Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (53 page)

‘Go now Helgas, and may you rot in peace!’ Lord Petros hissed quietly so that only she could hear, and then ordered the great hall emptied as his hapless servant was lead away to her doom.

Lord Petros sat on his public throne annoyed that his sense of pleasure at what he just achieved did not seem as satisfying as the initial euphoria he always felt when triumphing over a foe.

‘She was only eighteen,’ said Zelfos sarcastically as though he understood, and wanted to inflict a little victory of his own. The king ignored him and turned to the only other present, his huge Captain of the Night Guard, Commander of his armies.

‘And what have you discovered about Spiel’s treacherous work?’ he demanded.

‘Before he died he admitted receiving some communication for the woman Serenna Menin.’ Captain Leander gave his report without any emotion for it was his life, this dealing with prisoners and threats to the Royal Throne. ‘We think it was by
carriav
e from somewhere east of here, probably near the coast, but his words were indistinct by this time.’

‘And what do we know of the detail of this communication?’ the king continued.

‘I have nothing further to report than what I have previously told you desire, it seems the woman sent him some poem or words which talked of you. They seemed harmless enough to me...’

‘You fool!’ Zelfos interrupted angrily with a level of agitation which startled the soldier, ‘these words are of the gravest importance for they are a prophecy which must not be allowed to come to pass. What was he to do with these so harmless words commander?’ Zelfos was standing before the man, his eyes full of a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration at the same time. Captain Leander knew he was once more caught in the riddle of court politics which was fraught with difficulty at every turn.

‘It seemed that the woman simply asked him spread these words for others to read.’

Both Zelfos and the King took in a deep breath.

‘And has he done anything to this end?’ Zelfos inquired somewhat anxiously.

‘We did not discover anything further for he died at that point.’

Zelfos smacked a fist into one palm in deep frustration, and Lord Petros slumped down onto his throne. A silence descended on the hall which was not broken for some time.

‘He had access to many who might help, for he was well liked.’ Zelfos spoke quietly into the air and to no one in particular.

‘He could have sent further messages to others in the land?’ The King continued the line of thought. Captain Leander felt a rising anger within him at the strange games his superiors were indulging in, and took a calculated risk.

‘With the deepest respect siras, but I am at a loss to understand your concerns. The army is ready to march, we are strong beyond all else in the kingdom. What can these words achieve, beyond perhaps the simple chants of the powerless?’

Both Zelfos and the King turned upon him, and for a moment he thought his life was forfeit, but not a word was spoken for it was as if the two were not able to find the words to answer to his question. Instead Lord Petros asked of the army.

‘Give me a report on the state of readiness of my forces Commander, for you have said they are ready to march.’ Captain Leander took a deep breath and responded easily for he was now on firmer ground.

‘Desire we have almost three thousand men ready at arms camped outside the city by the road north to Sheldon. We will pick up another thousand there, after a week; these will be from Underlourde Aaroghant, not as many as expected but they are the best, although his love of silver arrow heads has raised complaints for he wanted more time to forge sufficient.  He is a man of great vanity and I fear sees war as more show than serious intent. I believe Underlourde Hafldan will add to our number a further two thousand, but he travels from south east of the plains of Amrosi and we have had difficulty in his communications, and I fear he is not to be trusted till he appears. We have supplies for more than these six thousand and all are ready to move at your word. We will have a thousand horsemen and five hundred archers when all are together, the rest are swordsmen, lancers and axmen. These numbers include the
Wolvers
, all two score, less those lost in recent days.’ He paused to allow the King to inquire as to any detail.

 ‘Six thousand men, and we have no army yet to fight.’ The King turned to Zelfos with a frown before continuing.

‘What further news? What of the prisoner at
Vault
?’

The huge Commander took a deep breath and felt the sweat suddenly wet his brow and soak his back, for he had dreaded this moment.

‘You hesitate commander. What news?’

‘Lord Petros, I received news just before we came to this hall and the trial today. This is why I was late. I have not yet had the opportunity to inform you.’

It was not going well for both Zelfos and the King had turned pale and were staring hard at him with such looks which he knew was the quiet before the storm. A terrible storm. He continued with some trepidation.

‘A
carriave
arrived from the Vault not three span passed, carrying the news....’ here he took the message out and offered it to the King for he suddenly realised that if he read it out he would be the object of their fury. Far better let them read it for themselves.

Zelfos snatched the tiny parchment which had travelled almost nonstop from the far reaches of the kingdom, strapped to the fragile leg of a tiny but plucky bird.

As he read the simple message which Captain Piras Sleeman had sent, his face turned crimson with rage and his scream was enough to disturb centuries of fine dust far above in the stone arches which held the roof, so that a fine mist floated down upon the three men.

The king quickly took the message from a still speechless Zelfos, and read it in great anxiety and then once more slumped upon his throne.

‘It cannot be. She has escaped, and the
Wolver
too. This is sorcery indeed.’

‘He was the best of the Wolvers desire; I cannot understand how this could be unless as you say, it is from magic.’ The captain added what he hoped would be a helpful comment.

‘You fool commander,’ Zelfos hissed, but quietly, for all strength had left his voice. ‘This is what we feared; this is the power of the prophecy which we have tried so hard to prevent. This is what those words you think are so harmless can bring to pass. We are at war soldier and our lives are under threat. The King’s rule is this moment opposed as it has never been. We will march tomorrow at first light.’

Once more the king was moved to anger at his advisor’s usurping of his authority.

‘Commander we will march when I say we shall march, and not before. This news is hard to believe and may yet prove unreliable.’ With great composure he forced his panic back under control. ‘What news from other areas, your spies to the north? Your search for the archer Rema Bowman and the woman Serrena Menin?’

‘Desire I have word that two days ago a force of fifty well armed men on horses left the Highlands below
Farview
headed east. I have no news on where they have reached. The search for the two you mention has revealed nothing. They have disappeared my Lord.’

The king sat impassively whilst Zelfos strode the royal platform in deep anger and frustration.

‘We must assume that we face a foe which is gathering to oppose us. We cannot ignore the prophecy, but as you have said Commander, we are six thousand, trained and armed and ready to fight. I cannot see how any can defeat us. We march tomorrow at first light. North and east, and if there is a foe we will flush them out and crush them completely. Give the orders Captain Leander.’ The King took command with a fierce resolve that he would defend his right to the crown come what may.

‘Aye desire, we leave at first light.’ The Commander obeyed instinctively but he was deeply perplexed about the fool’s errand they were to embark upon, for never had an army left for war in such a manner in the history of Revelyn. He saluted quickly and left for there was much to do before the next dawn.

Zelfos said nothing for a time, but deep beneath his conscious concern for what had developed, there rose a fear unnamed, which caused him to tremble mightily. ‘This is not the start I wanted,’ he muttered inaudibly to himself, ‘but I will prevail, for mere words cannot defeat me, no matter what becomes of the king.’ And he suddenly he strode from the royal presence without notice, and went to make his preparations for what was to come.

Some days later as Helgas travelled west with others diseased and banished to the fearful Leper Island, she pulled a small parchment out from under her dirty cloak and read the words which the now dead scribe Spiel had given her. The words of the prophecy seemed strangely to lift her spirits, and some around noticed her face was bright with new hope. She shared her story slowly and others read the words. They too felt a new power come amongst them, and despite their dreadful fate, looked to each other for support with a promise that they would share the words with others so that some hope would help them bear what was to come.

At the same time around Ramos, copies of the prophecy were painted on walls and windows and copies slipped under doors by some whom Spiel had enlisted to assist in a determined quest to stand against his mad king. And every copy carried the request that the reader would be greatly benefited by passing on the words to others.

And by this time, four
carriaves,
released the day before Spiel died deep below the White Palace, were well away upon their journeys to other parts of Revelyn. He had sent them first, knowing his days were numbered, to trusted scribes and friends, with the charge that they were to copy and pass on to others, in ways that seem fitting, the
Prophecy of the King.

*

Sylvion rode swiftly through the forest. She had made good progress since leaving her companions on the coast road, for the trees were well spread and the ground covered in little more than fallen leaves. Huge oaks and elder, tall spruce and stream willows abounded all around, and the air was full of the chatter of birds, and everywhere lay the spoor of rabbit and hare, fox and lynx cat. At one place where she paused to drink at a clear stream, she came upon the large paw prints of the fabled sabrecat which many claimed had long since passed from the land. Shortly after, she found beside her path the remains of a large forest stag, its head crushed and broken, and the carcass half eaten. She knew with a tremble that the large predator was close by for it would not leave such a meal unfinished. Her mount snorted nervously, perhaps sensing a presence, and so she was quickly on her way.

The sun reached gently in long bright shafts through the canopy and Sylvion found herself at peace for the first time in many long days. Her love of the forest, and the creatures it sheltered had been her first great love since she had ventured as a child deep into the tangles of Wildwood Forest. She slept the first night in a cave which was large enough to shelter many travellers, and indeed she discovered strange drawings high on the walls in many places and a pile of ancient bones heaped tidily against the furthest wall. She built a large fire at the cave mouth and tied her horse by its reins to a tree root which over the years had found a way down through the earth from the hillside above. She slept well but found fresh tracks in the morning outside the entrance in the dew, and knew that the sabrecat had tracked her during the night, repelled by the fire which she had wisely kept well fuelled.

She joined the road west before midday, and felt an anger deep within her, for it was along this very path which she had been forced to bear a heavy load, trapped within a burial box and lost to all, a prisoner of a madness which sought to destroy all that was good and beautiful in her land. In her mind this road led to one place only now, and that was her home to where her poor dear kindma lay dead and dishonoured in some hastily dug hole, tossed aside like some useless piece of rubbish. With a grim determination she road swiftly on.

‘I am coming home kindma,’ she whispered, ‘I promised you I would.’

Sylvion forded the Plenty River early in the afternoon, and remembered her previous crossing and the odious Captain Bach riding high above her as she struggled in the cold and rapidly flowing current, fearful of being swept away to her death. This time it was she who was mounted, and the water seemed less of a threat from the saddle. That day she encountered few other travellers, and there was little contact, apart from a smile and a warm but mostly wary greeting. She rode hard till the sun was low and the air chilled quickly, but reached the pretty forest village of Burdon before sunset, and took lodging at the Traveller’s Inn, for there was only one.

The proprietor was a large and friendly man with a wife even larger, who laughed constantly and with such force that she made the jugs and plates stacked on the huge dresser behind the broad serving bench shake and tinkle. The roaring fire was inviting to any traveller, and a group of men sat close by warming themselves and drinking ale. Several eyebrows were raised when Sylvion joined them, for they were mostly solitary types who viewed women with suspicion, and did not readily embrace the presence of a single female at their fireside without invitation. Sylvion sensed this but cared little for the shallowness of such precepts. She too sipped a large ale and stretched her toes to the heat, ignoring the men, and relaxing after so many hours in the saddle.

‘You travel alone?’ The voice was emotionless and cold, and came from a rather ugly looking fellow sitting on the far side of the small group. Sylvion knew the question was directed at her, but since it was asked without any warmth she ignored it, for in truth it could have been asked of any of the others.

‘I said, are you travelling alone woman?’ The irritation in the voice was clear, and Sylvion knew immediately that this man was well used to having his women respond on command. She looked across at him and gave him a long hard unsettling look, delaying her response so that he became almost agitated at her perceived rudeness.