by Chris Ward
The weary party returned in silence to Fellonshead and fell exhausted upon the ground. It took a long time before any had the energy to speak. At last it was Sylvion who did so, for she knew that her weakness had endangered them all, and indeed four of their number had paid with their lives. Her voice was from far off, and in her mind she still saw the deathly sad visions which had haunted her in the battle, replaying over and over again. A desperate sadness gripped her soul.
‘I am sorry to have let you down,’ she whispered. ‘Before this day I thought I could wield this blade and turn the land upon its head. I did not know that it would steal my soul. I did not know that I would witness such visions as I now cannot seem to put away. I cannot see so many slaughtered whilst others are to blame. I cannot do this. I am sorry. We must find another way.’
She sat then upon the ground and resting against a fallen wall closed her eyes and cried soundlessly in grief. And such a deep grief it was. That day she had witnessed the death of the Equin, and seen battles so bloody and awful that her very being was seared by the reality of the dreadful things which men could do to each other.
Rema shook his head in sadness and went to her. He held her and soothed her as best he could.
‘I am sorry too Sylvion.’ He whispered. ‘We did not know what the cost would be to you, or to any of us. The Shadow Blade is a fearsome weapon, and without it I do not yet know what we can achieve. What other way you speak of, is not clear to me but I have no wish to see you so distressed.’
The others of the party said nothing but Anderlorn quietly led his men off to rejoin the other Edenwhood, and Rema wondered what the Elder might wish to say on what had come to pass, for he had lost many men. But he could do no more then than comfort Sylvion and think upon a day which had seen so much bloodshed, and all the while his mind kept returning to the dreadful news of Serenna, and his heart broke with the sadness of her loss.
What will the morning bring? He wondered. Finally, well after midnight he fell into a fitful sleep, his face wet with tears; and so they spent the night that way, each in the other’s arms and dreamed awful things which would not let them be until the first rays of sunlight filtered gently down into the ruined city.
Reigin did not sleep. He stood watch through the long night upon the ramparts of Fellonshead overlooking the plain. He felt that death was close upon them now and wondered what dying might be like; this was another new idea, for till then he had only ever thought of serving death on others.
But this great man had also thought long and hard upon Sylvion’s words.
There had to be another way.
He felt he owed her a great debt for opening his mind to truths which he had never before thought to entertain. Without her, he would never have found the Edenwhood and where his own truth lay. It was a debt which he had no means to repay but perhaps this need offered him some way of helping her distress. So for all that long night he considered what might be this other way. He had sensed that Sylvion had changed since she had used the Shadow Blade, for she had become more distant and colder of heart; more absorbed with revenge and setting Revelyn to right, and her gentleness had suffered much as a result. To hear her talk of the awfulness of her ordeal that night had confirmed his thinking and he grieved for her, but he was a warrior, and knew that to defeat the evil which stood against them meant many had to die. This was the reality, but his intelligent mind would not let the matter go. He recalled what Rema had told him of the things which the great El-Arathor had spoken of, and by the time the morning sun warmed his body where he sat upon the worn and broken stones, he had a plan. He knew it stood little chance of success, but in the end they had very little choice.
He climbed wearily to his feet and went to find Rema.
*
Estreedian the eagle returned to Fellonshead with the news which Rema had requested some time before noon. Anderlorn the Elder, Rema and Reigin had stood and watched as the mighty creature had swept away into the chill morning air and flown endlessly back and forward over the rear of the enemy camp, right along the where the trees and tangled forest of the Vaudim mountain gave way to the slopes of the Plains of Amrosi over which it stood watch.
The great eagle landed effortlessly on a rock, and with a cry, folded its wings and stared fiercely about as Rhyander sprang from his saddle and stood before the three.
‘I have discovered the path,’ he said. ‘It lies a hundred paces to the north of the King’s pavilion. The trees are thick, but there lies beneath them a stony path which is of a different colour to the rocks on either side. I am sure they have been placed there from another source. The path leads up into the mountain but I could not follow it far. Estreedian did not seem willingly to close upon the mountain, and I too felt some strange repelling force. I could not get closer.’
‘You have done well, Rhyander,’ Rema said. This information is our last hope. Is there anything else you could discern?’ Rhyander nodded.
‘Low down by the camp I saw three fell creatures in the shadows. They lie in wait and cannot be easily seen. I circled over them for some time but the more I looked the more I saw just shadows; but I know that there is some presence there.’
‘The Shadow Hunters.’ Rema whispered, and they all shivered a little at the vision which this news brought them.
If what El-Arathor told you is true Rema,’ Reigin spoke after a time with great seriousness, ‘then this path leads into the Vaudim, and by some magic which he spoke of, it might even the battle and prevent the slaughter which last night seemed the only way to defeat Lord Petros and his army.’ The others considered his words.
‘He did say this,’ Rema replied, ‘but even he was unsure of what magic remained there.’ He paused and shook his head, before continuing sombrely. ‘It is a big risk which you have suggested we take Reigin. What do you say Anderlorn?’
The giant Elder walked to the edge of the high ruins on which they stood and looked hard into the distance at the mighty Vaudim which loomed over the plains to the west. After a long time in which the others respected his wish to think upon the matter, he spoke.
‘Our history carries stories of that place; but we lost much when the Edenwhood departed from this land and went to live in AlGiron. The stories have fallen into shadow, but there is truth to them I am sure. If one such as El-Arathor drew your attention to that place Rema, then this is enough to recommend we act upon such small advice. It seems we cannot slay the whole enemy, although for a time last night I felt we would. If that path is no longer open to us, then I would do as Reigin has put forward.’ He nodded. ‘Yes I am able to agree to his plan.’
Rema took a deep breath and nodded as well.
‘Then it is agreed. We will trust ourselves to El-Arathor and what magic is left in the Vaudim.’
With this the three stood and looked upon the mountain and wondered what deliverance or doom it held for them.
Rema finally gave the order.
‘Reigin you prepare those whom we have chosen. A score in all. I will speak once more with Sylvion for her blade alone will get us through the enemy to the Vaudim.’ He turned to the Elder of the Edenwhood and bowed.
‘Elder Anderlorn, you have served this cause mightily. With your sword Anderwyn I cannot imagine a warrior who could stand against you, but you have done enough and your people will need you if we fail. I ask you to wait with your Edenwhood for news of what will come to pass. If it goes badly, take your folk and return to AlGiron. Seal the gates and pray perhaps that what evil overtakes these lowlands has no eye for your beautiful land above. I thank you for all you have done.’ The two men gazed upon each other full of deep emotion, and then grasped hands as warriors do. With a grip held firm for a time they acknowledged silently what had passed between them, and then with a quick nod they departed.
Within two span the small force which was to brave the wounded army that blocked their way to the Vaudim had gathered on the grasslands under the shadow of Fellonshead. Both Thunder and Sadeye ha
d survived the night and seemed strong enough for one last effort, although it was clear to Sylvion this would be their death. She grieved deeply but had spent much time with Thunder that morning and understood that he was choosing to join his fallen kin. Her tears had wet his mighty flank and he had nuzzled her gently like in times past. No more now could be said or done.
Cordia and Rhynos were mounted on two great Scythercats and would ride on the flanks whilst the two mighty Equin at the centre would lead the charge. The others would follow in their wake. Reigin rode a fine fresh steed as did Scion and Ofeigr. Goodman Cantor and Clarynda were to lead a handpicked group of highlanders. Rema rode behind the Equin to guide the charge and find the way through to the path into the Vaudim. Sylvion was to ride at the rear and use the Shadow Blade so that all before would fall back and let them pass. Each horse carried a little water and some meagre supplies.
In all, just a score to brave the might of the many thousands waiting thirstily on the plains like some wounded beast hungry for revenge.
Anderlorn called down the eagles and they and their riders were instructed to remain within Fellonshead, for no creature would be safe in the air once the Shadow Blade gave forth its deadly light.
In the early morning after Reigin had put forward his bold plan, Rema had spoken desperately with Sylvion and convinced her that the blade must work once more, so that a path through to the Vaudim could be secured. She had agreed, but now worried that her will to anger and dark thoughts would not be sufficient to wield the Shadow Blade as it was required. She sat, pale and diminished upon a stout black horse, well chosen for its name was Hope, and waited for Rema’s command to charge. Reigin was to stay with her, riding just in front, keeping his back to the fearsome light.
And finally they were ready.
As the Elder Anderlorn and his remaining Edenwhood watched from the ruins of Fellonshead, the small group rode slowly out onto the plains before the army of the King, keeping their tight formation in place. They were watched by thousands of hungry and desperately thirsty soldiers, many of whom were in shock from the strange attack the previous night. At first it was thought that such a small force which rode toward them must be coming to organise some sort of truce or negotiations.
But they kept coming, and no flag was flown .
With the mighty Equin leading, and the hooves of Thunder and Sadeye beginning to pound the earth in a manner which brought fearful memories of those awesome charging steeds, a ripple of fear ran through the enemy camp. Lancers readied their spears and archers hurriedly prepared their arrows and bows and stood waiting orders.
The Equin began to gallop flanked by the Scythercats who bounded easily with them. The highlander’s horses were gallant in their efforts to hold position. Suddenly a great cry went up from the enemy but as they did Sylvion unleashed her Shadow Blade and with a deafening crack the lightning surged up into the heavens. Even in the bright sunlight it was overwhelming and all those who looked upon it were once more in its thrall.
Like a mighty battering ram they crashed through the lancers who fell beneath the hooves without resistance. On up the slope they charged. From far out on the flanks some archers less in thrall than those close in, were able to fire off an arrow now and then, but these posed no threat.
As the Shadow Blade’s stupefaction swept through the enemy it seemed that their gaol would be achieved without great difficulty, and then by some incalculable fate a large rock thrown by Thunder’s huge and pounding hooves caught Sylvion on the forehead and she almost fell unconscious to the earth. Only by a mighty act of will did she hold her saddle and wipe away the pouring blood and continue to wield her blade; but now its light was suddenly dimmed and the enemy had their chance.
It was the archers who were at once a deadly threat. A volley of arrows cut through the air and several found their mark. Three horses took a hit but kept gamely on. Several of the highlanders were wounded, but they too held their saddles and bending low across their steeds did not fall.
A spear and a lance cut the scythercats glancing blows. The bright red blood which flowed from their wounds quickly stained the earth behind them. Rema began to shoot at any he saw able to threaten their progress, and he was an awesome sight, standing in his stirrups and firing arrow after arrow with little pause between. He soon used up all the shafts he had gathered and realised he must now use his own, and these he had desperately wanted kept back for whatever battle might ensue once the Vaudim was reached.
Sylvion was encouraged continually by Reigin whose voice she focused upon and so stayed conscious and able to wield her blade, although the light it now gave was much weaker and once or twice flashed off and on with an incredible crack which made all close by jump in fear, and hold their hands over their aching ears.
Their mad charge kept on despite their wounds and an enemy which was increasingly able to mount some resistance. Rema managed to guide them towards the place where he hoped to find some break in the tangled trees which now rapidly rose before them. The king’s pavilion was suddenly only a hundred paces away off to their left, and there he saw, standing groggily, were the figures of Lord Petros himself, and Zelfos too, his bald head reflecting the crackling light of Sylvion’s pulsating blade. Standing by them was a giant soldier who seemed less affected for he was shielding his eyes and trying to muster his men to a better response. Rema rose up from his saddle once more and as they passed by, quickly fired two arrows; one tore a deep wound through this man’s left arm, then continued on briefly before bouncing off a tent pole and ending up embedded in the flank of a tethered war horse. The poor creature in an agony reared up and fell, kicking and screaming, its failingly hooves breaking bones and bringing down two tents before it lay still.
The other arrow flew true at Zelfos, and hit him in the heart.
Rema had no time to mark its damage but for an instant he saw it burst into a sudden flame and fall harmlessly as black ash to the ground. Across the short space which separated them he saw Zelfos give an evil leer and then he was gone, lost in the confusion of panicked men and horses, screams and bellowed oaths. And fear.
At this very moment when they passed the King’s pavilion pitched at the very rear of the encampment high up above the battlefield, and having charged right through their enthralled enemy, their rear was exposed; and Sylvion was last. Her blade still issued forth its searing light, but far weaker still for her wound and loss of blood was grave. By a miracle she was not touched for the Shadow Blade gave her a magical protection which allowed no weapon of man to cause her injury. Five arrows seemed to find their mark upon her, but each turned to instant ash and she did not notice.
The others however were not so protected, and blood fell from many wounds and stained the ground and marked their passing.
As they entered the tangled forest of the Vaudim Mountain still climbing up, Rema saw that they had come upon the overgrown path which Rhyander and Estreedian the shining eagle had spied out. The rocks beneath their hooves were white and hard and in places seemed almost carefully laid, but trees and bushes grew in and through this ragged road and these whipped painfully past them despite the path trampled out by the Equin and the Scythercats.
Now in the trees and safe for a time from further attack Rema called for the pace to slow and so the weary and wounded group caught their breath a little. Sylvion still held her blade high and wielded it as best she could for Rema’s words now rang in her ears.
‘Once we reach the forest Sylvion we face the greatest danger for there lurks within the shadows those fell creatures which we cannot best, save for your Shadow Blade. Above all else do not fail us then, or else they will fall upon us and all is lost.’
He had held her face gently in his hands and with a fierce intensity looked deep into her eyes, and she had understood and now remembered when it counted. These were the last words he had spoken to her except for a final whisper.
‘I love you,’ and then a gentle kiss and they had parted.
; A hundred paces into the forest the Shadow Hunters waited. They sensed the presence of some foe and shivered in evil anticipation. Bigger than the Equin and more powerful than two Scythercats they had no fear. In the dim forest gloom their shape seemed to change and flow whilst their powerful talons on each limb unconsciously clawed the ground and left great scours in their wake.
But suddenly, bright shafts of searing light reached through the tress and illuminated the darkness which shrouded them. In pain and fear they recoiled with screams which travelled far out across the plains. Zelfos heard and swore darkly, whilst mortal men shivered at the sound.
‘The Shadow Hunters are close by!’ Rema cried at the evil sounds of their distress.
‘Keep your blade high Sylvion,’ Reigin called back to her in encouragement, and so with all her remaining strength she did so, and they passed by and ever higher up the road once marched by others, to do strange battle in a place unknown.
From far below the shafts of her deadly light came intermittently through the forest canopy and the whole wounded army of the mad king watched its passing.
And so they came to the Vaudim. The mountain was not high, but great magic still lingered in its rough and rocky ramparts. Without further resistance the bloodied group travelled on up the ancient white road until they came upon a mighty cleft which cut right through the steep caldera walls. The horses were reined back and halted. They stood covered in bloody foam and snorting loudly, for they had travelled far and fast, and through great danger and many obstacles. Sylvion finally sheathed her blade and the light of it crackled and disappeared.
Mute watchers on the plains far below saw a final searing shaft jump heavenward before being lost to view, and then a moment later the sound of it came to them, and the ground shook fearfully. And the spell upon them all was gone.