Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls

by Chris Ward

  And then to her horror, they charged off once more.

  ‘Not yet!’ Sylvion cried in great alarm, but they did not hear and she suddenly understood. Thunder had realised that they would not last beyond that day, perhaps till evening, and so whilst they had strength to gallop they could at least continue their fight.

  She raced up upon the ramparts and sobbed in desolation as the brave horses of her childhood once more charged out onto the plains in a mighty thunder which shook the ground for leagues around. They swept past the waiting Edenwhood and then up the gentle slope and fell once more upon the enemy.

  The lancers who stood fearfully against them, did as before, but this time as the Equin leapt high above, they were met with a volley of arrows, all silver tipped and each one found it mark. Sylvion heard the cries which her dear friends gave up, for they were mortally wounded. All but Thunder and a handful of others were hit, but still their mad charge went on undaunted, and once more the enemy suffered grievously under the weight and ferocity of such a brave attack. This time though the Equin began to fail. One by one, all those who carried a silver arrow in their flesh could not escape the awful magic which ruled them; they stumbled and fell, and finally lay still, their last breath a lonely sigh of sad regret.

  And so the Equin died.

  Only Thunder returned with those who had escaped the silver arrows, for no other shafts were fired except those in the first deadly volley. It was fatigue and a deadly fever which drove them back to the forest, where all lay upon the ground beneath the trees and writhed once more. Sylvion stood with them, now only ten in number, and watched as their life flickered like a candle in a gentle breeze. Once more the forest seemed to revive a few, but in the end it was only Thunder and one other, whom Sylvion had once in her childhood named Sadeye, who were able to stand and face the midnoon with any breath within their body.

  And Sylvion grieved, for only these two remained.

  The highlanders returned just as Thunder struggled to his feet. They were exhausted, with many wounded and immediately made preparations to tend those who could not look to themselves. Sylvion spoke briefly with Goodman and Reigin before she took one of the returned horses and with the great soldier at her side rode out onto the plains and joined the ever watchful Edenwhood who had yet to wield a sword in anger.

  There was great silence on the battlefield, as the two foes watched each other and wondered what next would come about.

  ‘You could have been killed Sylvion,’ Rema spoke as she joined him at the front of their small army. He did not look directly at her but remained almost impassively staring at the vast force before him, for although the Equin had inflicted great losses, they were still an army well equipped with many thousand men remaining who were able to fight.

  ‘I could have died Rema, but I didn’t,’ she replied evenly, although it was clear that she was on the edge of tears. She continued with great emotion.

  ‘The Equin are lost to us. I cannot tell you Rema what grief this brings me. Those brave creatures sacrificed themselves for us. Only Thunder and Sadeye remain, and their life-force is ebbing as we speak.’ The sadness in her voice moved Rema deeply and he looked across at the lovely woman for whom he held such a great love. She sat proudly in her saddle but there was a deep hurt in her eyes and Rema knew that she had only done what he would have done; he could not be angry at her for that. And now these great creatures which she had so loved and who held such an importance in her life were all but gone.

  ‘I hear your grief my love,’ he said with such gentleness that she smiled, for she had expected his anger at her foolhardiness. ‘Your Equin have done great deeds this day,’ he continued, ‘They will not die in vain.’

  And then Sylvion looked upon the enemy and saw that indeed her wonderful horses had inflicted a mighty blow. She wondered then just what might happen next, but as she did the Elder Anderlorn rode up.

  ‘They are about to attack from the southern flank with their horses. This will be a hard and mighty blow which we must turn back.’ And with that he rode vigorously along the front line of his mighty warriors and spoke to them encouragingly in their native tongue. His commanding voice carried far over the plains to where the wounded enemy crouched in wait. He drew his mighty sword and all under his command did likewise.

  Suddenly with a noise which matched the Equin’s mighty charge, a huge force of a thousand mounted soldiers broke free from the southern lines of the enemy and galloped down the slope upon them. Rema looked about. They were but twelve score, outnumbered four to one, but the Edenwhood were warriors without peer. He saw no fear in their faces and this sent a shiver run through his spine as he realised that he was surrounded by bravery that day.

  He reached to his quiver and bent an arrow to his bow. With careful aim he sent the shaft hurtling into the charging throng. He carried three quivers full of arrows. Two he had collected from those which had rained down upon the Equin earlier in the day, and he carried a quiver of his own featherless arrows which he would not use unless the situation became most dire.

  Anderlorn raised a horn to his lips and gave two sharp blasts which echoed powerfully across the plains. High above ten eagles suddenly plummeted toward the earth as if they too would engage the enemy in some manner. Then Anderlorn gave a fearful cry and led his Scythercats full speed at the charging horses. The remaining Edenwhood followed on foot but so swiftly that they did not fall far behind those mounted.

  Rema fired arrows in quick succession over the heads of the Edenwhood and each shaft found a deadly mark amongst the charging enemy. He felled ten men before the two forces slammed into each other with a mighty crunch as flesh and bone were broken. The cry of anguish which rose above the battle was chilling to all who heard.

  Rema instructed Sylvion to wait with Reigin who wisely understood this command, for he knew that her safety was more important than his opportunity to do battle.

  ‘Come my lady, ride back a ways with me and do not fret. Your commander Rema Bowman knows what he is about. You will get the chance to use your weapon soon enough. Now is not the time. Let the Edenwhood do what they can do, and then we will see what is left for us.’ Sylvion nodded in agreement and together they rode back toward Fellonshead as the battle raged behind them.

  Though they were like the sands of the sea all round about, these mounted men of the king were no match for the Edenwhood. The mighty scythercats were deadly predators which could leap and bound and change direction in an instant, whilst the horses which came against them had no such instinct. In great numbers the mighty cats cut down the steeds whilst the Edenwhood warriors on foot moved like a swarm of killer wasps who fall upon an invader in their nest. The slaughter was great and at its centre stood Anderlorn wielding Anderwyn and none could come against him. Twenty men lay dead and dying round about him as he plied his deadly blade. Rema rode expertly about some distance from the mad mass of entangled men and horses and fired his arrows with such deadly effect that he rivalled Anderlorn in those he felled.

  The eagles which had answered Anderlorn’s call swooped low along the front line of the enemy which now surged and jeered angrily as they saw the slaughter visited upon their fellow soldiers not far beyond them on the plain. Each eagle carried an archer and each arrow fired found a deadly mark such that none was brave enough to rush out and join the fray beyond their lines. These great eagles were strong beyond any other bird which flew, but they could not carry much weight beyond their rider and a few arrows, so every now and then when they had exhausted their supply, they would peel off and land behind the battle nearby Fellonshead where a great pile of arrows had been collected from those which the enemy had fired earlier in the day. Once more rearmed they would join the battle overhead and great was the death they rained down from there that day. They flew until they could hardly turn a wing, but their bravery in that battle held back the army which wavered in its intent, and so their mounted men were left alone to do battle with the Edenwhood.

 
; The battle raged well into the mid noon and beyond, when it slowed, for all were exhausted by their mad action. The swords were now wielded with more defence than attack, and arrows no longer hit home with such deadliness than at the outset. Even Rema had slowed for he had run through all his feathered arrows and had taken to using a few selected of his own to give protection to any Edenwhood who were hard pressed by several attackers at once.

  Suddenly in the midst of this increasing lethargy a horn was heard across the plain and in a flash all those of the king’s men still mounted turned and raced for home. This took the Edenwhood by surprise and they let a gap open up between themselves and their retreating enemy. But Anderlorn mustered his men quickly and they raced off in pursuit, knowing full well that now was the time to press on for victory. He did not know however that Commander Leander had judged his enemy well for as they gave chase the king’s archers let fly four volleys more of deadly arrows. The retreating horsemen then knew that they were safe, for the deadly shafts came down behind them and caught the racing Edenwhood in a hail of sharpened death. It would have been a disaster except that a single arrow on its flight toward the heavens had by chance found its mark in one of the exhausted eagles which still flew in battle. Anderlorn glimpsed the falling bird and heard its shriek. He saw then the silent wall of death turning to fall upon them. He had only moments to call off the pursuit, but even then a score of men were killed outright and ten scythercats were mortally wounded.

  And so the battle of the Edenwhood was done and each side retreated to lick their wounds and count the cost which was great for all.

  Sylvion had sat upon her horse and watched the battle unfold. Reigin did not move from her side, and all the while not a single word passed between them. She had experienced a growing horror at what had unfolded before her, such that in the end she could not speak at all. As the enemies finally separated and the final shower of arrows was stilled, there came a moment when she could not contain herself any longer and she spurred her mount and galloped back to where so many dead and dying lay. The ground in places ran red with blood and the smell of death was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Reigin rode at her side and watched his charge with deep concern. He had always believed that the battlefield was no place for a woman, such was the way a Wolver viewed the world. He was not sure how the sights and sounds might work upon her mind.

  Rema rode up exhausted. Sylvion stared at him in deep concern.

  ‘Are you alright?’ He nodded, too tired to speak. She smiled weakly at him.

  ‘But not these.’ She indicated the many fallen. Rema looked around at where she was indicating and for the first time saw the overwhelming horror of it all.

  ‘No,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘not these.’

  Sylvion leapt from her horse and went wandering amongst the carnage.

  Both Rema and Reigin went with her.

  ‘I want the wounded gathered here,’ she ordered, and like an angel of hope at the darkest hour she began to offer life to those left with some chance of it.

  In the end she gathered some several dozen of the enemy who still lived and could walk in some manner. She had the Edenwhood bandage their wounds as best they could manage and then without a backwards glance led them to their lines where she sent them on their way with a most moving speech. These men had given themselves up for dead and were amazed that such caring could be shown in battle. They took back the story of her mercy, and it spread rapidly throughout the encampment.

  Back where the dead lay, she made Anderlorn promise that no further harm would come to any, for she feared that the mighty scythercats would feed upon the fallen.

  ‘Only horses,’ she demanded. ‘No human will be taken. There is enough horse flesh here to feed a thousand beasts.’ And even this seemed repugnant to her.

  Anderlorn had agreed and she then collapsed into Rema’s arms and he took her back to Fellonshead where she lay distraught upon the ground, and then she cried like she had never cried before, and he held her and thought she might never cease. Reigin stood close by and felt a great sadness come upon him, for he had learnt not to feel, and now all about him were things which needed to be felt for. Once more this woman had opened his eyes to new things. In the twilight of that first terrible day of battle he shed a tear which was a private thing and partly it alarmed him, but once done was something that he savoured greatly.

  Rema left Sylvion after a time with Reigin standing watch once more. He had all the highlanders who were able go forth into the forest and out onto the plains and build as many small fires as they could manage. These were lit and from a distance he hoped it seemed that those who camped by Fellonshead were vastly greater than they were.

  When all was done he called the leaders together and they spoke of what had come to pass that day. They ate a little and drank from the cool water of the well which seemed to have a power to renew, but all were weary beyond measure.

  They were a sombre group, for the losses had been greater than each had hoped might be the case, despite the success which had been achieved. Rema spoke quietly in summary when all had been given the chance to report.

  ‘We have lost nearly four score Edenwhood and two dozen scythercats. There are almost a hundred wounded, of these most say they can fight on, but Elder Anderlorn suspects but half these will hold a sword in anger by the morning.’

  They were all alarmed at such a loss of these great fighters, but the numbers had been overwhelming and the enemy far braver than first thought. Even ones such as the Edenwhood could not dodge arrows which they do not see.

  ‘Sadly the Equin are no more save two,’ Rema continued, ‘and these may well be dead by the morning. We all witnessed their feats this day and stood in awe that such beasts could do what they did with no assistance from men, and it must be said that they had no cause to be here save some deep mystery which none can fathom. We are in their debt and their story will be told.’ Rema paused and let his words linger long upon the still night air.

  All about nodded in agreement for they were all deeply moved by what the Equin had done that day.

  ‘These Equin have caused great harm to our enemy but still we are faced with a mighty foe, for we have lost many. Goodman’s daring raid achieved all I hoped for, but with the loss of ten dead and a score wounded from four score who set out, the highlanders are greatly diminished in number if not in bravery.’ He paused and then went on in a whisper. ‘I am a highlander and so I grieve for all who fell.’

  He looked around at those who were before him. Sylvion sat quietly grieving. Reigin stood proudly aloof but seemingly softer in some manner. Ofeigr and Scion sat together uninjured despite the noble part they had played with Goodman Cantor that morning. Anderlorn and his leaders, Rhynos and Cordia were present, although Rhynos had taken a savage blow to the head which had bruised severely; but he stood proudly as if to show that he was unbowed.

  Clarynda the graceful one stood alone in grief for her good friend Remur had fallen. Goodman Cantor seemed lost in thought, but he too had survived without injury; his mastery of the sword too much for any except a Wolver.

  And then he realised with a sudden deep pain to his heart. Serenna was missing.

  He fought for control as a mighty fear overcame him, and he spoke as though from a far off place.

  ‘Where is Serenna?’ His words fell like death amongst them and no one spoke. He repeated his question more forcefully as he looked around the group.

  ‘Where is Serenna, has no one seen her?’

  Sylvion looked up and saw his distress and her heart ached for Rema then, and she realised that she had been greatly distant to him in recent days; but she had no knowledge of Serenna.

  ‘She was with me.’ Clarynda spoke quietly and her words seemed to cut the air like a knife. She continued in whisper.

  ‘She fought by my side and saved me twice.’ All eyes were now on this tall and willowy woman who was brave beyond all expectation.

  ‘She fought like on
e possessed and slew three men before I had slain my first. It was she who fought so that I could mount my horse at Goodman’s call to retreat. I pleaded with her to come...’ And now her voice broke for the emotion that it carried was too great a burden. Rema stared hard and unbelieving and tears filled his eyes.

  ‘Tell me woman, what came to pass?’ His voice was but a choking murmur.

  Clarynda took a breath. ‘She would not respond and I could do nothing. She told me to go and then she turned and faced them. There were too many for her. I did not see her fall, but she did not return. I am sorry Rema for her last words were...’ And once more she could not continue and all who listened felt her distress.

  Rema walked to her and held her hands. He spoke gently then although he could see little now. They stood together like that as Clarynda finished her sad tale.

  ‘Her last words were...tell Rema I have always loved him.’ And the lovely woman wept.

  The gathering was deeply moved by this. Rema said nothing but felt a deep pain which he knew would not depart that night or for many nights to come, and as Clarynda collapsed against him, he held her close and grieved. No one spoke for a very long time for each entertained their own sad memory delivered by the passing of that day.

  Finally Rema gathered himself and spoke once more.

  ‘We are soon faced with another day and the enemy is unmoved from where they stand. We cannot yield so we must fight on. I fear that we are now too few, but I have another plan and it must be carried out this night when the enemy least suspects.’

  He looked across at Sylvion and their eyes met and locked. She saw in him at that moment a great bravery, for despite the loss of his dear friend Serenna, he knew what must come next. And so did she, but with a terrible shiver Sylvion wondered if she were able to do what he was about to ask. Just that morning she had been barely restrained by Rema, wanting to enter the battle and see an end to the king and all he stood for. Now in the shadow of so much death, she did not know whether the great anger in her heart was yet still great enough.