by Chris Ward
‘Quickly!’ Reigin cried, ‘we cannot pause or it will be underwater,’ and as they watched the causeway seemed to shrink as the depth in the lake grew quickly. And so they raced on and soon reached their only way back to safety. As they stepped out upon the causeway Sylvion caught sight of the two carts loaded with Diabules being swept by a great whirlpool round and round as the waters flowed down into the mine from whence they came and with a sudden gurgle they were sucked back into the depths and disappeared forever. Sylvion then felt a great relief for they had caused her such distress.
‘Sylvion,’ Rema cried and she saw she had been left behind.
The bell tolled as the people came. The Varanii slaves had waited long for this time and all knew what they must do. There was little panic. From hidden places food and tools were brought to the great meeting house built upon ten thousand trees all bound together and pinned by transverse beams and giant timbers, a mighty platform which stood higher than two men and upon which the huge house of meeting had been built over many generations. There were rooms, too many it has seemed when they were built but now their purpose became apparent, for they were soon filled with all manner of vital supplies. Pigs and chickens and goats and cows were led up into the building and housed in different rooms. Straw was brought and feed. Great ropes were taken from hidden pits and secured to the corners of the platform. And as the water raced across the plain and piled up against the walls which had long held them as slaves the Varanii worked as a team. Seven hundred people came into the meeting house and all had brought as many belongings as they could carry. Great piles of food, precious items, parchments and sacred histories kept safe apart from the noisy animals. Everyone seemed to have a job and no one was left behind. The old and the infirm all had a place and it was dry and sheltered, and as the water from the flood came over the walls in a huge sheet to drown their town the Varanii were ready.
The water rose and soon the mighty platform began to creak and groan and then it moved and to a mighty cheer it floated free. The Varanii were slaves no more.
The league across the causeway was almost too far, for the water rose so quickly that as they neared the far slope of the outer caldera wall, they stumbled knee deep at times in the cold black water, and as safety was at last gained and they climbed high above the huge growing lake the causeway was submerged completely. But they did not stop. Reigin kept on even with his great load, and though he gasped for breath and was bleeding from falling often he showed the way, and so they were inspired by his superhuman feat, and followed without rest until at last they reached the top and fell once more exhausted on the rocks to take breath and enjoy some relief from their aching bodies. No one spoke, indeed they could not, but all surveyed the scene below.
The Horn of Svalbard had completely disappeared, torn apart by the raging water and the scouring of the flood. Instead in the centre of the lake a great plume of water rose high into the air as the lake was fed from far below. The enormous caldera was now half full and away to the south Sylvion saw the gates to Svalbard, not yet submerged. She took the King’s Eye and looked upon them and wept.
‘There are people there at the gate,’ she said pointing for the others. ‘They are trapped for the gates are locked and the waters rise behind them. ‘She shook her head. ‘They will all perish. All in Svalbard are lost.’
‘I think not,’ Rema said speaking in awe. ‘What is that?’ and he pointed to the south across to the far side of the huge lake. They all looked and could not make it out, a mighty floating object which sat still upon the waters, but Rayven saw and her heart leapt. She knew and she was overjoyed.
‘Kindma remember the last prophecy, it came in two parts.’ They looked at each other and as if by some miracle they spoke it together in a quiet whisper for it came to them in the same moment.
From the depths of Svalbard
Shall black waters come
To rid the land of sorcery
To set the Varanii free
‘They are the Varanii!’ Rayven cried. ‘They are free now. Rubii told me and I could not recall it, but it has been fulfilled.’ She shook her head and before Sylvion knew it she had taken the King’s Eye and looked long and hard upon the mighty floating building which sat proudly upon the lake.
‘They are there. It is them. Truly they are free now,’ Rayven said in a voice shaking with the deepest emotion. ‘Oh Rubii you would be so happy,’ and no one knew of what she spoke, but they were all too exhausted to ask.
‘You must tell us about the Varanii Rayven,’ Sylvion said when she too had looked upon the floating house. ‘But not now, we must leave for we are not yet safe and other matters will soon press upon us.’
And so they left the great lake behind them just as the water poured over Svalbard’s southern gates and formed a new river down into the valleys and lowlands below, a mighty torrent which like a giant snake searched out its own path through the land.
They moved more slowly now for there was no need for haste, indeed having survived so much, great care was taken that no foolish slip would mar their great success. Rayven was saved and Zydor slain. It was all they had hoped for. And so they arrived back where Orcxyl waited with the horses and were amazed to find him sitting quietly by a great fire and the bodies of five huge wolves lying neatly to one side in the dawn.
‘You have been busy Orcxyl,’ Sylvion said in awe.
‘I am a great hunter My Lady, it is nothing,’ Orcxyl replied with a shrug, and would say nothing further.
And then they sat and took warmth from the fire as the day dawned. And Rema greeted Rayven at Sylvion’s introduction, and suddenly they both realised that there was some deeper connection which confused Rema greatly but Rayven not at all. And Sylvion saw it and was happy.
And as the sun rose to greet a still and cloudless day the fire died and the conversation fell away, and a great tiredness overtook them all, and they fell into a trance and looked about to find a place to rest for they had been without sleep for a day and a half and given much in their efforts within Svalbard. And only Sylvion realised at the last moment what was happening.
‘Wake up!’ she screamed, and stood and shook herself. ‘Wake up, we must not sleep.’ And they all looked at her in horror and remembered Zydor’s spell, and were suddenly very afraid.
Chapter 20
‘Surely his words were those of desperation,’ Rema said quietly as they stood around the smouldering fire and shook the drowsiness from their weary bodies.
‘You felt the spell?’ Sylvion asked looking around at each of them, and all but Orcxyl nodded, and he stood bemused as this sudden change.
‘Then it is real my friends,’ Sylvion replied. ‘And can we risk it not being so?’ At this there was silence as they thought upon her words.
‘My Lady?’ Orcxyl said with a most puzzled look upon his face. Sylvion turned to him.
‘Before Zydor fell he cast a simple spell upon us all,’ she said in explanation. ‘It was a gentle thing and so his cunning was not prevented by the Shadow Blade which gave protection from all violence he threw at us.’
‘And this spell...?’ Orcxyl persisted.
‘It was a sleeping spell. When next we fall asleep we do not wake til the next summer solstice when the same full moon sits high in the night sky once again.’
‘Four seasons?’ Orcxyl said, amazed. ‘Why such a time?’
Sylvion turned quietly and looked about over the endless forest which lay below them in the morning sun. ‘How far are we from the nearest safe place which might protect a sleeper enchanted for twelve full moons?’ All who stood with her gazing out upon the forest save Rayven knew the answer, but Orcxyl gave it words.
‘Only KingsLoss My Lady, and that is three days hard ride...’
‘And we are almost asleep from weariness as we stand here,’ Sylvion interrupted. ‘Twelve moons is not important, that is just Zydor’s way of ensuring we die. We need to sleep soon, and the forest is full of wolves and other creature
s which hunt all the night.’
‘He knew that...’ Rema said.
‘Of course he knew that.’ Sylvion interrupted angrily. ‘We will fight to stay awake but when we fall asleep... and we must, for we cannot prevent it for more than perhaps a single day, then we will lie where we fall and the wolves will find us...’
‘And they will kill us.’ Rema finished her sentence quietly and then they stood and thought for a long time but no answer to their terrible predicament came to any.
‘Neither of the places we used to get here will give protection,’ Reigin said in the end after much thought. ‘We must get to KingsLoss, it is the only safe place. If we are to sleep four seasons, they will look after us there.’
And then Sylvion wept. ‘And even if we do, then what of Revelyn?’ she whispered sadly. ‘We have come so far and put a stop to Zydor, but Gryfnor who is Zelfos, he remains in Ramos, and Germayne alone stands there against him.’ She paused as her words gave them all cause to think upon bigger things than themselves. ‘What of Revelyn?’ Sylvion repeated once more and shook her head in bitter frustration.
‘I am not under the spell,’ Orcxyl said suddenly.
‘No, you are not,’ Sylvion said frowning, ‘but what can you do Orcxyl? You can hardly protect us for such a time in some cave.’
‘Perhaps if we ride hard for a day and you stay awake,’ Orcxyl replied, ‘then as you fall asleep I will bind you to your horses. I will get you back to KingsLoss, My Lady.’ They all stared at Orcxyl and thought upon his simple plan.
‘But you will still need to fight the wolves, alone, and you cannot ride through the night in such a manner, the scent trail would have a thousand wolves upon us,’ Reigin said sombrely. ‘And I do not wish to die in such a manner.’
Orcxyl shrugged. ‘I will pledge my life to defend you, all of you,’ Orcxyl said quietly and the tone of his claim moved them all, not least Gravyn who felt a sudden pang of guilt at his treatment of the great hunter.
‘I know you would, Orcxyl for you are a remarkable man, but what you suggest seems beyond possibility,’ Sylvion replied gently. They stood quietly then, each with their own desperate thoughts. Suddenly Rayven yawned and slumped to the ground. It was a simple thing and she shook herself immediately and stood again but it was a most powerful sign that sleep beckoned them all, and soon, for they were all desperately weary.
‘We must trust Orcxyl and his plan.’ Sylvion said suddenly making up her mind, and no one could think of any other course. ‘If we delay further we will fall asleep here before we take a single step to safety,’ she continued. ‘Let us ride hard and perhaps we will get to KingsLoss with Orcxyl’s help.’ She turned to him. ‘Our lives are in your hands Orcxyl, great hunter of Revelyn. Do not from this moment on ever call me My Lady again, for you are the equal of us all. Come what may, that is truth.’ At this Orcxyl smiled and nodded, accepting Sylvion’s words and the warmth of heart they gave him. Ah Freya you would perhaps be proud of me now, he thought.
And so preparations were quickly made and no one dwelt too much upon what was to come, a mad dash for safety through a dangerous forest and then sleep unprotected, tied upon a charging horse, and one man with a small bow and few poison tipped arrows to get them to safety.
And when they were ready to mount the six magnificent horses Reigin took Orcxyl aside and whispered to him. ‘How many arrows do you have Orcxyl?’ And without hesitation the great hunter replied.
‘I have twelve arrows left Reigin.’
‘...And a forest full of wolves,’ the great Edenwhood warrior continued, and they looked at each other knowingly.
‘Promise me Orcxyl,’ Reigin said, gripping the smaller man by both shoulders, ‘that if things become desperate and you know in your heart you cannot save us, use the arrows on us. Do not let us be torn apart by the wolves while we live.’ And Orcxyl agreed but in his heart he wondered how he could save half his arrows for such a promise.
Before they mounted Orcxyl gathered the great horses of KingsLoss together and in a manner which only he possessed he spoke with them as the others looked on in awe for the mighty beasts stood attentively and listened, their ears pricked up and their long intelligent faces seemed to understand his words.
‘My friends,’ Orcxyl whispered. ‘We have shared some difficult times. Now we need you to ride as you have never ridden before. We must get to safety. Take us to that place where we can rest. You know the forest, you know the paths.’ And then an amazing thing happened. The horses snorted and nuzzled each other and rubbed their noses against each other’s necks and turned their heads to one side and seemed to look into the eyes of another and then they stepped back and waited.
‘Did they talk to each other Orcxyl?’ Rema asked in whispered amazement. But Orcxyl just smiled and did not speak.
‘We ride then,’ Sylvion said, and any who feel they will fall asleep must speak for then we will bind you to your horse. Let us see if we can make one full day.’ And so with a thunder the horses took off down the slopes and into the forest. The mighty steeds were given their head and the riders held on and let them gallop unrestrained, and none thought sleep possible for it was a terrible flight in that desperate beginning. The horses headed south and before long it became apparent that they were headed for the road which ran east, and this made sense for travel would be faster than through the forest, and so it was that before the noon they broke out of the trees and found themselves upon the road, and beside it ran a new river carved out by the black waters flowing out of Svalbard which lay now some leagues behind and to the west. The horses gathered together and pawed the ground and snorted to each other, and then they were off and their speed along the road was faster than any thought possible. Within a short time they thundered across a sturdy bridge spanning the North Ravalin River and soon this too was left far behind, and so they galloped on toward the east, and the horses seemed untiring.
We could outrun the wolves as this pace, thought Sylvion, but as she looked at Rayven riding beside her and hanging grimly to her reins, she knew that they would never make KingsLoss.
The old toothless man sat upon a crude chair and looked out over the waters of the black lake. Below in the depths lay his town, submerged now forever, whilst the great meeting house floated upon the calm waters. Seven hundred sat quietly and watched with the old man, the one they called the wise one, the one who had rung the bell, the one who had told them that a flood would one day come and their salvation would be a mighty vessel hidden from the eyes of their evil rulers. The old man smiled a great smile and remembered his meeting with the strange hooded man so long ago for he was now older than any could imagine.
‘You spoke truly El-Arathor,’ he whispered. ‘I kept your truth. You kept your word. We are saved.’
At that moment a gasp went up from the watchers, for out in the centre of the growing lake the last remnant of the evil Horn of Svalbard crumpled and fell into the depths to be replaced by a huge upsurging of the waters from far below, and a mighty wave raced toward them, but the huge floating platform rode it easily and then settled down upon the waters once again.
‘Five thousand of us died upon that evil Horn,’ the old man said sadly and all listened to his words. ‘And Rubii was the last,’ he continued, ‘and her name will be blessed among the Varanii, for she did not let Zydor slay her. She was brave to the end and defied him.’ He looked about at his loving people. ‘We are free now as I promised you.’ He turned to some who stood to one side, and spoke most seriously to them. ‘You are entrusted with these folk, you know what to do.’ And they nodded and gave orders and soon the mighty ropes were readied and the strongest of the young men stood ready to swim to the shore. As the lake steadily deepened and the mighty vessel rose higher up beyond the sheer cliffs which had held them captive for so long they floated not far off a gentler slope which fell back and up to the very rim of the caldera itself. And so at a command twenty eager young men dived into the black waters and swam the ropes ashore
and pulled them taut and others followed and with great strength and straining and the encouragement of many voices the salvation ship of the Varanii came to rest against the land. At that very moment the cold black waters broke out through the southern gates of Svalbard and plummeted down into the lower lands, and so the lake was full, and at its centre even the upsurging from below was hidden save for a gentle agitation which marked the place where once a mighty evil had fallen to utter destruction.
The ropes were soon secured around huge boulders and then when all was safe and the vessel hard up against dry land a mighty cheer went up and the Varanii, slaves for so long for the evil sacrifices of Svalbard, enthralled by command of Kings who gave themselves to selfish foolishness and at the last by Zydor the sorcerer possessed by the demyn Ungarit, took all they had and walked away into the forest and back to the land from whence they had been enslaved.
Less one.
The old man, the wise old one remained upon the vessel for he breathed his last as the people set forth, and it was his wish to stay and they would mourn him long and hold him high in memory and celebration but his direction had been clear. ‘Flee now whilst you can,’ and these last words bore them on through the forests where even the wolves did not approach for the Varanii were too many and some greater force travelled with them, unseen but ever present.
Rema felt a great weariness overtake him. At first the riding had shaken it away and he had come alive to the amazing gallop, the motion preventing any possibility of sleep, indeed the notion that one might slumber upon a racing horse seemed ridiculous.
But no longer. He knew he could not fight it beyond that day and the sun was now sinking steadily into the west behind them, their shadows long and stretching out before them to the east. He looked about and thought for a moment that Rayven had lost her fight to stay awake, but no, she held on. The faces of all but Orcxyl and Reigin bore the signs of a desperate fight to hold back that which sought to claim them. Sleep and such a deadly sleep it must prove to be, he thought grimly.