, violent king, and an evil physician, men who destroyed and cared little for the pain they caused, and a soldier who had fought so many battles that death was of no account to him, willing to murder or worse on the whim of another. Suddenly she felt her world had changed, become colder and darker, and was no longer safe.
What am I to do? She thought. For I can no longer stay in this place.
She left quietly, and went about her business, but what she had heard troubled her greatly thereafter.
The Royal Palace at Ramos was almost six hundred years old. It stood upon a steep hill, not quite a mountain, but a rocky upthrust which lent itself well to fortification and defence. The land for leagues around sloped down and away, giving an immense view. The mighty Luminos River flowed steadily past, not a league from where the Royal Hill met the more gentle plain. Over many years and generations, the town of Ramos had grown up around the Palace, which had also grown and been extended by a long succession of monarchs. Its ramparts stood high above the town, and the many turrets and towers were almost too numerous to count. But as high as it went toward the sky, it also went deep down into the earth, for the rocky hill had been important long before any human had come to Revelyn.
