by Chris Ward
‘It is time Sylvion.’ Rema said quietly but with great authority. He spoke directly to her but all listened with the greatest expectation. ‘You are the reason that we are here; but it is more than this. Revelyn must see you as queen and the evil ways defeated or else as El-Arathor has told us, the whole land will fall into a darkness from which it cannot escape. Your Shadow Blade must now be wielded. It is all we have left. If we fight again tomorrow as we have today, we will be overwhelmed.’
It was a sombre group that listened to Rema’s plan, and once more not a single voice was raised to object. It had to be done. In the end Sylvion stood and addressed the group.
‘My friends I carry great a grief this night for all, and for myself. I cannot say why I am here and why all this death and violence seems laid at my feet. I thank you all for what you have done so bravely this day. I have no words which can describe my admiration that you have undertaken such fearsome tasks. That you should do and see such terrible things as I have witnessed today is too much for me to bear, but I will do the best I can.’
She paused then and with tears upon her face she took a breath and calming herself with a desperate will to do so, spoke her final words.
‘And so I am now to become death to many.’
She withdrew her Shadow Blade and swept it twice back and forward before her. She gazed upon it as though none else were present and in the firelight it seemed to glow in anticipation of what was to come. All looked upon her then, this claimant to the throne and saw her desperate situation, but none there except Sylvion had seen the Blade at work save Reigin who had only gained the merest glimpse of its great power at the slaying of Sleeman.
They all wondered how such a thing could stand against the mighty force which still stood against them despite all that had been won that day.
‘I will go to see the Equin now.’
Sylvion suddenly replaced the Shadow Blade and without a look at any, departed. ‘I will return in a span Rema and will be ready to do as you have planned.’ Her words came coldly to them.
And then she was gone and all who remained made ready for what was to come.
Chapter 21
Commander Leander stood before the King and Zelfos and gave his report. The king’s pavilion was well lit, and from without it gave a glow which spoke of warmth, and yet within the atmosphere was cold and edged with fear. The King, Lord Petros sat upon his simple travelling throne, whilst Zelfos hovered round about seemingly unable to sit long in one place. Leander held a crumbled parchment on which he had made some scribbled notes. He was not one with skill in writing but his report could not be made more palatable by fancy words.
‘Our losses this day have been great,’ he said, as the other two listened in silence.
‘The charge of the great horses was, as you both saw unstoppable when first they came upon us. There was magic travelling with them. This sort of thing I cannot stand against and it was only luck that Underlourde Aaraghant found their weakness.’
‘Numbers Leander! Tell me how many we lost; I do not want excuses for what you can or cannot do.’ The King interrupted his commander for he hated the very mention of Aaraghant’s name. He had no affection for that odious pig of a man.
Leander felt a dull fury rise within him. He had taken about all he was willing to take from these selfish scheming men. He paused and let the two hang upon the silence.
‘Well Commander?’ Zelfos demanded impatiently. Leander continued.
‘We lost three hundred dead to the horses and twice that number wounded. That was in the first charge. The second time they came upon us we slew them all, almost; thanks to Aaraghant’s silver arrows.’ The giant soldier enjoyed the dark reaction which the mention of that name brought upon his King for he had purposely mentioned it. He paused, and then went on. ‘We lost another hundred dead and about the same were wounded. I am told a handful made it back to Fellonshead.’
Leander looked at his rough notes.
‘The horsemen suffered most. We sent out a thousand men and lost almost half, not quite six hundred returned. They fought bravely but their enemy were Wolvers all. I am surprised that any survived for they rode on huge devil cats, something like the sabcrecat, but much larger and far more fierce. I do not think these men will have the heart to ride against them again.’
‘They will ride against whosoever we send them.’ hissed Zelfos. Leander turned with an exaggerated slowness to the bald sorcerer.
‘In the end Zelfos,’ he said in a dark anger, ‘fear will only make a man do so much. Do they fear you, or fear the enemy more? You cannot think to so control others by merely giving orders which are death to those who must obey them.’ He turned back to the king leaving Zelfos smouldering at his temerity.
‘As serious as these losses are, they are matched by the destruction of our water and provisions. I have sent for replenishment but it will not arrive till at least midmorn tomorrow. The men on the front line are suffering greatly from thirst. The wounded cannot be properly tended. Our army will not fight well on empty stomachs and without water we cannot fight at all beyond another day.’
This pronouncement was not well received by either the King or Zelfos.
‘They are soldiers Leander surely a little fasting and some small thirst should not deter them in their line of duty? Lord Petros sniffed in disdain. Zelfos too just shook his head as though betrayed by the weakness of others.
Leander felt his fury boil over. He grabbed a half full jug of wine which they had all been enjoying, and dashed it to the floor. The king and Zelfos were stunned at such impudence, but Leander roared at them both.
‘Do not let any of us here take a single further bite of food or drink until we are replenished, and until the men out there,’ and here he indicated with a mighty swipe of an enormous gloved hand to where the army was encamped, ‘have drunk their fill.’
The king’s steward hastily left the pavilion and the guards outside trembled in fear at what such an outburst might mean. They heard every word.
Inside the three men stared at each other. Suddenly, Leander continued his report with such calmness that the other two were completely taken by surprise.
‘Two others matters. A gatherer has returned and reports that their numbers are not so great as we first thought. The fires which burn across the fields and in the forest give warmth to few, for they are a clever ruse to trick us into thinking they have a great force still ready to do battle. It seems they have no more than several hundred at the most; perhaps less.’
At this both the King and Zelfos smiled at each other for this was good news indeed.
‘And one further thing,’ Leander continued brusquely, ‘I have been informed that the one whom we seek to destroy, this Sylvion Greyfeld who now openly claims the throne in your stead desire; she made sure that our injured men upon the field were cared for and she led them back to our front lines and set them free. The men throughout the camp are talking of her mercy.’
These words had a great affect upon Zelfos, who screamed in an agony of disbelief.
‘What! She showed mercy. At war one kills. No one wastes time on looking to the needs of their enemy...’ His voice faltered then and he stopped as though he had revealed too much of something deeper in himself. In truth this news hurt him most, for privately he celebrated all the death and maiming which had passed that day. The hearts of men had been focused on hate and evil; this was what he desired the most. This was what he needed if his great strategy were to succeed. But to hear of mercy, of one doing good to another when there was no reason, undid all that he had planned. His heart thumped against his chest and he felt a mighty nausea sweep over him. In desperation he tried to hold himself together, but that one word, mercy, had hurt him grievously. Zelfos collapsed upon a couch and signalled to the steward for a drink, only to find that he had disappeared and Leander’s words of denial still rang in his ears. In a sulk he turned away and rocked himself slightly as if it were a comfort.
L
eander and the king were amazed at such a transformation in the usually abrasive and powerful man.
‘We have had a long day with many surprises,’ the king spoke with some wisdom at last. ‘Let us not fall out, for perhaps we need each other more than we have admitted to this point.’ Leander sensed then a change in his king for the better; but for Zelfos he found only contempt in his heart.
He was about to speak once more, when suddenly a huge and deafening crack of lightning split the sky and all about within the camp, and glowing through the king’s pavilion from without, was a most eerie bluish light.
Zelfos screamed again and then hissed in evil fear.
‘It is here. The Shadow Blade has come against us.’ And the bald man now greatly diminished in the eyes of the other two, shook most violently for a moment.
And then they made haste out into a cold blue world and faced the new doom that had come against them.
*
Rema chose twelve men. All Edenwhood, uninjured and the freshest of those who had volunteered to go with him. Anderlorn and Cordia were there, but he refused Rhynos on account of his head wound. Reigin had insisted on standing with Sylvion, and Rema gratefully accepted his offer, for he worried now whether she was still able to wield her blade at all, for she had seen so much ugly death that day he knew her will had been greatly weakened.
They carried nothing but their swords and a light shield. He carried two quivers, one full of feathered arrows which were plentiful enough upon the ground, and also his own strange and longer ones which he was still reluctant to use despite the increasingly desperate position they were facing.
In silence they crept out of Fellonshead and made their way in dark shadows toward the enemy which rested fitfully and licked its wounds much less than two leagues further west and south. Rema had laid out his plan and all rested upon Sylvion and her Shadow Blade. He had questioned her at length about its working and shaped his plan accordingly; but until it came to pass none knew what might be the end of it.
They halted a hundred paces from the resting lancers. Rema heard the conversations of fearful men mixed with arrogant oaths and a little drunkenness, for soldiers always find some means to bring drink to bolster fears and forget what they must face. He sensed that they were unhappy men who did not understand against what they fought. Many whispers of the mighty horses came, entwined with complaints of great thirst and hunger. He realised with sadness that these were just ordinary men who were about to die because evil forces had hold of those who held the power in their simple lives.
They lined up facing the enemy, just a dozen dark shadows in the night, for the moon had not yet risen, and only stars showed the way about. Their enemy sat by small fires and tents and could see no further than a few paces beyond where they crouched and waited anxiously for the night to pass.
‘Good luck my friends,’ Rema whispered to those on either side of him, ‘and do not spare the blade despite what comes your way. And do not turn and face the light or else you will be beyond help.’
They drew their swords and Rema notched an arrow. They waited, for now it all depended upon Sylvion who stood alone a dozen paces behind them. Reigin was behind as well but he too stood in front of Sylvion for he must not see the light upon the blade. A chill breeze swept down from the heights of the Vaudim and for a moment it seemed that not one upon that sad and bloody field took breath.
Sylvion held the Shadow Blade aloft and cried silently into the night. She dreaded what was to come and yet could see no other way. The weapon had turned her soft heart cold and she knew that in the end it would change her for the worst, for it fed upon her hate and anger and embraced her deepest cruel desire for revenge on all who had done her harm. She thought of her dear kindma slain by Sleeman’s sword and Bach’s humiliation of her. Her beloved land of Revelyn under thrall to an evil mad despot, and at his side the worst of all, the sorcerer Zelfos whom she had learned was now a harbinger of even worse to come. These thoughts came from a deep well of bitterness within and just as Rema was about to call back and ask what held her back, the light poured forth like nothing she could have imagined.
A great and deafening crack of white and blue-tinged lightning leapt clear up to the heavens. It danced and crackled from the blade and illumined the plains for leagues around, but the core of it was purist white, and once the eye beheld it, then it captured the mind and slowed the wit so that all so caught up were completely mesmerised for a hundred paces out and even beyond that all were held in thrall to some degree.
On Rema’s command the twelve, looked straight ahead and marched quickly to the front lines where a loose wall of lancers stood and sat and gaped open mouthed at what advanced upon them. They pushed aside the spears and then with deadly force slew all who were before them. Sylvion advanced behind holding up the Shadow Blade and waving it back and forward so that the show of light danced beautifully to the heavens. Reigin kept pace just to her fore, and so they advanced deep into the ranks of their enemy and by the sword cut a mighty swathe into the heart of the encampment.
Further up the slope the king and Zelfos watched once more in dumbstruck awe as this deadly light came toward them. They were far enough distant to escape the deadly thrall which it cast about, but each found their mind was slow and Leander seemed unable to give an order, for his speech came stupidly to his lips as though a hundred wasps had stung and swollen them into a bumbling mess.
At the centre of the deadly light Sylvion stood and saw things which no human should ever see. Her mind seemed so much faster than all about and everything which happened took place so slowly that time itself seemed almost to have come to a halt.
She knew then that they could slay the whole army, for none could stand and fight. Victory was but a short time hence. And then without warning, suddenly amidst the slow and grotesque horrors which surrounded her, came the visions which sought to save her soul. As Sylvion stood and wielded that mighty blade and looked upon the falling foe, she saw flashing before her, the lives of those which were being taken so easily and swiftly as the swords swung and hacked and pierced and let loose the life blood from within.
She saw a young man gasp and look in disbelief as a blade went clear through his body. She saw the last thoughts of this dying man, his wife and child alone in grief, and then another fell and as she looked upon him she saw the hopes he held for his parents and the young woman he loved and would now never lie with. All about came these crushing images which she was stealing from these ordinary men. Love and hope, life and pleasure; they too all fell before her. She was their thief and they were defenceless against her Shadow Blade, and suddenly she knew that she too was unable to stand apart, for the more they slew the harder grew her heart and there was danger that she would end up in victory as cold as the ones she sought to overthrow.
Am I no different now than Zelfos or the King?
This thought came to her amidst all the carnage, as she sought to weave her light, which so powerfully held their enemy in deadly thrall. The awful visions of great and inconsolable grief came as thick and fast as those that fell slain and mortally wounded all about. She felt a cold hand reach for her heart. She cried out in denial but it would not be denied.
Reigin sensed it first, the light was fading, and those about seemed more able to stand and fight. An arrow came flashing across the circle which they had formed about her. It creased his shoulder and left a bright flow of blood. A sword struck at Anderlorn although he parried it easily enough.
‘Sylvion, what is wrong?’ He called back but dared not look around.
‘I cannot hold this longer,’ came her sad voice. ‘It will take my soul. Please help me Reigin. We must not follow this path further. Tell Rema I have no more hate.’ She spoke so desperately that Reigin called to Rema.
‘Rema, Sylvion is tiring. She can no longer wield the blade.’
These words hit Rema like an axe for they were deep within the enemy camp. Without the Shadow Blade they would be quickly ove
rwhelmed. He cursed himself, for he had suspected that she would struggle in this action.
Sylvion saw a soldier then, hardly more than a youth, for the hair upon his chin was thin and sparse. He watched her blade in utter fascination, held in the mighty light which danced and crackled before him. An Edenwhood sword took off his head and in that moment she saw a mother standing desolate and inconsolable. A great pain pierced her heart.
Was not this the pain she had felt when her kindma had fallen?
And suddenly the light was gone and a mighty blackness overtook them all.
Rema knew they had a moment and no more in which to flee. He called the twelve together and with Reigin leading the distraught Sylvion they sprang back towards the front line. The enemy was not sure what had come about and struggled at first to understand what they should do, but as minds cleared and bodies moved more freely a cry of anger went up, for the slaughter of their friends was clear enough around them.
‘Fly my friends!’ cried Rema, and so they did. The Edenwhood were fast enough but Rema and Sylvion struggled to dodge and weave through the fallen and the enemy who began to form a deadly wall before them. Anderlorn wielded Anderwyn at their fore and hacked a path with help from his men. A volley of arrows flashed toward the group and three Edenwhood fell dead.
They reached the front line and suddenly there was open ground before them. As arrows rained down and spears came hurtling through the night they made their escape. Another Edenwhood fell and Rema felt an arrow brush his cheek. Reigin’s injury soaked his tunic with blood and even Anderlorn was surprised by the appearance of a deep welt across his neck. There was no pursuit for there was a great fear upon the enemy. The deadly Light might reappear and none now wished to be the first to see it.