Revelyn: 2nd Chronicles - The Time of the Queen

by Chris Ward

  Reigin looked at Rema standing shivering before him in the hallway and reached out and felt his arms. ‘You have taken her ice Rema,’ he said, ‘you are now frozen but it seems that you will survive.’ He smiled. ‘But what of Sylvion, did she hear you?’ And Rema nodded but found his emotions prevented any speech. ‘It has cost you much Rema.’ Reigin continued, ‘I am sorry for I know how you feel for Sylvion.’

  ‘She must not know,’ Rema whispered, suddenly find his voice. ‘Let it be a dream to her Reigin. She must not know that I deceived her.’ And the two men looked at each other and nodded, sealing the agreement without a further word.

  ‘I will not enter again,’ Rema said then. ‘You must go in to her now Reigin. You know her best, and I surely cannot face her now, not after what I have just done.’

  ‘You saved her Rema,’ Reigin said with such force that Rema was quite taken back. ‘You did no wrong.’ Rema nodded, glad of these words, but then he continued with a worried look.

  ‘There is one other thing that concerns me Reigin,’ he said looking furtively up and down the deserted hallway.

  ‘What is that?’Reigin inquired.

  ‘She no longer wears the Shadow Blade,’ Rema answered. ‘It has been taken from her.’

  These words came like a hammer to Reigin’s head for he knew the importance of that marvellous sword. The two men looked at each other and by some chance of fortune the answer came to each at the same time.

  ‘Giraldyn,’ they said together. ‘He has it.’

  ‘I hope for the best of reasons,’ said Reigin grimly. ‘If he has taken it for his own it will spell doom for his people.’

  ‘We will need to retrieve it immediately,’ Rema said, ‘but with Sylvion returned to us he will have no cause to hold it, so let us go quietly in this matter, for he would not be the first to desire the Shadow Blade. It is a mighty weapon, and he has seen what it can do.’

  ‘I will go to Sylvion now,’ Reigin said. ‘We will unravel his matter one step at a time. First let me get Sylvion up and able to lead us. Then we will confront Giraldyn if this must be done.’

  ‘I will go find Gravyn and Orcxyl,’ Rema added. ‘We will need to be together in this, and to plan what next must happen.’ And so Rema left, glad not to have to face Sylvion after his deception, and Reigin opened the door and found Sylvion sitting upon her bed, now in her right mind but weeping inconsolably.

  ‘Oh Reigin,’ she wept when she saw him. ‘I have been in such a terrible place. So cold. So haunted. So many spirits of the dead, and then I heard him.’

  Reign said nothing for he knew of whom she spoke.

  ‘I heard Rema, Reigin. He came to me and whispered of his love.’ She shook her beautiful head and Reigin thought her like a young child. ‘It saved me Reigin, for I was so cold and he gave me warmth and he spoke of his love and brought me back.’ She paused. ‘How... I do not know, but I am restored.’ She turned and smiled weakly at Reigin who was greatly relieved to see her so calm and free now of her awful trial.

  ‘How long have I been away Reigin?’ she asked.

  ‘Some days My Lady,’ Reigin whispered, ‘but we still have time.’

  Sylvion nodded seriously and then stood suddenly and by instinct her hand went to her hip.

  ‘My Shadow Blade,’ she said in alarm. ‘It has been taken Reigin.’ She turned to him in alarm and for the first time her saw her face full on and there were now small wrinkles at the corner of each eye, and low down upon her throat the once immaculate flesh, free of all blemish seemed a little older. It was but the smallest thing but Reigin knew immediately that Sylvion would be in a great panic. The blade kept her young. She needed the blade returned.

  ‘Sylvion, I believe Giraldyn has your Blade in safe keeping,’ Reigin said slowly, making an assumption he knew might prove false. ‘He perhaps was worried that it was not secure here with others coming and going. We will have it returned to you immediately.’ Sylvion did not answer him but looked about for her clothes, and within a few moments was dressed and ready to go.

  ‘We go to Giraldyn,’ Sylvion said. ‘I want the Shadow Blade now Reigin,’ she continued, her anxiety barely under control. Reigin rested a calming hand upon her and spoke in a quiet but reassuring manner.

  ‘You will have it Sylvion. I will see to it. Do not fear on this score.’ And so they walked out together and surprised Bragolog and Olga and the two guards who had fetched them, just as they were about to enter. They stood open mouthed as Reigin and Sylvion walked past with barely a glance.

  Rema had brought Gravyn and Orcxyl to Giraldyn’s chambers and they were overjoyed to see Sylvion once more before them. Giraldyn and Tyron too were most overcome to witness her remarkable recovery.

  ‘My dear, a miracle surely, we were greatly worried for you,’ Giraldyn said when they were finally settled together and refreshments had been served. Sylvion ate with a fervour which reflected her days without food and the need for some inner warmth. She said nothing but her mind was thinking hard upon the matter of her Sword. Reigin watched her carefully and knew it. Rema too.

  ‘The Shadow Blade is missing,’ Reigin said suddenly judging the moment, and just before he thought Sylvion would speak. She looked up at Reigin and then turned her gaze firmly upon Giraldyn who seemed not in the least perturbed by the sudden change of mood. Gravyn and Orcxyl did not know what to think as this was new to them. Tyron looked at Giraldyn with a frown and it was clear he knew nothing; as clear as it was that Giraldyn did. The old man put his pipe aside and smiled.

  ‘You think perhaps that I have taken it for myself?’ he said without the slightest hint of anger or sense of being aggrieved. No one spoke and the silence then seemed almost able to burst into flame and consume them all.

  ‘I will not lie to you,’ Giraldyn continued softly with a chuckle, ‘It is a mighty weapon and we have all seen what it can achieve...’ he paused and looked at each of the listeners in turn, ‘but only in the right hands mind,’ he continued more seriously. ‘I know that such a blade is gifted to the one who wields it. None other can use it.’ He sucked upon his pipe and they all wondered at his quiet words, for he spoke truly.

  ‘Indeed I would like such a weapon to defend KingsLoss, but I would not take what is not mine,’ He went on shaking his head firmly. ‘Never.’

  ‘Then where is it Giraldyn?’ Sylvion inquired quietly, ‘for I have need of it.’

  ‘And it is here for you Sylvion, Queen of Revelyn, slayer of the Nephytrolls.’ He smiled at her. ‘Bragolog brought it to me the first night of your distress. He is an honest man and wanted only to see you restored. He thought the sword, about which he knows little should be kept safe, for he saw you wield it and that much all in KingsLoss have witnessed.’ Giraldyn pointed with his pipe to a simple cupboard standing by the fire. ‘It is there Sylvion, waiting for you. Please...’ he nodded toward the cupboard. ‘Please, you may take it now. I have kept it for you and dreamed of what it might do for good.’ He paused and then finished, ‘but only in the hands of the one who owns it, Sylvion Greyfeld, the White Queen of Revelyn.’ And with this he sat back and smiled and puffed contentedly on his beloved pipe.

  Sylvion tried hard not to seem over eager to retrieve the Shadow Blade, but all who watched her saw that she was anxious to have it close at her side once more. And so it came to pass that she was reunited with her mighty weapon, and then all hint of possible betrayal vanished, for Giraldyn had proved to be a good friend and a wise one at that.

  ‘How long to the summer solstice?’ Sylvion inquired once the blade was secure upon her, and she stood before the roaring fire and luxuriated in the warmth it offered. She suddenly noticed Rema looking intently at her and there seemed something different about his demeanour.

  ‘Four days,’ Tryon replied quietly turning her mind from Rema.

  ‘And how many days ride to Svalbard?’ Sylvion asked.

  ‘Three hard days ride,’ Tryon continued. They all looked at each other.

&nb
sp; ‘Well it seems I have recovered just in time,’ Sylvion said with a smile. ‘We must make plans to leave.’ She turned to Giraldyn, and it was clear that her mind was now set upon the next step in the quest. ‘Perhaps you will assist us in this matter sira.’ She spoke now in the voice of one who was to lead others on into great danger.

  ‘We will do all we can Sylvion,’ Giraldyn replied. ‘After what you did for KingsLoss have no fear on this.’ He nodded at Tyron and it became clear that they had spoken of the matter for the soldier spoke then with great enthusiasm.

  ‘You will take our horses,’ he said. ‘Six of the great steeds. Your horses will not survive the journey. The wolves and the distance make it beyond them. They could not do the journey in under five days. We have some horses bred for the journey. They know the paths, and the safe places which I will show you upon a map. We use them for spying out the land and knowing what Zydor is about.’

  ‘Six horses?’ Reigin interrupted. ‘We are only five?’

  ‘But surely you plan to return as six?’ Giraldyn laughed, and the great soldier smiled ruefully at his simple oversight.

  ‘Indeed Giraldyn, that is our plan,’ he replied.

  Tyron then spread a large map upon the table and he showed them all the way they must travel.

  ‘West, but north of the main road which Zydor built from Svalbard to Celestra. The forest is open enough and the travelling by day is easy. He traced a finger along the map. By night the wolves will come and you must have a safe place to rest.’ He pointed to two such places. ‘This cave here is dry and deep and will take all the horses. You will need to light fires at the mouth and defend yourselves for if the wolves scent the horses they cannot resist an attack, but with your skills there should be no problem, and the horses too have no great fear of them. I have seen on many occasions a wolf crushed by their hooves.’

  ‘And our second night?’ Sylvion inquired looking hard at the map.

  ‘Here is best,’ Tyron said, pointing to another place which was well north of the main road. ‘It is high ground and the sides are steep. Most wolves will not be able to leap high enough. There is a little cover but if it is wet you will be miserable. There is a path to the top which passes through a cleft. We have installed a gate which will prevent the wolves or any other creature from entering save the scythercats, but they keep away if the wolves are about. But be on your guard for you will not hear them approach. You will be dead before you know they are close.’

  The five companions inspected the map and nodded. It seemed straight forward.

  ‘What is this?’ Reigin asked pointing to a prominent mark upon the map.

  ‘Keep away from there at all costs,’ Tyron whispered. ‘It is the Valley of the Kings and a haunted place. It is where the rulers of Svalbard are buried. All of them. It is forbidden for any to enter there; and for good reason...’ he paused and saw that all were waiting for him to continue.

  ‘The spirits of these kings do not rest easy,’ Giraldyn said suddenly from his wheeled chair by the fire. ‘It is death to be there in the night. It is written in the records of the Ravalin in Svalbard that many who have been there have never returned, and some that did had lost their minds. The only time it is visited is for the burial of a king, and only during sunlight. There are many ancient stones standing there, and the runes upon them are in a language which is older than all else in this land, and we know not what they say...’

  ‘The standing stones were there before the Ravalin?’ Rema asked in amazement.

  Giraldyn nodded. ‘Indeed Rema that is the truth. It is a mysterious place, but you will pass by it, the path for you to Svalbard skirts to the north...’

  ‘...and the horses know of it. They will keep you safe away,’ Tyron finished.

  ‘And how do we enter Svalbard?’ Sylvion asked pointing now to the map where the sinister kingdom stood clearly marked upon the eastern slopes of the Redoubt Mountains.

  ‘After you cross the north branch of The Ravalin River you will need to go further north into the forest and come upon the caldera from that direction,’ Tyron replied indicating on the map. ‘There is only one way into Svalbard which Zydor and his soldiers use, and that is to the south. It is well guarded and impossible to pass by undetected. But there is a path up the slopes to the north.’ He indicated roughly on the map where it would found and then continued. ‘It is no more than a goat track and even they use it with care. We have used it many times for spying and it is safe enough if you are watchful.’

  ‘And once upon the rim?’ Reigin asked.

  ‘There is a strange feature in the land below. You will see it clear enough,’ Tyron went on. ‘A causeway above the plain and it is well treed and gives good cover. It joins the outer caldera wall to the mount which is the horn of Svalbard. It is this mount upon which the fortress is built. The causeway will keep you hidden and away from the farmlands which are to the south...’

  ‘...And upon the horn is the place of sacrifice,’ Giraldyn interrupted. He did not look at those gathered around the table but spoke sadly and looked into the flames.

  ‘We cannot take the horses into Svalbard.’ Reigin said suddenly, ‘and if we move at night what can we do to keep them safe?’ he looked worried for it seemed this was indeed a mighty problem.

  ‘The wolves will not venture onto the slopes of the outer caldera,’ Tyron said. ‘It seems that Zydor has set a limit for them. If you take the horses high above the tree line they will be safe enough. We have done this often enough and have not yet lost a single steed.

  ‘You will not come?’ Sylvion asked, changing the subject and looking directly at Tyron.

  ‘I will not allow it,’ Giraldyn replied firmly. ‘The enemy you defeated is still only a day’s march away. They have camped, and wait. I do not know if they mean to return and catch us unaware. Tyron and all who can fight must remain in KingsLoss.’ He sighed. ‘Besides, I would not let you go unless the way was clear enough, and you have more skill than we to defeat any that might come against you.’ He looked then at Sylvion. ‘No, your problem will begin in Svalbard. Zydor is more powerful than anything you have seen thus far. He created the Nephytrolls. He is second only to Ungarit upon the earth. His magic and sorcery cannot be easily overcome.’

  At these sombre words they all fell silent and thought long upon what still stood to be revealed, and what would come to pass.

  ‘I will make a copy of this map for you,’ Tyron said at last, ‘and the horses know the way.’

  ‘We thank you for all this,’ Sylvion said softly. ‘We now have some chance to save my daughter Rayven and to end the rule of Zydor.’

  ‘And just how do you plan to do that?’ Giraldyn asked, once more looking into the fire.

  But Sylvion just shook her head, and no one spoke.

  ‘And one more thing,’ Tyron said when the silence seemed unbearable. They all looked at him, except for Giraldyn. ‘Do not underestimate the horses,’ he continued. ‘They understand what you say most times if you speak clearly to them.’ He looked at Orcxyl. ‘You have found this?’ he said, and Orcxyl just smiled and nodded and it was clear he had some deep insight into the ways of such mighty beasts. And Sylvion was suddenly reminded once again of his great contribution to their journey.

  ‘Then we leave tomorrow at first light,’ Sylvion said. ‘Let us prepare.’ And so they separated to gather their belongings and meet their horses, agreeing to gather again later that night to eat one last great meal before the roaring fire.

  ‘Rema, come with me,’ Sylvion said as they left. She did not look at him and her words were the words of a Queen, of one who could not be refused. Reigin looked at her and wondered what she might suspect, for her tone had a strange edge to it. Rema too felt his heart leap in his chest for he did not want to reveal his deception to this wonderful woman, but neither did he wish to refuse the chance to be alone with her, for the memory of their recent strange embracing lingered strongly upon him.

  They walked alone,
together on the flat land by the river. They did not speak and Rema knew he could not, for his emotions would not allow him, and this caused him a deep sense of frustration. I am not a child, he thought, surely I can be more in control of myself than this. Sylvion seemed to him to be soft and vulnerable and she walked close by him, their bodies touching frequently and Rema had no sense that she avoided this. At last they stopped where the promontory of KingsLoss reached the farthest out into the river, where the current sizzled past in small whirlpools.

  ‘It is strange Rema,’ Sylvion said at last, and by her tone he knew she was sad. ‘I could not have imagined meeting someone like you, the very image of my Rema from times past.’ Rema nodded and she saw that he agreed. ‘I have been to a strange place Rema,’ she said and suddenly held his arm and drew him close, but he knew she was not trying in any manner to approach other than as a friend, and that she perhaps needed some reminder of her Rema, and the love she had felt in his deception, and so he put his arm about her and held her to him. They stood side by side and enjoyed the precious moment. A moment which Rema knew would soon pass and perhaps never come again.

  ‘The Shadow Blade has changed me Rema,’ Sylvion said quietly. ‘It is a tool of death. It kills quickly and it takes power from those around it, save me, the bearer. But I suffer in that I kill, and by taking life my humanity is in some manner lessened.’ She took a mighty breath as if this small revelation was something of a burden that was good to share.

  ‘I have long known that to wear the Blade for so long cannot be what was meant. Another should have taken it up, but I have not let it go.’ She paused and then suddenly stood apart from him, the sudden breaking of their physical connection jolting Rema, and he instantly yearned for it again. ‘It took me to a place where death is remembered, and relived and guilt rips you like a knife made of ice,’ Sylvion went on, her hands now upon her head and Rema saw that she was unburdening herself, and was not fully aware of the effect she had upon him. But then she looked at Rema and smiled in such a way that he felt his love well up within him for she was so beautiful.