Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (86 page)

‘So I lost two friends and became friendless to all. I lived with a bitter anger which Refr grew to fear and as the summers passed we kept well apart although in battle several times we found each other killing the Norz invaders. I had at last learnt to fight for I had nothing left to lose and so I was named Ofeigr, for I even out did Refr in my dealing death to those who came to our shores with easy plunder on their minds.’

At this point Sylvion asked gently. ‘What meaning is there in this name my friend?’ But it was  Rema who answered, for he remembered.

‘It is a name well given for it means
not cowardly
, and he has shown this to be true.’

Ofeigr did not give any indication that he had heard this short interruption to his story, and continued.

‘Refr suddenly disappeared one day and much later I heard tales from the mainland that one named Petros had become king in Revelyn. I knew it was Refr for he had long spoken of his desire to be called this, his second name, and be a light to others. He claimed he left to look for you Rema, but that was just an idea long dead, or at least I believed it so. He went looking for power and control and by some fate he found it. I swore that one day I would be avenged for his cruel dealings with Santira, but as the summers past my passion cooled until by another fate you returned to the Island and I saw my chance to finally end this matter which has cursed my life and held me in thrall to such a bitter anger and hatred. I tell you now that I was going to slay him then, in the
Vaudim
. I had him there as I had long dreamed and planned; helpless at the point of my arrow.’

Ofeigr paused and smiled, and with a mighty sigh looked over at where the king Petros, Refr rode in his strange and lonely world. He continued then.

‘But I saw that his death at my hand was not the revenge I really wanted, and his life ongoing, living with the knowledge of what he has done and the loss which he must now face, will be all the revenge I need. I can let Santira rest now for she would want this.’

With a final deep breath Ofeigr seemed to breathe more freely.

‘I am now free at last.’ These were his final words, and without as a glance toward Sylvion or Rema, but with sudden spur to his horse he rode off to take the reins of Petros’ horse from Scion,  and so he rode on, leading the one for whom he  had held such hatred, and once such love, and now such victory and therefore release.

Rema and Sylvion did not speak but each thought many thoughts, and of the two Rema felt the deepest sadness, for his brother was his enemy and his family lost in death and shame.

*

Anderlorn led them all into the city. Sylvion had desired that the
Edenwhood
would have that honour for they had given much. The Elder rode with his sword Anderwyn drawn and held before him, the mighty blade gleaming powerfully in the morning sun. The huge Scythercat which bore him did so effortlessly, and so the people of Ramos who lined the streets in anxious fear and trepidation were cowed to silence by this show of might and regal power. Many lined the cobbled streets and lanes and watched in wonder as the small army entered by the Royal Gate and made their way slowly up toward the White Palace where Leander, who had arrived with Reigin a day before, had organised for all the city officials to be waiting in the public hall where King Petros once sat and ruled so hatefully.

Sylvion Greyfeld rode Lightfoot at the rear, her appearance beautiful but a simple humility surrounded her progress, whilst her horse seemed little more than a pony beside the many scythercats which led the way. Before her went the captives Petros and Zelfos and all who looked upon them felt fear, for they had once been so powerful and now another had claimed the throne. Surely they would be far worse, for only a greater evil could have seized these two in battle.

What fate awaits us this day
, was a sentiment whispered anxiously and often throughout the city of Ramos that morning.

A mighty silent crowd surrounded the public hall, and within, it was full of the braver citizens and all the city’s important officials. Every bearer of the Guild Medallions was there, knowing that their very livelihood now hung upon this moment. The
Wolvers
too had been allowed to enter unarmed, for Reigin had requested that these lost kin should see what might come to pass. The
Wisden
, few indeed but greatly respected and with a place of honour at the fore, sat in quiet but purposeful attention as the time neared when the new claimant to the throne of Revelyn would enter with her captives. All about were the wealthy traders and officials who held power and who had grown accustomed to using it in the service of King Petros, Lord of Luminescence. Each one knew that this was the most important day of their lives, for if the throne changed hands then nothing would remain the same. As they all waited, great effort was made by many in silent contemplation to think long upon what might be required of them to retain what power and influence they held; what actions would be most seemly should representations need to be made to a new ruler.

The Public Hall was full of anxious people. The mighty city of Ramos had never seen such a spectacle, and it too waited silently for what would come to pass.

Anderlorn led a small group into the giant vaulted hall. Outside his
Edenwhood
soldiers and their mighty scythercats formed an impenetrable wall around the building. The anxious citizens of Ramos watched and waited in absolute silence as he and several other giant
Edenwhood
escorted the new claimant to the throne into their presence. All who stood there that day were shocked that their powerful king, Lord Petros and his evil sorcerer Zelfos were paraded before them in chains. It seemed unthinkable that such things had come to pass.

At the public throne upon the wooden stage where only recently Lord Petros had held court and passed judgement over the lives of so many to their untimely fate, Anderlorn stood before the throng and addressed them.

‘Citizens of Ramos,’ his majestic voice carried easily to the highest vaults above, ‘I am Anderlorn, high Elder of the
Edenwhood.’

At the mention of the
Edenwhood
a great gasp went up from the crowd, for all were astonished to at last behold one of their kind
. 
When they were silent once more, Anderlorn continued.

‘
Half an age ago we shared this land with you, but your ways of violence saw us separate to a higher land where we have lived in peace, until this time. Once we fought against the House of Hendon. Today I stand before you as one who fights for the sole true heir to the throne of Revelyn, Sylvion Greyfeld, of the House of Hendon. I do this because your king, Lord Petros as he has called himself and this vile sorcerer Zelfos have brought all Revelyn to the brink of such darkness as cannot be imagined by any mortal man.’ He let the words echo around the huge hall.

Zelfos bridled with a mighty anger but did not speak for he knew the time was not yet right. The king however seemed now more aware of his surroundings and stood proudly as though by his very bearing his people would see what injustice had befallen him.

He too did not speak but was acutely aware that all things which mattered most to him, now rested upon a knife edge.

‘Today Revelyn is faced with a mighty decision.’ Anderlorn spoke once more. ‘We have come here that this might take place in full view of all who care to watch. I present to you Sylvion Greyfeld and demand that any who has an eye to see or an ear to hear, let them listen well, for today your fate will be sealed.’

 The mighty Elder finished his short exhortation with a flourish of his sword Anderwyn, and such was the sound that it made as it cut the air that all who witnessed it were mightily impressed by such a demonstration.

Sylvion stepped up onto the stage and stood before the empty public throne. The crowd wondered then at her smallness and fragility, for next to Anderlorn she seemed but a child, and yet when she spoke her voice carried every bit as much authority as the mighty
Edenwhood
Elder.

‘Citizens,’ she let the word hang on its own for a moment, ‘I am Sylvion Greyfeld, daughter of Sontim, son of Raven Hendon, daughter of King Mantira, father of King Richardo, father of King Frederic, the last king of the line of the House of Hendon to rule by right and acceptance of the Royal Sceptre. ’

King Petros felt his anger rise at these words for he believed that he had been ordained to succeed King Frederic and the Sceptre had proved this right; but her words sent a cold shiver down his spine, for her lineage was clear to all. She was a true heir. He was not.

‘This land has fallen into shadow,’ Sylvion continued, her voice carrying easily to all within that great hall. ‘I have come to restore Revelyn to peace and prosperity, to be once more a place where all are equal and where none can wield an evil power to hold another in thrall, and so...’

She looked at Zelfos then with an almost gentle pity, and despite his sorcery, he knew he had little with which to stand against this one, for she spoke of peace and equality and had shown mercy and kindness to her enemies. Against these his weapons of hatred and lies and cunning deceptions stood exposed as.... he shook his head and refused to let such thoughts overtake him.

‘...I claim the throne of Revelyn.’

Sylvion’s words rang clear across the hall and out into the crowd which pressed close in fear and desperate curiosity. A thrill ran through them all, for even though they had known she had come to make such a claim, the moment of it was spellbinding.

Suddenly Zelfos spoke. It was the moment for his final desperate victory. He knew that from defeat even now he could master them all. He stepped up onto the stage before Scion or Ofeigr could prevent him. His hands were chained behind his back but his voice was almost as of old, a little cracked and gravelly as one who had spent too long sucking upon a Revel pipe. But those who listened knew who this was, and trembled in fear at his anger.

‘A claim, a treasonous claim has been made against your king.’

His words resounded evilly all about them. None made a move to thwart his speech for even chained he had a presence which seemed to mesmerise them all.

‘King Petros was ordained by King Frederic and has held the Royal Sceptre and survived. By all the laws of Revelyn this proves that he is your king and any who claim his throne commits high treason.’

A ripple ran through the crowd for his words were true.

Zelfos was about to speak again when Sylvion cut him off.

‘Silence sorcerer! Your time has come and is now gone.’ She turned to the throng. ‘It has been agreed that the Royal Sceptre must choose between us, here this day, this very moment.’ But Zelfos would not be silent.

‘And you, imposter, have agreed that the king will hold it first, and if he survives the test you will suffer the consequence of what must be the fate of any who try to seize the throne of one so ordained.’

He shrilly screamed the terms of the contest in such a vile and evil manner that the crowd knew him then to be deranged. He stood and gaped at them all, for he had done what needed to be done. Zelfos knew with an absolute certainty that the king would pass the test. He had done it once. He himself had witnessed it. Victory was close by, and his enemies would soon taste the bitterness of defeat and a painful death. He briefly wondered why the crowd stared at him so, but suddenly Sylvion spoke once more.

She did so with a cold fear within her heart. She had come so far and now stood only upon the faith that her wisdom on this was true. She had no means to tell how the Royal Sceptre worked, she had never seen it. She was the true heir, but Petros had held the Sceptre and survived. It did not seem to be possible, and yet her path was clear before her. There could be no turning back. She took a deep breath.

‘The Sorcerer speaks truly for once,’ she spoke with a moving passion. ‘I have agreed to this. Let the Royal Sceptre decide upon this matter!’

The crowd was silent. The moment was upon them.

Commander Leander stood by Reigin. He had done all that was required to arrange such an important meeting. His wounds had tired him and indeed his leg felt limp and lifeless, but he too was enthralled at this moment. He stepped forward and gave what he knew could well be his last order.

‘Bring the Royal Sceptre!’

  The words sent a further thrill through the throng, and suddenly a single deep booming note from a ceremonial drum sounded, its reverberations shaking the ground on which they all stood. High up at the end of the mighty space, where the steps which led into the White Palace reached down into the hall, two bearers appeared carrying between them an intricately carved wooden box, held by two long poles extending on each side. Every eye was immediately upon them, for not in half an age had any but the most privileged seen this fabled box, or its sacred contents. All knew that the Royal Sceptre had, for many royal successions been used in strict privacy, observed only by a select few. This box contained the power to seal the authority of the true and rightful ruler in Revelyn. It could not be denied, for its power was of old, and upon it, Revelyn had been built.

Not a sound passed the lips of any until the box was placed upon the stage before the empty throne. As one of the bearers lifted the lid, a whisper of expectation ran through the crowd and word was passed quickly to the throng outside the hall and in succession to others nearby until within a short time all Ramos knew that the Royal Sceptre had been brought out to decide who would ruler thereafter, and the fate of all who lived that day.

The bearer slowly lifted out a beautiful velvet cushion upon which the ornate Sceptre lay. Bedside it there was an impression in the velvet as though to hold some missing additional object. Immediately Zelfos was reminded of the
Shadow Blade
, and he was suddenly overcome with a most intense jealousy for he knew that
she
held it. He had longed to own it, but instead in her hands it had dealt his plans a grievous blow. The other bearer now took the Royal Sceptre and held it out in both hands before the assembly. A murmur of awe swept through the hall for it was beautiful to behold.