Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (44 page)

BOOK: Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls
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When he woke, he realised that Sylvion was watching him. She sat on the edge of her table-bed, her feet on the bench before it and her hands resting either side, gripping the thick timber. She was smiling and seemingly waiting patiently, for she did not speak but allowed him time to sit up and gather himself. The giant man swung his feet over the side of his table, where they reached almost to the ground. They sat and looked at each other, both acutely aware that things were now different between them. Try as he might he could not find the words to break the silence. Sylvion however was not so encumbered.

‘Reigin, I am asking you to join me. You are worth far more than you have been allowed to believe, and you can give so much more than you have thus far. It will mean betraying your oath to the king, but he is mad, and I will rightfully claim the throne. Your allegiance will be to the true heir. There is great honour in this, but it needs bravery and conviction to follow it through. I need your help, for I cannot escape this place alone and I fully intend to do so. Escape. Now is the time Reigin, where will your allegiance lie?’ Her eyes bored into his, and he was struck by the depth of their perception for she knew his answer before he uttered a single word. In response he spoke slowly, measuring out each word as though it were gold.

‘I do not have the way with words which my lady has mastered. I am undone by the days past, and cannot yet understand what has come to pass. I feel new things, I see new truths. I hold no fears, for I have been brought up a
Wolver
. But this I know, my lady, I will give you my service, from this day until I die.’ At this point he drew the blade which they both knew was somehow so important to their future, and laying it across his knees, he placed his hands upon it and continued.

‘I swear this upon this blade, from this moment on I am your servant.’

Sylvion smiled, ‘And I will call you Reigin.’ He smiled back.

‘And you will call me Reigin.’  And so it was done.

 

‘I cannot fight all of Bach’s men, my lady,’ Reigin spoke thoughtfully after a short silence in which they absorbed the change which had taken place. He was feeling his way, unsure of how to speak or what was expected, but the soldier in him knew that much would be expected of his skills if he were to save them both. ‘I am good,’ he continued, ‘perhaps the best of the
Wolver
group, but two hundred men...’ he shook his head seriously. Sylvion smiled gently and shook her head in agreement, for that night as she had lain half asleep in the early hours, as the fire glowed dully and the vast canopy hung like a shroud above her, she had worked it out, for she had remembered her kindpa’s discovery and the story he had told her so long ago, when she was no more than a child. In a moment which had caused her to sit upright with a start, she had seen it.

‘Fear not Reigin, for that would be madness, and the blade you carry for me will stay by your side for now, for it is not time to use it, nor do I know how. I have another plan, it is strange and you will need to trust me, but it will be amazing.’

Reigin waited, a look of puzzlement etched across his intelligent face. Sylvion took a breath.

‘Reigin, we are going to fly!’ He suddenly thought she was mad and that he had made a huge mistake, but her look of calm resolve pushed all such thoughts from his mind.
She means it,
he thought,
she really means it, perhaps she has some enchantment...


Do you remember that day when we discovered the heating system beneath this floor?’ Sylvion pressed on, sensing his bewilderment and desperately needing his acceptance of her wonderful plan. Reigin nodded. ‘It was then that I realised I knew something about the heated air which my kindpa had taught me about years ago. I couldn’t recall what it was, but at the time I just knew it held the key to my...to our escape.’ Reigin waited patiently sensing that her words were no empty fantasy.

‘My kindpa learnt in his travels of an invention in a far off land where hot air was used to lift people off the ground, for it is a rule in all places that heated air rises and if you have enough it will lift great weights. The people who invented this system used a huge ball of hot air captured in a vast canopy beneath which they placed a basket in which the load could be lifted. My kindpa was so excited that he made me a model...I can see it now, it was only small, made of the lightest parchment and with a tiny candle at its base, but it worked Reigin, it really worked.’ Reigin listened but did not follow, since her words tumbled out; for in her excitement she spoke in haste and with more enthusiasm than conviction. She saw his confusion and stopped herself with an effort. ‘I am not explaining myself well, but Reigin I ask that you trust me, for it will work, I know it.’

‘My lady,’ Reigin spoke carefully for he did not wish to seem unsupportive. ‘I am sure you have an understanding in these matters which is well beyond mine, but it would seem that to do this, if indeed it is possible, we would require time and materials and a secure place to undertake such a plan, but we are watched continually... I am at a loss to see how it can be carried out.’

Sylvion took a deep breath. ‘You are right on all counts Reigin, but we can do it. Today we must appear normal, so tonight I will explain my plan to you in detail. Now you should open the doors and raise the portcullis for the guards must be waiting and Captain Bach will no doubt wish to inspect my incarceration. Tonight Reigin, I will explain all tonight.’

And so the day progressed like any other. She went to the parapet and stood alone in chains watching the men below work and parade about, and she heard Bach talking briefly with Reigin. Her heart though was soaring, for she could see what must be done and indeed how it could be achieved. It was madness, but it would work, she was sure of it. She spent the afternoon talking with Grundig and reading from his history, for in it she found some useful information which would assist in her wonderful plan. Reigin was aloof, but she sensed a great tension in him, for his intelligent mind was in some turmoil trying to make sense of his new position, and the assertion she had made about how they would escape the Vault.  When night fell, and the doors were securely barred and they were alone once more, Sylvion, now free from all restraints, began to lay out her plan.

It took no more than three span, for as the candle, so marked, which burned evenly on the table before them reached the third red line, Sylvion stepped back and stretched. Before her, the table top was covered in rude charcoal drawings which described her plan. She felt elated, for whilst a part of her understood the possibilities for escape which, now that she had drawn it all out seemed simple to achieve, a still deeper part in her very soul knew that her lost kindpa would be proud of her. She could almost hear him saying,
Well done my little Sylvion, you’ve understood my mad ramblings,
and he would hold her close and they would laugh together in the pleasure of it all.

Reigin sat and rubbed his chin. He then stood and stretched before looking up at the vast canopy shimmering and moving above them like some trapped animal desperate to be set free.

‘You think that this, this collection of pictures will float us away... ‘ He paused for Sylvion’s plan seemed part madness, part sorcery, and yet she spoke with such conviction and belief that it would work, and she was a woman possessed with remarkable powers and insights...
could it really work, or will we end up falling to our deaths,
he wondered. He could think of nothing to say beyond a poor attempt at humour.

‘Grundig will be furious if he knew you were going to steal his precious banners.’

‘Grundig will try to stop us if he even so much as has the smallest reason to suspect we are up to something, so we must act in the manner I have stated. You understand me Reigin, we will get one chance at this. Everything depends on it.’ Sylvion spoke with an earnestness which could not be ignored and Reigin reacted instinctively by bringing his hand to the hilt of his sword.

‘My lady we will do as you instruct; have no fear, I will play my part.

‘The amazing thing is Reigin,’ she continued, accepting his statement with a smile, ‘we have it all here before us, all we need is more rope and I am sure you will be able to get that on some pretence. We need but two days to set it up and with luck and if the weather holds fair for a time we will escape like no other escape has ever been achieved. Once we have all the necessary equipment, we seal the doors like you do every night and we are safe for more time than we need, ...although there is one small problem...’ Sylvion’s face creased with a frown for she had seen suddenly the one great flaw in her marvellous plan.

‘And what is that my lady?’ Reigin spoke gently for he saw her distress.

‘The cauldron Reigin, I know we can lift it to the doorway to the parapet using the rope and pulleys used to hold the canopy up, but it must go through the doorway or we are lost. Come we must measure it, for this is the devil in my plan.’ She immediately took the candle and raced to the small hatchway leading to the crawlspace below the floor. She opened it easily and stepped down into the blackness. ‘Quick Reigin, fetch me a rod, something to measure the depth here.’ She looked around, ‘I know, use one of the brass rods which hold the banners to the wall.’ Reigin obeyed without question, and easily removed one of the many brass rods which passed through the seamed loops at the bottom of each banner, and which was then held by simple hooks to the stone walls of the vaulted chamber. It was about three cubits in length.

‘This should do my lady.’ As he passed it to her, Sylvion looked up at Reigin and spoke with a gentle intensity which took him completely by surprise.

‘My name is Sylvion, and you shall address me by this for the present. Who knows what the future holds, and it maybe that
my lady
will be called upon once more; but for now we are equals and together we do this as equals. Sylvion...understand Reigin?’

‘Yes my...yes Sylvion. As you wish.’ As the huge soldier struggled for his words, once more bewildered by her sudden change of thought, she took the rod and measured from the stone floor below to the top of the oak floor on which he stood. She held her finger to the measure and then carefully instructed Reigin to help her out, taking care not to lose her mark. In a trice she was back by the fire and using a charcoal stick carefully preserved her measure by laying one end of the rod level with the table end and marking the table edge where her finger rested on the rod. Having transferred this measure to the table Sylvion braved the heat of the fire to measure the height of the cauldron above the floor, and this too she transferred to the measure on the table, adding it to the first measurement. She now had the full height of the cauldron, and her heart sank, for by her estimate it was too great to go through the doorway to the parapet. She forced herself to make a new mark on the brass rod for the full measure, and then with Reigin lighting the way they climbed the steps which wound around the vaulted chamber to the platform at the ceiling, from which a door led out onto the huge parapet roof. Reigin swung the door open and with the frozen air outside swirling down around them, Sylvion measured the distance between the jambs. She cursed softly, but with great intensity.

‘Too narrow by a handspan. It can’t be done.’ The frustration in her voice was palpable. Reigin nodded but did not speak. He closed the door, and taking the brass rod from Sylvion measured the opening in the stonework.

‘Not if we take the door out,’ he said, happy to have some contribution to the plan. Sylvion looked startled.

‘You can do that?’

Reigin inspected the solid oak frame which held the door. ‘With a few tools I’ll be able to do it,’ he said. ‘It will take some time but it can be done.’ Sylvion’s relief was obvious.

‘Thankyou Reigin. We will make a great team you and I,’ and she reached out and placed her hand on his and he felt her warmth and softness, and marvelled at how good it was.

They returned to the fire and this time sat together, the beautiful Sylvion alongside the huge soldier whose every sinew and well defined muscle in the warm firelight seemed to exude a strength beyond anything human. They talked long into the night about the plan until each knew what had to be done, and then the
Wolver-
no-longer, now Reigin, servant of Sylvion Greyfeld of the House of Hendon, and heir to the throne of all Revelyn, retired to his bed on the rough oak table on the far side of the fire cauldron. They lay quietly looking up into the ever shimmering canopy and wondered where it would take them, for their lives were committed to it, and all the legends and stories it depicted would travel with them, until they made their escape, or perished in the trying.

 

*

 

The voice of Captain Bach icily penetrated the chilled vault air, for the morning fire had not yet had time to warm much beyond itself.


Wolver
, what is the prisoner doing?’ Having just completed his first parade he had entered the chamber, and  was now standing with an exaggerated authority and staring with amazement at the sight of Sylvion, shackled and somewhat dishevelled, struggling with a sack of charcoal half way up the stone steps to the parapet. ‘Why is she taking that sack up there?’ The
Wolver
, for Bach knew him as nothing else, was sitting comfortably by the fire with his feet up, and sipping a hot brew of taub, a drink which Grundig had introduced him to, consisting of three parts goat milk, a few spoons of sweet nectar and one part ground root of the taub bush, which was dark in colour and dissolved easily in hot water to give a sweet smelling somewhat euphoric drink with a consistency not unlike whipped cream.

Reigin, smiled slowly and set the large brew down. It left a distinct mark around his lips which Sylvion thought comical, but she hid her mirth well for she knew her act with the sack had to be convincing. ‘Captain she is taking the sack to the parapet.’

‘I can see that man, but why, there is no need for charcoal on the parapet!’

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