Revelyn: 2nd Chronicles - The Time of the Queen

by Chris Ward

  They were glad of their dry beds and the glowing fire. Sleep was not far from any, but once more Germayne knew that Andes had gone off on the pretence to see Orcxyl comfortable with the horses, and she did not sleep until he returned quite some time later. You are in thrall to Gryfnor’s Diabules Andes she thought. Does it weaken your resolve? Does it gladden you heart? Does it mean that you will never look at any other than your Fryn? She did not let the giant man know she was awake and soon he was fast asleep and she alone lay back and looked to the stars, unsure of her feelings and disturbed in her mind. Orcxyl was also unable to settle. He liked being alone with the horses, and had planned it so, for it accorded him some opportunity to plan his next move, but his mind was full of conflict. He was exhausted with the struggle of keeping a rage burning in his chest, of forcing hate to block out all doubt. He knew he could take his weapons and shoot the White Queen in her sleep. It would be easy in the night and yet he did not. Some inner restraint would not allow him.

  I always hunt with the peace of knowing it is right, he thought. Why do I not have this peace now? How can I do what must be done without this sense? And so sleep did not come for Orcxyl or Germayne till well past the midnight, and then, finally, all slept till the sun burst suddenly through the trees and lit their small world with a welcome warmth. They waited all that day, resting by the fire and wandering the ruins. The view from high on the broken ramparts was breathtaking for one could see far across the forest in all directions and south out over the grassy plains which had sought by fire to destroy them. To the west was the Vaudim, and its mighty looming bulk was a reminder of the violence which journeyed always with men, for it held the secrets of wars and hates from ages past, a sad blight upon the endless beauty which swept off to each horizon. Sylvion stood motionless on the highest part of the ruin and looked east to the high land of AlGiron. Rema saw her there from a parapet close by and stood for a long time watching her, his thoughts confused and his heart racing. You are the only woman who has ever made me feel like this he thought. I cannot just turn from what I feel and yet you are beyond me. He shook his head in frustration and did nothing. After a time Sylvion sat and took out Rema’s book and read, unaware that she was watched, and Rema cursed himself.

  ‘I am a man and yet I am reduced to this far off wishful longing. I am a fool. She is unreachable. Turn away now or others will laugh.’ But he knew he could not.

  Andes walked far off into the forest and found a hidden glade where a stream bubbled happily through long grasses. He looked about to see if he had been followed and when satisfied that he was alone he sat on a rock and from a safe pouch took out the Diabule which Gryfnor had given him. He stared hard upon it as his emotions began to race with a desire which seemed to grow stronger each time he used it. He took it in his right hand, flat in the palm and thrust it hard into his forehead.

  ‘Fryn,’ he whispered, ‘I am come to see you girl.’ His body shivered and his eyes closed as the magic of the Diabule took hold of his mind and suddenly there she was, running across the grass toward him. He sat as if carved from stone but in a deeper place he was as free as the image he embraced. ‘Ah Fryn, I will be home soon.’ They kissed and let their young desires lead them where they would.

  ‘You have been away too long Andes,’ Fryn chided. ‘How am I to live without you here?’

  ‘I know Fryn, I know but...’

  ‘Andes if you love me you must return. We can be happy here. You don’t need anything more than me, and a simple life.’

  ‘I know Fryn ...’

  ‘Then come to me now Andes.’ She teased him then by running off across the grasses and stood some way away and moved her body in such a manner that Andes felt the deepest longing to hold her close...’

  ‘Other are asking Andes,’ she called.

  Andes was immediately alarmed. ‘Others Fryn? Asking what my love?’

  ‘Am I to be always without a man Andes,’ Fryn teased, putting her hands on her lovely hips and pouting beautifully. Andes felt a deepening panic.

  ‘You tell them Fryn. I will be back...soon, and if I find anyone had treated you wrong it will not go well for them...’

  ‘But Andes I get lonely,’ Fryn continued seeming to enjoy the power she had over her giant man. ‘I begin to think you will not return, that you have found another and forsaken me...’

  ‘Never Fryn, I am true to you,’ but behind his love at the edge of the forest he caught a sudden glimpse of another standing motionless just back in the trees, a tall and slender woman full of grace and elegance. His eyes were drawn to her and Fryn noticed. She turned to see what had taken his attention. In a moment of deep torture Andes knew she had seen the woman.

  ‘Fryn, she is nothing to me...’

  ‘Andes,’ Fryn sobbed ‘you have betrayed me.’

  ‘Never,’ Andes cried, ‘why must we always part this way?’ But she was gone and Andes sat alone and disoriented in the sudden jolting reality of the glade. He shook his head and wiped his tears away and cursed the vision of the other which always entered into his intimacy with Fryn. He punched the air with a mighty fist. ‘No!’ he cried and the echo of his great distress seemed to linger forever around him. He looked at his hand and saw the stain in the palm was a deeper purple now, and he immediately rubbed his forehead as if to wipe away the mark which grew there, beneath his fringe, in an equal hue.

  Orcxyl waited patiently in the shadows. He knew where the Queen had gone. He knew by which route she would return. He had traced her effortlessly, making no sound, invisible to any he seemed almost a ghost, such was his passing. He had watched Rema watching the Queen. You are a fool Rema, you can do better than this one; she is a killer. She thinks there is evil in the land but cannot see that she is behind it. She denies her true self. He was part of the forest, a part of the ruin. It seemed as if his very skin had taken the texture of that which surrounded him. His bow was ready. One arrow was all he needed. It’s poison tip as deadly as a thousand normal arrows. He waited. She would come by this path and now his long journey was almost over. They will slay me he thought and I will let them, but Freya will be avenged ... and all the others too who have been needlessly sacrificed at her command.

  Sylvion put the book down and stretched her body. She looked about. She was alone. Rema had gone although she knew nothing of his secret watching.

  ‘You must come,’ she whispered into the air. ‘I need your help, please come...’ She looked around with a hope which was not requited in that moment, and so in a measured thoughtful manner Sylvion Greyfeld walked back to their camp.

  Orcxyl heard her coming. His ears knew just what sound would come to him. She wore boots which echoed on the stone steps some distance off. She walked into the ancient orchard where he sat in the shadow of an old stone building where the grass was long enough to hide him easily. He saw her exactly in the place he knew she would pass, the perfect spot for the kill. He did not need further thought, he was the hunter now. He drew the bow and aimed easily, all his instincts brought to bear on what must be done. She paused as he knew she would to take a step across a gap where a wide channel once carried flowing water. Life giving water. His arrow would hit her heart. All time froze, everything came down to this instant. It had come to pass.

  At the release of the arrow, in a single heartbeat, Orcxyl’s deep instincts, bound to a savage anger that he alone would kill this one... saved her life, for suddenly in the tree above her Orcxyl saw another creature, its lithe body motionless in ambush.

  ‘You would kill her too,’ he thought, ‘you shall not, she is mine.’ and he let the arrow fly.

  The great sabrecat died in mid air, in mid growl, an arrow in its flank and the deadly poison from its tip stopping its mighty pounding heart in a single beat. It thudded to the ground knocking Sylvion headlong into the grass, where she lay winded and disorientated. Orcxyl stood like a statue and inwardly cursed the slain beast for its thwarting of his plan. Rema and Germayne appeared soon after and Grav
yn not far behind. The creatures’ growl had not gone unheard. They stood and looked at the great dead sabrecat in awe.

  ‘You saved my life,’ Sylvion said to Orcxyl, ‘this beast would have killed me with one blow.’

  ‘How did you know?’ Gravyn demanded, immediately suspicious that Orcxyl was in the same place as his queen, with a weapon and without her invitation. It was a question which demanded an answer and they all looked at Orcxyl, although it was only Gravyn who seemed in any manner menacing.

  Orcxyl shrugged. ‘You spoke last night of an evil close by My Lady, I was merely watching out for you. This place,’ he indicated the ruins all about them with a simple thrust of his chin, ‘this place is a good place for such things to lie in wait.’ His heart was pounding but outwardly he was calm and none suspected him of any menace, save Gravyn who shook his head and muttered inaudibly.

  ‘I thank you Orcxyl,’ Sylvion said with genuine warmth. ‘You are a remarkable man, a true hunter who never rests. I owe you my life; be assured I will not forget your faithfulness.’

  ‘My Lady,’ Orcxyl said as humbly as he could. He bowed his head in a quick and single acknowledgment of her person and then went off alone to sit with the horses and consider such a strange and untimely set of circumstances.

  The night was cool and filled with a sense of frustration for Sylvion’s mystery person had not appeared, and she would not reveal more despite several questions by Rema. The conversation around the camp fire was not able to find any root and so it seemed an effort, even pointless, to make small talk when so much was at stake, and so much left unsaid. Andes appeared sullen and spoke not a single word which worried Rema, who knew their friendship was changing now that they travelled with others. He knew his feelings for Sylvion were almost overwhelming at times, and this too had added to the distance which seemed to be growing between himself and Andes.

  Orcxyl did not sit long with them, and after the meal, which was agreed by all to be very fine for Gravyn had shot two small Revel hares in the afternoon, and the old orchard where the sabrecat had been slain still provided many wild fruits, he disappeared back to the horses. Sylvion was preoccupied with her memories for she thought hard to bring back what she had forgotten about things past, things which lingered close to her, but would not appear, and as the night progressed she became increasingly annoyed that so much that was important could not be brought forth. If you do not come I cannot continue she thought. You must come tomorrow or else this mad flight through the country will appear madness. They slept well despite their frustrations and first light brought another warm day and a cloudless sky.

  ‘If this one for whom we wait does not come this day,’ Rema said as they breakfasted, ‘what plans do you have that we might continue in your quest My Lady?’ Sylvion was irritated at his reserve, but knew that in truth she had pushed him away. Just as you did before came a thought which she did not allow to linger for more than an instant.

  ‘I will tell you all by nightfall,’ she said harshly but then regretting immediately that her impatience was clear. She went alone to the place where she had stood the day before and looked east to AlGiron. The others seemed to sense her need for affirmation and before the noon they all were there sitting on fallen stones or in an old arched doorway looking silently out over the forest. From their resting places they all watched Sylvion who stood alone ignoring all else and facing the east.

  ‘I do not understand this woman,’ Andes whispered to Rema at one point, ‘she truly has me confused.’ Rema smiled for there was a familiar tone in his friend’s voice.

  ‘Well women easily confuse you, Andes,’ he replied.

  ‘Unlike you,’ the big man mocked.

  ‘You speak truly Andes. The ways of a woman are not strange to me...’

  ‘You fool,’ Andes said quietly, ‘I have seen you looking at her, and I have seen panting dogs less affected by their state.’ The two friends looked at each other.

  ‘It shows that much?’ Rema asked quietly. Andes nodded.

  ‘Well the difference between us then Andes?’ Rema said after some consideration, ‘the difference between us is that I will admit to it...’ and he nodded slightly toward Germayne, his purpose clear, for Andes immediately knew of what he spoke.

  ‘I swore to Fryn Rema. I will be true to her.’ He spoke hoarsely, surprised by the difficulty he had in making any of his words seem considered.

  ‘There is no shame in loving another Andes, we cannot help what sometimes overtakes us,’ Rema said.

  ‘Then you do not know my resolve in this,’ Andes hissed and Rema knew he had overstepped himself.

  ‘You must do what you must do,’ he said turning back to Sylvion at the very moment when she raised an arm to the sky and cried.

  ‘Look. Something comes!’

  All then followed her outstretched arm and saw to the east and high above several large birds.

  ‘They are eagles Sylvion!’ Rema called, and Andes too for his sight was the best of all.

  ‘Large eagles My Lady,’ he said. ‘I see three, no four, for two are close together. No wait, there are three for it carries something...’ They all stared into the sky and watched the creatures approach. They were huge and majestic birds like none had ever seen, save Sylvion.

  ‘They are shining eagles from AlGiron,’ she said. ‘He is coming. I knew he would.’

  ‘Who My Lady?’ Rema asked as they all gathered on the wide open stone platform upon which she waited.

  ‘You will see,’ she said in a breathless whisper. ‘You will see.’ And then added half to herself, ‘I did not think of this.’

  As they watched it was clear the largest bird dropped steadily, seemingly unable to soar as the other two which glided effortlessly around and around in tight circles as if to escort the other safely. Soon all those who stood watching could see that the largest bird was carrying a man and the bird was working hard to keep flying, its great wings beating the air savagely to halt its steady descent. They could see it was coming toward them and Sylvion ordered them to move back from the stone platform and so they did, for it was clear now that the bird would need all the room they could give it to land safely, and bearing such a weight it would have but one chance. Soon they could hear the great wings of the falling eagle swishing through the air and they marvelled at its might and strength for now they all saw that the one it carried was no small man. It came fast in the end, with a quickening of its beating wings and flaring of the huge tail it landed heavily on the platform as the other two eagles circled whilst calling eerily from above. None spoke for it was a scene they would never forget.

  A large impressive man sprang from the back of the eagle and went immediately to its head. He stroked it gently and spoke words which none recognised but the bird, which turned its head back and forth and eyed the man unblinking with one eye at a time as though some bond was held between them.

  ‘Go now Soaryr,’ the man said, and with a jerk of his right arm he indicated upwards and with two enormous slow and powerful flaps the bird was once more airborne and climbing up to the other two. The three shining eagles circled swiftly around the stone platform and then with each giving a mighty cry they climbed away and were soon small dots in the eastern sky. Only then did Sylvion and the great man, and great he was, only a little less in height than Andes and quiet clearly more lithe and sinewy, only then did the two look to each other and such a sense of awe filled all that none could speak.

  ‘I knew you would come, Reigin,’ Sylvion said, ‘and here you are.’ Tears poured down her face and Rema felt the cold chill of jealously stir in his breast.

  ‘You are unchanged,’ the man breathed as he looked upon Sylvion. ‘I knew you had not aged, for you had told me this, but in one hundred summers I have not seen you and you are as you were. It is as if we were back then...

  Suddenly Rema knew the man. The book he thought, this Reigin was Sylvion’s captor and jailer upon the Cape...in the Vault. The one who turned and aided her e
scape and fought for her. He too is alive!’ He shook his head in disbelief and felt the hairs upon his body stand tall in the thrill of the moment. The others had no idea who the man was although Rema saw that Germayne was weeping and so he guessed she knew something more, in fact...You knew he thought. You knew all along.

  ‘Reigin you are not so changed yourself,’ Sylvion said in a voice which was so full of warmth that Rema once more found himself diverted by darker thoughts. ‘Silver of hair and perhaps a mite heavier, but the air in AlGiron serves you well my friend.’

  ‘Indeed it does My Lady...’

  ‘No more of that,’ Sylvion interrupted, rebuking him gently, ‘I am trying to convince others to be less formal so you must assist me in this.’ She looked at Rema for the briefest moment and he felt her warmth such that all jealousy fled away. And then Sylvion embraced the great man and such was the moment that all but Orcxyl applauded without thought as to why.

  They parted after a time and Sylvion wiped her eyes and went to introduce Reigin to her companions, but she was unable for he caught sight of Rema and stopped as though frozen by some sorcerer’s spell. For a moment they looked at each other.

  ‘Rema, he whispered. ‘Rema Bowman, you too still live?’ And then Sylvion realised his confusion, and Rema too.

  ‘No Reigin this is not the Rema Bowman you knew so well. But his name is the same and in truth he is five generations in descent but...’

  ‘You are identical Rema,’ Reigin interrupted in awe, ‘identical to the man I fought with here in Fellonshead and travelled with through AlGiron so long ago. I would swear you are the same man...’ and he suddenly looked across at Sylvion and they exchanged an understanding which only Rema understood. He has guessed straight away that I have unsettled her Rema thought. He knows her regrets.

  ‘I am Rema Bowman,’ he said and extended his hand in friendship. ‘I have read about you, Reigin of the Edenwhood, and I know something of what you speak. It is an honour indeed to meet you Sira. Welcome.’