by Chris Ward
He ignored it and cried out what he knew deep down was his final command.
‘After them men, for they are getting away.’ But not a single soldier dared to move for they were under the spell of the giant beacon, all lit from within and with dancing pictures shining down upon them. How before all the gods did one think that they could capture such a dangerous and deadly beautiful object? They would all surely perish, for there was magic in the air. And so they stood and turned and watched as this new thing, this amazing creature of the night, flew away off into the darkness, climbing ever higher until the sobs of captain Bach came clearly to them, for he had read the simple parchment note which Sylvion had tossed down wrapped up in one of Reigin’s rocks. He would not ever show it to any man, but all knew that it was his death warrant, for this woman whoever she was, had a hold over him now which would not be released this side of the grave.
Finally, far off and high up to the south and east they lost sight of the glowing creature, and in the gloom and destruction of the vault they did not know what next to do, and Captain Bach found he could think of nothing to say, for the mighty image of an angry and vengeful Zelfos filled his mind with terror.
But far off, Sylvion and Reigin were flying to freedom and a different Revelyn thereafter.
Chapter 14
Sylvion was amazed at the quiet. She had thought that to fly high above the earth at the mercy of the elements would have been like sailing, with the wind whistling through the rigging and a motion which the body found uncomfortable at best; but the experience was nothing like this. Apart from the mighty sizzling of the fire in the cauldron which sucked in air through the several vent holes Reigin had made in its base like some animal devouring carrion, it was quiet. It was also, almost motionless. Of course she knew they were moving, for the ground far below was passing by, but if she shut her eyes she could have been standing on the floor of the Vault warmed by the cauldron fire and not here, high in the heavens. She was exhilarated beyond words.
‘We are flying Reigin.’ She shouted across to her companion. ‘I can’t believe it we are actually flying. It worked, Reigin, it worked!’
Reigin stood in his hammock which Sylvion had stitched. It came to his waist and was held, like hers, to the canopy above by four stout ropes. He held firmly to two and laughed. He did not speak for he knew that no words were to be found for such magic and cleverness. This woman, once his prisoner, now his lady; she had done this. When all hope was taken from her, alone and friendless at the very end of her life she had brought into being that which had never been seen or known, and they had escaped, they were flying! His laughter was from relief, and joy too; joy at the new life ahead whether short or long, whether they fell to earth and died, or he lived long in the service of this marvellous woman. Beyond that he could not think.
Sylvion watched him across the boiling fire. She watched him laugh and knew that it was something he had not done so easily in the past. It made her glad, for in him she had perceived a depth of character and goodness which the Wolver had not been allowed to realise. She turned back and spied the great Vault, now nothing but a dark shape on the far horizon. In the clear night air it stood silhouetted against the sky like a Gnabi vulture brooding over the plains below. The smoke from its fire was diminishing and made but a smudge in the air above it. She remembered the faces of the men below as her wonderful craft had taken flight for those first few moments; the shock and fear, and the unbridled loathing and terror on the face of Captain Bach. In the instant that their eyes had met she knew as he did, in a moment of sudden realisation, that their positions had suddenly changed about, and he was now the Vault’s new prisoner, and she was free. Free to fly away into a new life.
Sylvion started to laugh as well, and together with the huge soldier so changed and in awe of all that had happened to him and around him in the days past, they let their emotions fly as well. Not far below they failed to see the carriave. It flew true on a path which its tiny brain did not understand, but which by instinct it would follow until death intervened, or it arrived safely back in the capital of Ramos, long leagues to the south and west. Captain Piras Sleeman had lost no time in sending a report back to his masters. Neither had he wasted words, for there was little which needed to be said.
To the Commander of the Royal Night Guard. Ramos
Prisoner has escaped, by sorcery. The Wolver has joined her. Captain Bach unable to command. Await your orders.
Captain Piras Sleeman.
When Sylvion looked again, the Vault had disappeared behind some clouds. Realising that she needed a plan she turned back to Reigin and called out.
‘What speed do you think we are making Reigin?’
He shook his head and shrugged. The land below, bathed in the light of a three-quarter moon lay before them like a picture. He watched for a time and measured their movement against a hillside.
‘Perhaps four leagues to the span,’ he called back, ‘for it is a gentle breeze.’
‘And how long will our fuel last?’ Sylvion called again, for it was Reigin’s job to feed the insatiable cauldron. He was more comfortable with this, for he had watched the fire closely over the past few days trying to understand the way the fire burnt. He knew that the holes he had made in the cauldron at Sylvion’s instruction had meant the fire was more fierce and burnt more quickly.
‘We have two dozen sacks,’ he called back. ‘I think perhaps we get a single sack to the span, but the fire is fierce now, so perhaps we will get less. I think we have till dawn Sylvion, for we left at midnight and there is near enough eighteen spans to sunrise from then...’ he kept up the calculations in his head, trying to solve the riddle of the distance they might cover in that time.
‘That is about three score plus ten leagues,’ Sylvion called across to him for her quick mind knew the answer easily. ‘That will take us beyond Lockerbie, which is all I had planned.’
‘Could we make the mainland?’ Reigin replied. It was question which they both considered, for to land on the Cape and try to steal a boat for the treacherous trip across the Norz Gulf was not something either of them desired.
‘At this speed we will get about half way,’ Sylvion called back. ‘We will land in the sea!’
This statement ended the discussion and Reigin realised that the fire was fading a little. He pulled on the rope which held the long pole to which a sharp knife was lashed. It hung below his hammock and was easily retrieved. Using the pole he carefully cut away one of the charcoal sacks which were tied to the underside of the canopy on the double rope loop. The sack fell to hang on its own tether, also below his hammock. Reigin pulled it slowly up and when he had it in his grasp, used his belt knife to cut away the tether. The next bit required care, for he had to throw the whole sack into the cauldron. Whilst an easy task for the huge man with two feet on firm ground, but high above the earth, swinging in a canvas hammock he was unsure just how much effort he would need to use. Sylvion watched quietly for she had no advice on this. Reigin alone must solve the riddle, and they needed every sack of precious fuel.
He threw the sack easily, but as he did the hammock moved back. He felt it and adjusted the strength of his action; the sack arced quickly across the several cubits between Reigin and the cauldron. It hit the nearside and teetered for a moment before falling into the fire where it was immediately consumed by flames. Sylvion breathed again, for she realised that she had not taken a breath whilst she watched.
‘Well done Reigin!’ she called, and he smiled in relief.
Below them the barren Cape passed slowly by. There were farms and houses and even a few hamlets dotted about. Lights were few for it was early morning and most people were asleep. For the most part it was the hardy Cape sheep which watched the passing of the huge beacon, although a drunk lying half awake in a ditch saw the vision and would thereafter tell the story to any who would listen to his mad ramblings, of the fire in the sky and the visions from heaven.
Sylvion thought hard
now upon what must happen next. The more she thought of trying to steal a boat in Lockerby, the more she realised that it was fraught with problems. But the Norz Gulf was a barrier which was beyond them at their current gentle speed, which was no more than a fast walk in the soft night breeze.
‘Reigin,’ she called. ‘We must go faster! We must carry the Gulf, for to land here is too dangerous. Bach may have sent a message to Lockerbie already and there are soldiers garrisoned there. To take a boat from the harbour will be impossible...’ She stopped and thought further.
‘I agree,’ Reigin called back but we cannot go faster by adding fuel although we may go higher!’ And suddenly she had the answer.
‘You are right Reigin that it is, we must go higher, for the wind will be surely stronger up higher. Often on a cloudy day you can see the highest clouds travelling fastest. We must go up Reigin and see what wind we can catch.’ She was excited once more, for to carry the Gulf was far more than she had ever hoped to achieve when first she had formed her mad plan.
‘It will use up the fuel more quickly,’ Reigin’s voice broke through her excitement, ‘and we are hard pressed to make the distance at the present.’
‘That’s why we need more speed,’ she called back.’ It is a huge gamble Reigin, I know, but it is worth it. Besides, we can come down before we reach the sea if the wind is not as we need. We have enough fuel to find out. Let us try!’
‘As my lady wishes,’ Reigin whispered, and went to throw more sacks upon the fire.
Sylvion watched as Reigin added four more sacks of fuel to the cauldron, which was about as much as it could take, for the final sack almost rolled over the far side and was lost. Only by his quick action with the long pole and knife did he manage to slash the sack open in the cauldron and spill the charcoal out saving the fuel. The pole was quickly charred from the heat and the lashings holding the knife caught alight. This too would have been a disaster for without the pole and knife the remaining sacks could not have been cut away. Reigin was able to retrieve the pole and using his gloved hands extinguished the smouldering rope lashings and so kept their escape alive.
As the fire built, the canopy began to rise higher for the air within it became super heated. It was then that they both realised that there was now cloud above them and the moon had disappeared. Below, the ground had become but a dark sheet without definition. Apart from the occasional twinkle of a distant light, and the hidden moon reflecting momentarily off a small lake or pond, their world between heaven and earth was reduced to a central point of light which was the sizzling cauldron, and the light it gave reached not far beyond them. All else was gloom and unseen.
As they rose, the fire momentarily reflected off the cloud base and then suddenly they were immersed in a strange and glowing world, for all about on every side was just a white and greyish vapour turned red and pink by their fire. They lost all sense of distance, height and speed. Water vapour hissed and steamed off the cauldron and for the first time the giant canopy bucked and trembled as turbulent air currents tossed the craft about. Sylvion and Reigin found they had to hold on firmly or risk being tossed into space. It became hard to judge whether they continued to rise, but after a span Reigin tossed another sack into the cauldron, for the fuel was being consumed at a fearful rate. Despite the fire’s great heat, water condensed upon their clothing, and while one side baked, the other became quite damp and cold. They took to turning round like a pig on a slow spit, so that they would remain warm and as dry as possible. Finally after much disorientation the huge canopy broke through the clouds and suddenly they were in a magical land above a white and ruffled sea which reached out from their position for as far as the eye could see in every direction.
Reigin whispered to himself in wonderment. ‘I always wondered what it would be like at the surface to which we might rise, like a bubble in a pond, and whether there would be air to breathe. We have arrived and it is beyond my dreams.’
Sylvion just watched in utter fascination for it was beautiful beyond anything she had imagined. The moonlight turned everything whiter than snow, and the valleys and ridges of the mighty sea were full of shadows and contrasts which changed continually.
Reigin suddenly called out in alarm. ‘Sylvion we have stopped moving. We are going slower. There is no wind up here!’ Startled, Sylvion looked at the clouds so close below that she might have stepped out and walked upon them, and indeed it was true, for they remained as they were. Their craft was no longer moving as it had across the ground far below but was hanging in the air. They were not changing position. The clouds below remained the same clouds. This was a disaster.
But how could it be? Surely there was a wind this high up in the heavens?
‘We must descend Sylvion!’ Reigin cried with a brittle edge in his voice. It was not fear but stemmed from a deep suspicion of the unknown. ‘There is magic about Sylvion, some sorcery up here which has frozen all things...’ he looked about trying to work out why their world had stopped. ‘We are just trapped in one spot!’
Sylvion too could not understand how this had come about, for apart from some gentle swaying and the smallest of movement above the clouds, all had gone still. The moon bathed everything in a wonderful soft light, but they were frozen in the sky.
Suddenly it came to her. ‘No Reigin,’ she called, almost crying with relief, ‘it is all right we are not stopped at all. We are moving, everything is moving. The wind is taking us as before, but it also takes the clouds as well. We cannot see the ground which would tell us this. Everything up her is moving at the same speed! We are not bewitched!’ Reigin thought for a moment on this and nodded slowly for it was a challenge to his senses. Sylvion could see his doubt.
‘Reigin it is like the earth which moves through the heavens. We move with it and yet we seem to not move at all.’ Reigin found this even harder to follow for he had not ever thought that the earth moved anywhere at all, but sat in one place as other bodies moved all around it.
‘Once more Sylvion you have my measure and more!’ he called back. ‘I will accept your assertion, but just how fast are we travelling in this mysterious way?’ Sylvion thought on this for it was a most important question, one upon which their survival depended.
‘I don’t think we can tell Reigin,’ she replied after a time, ‘for if all travels at the same speed whether fast or slow, there is no reference, no way to make a judgement.’
‘Then we could still be travelling at the same speed, which is too slow...’ Reigin whispered to himself but Sylvion who watched him closely knew his mind.
‘We might still be too slow Reigin but I don’t think so. Up here the wind is stronger I am sure. I think we risk it, for I have no wish to set foot on the Cape once more.’
‘And if you are wrong my lady?’ Reigin inquired.
‘If I am wrong we both know the end of it.’
Reigin nodded, and without a word cut lose another sack and hurled it expertly into the cauldron.
They travelled steadily for a long time, enchanted by their view and the realisation at what they had achieved, but blindly too for they knew not how far they had come or if they would carry the gulf. Sylvion knew they were at least travelling in the right direction for their angle to the moon had remained unchanged despite now being above the clouds. They ate a little and drank as they felt the need. Their conversation was constrained by the need to shout above the roaring cauldron which was reassuring, for whilst the fuel remained, the canopy held them safe above the earth. Higher above them the shimmering banners were more alive than ever before and both Sylvion and Reigin passed some time by watching the wonderful visions which travelled with them. At times the clouds below were so close that it seemed the light from within the canopy played the pictures out upon their whiteness, in ever changing scenes of colour and movement.
Slowly however, the sacks of fuel were consumed and as the moon began to fade low down to their west, there remained but two, and Sylvion knew they would need these at
least to give them choice of a landing place; although if it were to be in the ocean it made little difference. She took a deep breath and grimly gave the command.
‘Reigin, we will keep the last two sacks. Let the fire die and we will sink back through the clouds. I hope we have made it, for the dawn is upon us, and death perhaps as well.’
Reigin nodded but did not speak, and within a half span the canopy and its cargo were once more wrapped in the eerie light of the clouds and the turbulence it offered them was matched in equal parts by the anticipation in their hearts. For two span the cloud held them prisoner as the fire died and the air in the canopy cooled. Suddenly the air cleared and there below them was the sea, dark and menacing and cold as death. Sylvion gave an involuntary cry of frustration. Reigin uttered an oath. The waves which reached to engulf them were but a hundred cubits below, and the smell of the salt air was an overpowering reminder of where they were headed.
They looked desperately about trying to see if perhaps an island or some refuge was within reach, but all about was the restless ocean and the waves which at times seemed to almost reach up and grab them.
‘Reigin, another sack quickly for if we get lower it will be soaked when you cut it free!’ Sylvion’s order cut the air like a knife. The fuel was added in great haste to the cauldron, and this slowly heated the air so that the canopy sank no further.
‘We are travelling fast Sylvion,’ was Reigin’s only observation despite his concern for their predicament.
And indeed they were, for the wind over the ocean was much greater than they had experienced when first they took to the air. They raced over the waves, the clouds not far above; but all was gloomy, and they could see but a league or two ahead, for the air was full of spray and the sun had no yet risen to burn the cloud and mist away. A span passed and still no sight of land or any hope. Sylvion waited until she once more realised the waves were almost upon them, and once more she commanded Reigin to add their final sack of charcoal to the fading fire.
