Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls

by Chris Ward

  ‘I cannot let you off this barge wandering the streets of Ramos without a proper hat, for you will be considered a foreigner indeed, unless I remedy the situation.’ And without ceremony he took his own battered hat and placed it upon Rema’s head.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said with a smile, ‘now at least you will not be so easily spotted.’

  With a brief farewell to the boy, and wearing his new hat, and the cloak which Mentor had given him, Rema sprung lightly onto the wharf and into a milling crowd already busy with the day’s demands. He turned once from a higher place before he lost himself in the streets of Ramos, and waved to Gymble, and uttered a gentle oath. ‘I swear old man that I will one day see you again, for your story shall not end here.’ And then he turned from the river and disappeared into the crowd.

  It had taken him many hours to arrive where he now stood, watching his cousin’s house. Although he knew the way, for he had searched for several days before finding her place on his last visit, he had wanted to wander the streets of Ramos and listen, to try and understand something of how it went with the people. Everywhere he found fear. He saw bullying soldiers on the streets, treating the citizens as of little worth, demanding favours, cursing frequently, and laughing in contempt. He saw suspicion and downcast eyes, anxious glances and feeble handshakes. Insults and coarse words filled the air. Of beauty he saw none. He heard angry whispers about a recent cruelty in another part of the city in which many homes and business were confiscated by the King, under the pretence of preventing the spread of disease. Dozens had disappeared, and soldiers now lived in the houses. There was talk of violence and rebellion, but Rema knew that the people had no heart for it. He had sat quietly in a dark tavern, eating a rudimentary meal of goat cheese and bread, contemplating his next move, and for the first time in a long time, allowing himself to think of Sylvion. This however, had only confused and upset him, knowing that she was beyond his help; but he longed to hold her again and smell her hair, and run his fingers over the smooth skin of her wonderful face, and lose himself in her eyes, so deep and intelligent.

  ‘I will find you Sylvion, I will come for you.’ He had sworn this to himself over and over, and then, realising that his face was wet with tears, and the publican was staring a little too often in his direction, forced himself to leave, and had again walked the streets of the mighty city of Ramos, once so proud and happy, but now on the edge of despair. He walked until he had found the darkened alleyway, and there he had started his vigil.

  Rema shifted his weight for the thousandth time and continued to watch, his eyes squinting into the approaching gloom. The shadows were deep and long, and the sun but a finger span above the horizon when he saw what he had waited so long to see. There was movement at the window as one shutter was quickly opened and left to swing gently back until it rested against the wall. It took only a moment, but it brought life back to Rema’s weary body.

  ‘Well done Serenna, you heard me, you did not lose hope.’ He whispered in relief, ‘this will make it so much easier. Well done.’ He rubbed his hands together for warmth and in better spirits waited on, until night engulfed the city. When he moved he did so silently, scaling the thick stonewall behind the large house and running easily along it. Where it met the rear wall of the house there was several rough handholds allowing him to climb up onto a small stone awning over a second story window. From there he judged the distance, and then leapt onto an ornamental ledge protruding but a hand width from the building. In the same motion Rema reached upward and grasped the sill of the window. One of his feet slipped off the ledge, but his handhold was secure and he steadied himself, flattening against the wall. In the dark he smiled. He was enjoying the action. This was like hunting the nimble and surefooted Orax in the mountains back home. He remained there for a moment, a flat dark shadow on the uneven wall. A moment later he was safely through the window and lost to view.

  The room was dark, but enough light came through the window for Rema to recognise the simple bed. He removed his worn boots, and cloak, and placed his weapons, the bow the quiver, and short sword, under the bed, before quietly easing himself down onto the soft straw mattress. It felt so welcoming after the cramped bunk on the barge, so he lay for a moment, relaxing. Just a few moments, that’s all I need. He was asleep before he knew it.

  He slept dreamlessly for several hours, and woke suddenly bewildered, before realising where he was. In that moment he heard footsteps approaching and in an instant he melted into the shadows by the door. He knew it must be Serenna, but there was a slight chance that a servant might have been ordered to secure the shutter, so he took no risk. As the door opened, a shaft of light from a candle flickered in. A figure followed and went to the window, reached out and pulled the shutter closed. It was indeed his cousin, and Rema waited until she turned, and spoke just as she saw him.

  ‘I have returned.’

  Serenna jumped in fright, and put her hands to her mouth, the candle dropping to the floor, where remarkably, it remained alight.

  ‘Rema,’ she cried softly, ‘Oh Rema you are safe!’ And then she was in his arms and sobbing like a child. ‘I thought you were dead, or gone forever. I am so sorry for what has happened. I have hardly slept. Are you alright?...’ He held her whilst the torrent flowed, and realised with a tinge of guilt that it felt good to hold her.

  ‘You remembered then…’ he said as she became more controlled, ‘…remembered to leave the shutter open each night, just in case I needed to come back. You found the note I left…’

  ‘It was all I could do. I never really believed you would return, but it made me feel better just in doing it. Oh Rema I can’t believe you are really here. And yet you are in great danger.’

  Rema smiled gently at his lovely cousin, and held her for a moment at arm’s length. ‘That doesn’t even begin to describe my situation, but I am safe here in this house for a while, if we are careful. Come sit down and talk with me for there is much to discuss.’ He led her to the bed and they sat together, a little apart, and rather awkwardly now, since the first flush of their reunion had passed. Serenna first recovered the candle and placed it more safely in a simple metal wall holder.

  ‘Is your husband home?’ Rema asked after a minute, anxious to know what threats were close at hand.

  ‘He is asleep, and will not worry us till the morning. The servants too. It is after midnight. I have not been able to sleep till the early hours since you left, and I no longer share a bed with my husband. His part in an all this has taken the last of whatever affection I held for him. And he knows it!’ She spoke with a deep anger in her voice.

  ‘Does he care?’ Rema did not know why he asked, but found satisfaction in her answer.

  ‘Not at all. He has fallen under the spell of our mad king. All he cares about is the favour of that brute. That and his precious business. I matter little to him.’ A silence stood between them for a time, after which Serenna suddenly spoke with renewed emotion.

  ‘Rema I never understood what was planned, I did not know that they were setting a trap for you. I know I left you, and my family, and the few friends I had with small regard for any feelings, but I did care for you. You were my closest friend, and I would never have betrayed you to these evil people. Never! Please believe me.’ She started to cry again, and Rema reached across and gently took her hand.

  ‘Serenna, I never for one moment believed that you wished me any harm. You have been used by others. I hold no anger in my heart for you. I came back because...’ he stopped, suddenly unsure of what he wanted to say.

  ‘Please tell me Rema, why did you come back?’ She looked at him with such sadness and simple hope.

  ‘I came back because I needed a place to hide, a place that they would not think to look. Right under their noses.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Serenna spoke sadly, taking her hand from his and clasping hers together in her lap and turning a little from him.

  ‘No,’ said Rema, ‘No, it was not the only
reason. In truth there are many reasons, most of which I do not understand, but I also came back because I wanted to see you. I thought you might be in danger. I could not leave you like I did, not after we had finally met once more after so long.’ In the darkness, Serenna’s tears flowed once more.

  After a time she left, returning a short time later with food and drink and a pitcher of water and a towel. Rema ate and washed in silence whilst Serenna sat on the floor in the shadows watching him. Afterwards he told her most of what had happened since he had fled. She asked few questions but listened intently, and Rema realised that she knew more than he thought.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised Serenna?’ She sat quietly for a moment before replying, and when she did, her words were carefully chosen. She spoke from the shadows, Rema unable to see her face.

  ‘I have learnt much since you fled. I have flayed my husband with my tongue within an inch of his life. I wore him down, until, to gain some peace he revealed many things.’ She paused for so long that Rema felt suddenly irritated. She sensed his mood.

  ‘Please Rema, I am trying to let you know all I have learnt, but I am still in shock to have you here. It is like a dream which I hope turns out not to be a nightmare. Not like last time...’ Her voice trailed off and she cried once more. After some time she continued.

  ‘You have not seen me like this before. So sad and weak. In times past I knew no fear, when we were young together and free in the mountains...but this place, this city...this kingdom, they have changed me.’ Rema regretted his mood, and suddenly realised that the softer side to Serenna was quite appealing. Once she never seemed to take things seriously, even when in the mountains hunting and they had cheated death by the barest of margins, she was always able to shrug it off, and tease him for his pale face and pumping heart. He had often wondered what it would take to make her cry, for she never had. Her next words slammed into him.

  ‘Sylvion is captured. They have taken her to a fortress called Vault on Bold Cape, her home has been burnt, her kindma is dead.’ Rema looked blankly at Serenna for a moment, fighting for control as a thousand questions fought for his attention. His cousin sat quietly allowing him to consider her words.

  ‘She is alive then?’ Rema could only whisper.

  ‘Yes she is alive; they hold her for a reason. It is you they want.’ Rema did not immediately consider this.

  ‘Her kindma is dead, her home destroyed?’

  ‘That is what I have been told.’

  ‘That poor woman was so gentle, so very lovely, she would harm no-one, threaten no-one. Why?’ Serenna remained silent, knowing that Rema was really just thinking aloud. After a moment Rema returned to her earlier statement.

  ‘They want me. Why am I so important? Who wants me?’ Rema shook his head in bewilderment.

  ‘Listen carefully Rema Bowman and I will tell you what I know of this.’ Serenna forced herself to speak slowly but with all the authority she could muster, and all the while watching his face carefully, judging the moment to pause and when to continue.

  ‘The house of Hendon has ruled Revelyn for hundreds of years. Our last king, King Frederic died without an heir. Lord Petros, Frederic’s favourite and our present ruler is not of royal blood, and yet he has held the royal sceptre and survived and so has claim to the throne. You know all this, or at least all who live in the Lowlands know this.’ Rema nodded in agreement.

  ‘Frederic’s father King Richardo had a sister, Raven Hendon. In all the oral traditions of Revelyn she died early and was not mentioned again. Actually she fled the court life here in Ramos and married a poet. His name was Sentor Greyfeld.’ At the mention of this name Rema immediately saw the connection, and picked up the thread which had been laid before him.

  ‘If that is true then Sylvion Greyfeld, my Sylvion, is an heir to the throne. Sentor was her kinkindpa. Lord Petros, mad and paranoid, wants to make sure he holds the throne, so Sylvion must be destroyed.’ He spoke quietly, putting the pieces together, and then stopped. ‘But this is a fairy story, surely it is a mistake?’

  ‘I am afraid it is all true Rema,’ said Serenna softly ‘All true.’ Rema thought for a while, then stood and paced the room several times, before rounding on his cousin, demanding excitedly...

  ‘So why hold her, why not just kill her, and why am I so important, I am of no consequence?’ He stood with hands raised, as if appealing to an unseen judge.

  Serenna spoke quietly in reply. ‘As it is Rema, you are of great consequence. Let me continue.’ Rema sat on the edge of the bed staring intently ahead, and listening to every word, as though his life depended on it.

  ‘The Wisden are the keepers of many secrets in Revelyn. They spend all their days, deep beneath the White Palace, forever reading and interpreting The Ancient Books of Words. It is unclear if there is one, or many books, but they contain histories and records of the kingdom, and most importantly, prophecies. When the existence of the Hendon bloodline through Raven Hendon was discovered, Lord Petros’ advisor Zelfos, an evil man, if man he is, ordered them to study the records for any prophecies which could indicate how these matters might work out.’

  ‘They found something?’ Rema broke in.

  ‘Yes they did, and when all is said and done, the Wisden as a group spoke of the one who would ensure the rightful heir would return to the throne was you.’

  Rema laughed.

  ‘This is ridiculous. Me? How can I do that? I am a Highlander with no interest in the throne!’

  ‘But you are to marry the true heir.’ Serenna reminded him.

  ‘That is incredible, I grant that; but I cannot stand against the King.’

  ‘You have done quite well in the past few days.’

  Rema almost exploded with frustration.

  ‘That is nothing compared to what you are suggesting. Serenna we are talking war and armies and something on a scale beyond anything I can organise. Or want to organise for that matter. I am sure Sylvion will not want the throne.’

  ‘But Lord Petros is a hard man to convince of that.’ Serenna spoke once more, to which Rema replied immediately.

  ‘I still don’t see why he doesn’t just kill Sylvion. The heir is dead. It is all over.’ Suddenly he realised what he had said, and slumped, horrified at his words, onto the bed. ‘What am I saying, how can I talk like this? How can we talk like this? This is Sylvion, Serenna. Talk of her death is not possible. Not as though she were some checker upon a board, some dice in a mad and stupid game’

  Serenna got up and went to Rema. She knelt before him and held his hands. She looked into his eyes and saw the fear and anger, but spoke her mind all the same.

  ‘Rema, that’s exactly what she is at the moment. She is bait to capture you, and then you both will die.’ She looked away sadly before continuing, ‘whilst all around this kingdom is falling into shadow.’

  Rema sat in confused shock, breathing hard and looking at the tear-stained face of his cousin. She smiled at him and squeezed his hands gently, but said nothing. For the first time Rema realised that she had the greenest eyes, and glazed with tears, they shone like emeralds.

  ‘I need to see this prophecy, or whatever bewitched words you speak of, this thing that has so transformed matters.’ Rema finally spoke, more coldly now as his mind began to work out some next step. ‘Have you seen this thing?’ Serenna stood quickly and stretched.

  ‘It took much persuasion and all my guile, but I discovered that the King has shared this knowledge on pain of death with his closest advisors only, and that has recently included my husband, for he now bears the Guild-medallion of Petros. It is his most precious possession, for it allows the bearer to go where they will, and all who see, must respect and defer, also on pain of death, for all in Revelyn know that these few have the favour of the King, and he is mad. There are but twenty bearers and they all know of these things. In return they are required to support the King, for they control vast resources within the kingdom.’ Serenna paced the room nervously and Rema k
new that she had risked much to learn what she had. Suddenly she stopped and went to the door. She stood proud and erect, pausing with one hand on the latch, and Rema also realised that a burden of fear had been lifted from her. His return had released her and she was no longer burdened by guilt or what might have been. He also realised that she looked quite beautiful.

  ‘I must go to my room now. I will organise what you need in the morning after the house is awake and my husband gone. Sleep, and keep quiet. Do not leave this room for the servants are most busy just after sunrise. They are all spies for my husband, I trust no one. Of them all there is one of whom I am most afraid. His name is Ethor, an ugly brute who has joined us only several days ago. He watches me constantly, for since my husband in his weakness revealed these things to me, he has feared that I will tell others and then his life will be forfeit. If this man Ethor comes upon you, do not hesitate to kill him. You will know him by the scar on his cheek. He wears it proudly, but it marks him well.’ And then she was gone, leaving in a confident manner so different to her arriving.

  Rema lay on the bed and thought for a long time about many things, until once more he slept. He dreamt of Sylvion, chained and frightened in some faraway dank dungeon, and she pleaded for him to come and save her, but although he spoke to her, she could not hear him, or see him. Serenna was there on the edge of things, her jeweled eyes distracting him, and he kept turning from one to the other, unable to focus on either until other images of rivers and barges, soldiers and ugly people, one with an ugly scar on his face, swamped all else. Just before dawn he fell into a deeper sleep where the dreams could not reach, and so as the house came alive, he lay soundlessly, breathing more easily, and oblivious to all things, in the tiny room at the top of the house, in a city full of enemies and dark despair.