Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (14 page)

‘Where is my physician?’ demanded the king, ‘I have a headache which will not leave me. I need his services. Do you know where he is?’

‘The Lord Zelfos has returned…’ Helgas began.

‘He is not Lord Zelfos.’ The king screamed at her. Helgas swallowed quickly thinking of what she should say.

‘I am sorry…’

‘There is one Lord and that is me, do you understand girl. Do you insult me, do you challenge me and put another up to equal me?’ Helgas had not heard such a tone of anger from the king before.’ She remained turned away and stood meekly holding her hands in front of her.

‘I have spoken unwisely Lord, forgive me. There is only one Lord.’ Her heart was thumping against her chest and her mouth felt dry.

‘Forgiveness. I like this idea. I can forgive or not forgive. You have asked for forgiveness. As you should girl. I will decide. But first, my question was, do you know where my Physician is? My head is falling off. I need him.’ Helgas sensed then that the king was not on his bed but was standing by a window for she caught the briefest movement from the corner of her downcast eyes.

‘Lord, I believe Zelfos your physician returned to the castle last evening. I will call him for you if you wish.’ She turned to obey.

‘I do not wish. I command.’ The king spoke tersely. ‘Don’t leave.’ Helgas stopped, frozen to the spot. ‘What news of the sickness in the north by Merchant’s Gate?’ She sensed that he was in pain and risked a glance. He was standing looking out the window, not at her. He held his hands to the side of his head, and was massaging his temples with rigid fingers in a vain attempt to alleviate his pain.

‘I believe that it is getting worse Lord. Many have died.’

‘Are they lepers?’ Helgas knew that the King was terrified of the disease of leprosy.

‘I do not think so, Lord’

‘Look at me girl.’ He commanded her more gently. She turned a little and lifted her eyes slightly. She knew that her cheeks were wet with tears of fear and anxiety.

‘Have I scared you girl?’ She nodded. Through a film of tears, she could see that he was wearing long bed-wear, but was naked from the waist up. He was tall and hairy, but even in the short time she had been serving him, Helgas knew that he was a man in his prime; strong and rugged and a fighter who had proved himself on the battlefield in the service of the previous ruler, King Frederic.

‘I have made you cry.’ She nodded again. ‘Then I will forgive you, you seem suitably sorry for your insolence.’

‘Thank you Lord.’

‘Now send me my Physician, and also the chief of the guards. I must do something about this plague or whatever it is.’

‘Yes my Lord.’ He turned from her, and she knew she was dismissed. Helgas hurried to do her lord’s bidding confused and frightened, and not a little relieved.

Zelfos entered the king’s chambers without knocking. Lord Petros was standing on the balcony surveying his kingdom that stretched in every direction for as far as he could see, and far further in reality, to the shores of the Great Southern Ocean, and north to the vast forests beyond the
Wildwoods,
and where the ancient
Ravelin
were rumoured to still live. Westwards  his lands crossed deserts and rugged mountain ranges which were continually changing, as monumental forces from below pushed them skywards or devoured them in no apparent order, until another, stranger and bewitched sea was reached, one which continually boiled and stirred in great whirlpools. In living memory, few had crossed that sea.

Zelfos did not announce himself but went and stood beside his king.

‘I hear that you require my services, desire.’ He spoke softly, in seeming deference to his Lord, but his face spoke otherwise. Lord Petros jumped.

‘I wish you would not do that. Can you not give warning of your coming? You startled me.’

‘What, startle the mighty Lord Petros, who faced and fought the mighty
Edenwhood.
Tell me you jest desire!’ It was boldly sarcastic, but the king did not realise, such was his discomfort.

‘My head is split asunder, you must help me or I fear I will die.’ There was a pleading in his voice and Zelfos became quite gentle in his tone and movements.

‘Come and sit on the stool by your bed. I will remedy you.’

The king moved with his eyes half closed, and obeyed without further comment, sitting in pain uneasily on the simple wooden stool. Zelfos stood behind him and placed one hand on the top of the king’s head and the other beneath his chin. With a quick simple twist, he manipulated the royal head left then right several times, until a loud click suddenly broke the silence. Zelfos stepped back smiling smugly.

‘There desire, I believe you will be much better now.’

The king stood and swiveled his head around. His eyes were now clear and he moved freely.

‘By the gods! The pain has gone, my head is restored. I can see clearly. You have done well Zelfos.  Your sorcery is welcome here. I thank you.’ He grasped Zelfos’s right hand gratefully and shook it profusely, before suddenly realising that such physical contact might allow for some contagion. Zelfos flinched every so slightly, but allowed the touch, for a moment, before pulling away.

‘I am glad to be of service.’ 

The king started to dress in the attire left out the previous evening by his steward, whilst Zelfos stood on the balcony and looked coldly at the kingdom arrayed in part before and below him. He nodded slowly as though some inner knowledge came to mind, and without knowing it, he rubbed his hands together in a simple washing motion, which, had it been observed, might have been taken for satisfaction.

‘What news Zelfos?’ The king joined his cloaked physician.

‘Good news desire. The girl has been captured. She is indeed the one we sought. By now she will be imprisoned as we planned at
Vault.
Word of her situation has been circulated. The trap is set.’

The king smiled evilly. ‘Well done again. At least she will not live to inherit my kingdom. That much at least we can ensure. Who guards her?’

‘There is a troop of ten score soldiers, fresh and ready to carry out their orders. The Captain in command is a ruthless man who understands that to fail me, er..us, is not something he wishes to think long upon.

‘And the
Wolver
?’

‘The
Wolver
is there. He is the best of all of them.’

The king breathed a sigh, then clenched his right fist. ‘We can prevent the prophecy.’ It was a statement said with optimism, but not complete of conviction.

‘Desire, it would seem so, however it has been rarely done, so we must do all we can. The
Wisden
have given us a name. Until the archer Rema Bowman is dead and the girl Sylvion Greyfeld with him, we cannot relax for a moment.’

The king paced angrily up and down the balcony for a time.

‘You are right of course. I hope to hear news anytime of the death of this archer fellow. He was detected in the city three days ago but eluded capture. I am told he was wounded. The
Wolvers
found his track just to the north by the edge of the forest. He fled before them.’

‘Then I am sure we have achieved his end.’ Zelfos had great faith in the
Wolvers
, and he too relaxed a little. ‘In which case I will send a message by
carriave
and the last remnant of the house of Hendon will cease to be a threat. Our kingdom will be secure.’

The king nodded, but added with a hiss. ‘My kingdom.’

‘Your kingdom desire.’ Zelfos smiled deferentially.

Suddenly Lord Petros turned and strode toward his large four-poster bed. He flung himself upon it and lay looking up toward the heavily embroidered canopy. Underneath, and seen only from the position he now occupied, was fixed to the cloth roof, a parchment on which was scribed in large letters, a prophecy.

‘I read this every night, Zelfos, It is the last thing I see at night and the first thing in the morning. It drives me mad.’ He spoke loudly for Zelfos to hear clearly. He read it out slowly and with every sentence, he seemed to fall more and more under its spell.

The prophecy of the Lord of Light and his fall

There is honour enough in madness

As the battle rages forward.

But there is madness without honour

Which is evil’s own reward

Whilst the Lord of Luminescence

Shines his darkness overall

Binding in the shadows

Holding all in thrall

And it shall ever seem to be

This way forevermore

Until the fighters muster  and from eagle’s eye set forth

Until the archer rises

And stands with back to wall

Until the final battle

And the last arrow falls

As the king spoke, there seemed to descend upon the room a cold and fearful mood, and a silence between each word which spoke itself of doom. Zelfos was horror struck, realising what was happening, but seemed unable to move until the final word had cut the air.

Suddenly he shook his head and cried out as he ran to the king’s bed, jumping upon it and grabbing the parchment in a single violent act. He stood over the king with a face dark with fury.

‘You are foolish desire, this action has risked all. Do you not know that to speak the prophecy is to give it power? Every time you look upon it, every time you utter a single word of it, it comes closer to truth! This is why you have been not yourself. What possessed you in this?’

Lord Petros Luminos looked up at the bald and ageless man in fear. Fear for his kingdom, and for the first time fearful of the one who stood over him on his royal bed.

In an instant Zelfos jumped from the bed and dashed the crumbled prophecy into the fireplace where the coals still faintly smoldered, waiting for the servants to clean and rebuild it for the new day. In a sudden flash, the parchment caught and flared so brightly that both men shielded their eyes instinctively. The sound of an anguished cry echoed momentarily around the stone walls, the heavy curtains by the balcony doors were sucked outwards by a rush of wind into the new morning, and then it was gone, consumed, leaving no ash.

‘I have been foolish.’ The king whispered quietly looking at the fireplace. His face was pale.

‘Very foolish,’ Zelfos hissed, his eyes glowing evilly, ‘and we have yet to know the measure of it.’

After a few minutes in which a silence hung painfully between them, the King spoke.

‘Come, we will go to the hall. I have sent for the Captain of my Guard. I hope to hear good news.’

‘After what has just happened, I look forward to good news,’ Zelfos replied quietly, but his brow was furrowed and his unease did not go unnoticed; in fact, despite his own disquiet, the king found himself taking some pleasure in it.

The hall was large and rudely furnished. It had a simple throne at one end on an elevated platform, but it was not elaborate as the space was reserved for public access, and the daily business of running the kingdom. Merchants and folk with disputes which needed a royal decision, would begin to arrive before the hour of the midday meal, and were organised into some sort of order. Those who could be dealt with by senior officials might not require an audience with the king, but on a busy day, the hall could be a noisy smelly place, which the king increasingly disliked. People with obvious diseases or deformity were never allowed to enter, but he suspected that there were many who entered who never showed symptoms of illness, but were able to pass on some plague or other unseen. He had taken to having a barrier placed half way down the hall and no one was allowed to pass on pain of death. He would sit remote with a few advisors and make his rulings from a safe distance.

The time was still early when Lord Petros and his physician entered the hall. It was empty since it would not open for business for quite some time yet, but the Captain of his night guard was waiting. He stood below the throne dressed in full uniform, carrying his ornamental shield and sword, which was lighter then the full battle dress. He was an impressively large man, even for a
nephil.
He had the bearing of a soldier who had looked death in the face and survived more than once. He bowed as the king entered, his eyes glanced very briefly at the other man but he remained focused on his commander.

‘I hope you have good news for me, Captain Leander.’ The king spoke harshly, as though by ordering it so, he could ensure that he would only hear the news he desired. He sat back on his throne; each arm resting royally on the arm rests, which he gripped a little too tightly.

Captain Leander spoke quietly but there was steel in his voice. ‘If you are inquiring about the pursuit of the archer Rema Bowman desire, I cannot yet bring you the news you seek.’ The king tensed.

‘But the pursuit was successful? The
Wolvers
could not have failed, surely?’

The captain was perspiring slightly, knowing the reaction which was about to be forthcoming. However, he was a man who saw no reason other than to tell things as they were, and so proceeded with his report.

‘As you already know desire, a squad of soldiers followed the reports of sightings of the archer to the edge of the forest. There is a timber camp there in the lee of some hills, called
Newtown.
He must have seen us approach for he was only a span or two ahead of us. The
Wolvers
found some of his possessions in a hut and his tracks leading into the forest. I assigned three to the pursuit. They told me that it would be over before nightfall, and it was only two spans before that when they left.’ He paused.

‘So what happened, Captain? Where is my prisoner or his body?’ The king sat forward on his throne, puzzled and anxious.