Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (26 page)

The servant Ethor had not passed out, not completely. As he felt his life departing, he had fallen limp and in a shadow-land, he heard her speak from a distant place. ‘We will travel north. I have two horses waiting. I have friends at
Sheldon
....’ After that, it had become a blur. As he lay bound upon the floor, he felt the thunder of the horse’s hooves striking hard against the cobblestones, and he smiled an evil grin, and then passed into unconsciousness. And so a deathly silence settled on the house of Menin.

Chapter 9.

Zelfos shook, but not in fear, for he was in a dark rage; lying before him in a congealed pool of dark black blood, was a dead
Wolver.
A few steps back, perplexed, and waiting nervously for directions, were the two enormous Night Guards who a short time before had been standing watch outside the King’s Arms Tavern. They could not comprehend this. The
Wolver
had left the tavern alone, not long before, in good spirits.  And now this.  Dead,
and
missing an arm. What powers could do such a thing? The guards were further unnerved by the presence in the deep shadows behind them, of two large creatures, the like of which they had never seen before. They tried not to look at them, for it was like they might draw out your very soul, such was their evilness. There seemed to be no shape to these fiends, no final line upon with which one might determine some boundary between them, and all else. They made a heavy breathing sound, which a hunter might make when sniffing the wind for some scent of its quarry.

‘This
Wolver
left alone you said?’ Zelfos was deeply perplexed, but he hissed the words, such was his anger, for it was the emotion which came most readily to him. 

‘As we said sira, he left alone and seemed in good spirits.’ The largest and bravest of the guards spoke up.

‘And what made you follow him?’ Zelfos spat.

‘Well we did not follow him, so much as the other man, a merchant. He was new to the Arms, left about a half span after, seemed harmless, no match for a
Wolver
, I mean no one can match a
Wolver
, he went the same way is all…’ the smaller guard found his voice, but was abruptly cut off by the other.

‘Sudden great flash of light, lit up the place, like lightening it was, no sound though. Came from the direction they both went. It was unusual so I came to investigate. Don’t usually leave my post but…’

‘A merchant? A bumbling business man? Did you not recognise anything about him? Did he seem unusual?’ Zelfos cut the man off. He was pacing backwards and forward with a deeply furrowed brow; all the while in the background were guttural hunting sounds from the shadows.

‘He was wearing a medallion, one of those special ones which the Lord King Petros has given to some of his favourites, er, I mean those who have earned them for doing…’ the guard began to stumble over his words, worried that he was giving offence and so stopped. Zelfos ignored him, for he suddenly reached down and pulled something from the sticky black ooze, which had once pumped so healthily through the dead
Wolver’s
veins.

‘A
Guild-medallion,’
he hissed, ‘only a score were awarded. I know them all, and none could… none would even dare to stand against the King.’ Ignoring the Night Guards, Zelfos turned and went over to the two shadow creatures, and to their amazement, spoke to them in a foreign tongue full of coarse sounds and throaty inflexions. As Zelfos spoke, the two creatures seemed to sniff the medallion and then becoming highly agitated, disappeared silently down the alleyway as though part of the night. Both Guards shuddered involuntarily. Zelfos noticed their discomfort and smiled, before continuing his harsh interrogation.

‘This merchant, he spoke with anyone in particular in the Tavern? Surely he had a reason for being their just this once?’

‘Sira we stand at the door, and keep watch, we do not know what goes on inside.’

‘And what do you watch for you idiots, for it would seem that someone got past you and did this evil work?’ Zelfos knew that the guards spoke truly, but his anger and discomfort, which carried now a growing element of fear, needed to be directed somewhere. ‘Get back to your posts; I may deal with you both later. And send word to the Barracks. I want this body removed within the span.’

‘Yes sira,’ the Guards responded in unison, suddenly more comfortable; orders like this were what they understood. The two huge men left at a run, holding their war swords to their sides with one hand, and glad to be away from such an evil presence.

Zelfos bent down and rubbed a forefinger and thumb together in the blood. He sniffed the ooze, and smelt the death. This was no ordinary slaying. The arm below the shoulder was gone, burnt to a fine ash and mixed with the blood. Something deep within him stirred an ancient fearful memory, but it would not come to him. Instead, he stood, gathered his cloak around him, and looked hard at the medallion.

‘There will be more death this night,’ he swore. ‘Someone will pay for this, and I will find you.’ As he spoke loudly into the cold night air, a ripple of foulness spread like a stone dropped into a pond, over all around. People asleep close by in their beds, stirred and shuddered, their dreams suddenly fearful. Night embers glowing low in hearths suddenly flared, casting strange shadows in darkened rooms. Dogs howled and crawled into dark places to escape. A cloud passed over the face of the moon. The
Shadow Hunters
were about.

With a final glance at the dead
Wolver
, Zelfos turned and strode off purposefully, upwards towards the Kings Arms, and higher still to the White Palace. He muttered as he went.

‘And now King Petros, Lord of Light, you shall be informed of what the darkness has brought us. I am sure you will be not a little unnerved.’ He chucked evilly at the prospect of being the bearer of such news. ‘Lord of Light! What foolishness indeed!’ Then his visage grew creased and fearful, for the deep and ancient memory which he could not quite grasp, tightened his stomach and squeezed his evil heart, causing it to pound fiercely in his chest. It was an experience he found distinctly distasteful.

*

Rema and Serenna had hardly disappeared into the shadows of the lower town when two great and fearful creatures crept silently along the alleyway behind the Menin house, following the clear scent of their quarry. They stopped where the scent trail went up the wall and one leapt easily up and followed the trail all the way to the windowsill. It did not enter but returned to the other. Together they followed the fresher trail around the alleys to the front door in the main street. They stood for a moment breathing hard in triumph before one suddenly reached out a huge paw from which protruded five razor sharp talons. With a single deft swipe, the creature raked it cross the heavy oak door; five deep parallel grooves appeared, as pieces of tortured timber flew off into the night. Its partner spat some vile greenish fluid upon this mark, and the damaged timber smoked and hissed. Then with an eerie howl, which woke all close by but the heaviest sleepers, they disappeared once more. Inside on the floor, the bound and semiconscious Ethor trembled deeply as a cold shadow crossed his soul.

‘What was that?’ Serenna stopped and shuddered at a strange howl in the distance. Rema felt the old wound in his leg suddenly throb painfully and in an instant, he knew.

‘It is here,’ he whispered very quietly, ‘here in Ramos. It’s on my trail already.’

‘Who is here?’ Serenna demanded in a loud whisper. Rema had not mentioned to her the strange and fearful creature, which had pursued him for a full day in his flight from the forest glade towards safety on Gymble’s barge, for he had not known how to describe something so utterly indescribable.

‘Not who, but what, for it is not human, or of this world.’ Rema spoke distantly, more to himself than to Serenna as he massaged his throbbing leg. Suddenly he stood and forced himself on. ‘Fly Serenna, we must fly, for we cannot be caught by this creature. Wherever you are taking me, let us not dwell a moment longer in this fell place.’

‘What creature?’ Serenna was suddenly very scared.

‘We must fly, now is not the time to talk.’ Rema whispered hoarsely, and then forced his tired and wounded body to run on. So Serenna led once more, in a mad flight from an unknown enemy, and for the first time, she too felt the cold fear which Rema knew. 

She moved fast and yet warily, as old hunting instincts, long unused returned to her. They travelled through shadows and narrow alleys ways, never straight for long, and always dropping down towards the river. Rema found the agony of his neck and throbbing leg almost too much too bear, but he knew that behind him was certain doom, so he did not falter and suffered as he must. As his strength began to give out, they reached the untidy mist-shrouded Port of Ramos, where even in the early morning watches there were always people about. Crowded by the docks were many seedy taverns, which catered for the diverse needs of those who had been at sea for many days. Merchants stocking ships, and labourers carrying impossible loads, mixed with the drunken sailors and other strange characters who can always be found frequenting a busy port. There was more light too, for all around were oil lamps which flickered eerily in the yellowish haze they created in the mist from off the cold waters of the river.

Serenna continued on until they reached a long wooden jetty running far out into the deeper waters of the river, where it lost itself in the mist. Without faltering, she led Rema out from the land, till there was no longer any place to go. She stopped and stood waiting for her wounded cousin, her breathing deep and painful, but a light in her eye, which spoke of a new life. Rema joined her soon after. They stood at the foot of a gangplank, which reached up into the swirling mist.

‘I take it,’ gasped Rema as he tried to suck in air and ease his aching body….

‘I take that this is where you wanted to end up?’  He was bent over, looking down at the timber planking of the old jetty, with both hands upon his thighs, gasping painfully, whilst an army of trolls seemed to be running circles inside his head.

‘Oh yes, this is the place,’ she replied in a whisper, ‘but I warn you it will not be easy, for the master of this vessel is a law unto himself. Prepare yourself to meet Captain Tyne of the
Scoria
, but leave the talking to me. You will see why. I cannot know how he will react, but if I can sway him toward our needs, we will be beyond pursuit.’ She paused and placed a warm hand upon Rema’s weary body. ‘Come now Rema, for this is our new beginning.’ With this, she took his hand and led him up the plank into the mist.

‘Take another step and you’ll feel my steel.’ The voice rasped a warning at them from the shadows as they stepped onto the deck of the ship. The dull red glow of a well-sucked pipe indicated where the challenge came from, and Serenna halted abruptly; Rema cannoned painfully into her. They stood for a moment before Serenna confronted the unseen one.

‘Tell Tyne that he has a visitor,’ Serenna spoke with an authority she did not feel.

‘Tell Tyne he has a visitor!’ the voice replied sarcastically. ‘Tell Tyne he has a visitor! Too much ale you’ve had, for if you were thinking better you’d know that to wake him from sleep at this hour would not be wise.’ The pipe glowed suddenly brighter, revealing the haggard face of a man who had clearly lived out his best years, for his features were cracked and folded and the teeth yellow and few. One eyelid dropped over a sunken eye. His hair was sparse upon a bony head.

‘Ah it is you Wormwood,’ Serenna spoke more gently, for she recognised the man. ‘Always a worrier, you were. How did you earn this cheerless midnight watch?’ At this, the man stirred from his seat upon a barrel.

‘Is that Lady Serenna? Why did you not say? I did not know for you are not dressed as I would expect, more like a man I would guess.’ He came closer and his ugly visage swathed in mist, accosted both Serenna and Rema like a ghoul from another world. He smiled as best he could, but it did nothing to soften his appearance. Serenna pressed on.

‘Either you or I, Wormwood, but one of us will speak with Tyne this moment. My business is urgent, or I would not be standing here like this. Make your choice man.’ Wormwood looked hard at the two before him, weighing up his choices.

‘And where is your steel?’ Serenna spoke mockingly, for clearly the man had no weapon.

‘Never you mind about my steel,’ Wormwood muttered, ‘it’s Tyne you would do well to fear.’ He stopped and then added sarcastically. ‘Although tis true, of all people he might like to meet on such a cold and misty night, it would be you Lady Serenna. It would be you, is my guess. Wait here.’ He turned and disappeared off down the deck. His voice came to them once more, a faintly miserable echo. ‘Of course if you hear a scream that will be me on pain of death for waking the captain.’

They stood without speaking in the swirling eerie mist. Faint light from a weak moon and a single lantern on the rigging, allowed a poor view of their surroundings. Rema had many questions which needed answers but he knew that the time would come, for they had much to discuss. Right now his pain was so great that it was all he could do to stand and wait. Serenna was like a statue, and Rema sensed within her a growing tension.

This Tyne must have a strange manner,
he reasoned.

The boat was large and stood high above the water. The mist, which clung to the river, rose and fell in gentle undulations upon the breeze, and as they stood, it suddenly dropped, until, as if by magic, it formed a carpet of white just below the level of the upper deck on which they stood. It was as if the boat has sailed up into the air and through the clouds into the light above. Mist swirled at their feet and all about the deck, but now in clear moonlight, the ship’s upper decks were revealed in an eerie bluish stillness. Stretching out on either side of them for a great distance was a white and writhing carpet of mist; but they now stood in clear air. Rema thought it enchanting. He turned a little, and saw that this magic sea extended across the Port of Ramos and well into the lower reaches of the city, were it was colder and closer to the water. Higher up the houses and streets stood clear in the night air, and over all, the White Palace stood proudly with lights ablaze and banners waving. It was beautiful to behold, and yet Rema knew it was the center of all which sought to destroy him and his beloved Sylvion, and indeed, it held all Revelyn in thrall.