by Chris Ward
‘I said we were watched,’ Orcxyl commented drily, and the others nodded.
‘We are a small people...in number,’ Giraldyn continued and under some threat as you will soon see, so we make sure we know who is about in the forest...’
‘You didn’t happen to notice those snakes in the lake by any chance?’ Rema asked by way of a simple and rather rueful jest.
‘No, we saw nothing but we knew you were there close by...’ Giraldyn stopped eating suddenly and looked hard at Rema. ‘Don’t tell me you entered the waters...’ he paused and could see from the blank stares which emanated from his visitors that that was exactly what had happened. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you have been most fortunate. Those creatures are actually eels, but an easy mistake for they coil like snakes. Very bad tempered they are. I would advise you to keep out of that lake in future.’ At this he and Tyron laughed uproariously. When they had recovered, he spoke again, but somewhat more seriously.
‘You will have encountered the wolves no doubt?’ Once more he noted the nodding heads before him. ‘They are indeed most dangerous and roam throughout the forest, from the eastern sea to the far west where the Empty Lands begin. You have done well to outwit the wolves.’ He nodded in respect. ‘Well done on that.’
At this point Sylvion spoke what was foremost on her mind.
‘I know we have much to learn about this land, but perhaps you can instruct me...we are told an army is at your door. What can you tell us of this army and why they might want to come to war against this place?’ Giraldyn nodded and became suddenly much more serious.
‘A good question Sylvion and one which deserves a proper answer, but let us eat our fill and then by the fire I will explain what I can of this place and what you have encountered.’ And so they ate quietly and filled themselves with fine food, until at Tyron’s invitation they gathered by the roaring fire and with large cups of ale sat and waited upon Giraldyn to speak. They were joined then by the impressive woman who had ridden with them that day.
‘This is Tress,’ Tryon said, ‘my wife and the best rider of us all.’ His pride in his wife was quiet genuine, and she smiled warmly at him and took a seat at his side as Giraldyn primed a large pipe and then sat back with his feet upon a comfy stool, and stared silently into the fire for a time.
And so they learnt the story of the Ravalin.
‘We are an ancient people,’ he started slowly, puffing impressively. ‘Some say we are of the Norse, but in truth we are older, although we shared the land across the eastern sea for a time before they came to live there.’ He laughed. ‘Oh they were a warring lot, but sadly so were we.’ He sucked deeply and puffed a great cloud of no shape but much smoke. And so it proceeded.
‘This was two ages past.’ He paused as if to give the moment some poignancy and then whispered, ‘a very long time ago. We fought wars and in time there was a mixing of the blood so there is some truth in there being Norse in us, but in the main we remained Ravalin. In the end they grew faster than us and so we who had remained pure in blood departed. In seven ships the best of our race set sail for the western land of which a faint rumour had long existed. There was much ice in the water then and we could not sail north...’ Sylvion found Giraldyn’s frequent use of the inclusive made her wonder just how old he was, and was it possible that he lived then...
‘Surprisingly we made it safely to land.’ Giraldyn looked at them severely over his smoking pipe. ‘I say this for we were not a seafaring people, that much the Norse had over us. But not a ship or a life was lost and having found a promising place we settled and built a city there. The Ravalin have always been crafters of stone, and workers with wood and in our new land we found both most plentiful. We called the city Celestra which has meaning to do with higher things, and it was a most beautiful city, and over time our numbers grew.’ Giraldyn looked around at the group. ‘No doubt you have visited the ruins of Celestra?’ And with the nods he received he too nodded in conformation of his assumption. ‘The road you travelled came from there, so it was not hard to....’ he puffed a few times preferring this to finishing a sentence which was not required.
‘The mountain dwarves dwelt in the land at that time and there was enmity between our peoples. Perhaps it was jealously over who cut the best stone,’ he shrugged sadly as if it were yesterday, ‘but in the main we kept apart and there was little trouble.’ He sighed. ‘Now the Edenwhood, they were a different matter...’ all eyes which knew then glanced at Reigin, but he sat calmly enough looking into the fire. ‘... now they knew how to fight,’ Giraldyn continued, seemingly oblivious that the Great Elder of the Edenwhood sat not five cubits from him. ‘And the Ravalin had short tempers and so we fought some wars, and for nought. All wars achieve little, save for the presenting of doubtful medals of valour and the digging of many holes to bury the dead, but the killing of another is a sad thing. Necessary perhaps at times, but it is not an honourable thing.’ These words moved the group, for they all bore weapons and at one time or another had taken human life...all save Orcxyl who was the greatest hunter of them all.
And as far as they knew, war was at their very door.
‘The Ravalin spread west, and some great towns were built in the forest between here and Celestra,’ Giraldyn went on. ‘But this has always been an enchanted place and dark sorcery and magic were strong in the land at that time, and in the forest was where they were the strongest. Indeed they have never left, and those who dwelt there were not to survive long.’ The old man paused once more and put down his pipe. He smiled around the group and took a mug of ale and downed it in a single action. ‘The times were not happy for there were disputes between the leaders and some departed and went south into what is now Revelyn and settled there. The House of Hendon has its roots in the old Ravalin.’ He sighed then suddenly saddened.
‘But it was in Celestra that the Ravalin first discovered the realm of Ungar.’ This pronouncement seemed to resound around the chamber for it was delivered most solemnly.
‘I have never heard of such a land,’ Sylvion said shaking her head.
‘It is not a land, it is as I said,’ Giraldyn replied firmly. ‘It is a realm.’
‘A realm?’ Reigin inquired, and Giraldyn looked over his pipe at the great elder of the Edenwhood.
‘It is the place of Demyns. Where spirits disembodied live and gloat and plan evil upon each other and the world of men.’ These words brought a shiver to them all and the mighty fire flickered suddenly. Giraldyn continued quietly... ‘and the greatest desire of a demyn is to be embodied and know the lusts and the desires of the flesh, for in their state they know nothing of these things, and they envy men,’ He took a deep breath, ‘...so to rule the earth and take human form drives them like the wolf to horse flesh in the forest...’ and with another breath he finished... ‘in the night.’ No one spoke for they were all enthralled by Giraldyn’s words, and of the latter they knew exactly what he meant. Giraldyn allowed some time to pass and then once more he continued.
‘From Ungar comes sorcery. That is its birthplace and it is all evil. Magic can be used for good and enchantments do not all cause harm, but even then there is danger. So it came to pass that sorcery came to Celestra, and some men gave themselves to the demyns who sold a lie to gain a body. And the sorcery in Celestra was powerful, and the Kings did not stand against it, indeed they embraced it for they saw advantage for the battlefield and power over rivals.’ Giraldyn shook his head sadly. ‘And so the great Ravalin began a decline which continues to this day.’
Sylvion was about to ask a question but Giraldyn held up a hand and refused it, wanting to continue in his own manner.
‘There was a remnant. There has always been a remnant, those who rejected the evil and the way of Ungar, and the Lord Ungarit who dwells there. He is the chief of all demyns and the father of lies and a hater of all that is good.’ Giraldyn spat the words out and it was clear to all that he had no time for Ungarit. ‘The remnant opposed the king and demanded that the
sorcerers be erased from the land, for the sacrifices had started.’ Giraldyn looked around the group with fiery eyes and spoke as if personally affronted. ‘Can you imagine a people who will take a child and slay it for a delusion... and make it a law.’
Sylvion was again about to speak but once again was not given the chance for the old man went quickly on.
‘Ten score rebelled and left Celestra; their leader was a fearless man named Valoryn. Some were high born, others were more humble, but all righteous and loved the truth and what was good. This number might not have caused too much upset but they took the horses with them.’ This he said with great seriousness, and he smiled at the mention of the horses. ‘Ah, they are the greatest of beasts. You saw their descendents today, when Tryon and Tress rode out to prevent your falling into the hands of our enemy.’ He paused again but this time none tried to speak for it was clear that Giraldyn had a great story to tell and it was be done without distraction. ‘Such beasts are worth a small fortune, and they took them all and so the King and his evil sorcerer Zabor made plans to recover the horses and slay the rebels. But search as they might they could not find them, for the forest hid them. In anger they fought a war with the Iridin, a people to the south who came from the Kelts. These were another ancient people and they too came from across the southern sea. It was at this time that the great wall of Iridin-Rune was constructed for the war raged two summers such was the anger of King Vitpuryn and the encouragement to violence of the sorcerer Zabor. It was at this time that another power emerged in the land. In Revelyn far to the south, the House of Hendon had been established and with it some provisions were made for these people to rule long and in peace. A sword was given and a sceptre too,’ he shook his head sadly ‘... we know but little more. It was said that the sword had the greatest power to stand against evil, and the sceptre to acknowledge the rightful wielder of the blade.’ He took several puffs upon his pipe and contemplated his words, and then with those listening in his thrall he continued, not looking at any. ‘The Ravalin were about to defeat the Iridin and suddenly on the field of battle this amazing weapon appeared, wielded by Prince Bjorn son of Queen Shana, fourth queen of Revelyn, and heir to the throne. This turned the battle and so the Ravalin withdrew and no longer sought to fight south of the Great Forest for they feared the Blade.’
At these words Sylvion felt a thrill run down her spine, for the realisation that she sat there with this very sword which had such significance to so many, brought to her the most powerful emotions. She knew that Reigin and the others glanced briefly at her but then Giraldyn kept on with his amazing story.
‘The rebels travelled west through deep forest, passing by the towns which lay to the north, and they came upon a special place were the Ravalin river was wide and dropped down over stepped falls and a rugged promontory stood out into the water...’
‘This place,’ Sylvion whispered, and Giraldyn nodded.
‘Indeed this place, which they named KingsLoss, for it was to be a place of no King and they had come from where that way of life had failed; but it was mourned for the Kings had seemed once to be good leaders. So hence the name...KingsLoss. It was both the name of grief and a new beginning, and it has been a reminder ever since.’
‘They built this fortress?’ Reigin inquired and Giraldyn seemed now more open to distraction.
‘Well yes, but only in part. When they arrived the Mountain Dwarves dwelt here, within the hill on which the fortress is built, but they were soon to leave the land and when they learnt that the newcomers were fleeing evil and had no interest in war, they gave them aid and from the tunnelled rock below they brought forth stone which the true Ravalin then shaped into the first of the walls which was to protect them from attack. They began the fortress too but without the skills of the Mountain Dwarves they would not have been ready for the first attack when it came...’
‘So they were found?’ Rema said, but Giraldyn once again went on quickly as though no interruption had occurred...
‘...Three summers they lived and built in peace and then one day they woke to find the Dwarves had vanished and an army was at their door.’ He looked around the group. You will see in the daylight that the first battlements were not as high as they are now, but they were sufficient and twice the true Ravalin held off all attempts to overrun them, but they were few and even the loss of single soldier made a difference whereas the enemy cared little for the death of many.’ He shook his head in sadness. ‘On the third attempt, a further summer after, they knew they could not stand long. Sorcery and numbers made it clear they could not stand another onslaught, and so plans were made to leave and find some other safe place, but they were betrayed and before they could leave the army sealed their escape and all seemed lost.’ Giraldyn took a breath and sat looking so long into the fire that Sylvion could not help but faintly ask,
‘What happened Giraldyn, did they die?’ The old man shook his head.
‘Not die as we would understand but they suffered. All of them.’ He paused again and the listeners could hardly contain themselves. Finally the old man went on.
‘They were trapped and the gates were about to be destroyed. All knew they would die if Vitpuryn took them prisoner. They brought the horses to the common ground before the river and when all were mounted they plunged in, thinking to swim to safety on the far side. It seemed impossible but these horses were like no other and they understood their fate and had no wish to die, and so they swam strongly and did not tire.’ Giraldyn was excited now and they all sat forward eagerly wanting to know the outcome of such daring, and remembering what they had seen of the wide and powerful river that evening.
‘The gates fell as they were about half way across the river and the army swept into an empty fortress. Vitpuryn was furious. From the top most point of the battlements he commanded Zabor to prevent them getting away. But some power stood against him, or else they were too distant for his sorcery to work; he found he could not take their lives and so by some coinciding of thought or knowledge, we shall never know which, Zabor cast a spell which moulded the swimmers and their steeds and they became one...’
At this Sylvion felt her hair rise upon her neck for she knew a great revelation was before her... as Giraldyn went on once more...
‘... and so the horses gained the knowledge of men and the men became as horses and they were cursed to live forever, understanding what they had lost, and only ever to die if they strayed from whatever forest they made their home or by the cut of a silver arrow which at that time was the weapon allowed only to the king, and he alone wanted to take his revenge upon the rebels when he could find them. And so what entered the water climbed out as new creatures...’
‘...they were the Equin,’ Sylvion cried unable to contain herself, and tears flowed down her face. ‘The Equin of Wildwood Forest.’ And Giraldyn looked at her, stunned.
‘You know what happened to these?’ he asked astounded.
‘Oh yes Giraldyn I surely do,’ she replied. ‘I alone of all in Revelyn knew the Equin and ...’ she was about to go on and talk of her great battle in which so many of them died but something made her stop and so she said no more. Giraldyn waited but as Sylvion did not continue he frowned and muttered, ‘you must speak soon on this,’ and then he continued his story once more, for there was much yet to be revealed.
‘KingsLoss was abandoned,’ he said, ‘left just as it was to the wolves and the wild beasts, or so it was thought. Vitpuryn returned to Celestra and over many summers he searched for the horses, or the Equin as they came to be known in story and myth, but where they went was never discovered. They had truly disappeared.’ He looked long at Sylvion then, but she stared fixedly into the fire and would not hold his eye.
‘It was at this time that the great temple to Ungarit was carved out of the rock. The city had already begun to sink into the sea and Zabor, who spoke for Ungarit, commanded that this be done, so that the worship and sacrifice would be held high by the people. And Vitpuryn
did not resist him, but the city sank steadily. Ungarit ordered that the sacrifice take place on a cycle of seven, four to the lunar cycle and the most holy on each full moon, and each year two special sacrifices; at each solstice, summer and winter, a huge ceremony was held with the best and purest sacrifices made at these times. And it came to pass that after the first full year of such evil the city ceased its sinking and the people believed that it was the sacrifice which had appeased Ungarit and so he had allowed the city to remain.’ Giraldyn shook his head in what seemed amazement at such a thing. ‘Such a hold did Zabor have upon the king and the people that they believed this. Human sacrifice!’ he cried then with true tears of deep grief. ‘Innocent children. Young men and women full of life and potential. It was evil and most bloody, and Celestra became a place of fear, for who knew who would be chosen next.’ He stopped and took breath and refilled his pipe which had exhausted itself as he spoke, and this gave him time to regain his composure.
‘The city was still lived in?’ Rema asked, and Giraldyn nodded.
‘It was, but as the winters went on a growing disquiet arose, and it was felt that Celestra was cursed and talk of a new city and a fresh beginning took hold. There was a new king by now. He was called Hestyme and he was less influenced by Zabor, but he supported the sacrifice and in the end was weak.’ At that moment a loud knock at the chamber door was heard and Tyron went and spoke for short time with a soldier who was clearly well prepared for battle. Tyron nodded and then returned to the fire where all had sat in quiet contemplation of the story Giraldyn had revealed thus far.
‘I will speak of matters when you are finished, Giraldyn,’ Tyron said, and this seemed to satisfy the old man that the matter was not greatly urgent, and so he continued.