Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls

by Chris Ward

  Sylvion sat upon an impressive black stallion, saddled with the most beautiful worked leather she had ever seen. She wore her blade now in a scabbard of pure silver which she had found amongst the cave’s treasures, and it gave her great comfort for she knew her journey alone would not be easy. Reigin had the strongest horse for he was a heavy man and there was only one which seemed able to bear him well.

  ‘Farewell my lady,’ said Reigin gravely, ‘may you travel safely, and do not be afraid to use your blade for it belongs to you and I have seen your skill. You are the match of all but the best. I will see you before the next moon. I give you my word.’

  ‘I will look forward to that time Reigin. I will miss your company, but I pray there are better times ahead. Good speed to you both. Drifa, I wish you well.’ Drifa leant across and the two women embraced tearfully, for they had become close in such a short time.

  Reigin and Sylvion gripped each other’s hands for a time, their eyes meeting in deep respect, and then with a word, Sylvion turned and spurred her steed over the road and into the forest, for she planned to travel overland by the quickest route to meet the inland path she had travelled some time before in a burial box and the prisoner of desperate men.

  Reigin and Drifa watched her go. Finally he turned his great mount and the two new companions cantered off south, whilst deep within the forest by the raging sea the cave had become a cold and loathsome place, for the bodies of Ljotr and Mord lay buried in the sandy floor close by the things which in their evil lives they had so cherished, but which in the end became mere decorations for their lonley tomb.

  Chapter 15

  Helgas sobbed bitterly into her dirty apron. Her eyes were red and swollen with the constant tears and her stomach was churning from the fear of what might happen next. She could not understand how she had come to this; chained in one of the several dungeons deep beneath the White Palace, surrounded by those whom once she felt were there because they were common thieves and deserving of any fate that came their way as a consequence of their stupid crimes.

  How could it be that she, Helgas, the King’s favourite could be sharing a prison with such as these?

  It had all happed so fast, and she cursed her stupidity for being so careless with her tongue. Her deep upset over discovering that the King and his closest advisors were cruel and evil men had led her to the simplest of plans. She decided she would leave the Palace and return to her home village of Audr on the shores of Lake Unnr and find work with her parents in their simple business as weavers. Once she had sworn that she would never do such work, and dreamed of the day she would escape the dreary life in the small village and find excitement and romance in Ramos; but now everything had changed.

  Helgas could not see what she had done wrong, at least not when she had told Vellion her master that she had decided to leave the Palace and return to her family. In her immature view of the world she had never dreamed that she could not, had never understood that once employed by the mighty Lord Petros, her life was his to direct. Vellion had happily reported her intentions and the King was furious beyond anything she had witnessed. He had been insulted that she had decided she could just walk away from such an opportunity, one that all young girls in Revelyn would long for.

  Did she not realise that to be his personal servant was a high honour indeed?

  She had not been able to speak in her defence, such was his anger, but had stood, head bowed and trembling as he stormed about her demanding some explanation. She could not tell him that by chance she had come to learn that his ways were evil, and that she was no longer entranced by his every action, and that in truth she feared him greatly. And so in abject disgrace she was banished to the kitchens and laundry, where the work of endless drudgery made her back and hands ache for hours after she fell exhausted late at night into her small bed, now no longer in the better part of the Palace nearer the King’s chambers, but adjacent to the work areas; but worst of all she was forced to share with four other girls with whom she had nothing in common and who teased her mercilessly for her stupidity and what they called her snobbery.

  Alone and humiliated Helgas had wanted nothing more than to run away, but knew that it had become impossible, for she was watched closely by many contemptuous eyes. Helgas however had a deeper resolve than she realised, and after a time her fear and tears had turned to anger and a cold bravado which led to her final fateful mistake. By chance once more she overheard a conversation about one of the Royal Scribes, a man called Spiel whom she had known well in better times for he was close to the King and he had befriended her as one so young and new to the Palace. He too had fallen from favour, for acts of treachery, or so she heard, and had been banished to the town and had lost his living serving the king. This saddened her greatly, but then a piece of kitchen gossip roused her anger, for she heard that this gentle man of great learning and kind good humour had once more come to the king’s attention, for he had been caught in some act of high treason and would die for it. For some reason Helgas felt that her poor life of no consequence might be worth a little if she warned this fallen friend of the King’s intentions, for she knew that Spiel was not yet taken into custody for that action was to have taken place on the day she learned of it.

  She knew not what Spiel had done, but felt that she might in some way stand against the evil acts of the tyrant she once almost worshipped, and so had slipped away from her duties on the pretext of an ill disposition, and by luck had found her old friend in the town below the Palace and had warned him of his doom.

  To her surprise, Spiel showed no alarm, although he thanked her for her courage and had sent her away quickly in case she was found to be with him when the soldiers arrived. She had not understood anything of what had happened at the time, but Spiel had given her a small parchment on which was written what he told her was a powerful prophecy and which if she was willing to spread this to others of a like mind, the words would come true one day, and the King and his rule would pass into oblivion. At the time Helgas accepted the small gift and had run back to her work only to find that her absence had not gone unnoticed and she had been followed. She had been taken into custody, and now sat in filth and misery awaiting her fate, bewildered and in shock and regretting many things in her short life, not least that fateful decision to parade one day before the king’s servant providor¸ in adolescent vanity and the hope so that she might live a better life serving Lord Petros Luminos, King of all Revelyn.

  A rough command suddenly broke through her bitterness.

  ‘Helgas, stand and come to the gate.’ She felt her heart start a woeful pounding in her chest. Several others close by her broke into fearful sobbing for they knew she was doomed, whilst others laughed in relief that their time was not yet come. She could not move, such was the weakness in her body from the fear.

  ‘Helgas, do not make me come and fetch you wench, for you will feel the sting of my whip soon enough.’ The guard was an ugly brute who was perfectly chosen for his job, for he enjoyed the power he had over the prisoners and his whip was feared by all. Helgas stood shakily and made her way to the iron gates of the dungeon prison which were held open just long enough to allow her to pass through. Her shackled ankles and wrists slowed her walk, but soon enough she was standing before the king and his evil advisor in the public court where she and many others had recently witnessed the now notorious death of the merchant Menin at the hands of the feared Zelfos. She found she could not speak, and her limbs trembled so that she fell immediately to her knees, and it was all she could do just to remain aware of her dreadful predicament. She was vaguely conscious that the hall was full of onlookers, like dark shadows on the edges of her fearful world.

  ‘Helgas,’ the king spoke angrily but with a slight touch of regret. ‘You have acted foolishly once more.’ When she remained as she was, cowed and unresponsive he lost his royal composure and screamed at her.

  ‘Look at me wench!’

  Helgas was startled into obedience. She saw
his anger and knew that her life was over. She thought about her dear parents and wondered what would become of them, for they held such high hopes for her, and now she had not just let them down but perhaps brought them into danger as well, for who knew how far the King’s anger would reach in punishment and revenge.

  ‘You have been caught in an act of treason with the scribe Spiel. This man served a traitor by the name of Jycob Menin for many years. We have reason to believe that he was over friendly with this man’s wife Serenna Menin. She too has betrayed this city and her King.’ The Lord Petros spoke once more. It was statement of accusation for which she had no words to contradict, although she had no clue as to what all these people had to do with her.’

  ‘You need go no further my Lord,’ Zelfos’ voice cut the air like a knife. ‘She has betrayed you and should die this moment as warning to all else that they defy the King at pain of death.’ Helgas had no understanding of the strange relationship between the king and Zelfos, and expected nothing short of the immediate pronouncement of her death, for she had witnessed with her own eyes what had happened to the merchant Jycob Menin. He too had kneeled as she was kneeling. She prayed that it would be quick.

  Lord Petros however hesitated at this interjection by his advisor, for once again he felt his authority somewhat thwarted, and despite the truth in what Zelfos had said, felt a bitter anger and took a different path.

  ‘Come here girl,’ he said more gently, and Helgas slowly stood and shuffled forward to stand before the King and all assembled.

  ‘You are a very pretty young thing.’ The king spoke almost regretfully and she raised her tearful eyes to his for the very first time, for she had never dared before, as it was forbidden. Lord Petros ignored her indiscretion, and reached out and ran a finger over her beautiful face.

  ‘You skin is perfect, your features are the best of any young wench who has served me in the past.’ Helgas was confused by his sudden gentleness and a spark of hope rose in her pounding breast.

  Could it be possible that he was to about to allow her to live?

  ‘Death has been demanded by my wise advisor Zelfos.’ He turned and smiled coldly at the evil man who did his best to smile back, although it was more leer than anything else. ‘But he calls for death too easily.’ This comment turned Zelfos’ leer into a dark scowl for he knew that before the whole assembly he had been coldly rebuked.

  ‘And yet,’ the king continued, ‘you have betrayed me and my kingdom; you have assisted desperate, evil people who seek to overthrow me if they could. Can you imagine a Revelyn in which I am not Lord of Light to my dear people?’ Helgas knew now that he was half mad, but hoped he might, in his derangement see fit to let her live.

  ‘But I can be merciful when one so young has chosen unwisely.’ She felt tears of relief run down her face and she looked gratefully at him, despite the rules which governed all who served as she did...as she had done.

  ‘I will let you live!’

  The King stood and raised his hands before the throng who cheered at his mercy. He silenced them with a gesture and all waited for his final judgement. They did not wait long.

  ‘You will instead be banished to Leper Island for the rest of your life.’

  Helgas felt her heart stop, for she knew what this would mean. The king continued with an evil gleeful tone in his voice.

  ‘There your perfect skin will learn what it is like to be betrayed by disease, your perfect features will become eaten away and you will regret for every moment that you live, that you ever betrayed your King.’ He marched theatrically about the raised platform on which his public throne sat, and raising his hands once more to the crowd, encouraged them to cheer and join his madness. Even Zelfos managed some evil pleasure in this pronouncement, for it was truly well done, to raise her hopes like that and then dash them so quickly; even he, the mighty Zelfos was fooled, and so he nodded and smiled oily at his King when their eyes met for a moment.

  ‘Go now Helgas, and may you rot in peace!’ Lord Petros hissed quietly so that only she could hear, and then ordered the great hall emptied as his hapless servant was lead away to her doom.

  Lord Petros sat on his public throne annoyed that his sense of pleasure at what he just achieved did not seem as satisfying as the initial euphoria he always felt when triumphing over a foe.

  ‘She was only eighteen,’ said Zelfos sarcastically as though he understood, and wanted to inflict a little victory of his own. The king ignored him and turned to the only other present, his huge Captain of the Night Guard, Commander of his armies.

  ‘And what have you discovered about Spiel’s treacherous work?’ he demanded.

  ‘Before he died he admitted receiving some communication for the woman Serenna Menin.’ Captain Leander gave his report without any emotion for it was his life, this dealing with prisoners and threats to the Royal Throne. ‘We think it was by carriave from somewhere east of here, probably near the coast, but his words were indistinct by this time.’

  ‘And what do we know of the detail of this communication?’ the king continued.

  ‘I have nothing further to report than what I have previously told you desire, it seems the woman sent him some poem or words which talked of you. They seemed harmless enough to me...’

  ‘You fool!’ Zelfos interrupted angrily with a level of agitation which startled the soldier, ‘these words are of the gravest importance for they are a prophecy which must not be allowed to come to pass. What was he to do with these so harmless words commander?’ Zelfos was standing before the man, his eyes full of a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration at the same time. Captain Leander knew he was once more caught in the riddle of court politics which was fraught with difficulty at every turn.

  ‘It seemed that the woman simply asked him spread these words for others to read.’

  Both Zelfos and the King took in a deep breath.

  ‘And has he done anything to this end?’ Zelfos inquired somewhat anxiously.

  ‘We did not discover anything further for he died at that point.’

  Zelfos smacked a fist into one palm in deep frustration, and Lord Petros slumped down onto his throne. A silence descended on the hall which was not broken for some time.

  ‘He had access to many who might help, for he was well liked.’ Zelfos spoke quietly into the air and to no one in particular.

  ‘He could have sent further messages to others in the land?’ The King continued the line of thought. Captain Leander felt a rising anger within him at the strange games his superiors were indulging in, and took a calculated risk.

  ‘With the deepest respect siras, but I am at a loss to understand your concerns. The army is ready to march, we are strong beyond all else in the kingdom. What can these words achieve, beyond perhaps the simple chants of the powerless?’

  Both Zelfos and the King turned upon him, and for a moment he thought his life was forfeit, but not a word was spoken for it was as if the two were not able to find the words to answer to his question. Instead Lord Petros asked of the army.

  ‘Give me a report on the state of readiness of my forces Commander, for you have said they are ready to march.’ Captain Leander took a deep breath and responded easily for he was now on firmer ground.

  ‘Desire we have almost three thousand men ready at arms camped outside the city by the road north to Sheldon. We will pick up another thousand there, after a week; these will be from Underlourde Aaroghant, not as many as expected but they are the best, although his love of silver arrow heads has raised complaints for he wanted more time to forge sufficient. He is a man of great vanity and I fear sees war as more show than serious intent. I believe Underlourde Hafldan will add to our number a further two thousand, but he travels from south east of the plains of Amrosi and we have had difficulty in his communications, and I fear he is not to be trusted till he appears. We have supplies for more than these six thousand and all are ready to move at your word. We will have a thousand horsemen and five hundred archers whe
n all are together, the rest are swordsmen, lancers and axmen. These numbers include the Wolvers, all two score, less those lost in recent days.’ He paused to allow the King to inquire as to any detail.

  ‘Six thousand men, and we have no army yet to fight.’ The King turned to Zelfos with a frown before continuing.

  ‘What further news? What of the prisoner at Vault?’

  The huge Commander took a deep breath and felt the sweat suddenly wet his brow and soak his back, for he had dreaded this moment.

  ‘You hesitate commander. What news?’

  ‘Lord Petros, I received news just before we came to this hall and the trial today. This is why I was late. I have not yet had the opportunity to inform you.’

  It was not going well for both Zelfos and the King had turned pale and were staring hard at him with such looks which he knew was the quiet before the storm. A terrible storm. He continued with some trepidation.

  ‘A carriave arrived from the Vault not three span passed, carrying the news....’ here he took the message out and offered it to the King for he suddenly realised that if he read it out he would be the object of their fury. Far better let them read it for themselves.

  Zelfos snatched the tiny parchment which had travelled almost nonstop from the far reaches of the kingdom, strapped to the fragile leg of a tiny but plucky bird.

  As he read the simple message which Captain Piras Sleeman had sent, his face turned crimson with rage and his scream was enough to disturb centuries of fine dust far above in the stone arches which held the roof, so that a fine mist floated down upon the three men.

  The king quickly took the message from a still speechless Zelfos, and read it in great anxiety and then once more slumped upon his throne.

  ‘It cannot be. She has escaped, and the Wolver too. This is sorcery indeed.’

  ‘He was the best of the Wolvers desire; I cannot understand how this could be unless as you say, it is from magic.’ The captain added what he hoped would be a helpful comment.