Revelyn: 2nd Chronicles - The Time of the Queen

by Chris Ward

  Zydor stormed off and ordered Girdon to follow. The hooded assembly ran quickly after them and Rayven suddenly found herself alone and unable to move, a mere statue in a giant landscape, but her heart was somehow enlivened for she had witnessed Rubii’s great courage, and her final words of hope... It is coming, rang in her ears.

  She remained there all that night and well into the following day when Zydor returned and pretended that he had intended this trial as a suitable punishment for her insolence the night before. He released her and she was taken back to her cell where Zydor hissed angrily to her as he shut the door himself.

  ‘The Summer Solstice is two cycles of seven hence. I will ensure your sacrifice goes without disruption and I will cut your throat and let your blood reach the water below before you fall. I can do it Rayven. Do not think I cannot. And Ungarit will be pleased to see you die for you have insulted him and me greatly. Think upon it princess.’

  Rayven did not know why but before she gave it a single thought she was suddenly taken to call out in the strongest voice she could summon.

  ‘It is coming Zydor.’

  She could not see him for the door was shut and he was already leaving, but he heard her words and a sudden pain entered his heart, or what remained of it, and he felt fear. And the great High Priest of Ungarit did not like it at all. Rayven sat upon her bed and cried. She mourned for Rubii, and wondered what her parents would be told. She thought upon her own fate and in the end she descended into a deep melancholy for she knew she was alone and in a place none in Revelyn had even heard of.

  What chance do I have, she mused, when all is said and done, I will be like Rubii soon, and I do not think I am as brave as she.

  ‘El-Arathor,’ she whispered into the air, ‘I am in need of help.’ And then she wondered at her foolishness. Do I now mutter like Zydor, she thought, but deep within herself, she knew she did not.

  Chapter 16

  They rode north into a cold windswept landscape, where the sun now struggled to give them warmth. To the west the mighty forest stretched endlessly away but the path they followed did not approach it, indeed the further they went the tree line receded from them and Reigin commented that they were perhaps reaching the northern limit of the forest. Game seemed scarce and in two days Rema only brought down a small deer and Gravyn a single Revel hare. These were sufficient however for their needs and for drinking there was plenty of fresh water, for everywhere small streams gave clean pure refreshment. The rain held off and so sleeping in the open was at worst uncomfortable but not unbearable. They talked little but rode hard, for Sylvion drove them on. Now that she had a path to follow she was relentless and they halted infrequently, only for the shortest time, and always she was impatient to get moving again. At night they fell asleep exhausted, tired and stiff and sore from long days in the saddle. On the third day they finally reached a point where the path turned sharply westward, and indeed it could not travel further north, for there before them was an escarpment which ran east to west and fell away steeply some hundred cubits to a lower plain of rolling treeless hills covered in short tussock grasses and which continued on forever to the northern horizon.

  They sat in their saddles and gazed down upon what seemed a different land.

  ‘It is the land of Moran,’ Reigin said quietly. ‘A place of ice and strange beasts I am told.’

  ‘It is as if the land here split apart and sunk down,’ Rema said looking along the impressive fault in the earth before them, and which now divided the land so spectacularly.

  ‘It is no great barrier to humans,’ Sylvion added, for it is not impossible to scale.’

  ‘But it would likely stop larger beasts,’ Reign continued, ‘it is a natural fence I think.’

  And so at last they rode west; following the path along the escarpment and for three days saw nothing in the vast land, although now they met the mighty forest once more for it gradually closed in to their south until they rode in a narrow corridor between the trees and the escarpment, in places far less than a league. They saw no animals save a few distant birds, and no evidence at all of any other humans, Sylvion began to worry that the path led nowhere, but Orcxyl found marks that Rayven had travelled that same road when they stumbled on what seemed an old campfire early on the fourth day. In the morning light he saw a tell tale glow and having used the ribbon from the nest to excite his senses he informed a relieved Sylvion that her daughter had walked in that place.

  ‘How long since?’ she asked, but Orcxyl just shook his head and did not reply.

  Late in the mid noon of the same day Rema thought he saw a movement far out on the plains to the west and called a halt. They searched the horizon and sure enough it seemed some strange beasts were grazing there. They travelled further on along the escapement which had remained unchanged since they first encountered it, and finally when the mighty herd was to their north they stopped and Sylvion took her amazing King’s Eye, and looked upon them as the others waited in anticipation for her report. Sylvion was amazed and cried out...

  ‘I have never seen such beasts, they are huge and ....’ she lowered her device and shook her head. ‘You will not believe what you see my friends,’ she whispered and handed the thing to Rema. All in turn were allowed to look and were stunned by the beasts they saw.

  ‘I count two score at least,’ Gravyn said, and Orcxyl muttered,

  ‘My arrows would not pierce their hairy hides.’

  ‘Spoken like a true hunter,’ said Rema with a laugh, ‘But what are they...’

  ‘I know them,’ Reign said slowly and quietly as he looked again through the King’s Eye. He lowered it and stood thinking.

  ‘What are they Reigin?’ Sylvion inquired.

  ‘They are Mamyth,’ he said suddenly as the word came to him. He nodded. ‘Yes that is what they are, you see the mighty tusks and the strange extended nose...’

  ‘I thought it more like a huge rope between their eyes,’ Gravyn said...

  ‘There are Mamyth.’ Reigin repeated himself several times, almost as if enjoying the new word. ‘They used to roam all over Revelyn. The Edenwhood hunted them once and then they disappeared long ago. It is in our books, and we moved south then, having separated from the northern people, the old Ravalin, for we fought many useless wars with them.’

  ‘Perhaps this escarpment prevented these Mamyth from travailing south,’ Rema said. And they nodded for it seemed likely.

  ‘They are as big as a house,’ Sylvion said once more looking upon them.

  Suddenly the air was rent by a mighty trumpeting and Sylvion raised the King’s Eye once more and cried excitedly, ‘they call through their long noses. I see them raised into the air and the sound comes... It is amazing.’

  They all looked some more and then they rode on and as they did it seemed that the numbers of the Mamyth increased all the while. Well before the sun sunk low, they made camp right upon the escarpment where a great herd of the Mamyth grazed close by, and now they could see well without Sylvion’s amazing instrument. It was after they had sat and watched the great beasts for some time that Orcxyl saw other humans.

  ‘My Lady we are not alone,’ he whispered. They all followed his pointing finger and were stunned for there below them, close by the base of the escarpment, but back in the direction from whence they had come, was a small tent community and many humans, clad in fur and going about what appeared to be a most normal life. Some women were cooking; the men sat by a smokeless fire and seemed to be talking animatedly. Children played happily amongst the round tents which were enclosed by a mighty fence that appeared to be made of the tusks of the great Mamyths.

  ‘We rode past them and did not see,’ Sylvion whispered and then wondered why she spoke so softly.

  ‘Have they seen us?’ Rema said to none in particular. It was a question quickly answered for suddenly the men by the camp fire stood and pointed at them, and soon the whole community seemed to be looking up at them and gesticulating wildly. Rema thought t
o wave in a friendly manner but this was prevented by a sudden frightened scream, which instantly drew the attention of all to the one who gave it. Out on the plain stood a small child who had escaped the protection of the tusk wall, and had wandered off into the tussock grasses. Standing but a score of cubits away from the terrified child was a mighty Mamyth. It raised its long nose and trumpeted fearfully and the child screamed again which only served to further agitate the enormous beast. All thoughts suddenly turned to the child as the men in the camp below ran for their weapons in a desperate attempt to save her.

  ‘They cannot reach her!’ Sylvion cried with an overwhelming feeling of desperation. ‘The child will be trampled to death, quick Rema use your bow...’ She gave the command with a seeming surety that Rema would be able to save the child. Rema knew immediately that his arrows would be little use upon the Mamyth, when what was required was instant death, not a goad to an already enraged beast. But he took his bow and with an arrow full drawn he decided upon his target. He loosed it then and tracked it well, using his gift to move it, adjusting its flight right to its mark. The distance was near half a league so he had the time to choose his spot. The arrow flew fast and pieced the Mamyth’s long nose just below the face. Rema saw it pass through and end up with its tip protruding from one side of the nose, and the nock, just visible where it entered.

  Almost two cubits thick he thought and instantly fired again. This time the arrow found its mark further down, a most difficult strike for the Mamyth had reacted to the first hit by raising its nose and trumpeting loudly in pain, and so Rema had to make some desperate corrections in the last part of the flight. This second arrow made the Mamyth jump back, and turn in a circle as if looking for some hidden foe. Suddenly it turned its amazing nose upon itself and grasped the higher arrow and pulled it out and threw it to the ground where it was trampled angrily to pieces. But it could not reach the second arrow nearer the tip and so the Mamyth trumpeted its pain and turned and withdrew, in a shuffling run which was still faster than a man, until it had joined the others in the vast herd to the west, where Orcxyl alone of those who watched from the escarpment, saw another beast use its long snout to investigate the remaining arrow and then pull it out, whereupon it was inspected carefully by several of the larger beasts before suffering the same fate as the first arrow. Orcxyl smiled and thought, to hunt such ones would be great danger and pleasure at once, for they are quick witted and would need great skill to best.

  The people of the plain saw it all.

  They saw Rema, the stranger high up above them on the very edge of the escarpment fire two arrows, and those who had almost reached the child saw the hits and how the Mamyth jumped and trumpeted in pain. The saw the arrow crushed to splinters and then they snatched their child to safety and stood in awe of they had witnessed.

  And then Rema lowered his bow and waved. And the people of the plain waved back and it was clear that this was done with great respect.

  ‘Well done Rema Bowman,’ Sylvion said with genuine admiration, and went and took his arm and joined in the waving, and Rema felt suddenly much pleased with himself.

  ‘We will be expecting visitors,’ Gravyn observed quietly as they watched the people below return to their camp talking animatedly, pointing up toward them and waving. The rescued child was held up for them to see and it was clear there was much happiness within the small community.

  ‘Well,’ Sylvion replied, ‘we shall make a big fire and welcome any who wish to climb up to us. I cannot imagine they will come in any manner to do us harm. I think we stay and be hospitable.’ She looked around at the others. ‘Are we agreed?’ And all nodded or murmured assent. They quickly made themselves comfortable and Orcxyl went off to the edge of the forest where he brought down a wild pig which was soon roasting on the coals of a fire far bigger than was needed to cook their food. They ate just before sunset and not long after a number of the people from the plains arrived out of the darkness with a cheery greeting in a language which was not greatly dissimilar to their own so it was easy enough to make themselves understood.

  They were a short people with flattish faces and eyes somewhat narrowed; perhaps Rema thought well suited to hunt in the biting cold wind. They wore beautifully handmade clothes of soft fur, mostly snow fox and minyx, and carried gifts of food in bags made of the hairy hide of the Mamyth. The leader was a rather toothless older man, but still in the time of his prime for he moved with an easy grace and introduced himself with a bow and an outstretched hand, and thumped his chest proudly with the other hand saying his name was Kaiman.

  ‘We thank you friends,’ he said, ‘we bring gifts of food. You welcome here.’ After this there was much shaking of hands and even a few hugs which Gravyn and Orcxyl found something of an ordeal, but they were soon swept up in the good humour and easy manner of the visitors. There were no women with them and Sylvion felt disappointed but guessed that such was life in the harsh north, where the men ruled and the woman stayed in the camp to cook and raise the children.

  ‘Good shot sira,’ the leader said enthusiastically to Rema. ‘Good shot. Please be show us your weapon sira,’ he said, and insisted long enough for Rema to fetch it and lay it and an arrow before the assembled throng who now sat happily around the camp fire chewing contentedly on the boar meat. The bow was passed around the men from the plain and they examined it with great care. Finally one whispered the word...magic, for they seemed in awe that such a small weapon could be so deadly and accurate.

  ‘No Rema,’ said, ‘no magic just much practice.’ At this there was even more laughter, but the word magic was heard several more times and it was not clear what they thought. They then fell to talking about themselves which seemed a subject with endless possibilities and were eager to answer any questions about life as hunters on the frozen plains of Moran. It became clear that they travelled with the great herds of Mamyth for they were most dependent upon the huge beasts for almost all their food and clothing...

  ..and as they sat around the fire it became suddenly apparent to Sylvion and all who travelled with her, that all of the men who shared so happily with them that night bore the mark of the beast. Each man had a dark purplish stain right in the middle of their forehead.

  ‘Please Kiaman,’ Sylvion asked when she thought the moment right, ‘I see these marks you bear on your forehead. Please tell me what these mean?’ At this there was a sudden quiet around the fire and an uneasy tension seemed to join them.

  ‘It is nothing,’ Kiaman said with a shrug. ‘We people believe in many things and these marks show us to share the same, that is all,’ and the men all looked at each other and nodded but it was clear there was more to say on the matter but it would not be said that night. Kaiman expertly changed the subject by talking in his stilted way of the child saved from the Mamyth.

  ‘She was die, I was sure,’ he said with tears in his eye. ‘She is great of important to us, and she die would have cause us great suffering.’ The men all nodded in agreement once more.

  ‘Please tell me why this child is so important,’ Sylvion asked, now most intrigued.

  ‘Shamyn, you will talk,’ Kiaman suddenly ordered, and one of the men who had been the quietest and seemed lacking most in the easy humour of his kin, stood and addressed them all.

  ‘I am Shamyn,’ he said with an authority which seemed to cause the others of his people, even the leader Kiaman to sit up and listen attentively. ‘We respect this land. We know it is under great threat unless we who live in it do all that is required.’ At this Orcxyl felt a sudden anger. I have heard this before he thought, surely it cannot be the same for these people as for mine?’

  ‘We sacrifice to the god of the land,’ Shamyn continued. ‘In this way we keep the balance, and we are blessed with the Mamyth in great numbers, and the children are born healthy. We live well. If we do not sacrifice we starve, and the land sinks. We know in places it has been lost to the great northern sea, for some of our people do not do what is required. But
we do.’ And the men all murmured in assent.

  At these words Sylvion found herself suddenly short of breath and desperately hoping that he was not about to reveal that they too sacrificed human blood, as Shamyn continued...

  ‘The child was to be given to the god in the new day. It is the half moon tonight. At sunrise we shed blood of the perfect one, and so all is well with our people... her family will be honoured with a great feast.’

  ‘You mean that the child I saved from the Mamyth is to be sacrificed in the morning?’ Rema asked incredulously.

  ‘Indeed,’ Shamyn replied proudly. ‘Had she been killed by the Mamyth we would have missed the sacrifice and we cannot chose another in this cycle, for she is the one. We know this. It is true...’ and here he pointed to the mark upon his forehead and as if in unison so too did all the other men. And then a great silence descended upon them all. Sylvion and the others in her company were shocked beyond words that such a happy simple group of people could consider such a thing, and that one moment they shared with good humour and true happiness and friendship, and then it all was lost because of such evil things. No one knew what to say, but in the end it was Sylvion who spoke.

  ‘You cannot do this. This is a child. She has done no wrong. She has a life to live. You cannot surely believe that by shedding the blood of an innocent child you can persuade some god to give you what you desire?’ She spoke quietly but there was an edge to her voice not lost on Shamyn, and the others with him grew suddenly uneasy.

  ‘We have our ways,’ Shamyn said, and for a time there was an uneasy quiet around the fire.

  ‘And who does the sacrifice?’ Rema asked to break the sullen silence, but trying to hold back his anger.’

  ‘It is task of the Shamyn,’ Kiaman replied quickly. ‘He alone has right, no other may do so. It is not work if other try. No one but Shamyn. This is law.’ He nodded and all the men with him. Shamyn stood proudly erect at this conformation of his position.