by Chris Ward
Orcxyl slept well and rose with the sun. He went to the tomb and with his knife inscribed another mark upon the sealed door next to the first. ‘Two nights measured,’ he whispered, ‘sleep well my friends.’ He patted the door and then returned to his camp. He ate some cold Revel hare and the remaining tater, and then went and washed in the cold water of the stream, standing naked in the sun afterwards and enjoying the freshness of being clean and the way his body warmed again, tingling his extremities and making him feel so alive. The ghost came and sat upon the leaning stone and watched morosely, envious of the man’s simple pleasure.
The man came and stood below the ghost.
‘Good morning King Svalbard,’ the man said and the ghost could not read his tone so it gave no reply.
Orcxyl looked upon his camp. When winter comes I will not survive like this, he thought. He walked around the leaning stone and decided what best to do. The ghost watched him and wondered.
‘I need an axe, king,’ Orcxyl said.
‘What makes you think I have an axe?’ the ghost replied, ‘and if I did why would I let you have it?’
‘Well king,’ Orcxyl replied. ‘I am sure one of these tombs has an axe. All kings, all buried with finery. An axe is a valued possession...’ he looked at the ghost which did not deny the claim. ‘And if you will not help me,’ Orcxyl went on, ‘I will remove the other flat stones upon the shafts of all the tombs...’
A fear possessed the ghost. He knows... it thought
‘You must not,’ the ghost replied, ‘you do not know what trouble you will make...’
‘For you or for me?’ Orcxyl replied with a smile. The ghost glared at the man and then vanished. Orcxyl went and looked at the other standing stones and marvelled at the runes. When he returned there was an axe upon the ground by the fire, but the ghost was nowhere to be seen. Orcxyl hefted the axe and thought it a fine tool; the head was sharp and firmly fixed to the handle which was a full length, able to fell the largest tree.
‘Thank you ghost,’ Orcxyl called, not caring if he was heard or not. And then he took the axe and left the valley travelling north, for he had spied some pine trees growing there and sure enough on the outer downhill slopes of the hills that formed the Valley of the Kings he found a huge copse of pine, and these grew further north in abundance. Orcxyl stripped to the waist and with great skill he felled a score of pine as thick as his thigh, and trimmed the trunks. He shortened them to five cubits and then one at a time he began to carry them back to his camp. That day he managed to bring five, and these the thickest of them all. With care he measured them and then shortened them. He placed the trunks vertically upon the ground and hard up under the leaning stone at the high end thereby providing support for the mighty roof so that it would not lean further and fall completely. He was exhausted by his efforts and fell asleep quickly ignoring the presence of the ghost which kept its distance all that day, sulking.
Once more in the morning the man first went to the tomb and inscribed another mark next to the first two. He took care to make it neat like the runes on the roof of his camp. He went then to the forest again with his axe and this time brought back eight more trunks which were also measured and cut to fit and placed upright under the leaning stone. And so Orcxyl began to make walls for his new home. He worked hard for many days in a steady rhythm, enjoying the effort, knowing he did not need to hasten for he had much time upon his hands. He took a day off every three to hunt and brought back Revel hare and rabbit and once a strange creature he had never seen before. It was like small deer but it could climb like a goat and he had watched in awe as it leapt up into the mighty oaks and hidden from him. But it could not escape the great hunter. Its meat was tender and even better than the Revel hare. At first the ghost was tormented by the smell of the food and stayed away, but when the man was out hunting or cutting the pine it would come to his cabin and marvel at the transformation which had been wrought with nothing more than knife and axe. And over time the ghost looked forward to each day for it brought change and the Valley seemed a better place with the mighty horses roaming free and the hunter returning with fresh and different food, and it began to long for company and its anger faded.
The marks upon the tomb grew steadily. Orcxyl kept them in rows, a score across and then a new line below. The cabin was finished the day of the thirtieth mark. By then the walls were complete and doubled so that the thickness was enough to hold the heat. He made a small doorway, cutting out the lintel expertly with the axe and fitting shorter trunks above. The door he made by splitting the trunks lengthwise and using timber pegs shaped with his knife, driven with the axe into holes bored one at a time into cross beams, also with his knife which needed constant sharpening. Orcxyl found the standing stones were of a material which was ideal for this, and so the axe and knife were kept ready for work, although he watched his knife blade thin alarmingly as the days passed.
He was happy now, for the Valley was peaceful. The ghost came and sat close by but did not speak. The horses were fat and full of play, gambolling with each other and galloping thunderously all about the valley. He hunted when he needed and never went without good food. He planted wild onions and taters in a carefully laid out garden by the cabin and waited expectantly for them to grow. He slept at night in a most wonderful bed of straw held deep within a pine frame of thick trunks. By the day of the sixtieth mark a fine stone fireplace stood on the west side of the cabin, each stone collected from the stream and placed carefully so that they locked together and overlapped. The chimney was supported by pine trunks on the outside but the stonework was so good that Orcxyl thought in the end that they were perhaps not required.
And then Orcxyl went hunting in the night. He went for wolf for he needed their skins. His plan was simple. He saddled his horse, the one which loved him most and rode out of the Valley during the day into the forest to the west. He rode all about laying down what he thought must be a mighty scent trail which led finally to a huge oak he had discovered whilst hunting. He rode the horse all around it and tethered it there whilst he climbed up into the canopy and leapt all about the huge wide limbs which reached low to the ground and gave him many places to shoot his arrows. And then he rode back to the Valley and set the horse free to run once more with its companions. He ate well and took fresh water and then walked back into the forest and came to the great oak as the sun dipped below the horizon. He did not have long to wait for the wolves came quickly. They were hungry and the scent of the horse made them frenzied and careless. He sat above as eight great creatures came out of the shadows and sought the horse. He killed five without any danger and then as the remaining creatures howled and sought in vain for something to kill he climbed higher up and lashed himself to a think branch and slept fitfully till the sun rose. He skinned the five wolves quickly and took only their skins for he had no need nor desire to eat their foul flesh. The ghost was waiting for him and seemed anxious for the man had never been away in the forest at night.
Orcxyl spread the skins and pegged them in the sun. He scraped them clean and let them dry. It took a score of days before they were ready for him and even then he set them aside in the cabin for winter. The days were cooler now and he started to collect firewood, and stacked it in rows by the door. Each morning he carved another mark upon the tomb’s stone door and began to worry about the horses, for they needed shelter from the coming cold.
And there was none in the Valley of the Kings.
But for the first time since Freya was murdered, Orcxyl was happy.
Germayne stood on the stone balcony high above the city. She no longer wept at what she saw, or the news which came daily; all of it bad...for her heart had grown colder and become more used to the inhumanity and selfishness of her people. Her authority as Queen was accepted now by the stewards, who in truth had grown to appreciate seeing the face of the one who ruled, rather than a white-veiled and hidden monarch. Germayne made decisions without regret, tough and hard decisions, and this impres
sed all, even the soldiers who remained faithful to the throne, and so the Palace remained a place where justice ruled and evil had no foothold.
But in Ramos below this was not the case.
‘How many in the dungeons?’ Sylvion asked of Grador, the chief steward and the one she trusted most.
‘They are full My Lady.’ Grador said sombrely. He was a tall man with wise eyes but no humour and Germayne tired of him easily, but his eyes were good as was his brain and she needed him daily. ‘Two hundred and thirty,’ Grador continued, ‘and we hold two score more in the main hall. They are younger and less trouble.’
‘And all bear the mark?’ Germayne stated her question, knowing the answer.
‘Indeed My Lady,’ Grador replied. ‘All bear the magician’s mark.’
‘We cannot continue to increase their number and they do not wish to give up their love of their evil ways,’ Germayne said and turned to Grador. ‘We cannot make this city obey by force. They kill each day and worship foolishness. They lose their minds to the magician Gryfnor, they accept his Diabules and bear his mark. We have tried to change things but I have not the Shadow Blade and we have not heard from the White Queen for many moons.’ She paused, ‘the land sinks everywhere, and the foolish people cannot see that their evil sacrifices change nothing.’
Grador nodded but remained silent. Germayne paced about the balcony. She sighed at last.
‘How many in the city remain free from the magician?’ Grador shrugged.
‘I cannot know this but it is surely few,’ he replied. ‘Many have fled for they take the sacrifice from any without the mark.’ And this seemed to bring Germayne to a decision.
‘We are wrong Grador. We house and feed the ones who refuse to change. They are kept safe whilst the innocent fear for their lives. Gather the Nephilim. Today we change this. We will empty the dungeons. We will give them a choice to turn away from Gryfnor and his evil ways. If they refuse than they will be set free...’
‘My Lady...’Grador went to interrupt for Germayne’s words seemed wrong to him.
‘No Grador, I am right.’ Germayne went on. ‘We will gather the innocent from the city and see who else needs protection. We will bring them here to the Palace where they will be safe.’
‘You would set the prisoners free and fill the Palace with the ordinary people. This is most unusual My Lady.’
‘Look down there Grador,’ Germayne said in anger, and pointed down into the city below. ‘Is not all this unusual. We live in unusual times, so now we will do unusual things. Do it.’ And Grador had cause then to think upon the transformation in the servant girl, once handmaid to the White Queen of Revelyn, now ruler in her own right and carrying all the authority of her office.
What happens when the White Queen returns? he thought and then went quickly to arrange matters.
It was strange to see the Nephilim together. They were giants; some even said they were not human, and at first glance it was a forgivable thought. Rarely were they ever brought together. In the past in times of war they would form a protection for the king or queen, and on the field when violence was all about they were almost invincible. But in recent times, during the time of the White Queen when wars had ceased and the land brought under one rule they had not been used, and since the Shadow Blade had been more commonly used, then this too meant that the Nephilim had not seen battle for generations. But none the less they were prepared and had lost none of their skill or deadly focus to follow command.
Germayne had them assembled in a private hall above the great meeting hall. There were only a score but they filled most of the space and stood quietly as she addressed them from a raised platform at one end.
‘I am Germayne,’ she said. ‘For the present I am your Queen; until the White Queen returns.’ She looked about with a grim face despite her growing misgivings about Sylvion’s return. ‘And I believe she will return. Until then I have been granted rule by her direct authority.’ She let her words sink in for the Nephilim must hear her claim to rule. ‘Ramos is falling into shadow,’ she continued. ‘You have heard and seen it. If it were by invasion we could do battle with the enemy but it is not this way. The people themselves have chosen Gryfnor and his way. Our own people have chosen the way of darkness. They choose to sacrifice; they murder their own and believe it will halt the sinking of the land.’ She took a deep breath.
‘This is evil,’ she said then loud and clear, and the Nephilim and the stewards and all the officials who had been summoned heard her pronouncement and nodded in agreement.
‘None here bear the mark of Gryfnor.’ She let this sink in. ‘Any who bear this mark cannot henceforth share in the goodwill and protection of the Palace. Shortly you mighty Nephilim will be sent forth...not to do battle but to search the city and find any who have rejected the way of Gryfnor. Where you find them you must offer them safe passage here to the Palace where we will find lodging for them. They can bring basic necessities. They must leave behind everything which cannot be justified as such. We have great stores of food and water. We can look after them.’ She watched her words impact upon the Nephilim. She was asking something most unusual from them, and they needed time to think upon it. Finally she spoke again.
‘There will be no compulsion. If a person does not wish to come then they may stay. Tell them that they will be welcome at any time but warn them that there may come a time when they will be unable to enter the Palace for it will be sealed off. Tell this clearly Nephilim.’ Again she waited for this to sink in.
‘If you are opposed by any then you may use whatever force you deem necessary to complete your task. To slay your own people is an awful thing so you must use patience. I send you, Nephilim because you alone can do this for you are so great and mighty that only a fool will stand against you.’ The giants nodded in agreement at this truth.
‘Go in twos,’ Germayne said quietly. ‘Be careful and do not cause trouble by word or action. But in the end stand for truth and let none confuse you on these matters.’
And so the mighty Nephilim went forth into the city and began the search for those who had increasingly lived in the fear of Gryfnor and his followers. Germayne meanwhile took soldiers and went to the great meeting hall where a score of young people were being held, for the dungeons were full. She had them stand before her and with some truculence they did so. She wasted no words but made her case quite plain to them.
‘Young men and women of Ramos. You have chosen badly, and as a consequence you have ended up here as prisoners of the Palace. You have been caught giving support and assistance to the evil deeds which now are tearing this great city apart. You have attended the human sacrifice. Perhaps you have even helped secure the innocents who have been slain.’ The seriousness of her words seemed to have some affect upon the group and they listened more attentively as she went on.
‘You bear the mark of Gryfnor.’ This accusation caused the listeners to touch their forehead instinctively where the purplish mark stained them all. ‘It is not the mark which offends but the acts which puts it there,’ Germayne continued. ‘The Diabules you have taken freely have affected your minds; you think they open you to truth but they have led you into the gravest error. I am going to offer you a choice today and you must make it now.’ She paused and let them think upon her words. ‘Take care how you decide for your very life depends upon what you do.’ And suddenly her words seemed to strike a fear in them all, for talk of life and death was not what they had thought when they had been arrested. They watched quietly and listened most attentively.
‘I will let you choose,’ Germayne said firmly. ‘You can give up your ways and stay here in safety where you have no access to the Diabules for these have been taken from you. You will agree to living henceforth without them and you will state that you now reject the way of Gryfnor who has taught you that the land will sink unless the sacrifice continues.’ Again she paused for she knew what had been said was much to think upon.
Then one of the brav
est in the group stepped forward and asked politely.
‘And what happens if we do not choose this?’
‘Then you will be set free,’ Germayne replied and this amazed the group. ‘Either way,’ she continued, ‘you will be set free. Each of you must choose whether or not they want to remain here in safety. There will be no compulsion, but there will be a consequence for whatever you choose. Think upon this for a moment.’ And she let them talk and listened to their arguing, and it seemed to her that most felt the choice was clear. They were offered freedom to continue as they had, with no penalty. And so when Germayne called an end to their talk and demanded they decide, she indicated the open door at one end of the great meeting hall and directed them firmly.
‘Go now if you wish, and any who remain will be granted safety here under the conditions I have offered.’
Only one remained. The rest ran from the hall, although a young man waited and began to remonstrate with the woman who had not joined the others.
‘Clara come with me now,’ he insisted... but at this Germayne’s anger suddenly flared.
‘Guards!’ she cried, ‘take this man and throw him out. I meant what I said, there will be no coercion either way,’ and in a moment the young man had been carried bodily from the hall and thrown into the street. The doors were shut behind him leaving the young woman looking forlornly about.
‘You are safe, and you have chosen wisely,’ Germayne said quietly and without any anger. ‘You will be taken to a safe place and given a room. This night I will speak with you and any other who remains as you have.’
There are others?’ the young woman asked nervously but brightening.
‘Not yet,’ Germayne replied, ‘but I hope by tonight there will be.’
And then she ordered that the dungeons be emptied a score at a time and the people brought to her. Then she presented to all the prisoners the same offer and she sat and waited as they decided. Finally, by the going down of the sun it had been done. The dungeons were empty and the people gone by their own choice. Only ten remained who chose a different life.