Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (49 page)

As the fire built, the canopy began to rise higher for the air within it became super heated. It was then that they both realised that there was now cloud above them and the moon had disappeared. Below, the ground had become but a dark sheet without definition. Apart from the occasional twinkle of a distant light, and the hidden moon reflecting momentarily off a small lake or pond, their world between heaven and earth was reduced to a central point of light which was the sizzling cauldron, and the light it gave reached not far beyond them. All else was gloom and unseen.

As they rose, the fire momentarily reflected off the cloud base and then suddenly they were immersed in a strange and glowing world, for all about on every side was just a white and greyish vapour turned red and pink by their fire. They lost all sense of distance, height and speed. Water vapour hissed and steamed off the cauldron and for the first time the giant canopy bucked and trembled as turbulent air currents tossed the craft about. Sylvion and Reigin found they had to hold on firmly or risk being tossed into space.  It became hard to judge whether they continued to rise, but after a span Reigin tossed another sack into the cauldron, for the fuel was being consumed at a fearful rate. Despite the fire’s great heat, water condensed upon their clothing, and while one side baked, the other became quite damp and cold. They took to turning round like a pig on a slow spit, so that they would remain warm and as dry as possible. Finally after much disorientation the huge canopy broke through the clouds and suddenly they were in a magical land above a white and ruffled sea which reached out from their position for as far as the eye could see in every direction.

Reigin whispered to himself in wonderment. ‘I always wondered what it would be like at the surface to which we might rise, like a bubble in a pond, and whether there would be air to breathe. We have arrived and it is beyond my dreams.’

Sylvion just watched in utter fascination for it was beautiful beyond anything she had imagined. The moonlight turned everything whiter than snow, and the valleys and ridges of the mighty sea were full of shadows and contrasts which changed continually.

Reigin suddenly called out in alarm. ‘Sylvion we have stopped moving. We are going slower. There is no wind up here!’ Startled, Sylvion looked at the clouds so close below that she might have stepped out and walked upon them, and indeed it was true, for they remained as they were. Their craft was no longer moving as it had across the ground far below but was hanging in the air. They were not changing position. The clouds below remained the same clouds. This was a disaster.

But
how could it be? Surely there was a wind this high up in the heavens?

‘We must descend Sylvion!’ Reigin cried with a brittle edge in his voice. It was not fear but stemmed from a deep suspicion of the unknown. ‘There is magic about Sylvion, some sorcery up here which has frozen all things...’ he looked about trying to work out why their world had stopped. ‘We are just trapped in one spot!’

Sylvion too could not understand how this had come about, for apart from some gentle swaying and the smallest of movement above the clouds, all had gone still. The moon bathed everything in a wonderful soft light, but they were frozen in the sky.

Suddenly it came to her. ‘No Reigin,’ she called, almost crying with relief, ‘it is all right we are not stopped at all. We are moving, everything is moving. The wind is taking us as before, but it also takes the clouds as well. We cannot see the ground which would tell us this. Everything up her is moving at the same speed! We are not bewitched!’ Reigin thought for a moment on this and nodded slowly for it was a challenge to his senses. Sylvion could see his doubt.

‘Reigin it is like the earth which moves through the heavens. We move with it and yet we seem to not move at all.’ Reigin found this even harder to follow for he had not ever thought that the earth moved anywhere at all, but sat in one place as other bodies moved all around it.

‘Once more Sylvion you have my measure and more!’ he called back. ‘I will accept your assertion, but just how fast are we travelling in this mysterious way?’ Sylvion thought on this for it was a most important question, one upon which their survival depended.

‘I don’t think we can tell Reigin,’ she replied after a time, ‘for if all travels at the same speed whether fast or slow, there is no reference, no way to make a judgement.’

‘Then we could still be travelling at the same speed, which is too slow...’ Reigin whispered to himself but Sylvion who watched him closely knew his mind.

‘We might still be too slow Reigin but I don’t think so. Up here the wind is stronger I am sure. I think we risk it, for I have no wish to set foot on the Cape once more.’

‘And if you are wrong my lady?’ Reigin inquired.

‘If I am wrong we both know the end of it.’

 Reigin nodded, and without a word cut lose another sack and hurled it expertly into the cauldron.

They travelled steadily for a long time, enchanted by their view and the realisation at what they had achieved, but blindly too for they knew not how far they had come or if they would carry the gulf. Sylvion knew they were at least travelling in the right direction for their angle to the moon had remained unchanged despite now being above the clouds. They ate a little and drank as they felt the need. Their conversation was constrained by the need to shout above the roaring cauldron which was reassuring, for whilst the fuel remained, the canopy held them safe above the earth. Higher above them the shimmering banners were more alive than ever before and both Sylvion and Reigin passed some time by watching the wonderful visions which travelled with them. At times the clouds below were so close that it seemed the light from within the canopy played the pictures out upon their whiteness, in ever changing scenes of colour and movement.

Slowly however, the sacks of fuel were consumed and as the moon began to fade low down to their west, there remained but two, and Sylvion knew they would need these at least to give them choice of a landing place; although if it were to be in the ocean it made little difference. She took a deep breath and grimly gave the command.

‘Reigin, we will keep the last two sacks. Let the fire die and we will sink back through the clouds. I hope we have made it, for the dawn is upon us, and death perhaps as well.’

Reigin nodded but did not speak, and within a half span the canopy and its cargo were once more wrapped in the eerie light of the clouds and the turbulence it offered them was matched in equal parts by the anticipation in their hearts. For two span the cloud held them prisoner as the fire died and the air in the canopy cooled. Suddenly the air cleared and there below them was the sea, dark and menacing and cold as death. Sylvion gave an involuntary cry of frustration. Reigin uttered an oath. The waves which reached to engulf them were but a hundred cubits below, and the smell of the salt air was an overpowering reminder of where they were headed.

They looked desperately about trying to see if perhaps an island or some refuge was within reach, but all about was the restless ocean and the waves which at times seemed to almost reach up and grab them.

‘Reigin, another sack quickly for if we get lower it will be soaked when you cut it free!’ Sylvion’s order cut the air like a knife. The fuel was added in great haste to the cauldron, and this slowly heated the air so that the canopy sank no further.

‘We are travelling fast Sylvion,’ was Reigin’s only observation despite his concern for their predicament.

And indeed they were, for the wind over the ocean was much greater than they had experienced when first they took to the air. They raced over the waves, the clouds not far above; but all was gloomy, and they could see but a league or two ahead, for the air was full of spray and the sun had no yet risen to burn the cloud and mist away. A span passed and still no sight of land or any hope. Sylvion waited until she once more realised the waves were almost upon them, and once more she commanded Reigin to add their final sack of charcoal to the fading fire.

‘That is it Reigin, we will be in the water soon. I cannot see what else can happen.’ He did not speak. She watched and waited, for the canopy held them level, but ever so slowly they began to sink once more, and both knew it would be the final time.

Suddenly a huge rock loomed out of the sea and the waves which pounded upon it soaked them in a gentle mist. Another rock appeared, and then one more. The seas were huge as they broke over them. Then they were gone.

‘Land is close!’ Sylvion cried, ‘for I saw many seabirds upon those rocks.’

‘There!’ Reigin cried, pointing west, and sure enough the mist had cleared and the early morning sun had begun to lift the clouds. A thin band of hills and beach could be seen low down in the distance. The heavy surf pounding in upon the shore seemed huge and all powerful. Sylvion estimated it to be five leagues off, but the canopy had sunk so that the waves were almost reaching the pole hanging below Reigin’s basket.

‘We will not make it Reigin,’ she cried, ‘we will have to swim for the shore and I fear the water will take our lives for it is too cold and rough.’ Reigin stared down at the remorseless sea and without a word knew that once more the woman was right.

Sylvion stared hard at the shore for with every moment they came closer, and by luck the canopy passed through a patch of colder air which helped them rise a little higher, but they both knew that it was not enough. A bitter frustration enveloped Sylvion and tears filled her eyes.

‘So close Reigin,’ she cried, ‘so very close, I cannot believe it is over.’ She turned back from looking shoreward, and noticed that Reigin had removed her blade and had wrapped the belt which held it, tightly round the sheath. He looked over at Sylvion in a strange and detached manner, so calm and calculating that it reminded her of his character when the name
Wolver
defined his every action.

‘Sylvion,’ he called in a voice which spoke clearly of a deep resolve. ‘Catch this for you will have but one chance.’ She went to speak but had no time for with a tremendous throw Reigin cast the blade towards her. It travelled like an arrow, and so accurately did he aim it that she caught it before her, one-handed by her face. The force of its travel stung her hand and she cried out.

‘What are you doing Reigin, I have no need of this now...’ and then she screamed, for she saw his plan. ‘No Reigin you must stay with me, we are in this together, we agreed, you must not...’ she lost her words for Reigin was hanging by one hand, the hammock cut away by the small belt-knife in his other. The canvas hammock was lost to the waves in a moment. Reigin held on easily with the one hand and he called to Sylvion clearly.

‘My weight is pulling you to your grave. You must not perish Sylvion Greyfeld for Revelyn needs you. Thank you for what you have done for me. You gave me back my life...’

Sylvion screamed at him, ‘No Reigin, please hang on, we will make the shore, you will see.’ Her tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. She could not lose this brave and noble man like this, so close to a final victory. He smiled at her with a gentleness that belied his violent past.

‘Do one thing for me Sylvion?’ He waited for her sobbing reply; for she saw that he was committed. She nodded through the tears.

‘Whatever you ask Reigin, whatever you ask I will do if it is granted me the power.’

‘Stop them taking the children,’ he called sadly. And then he let go. Sylvion watched in horror as the big man dropped like a stone. He hit the water with hardly a splash and was gone in an instant for the canopy bucked and rose, released from his weight, and the wind pushed it relentlessly faster shoreward. Sylvion could not think clearly for there was a sword deep in her heart, but saw that she would make it, only just, but the mainland was but a league distant and the heavy pounding of the surf drowned out all else. She forced herself to focus on what might happen in the next few moments, for her very life was in the balance.
I will do this for you Reigin
she vowed to herself.

The waves reached her twice before the shore was gained. Both times the cauldron was hit and lifted but not swamped. Sylvion was soaked and the canopy half collapsed as the weight and forces from the ropes below it changed without control. She screamed in fear and anger, and then with a final lurch the canopy lost most of its remaining hot air and from a height of no more than a dozen cubits it fell to the earth. The beach was wide and littered with the debris of a thousand storms. The cauldron hit hard and tumbled up out of the grasping surf so violently that Sylvion was tossed from her hammock like a child’s doll. She fleetingly saw the old log embedded in the sand, but was powerless to avoid it, and with a thump she did not feel but understood would most likely kill her, she lost all sense and a vast blackness overcame her. The canopy dropped gracefully onto the sand, and in a moment all was still, save the constant roaring of the surf and the whistling of the wind.

Sylvion lay unconscious, her head cut and bleeding slowly. She was alive and breathing in short sharp gasps. Her tunic was wet through and the cold wind chilled her quickly, for she had cast her cloak and gloves to the sea so that they would not drag her down if she had to fight to the waves. In her right hand, with a grasp that might only be broken with great force, she still held the beautiful blade wrapped so firmly in its simple sheath by Reigin not long before. The sun broke through the clouds a moment later, and reached her fragile body.

The approach of Sylvion’s amazing craft had by chance been witnessed by two hidden watchers from their hideout in the ancient cliffs behind the ragged beach. In fearful awe they sat like statues as the huge misshapen
creature
came to an ungainly stop on the sea scoured sand below them, and it was only then that the two watchers decided that it was safe to move; with skills borne of much practice they descend from their lookout high on the cliffs to the south and ran towards the beast with an evil anticipation which both men savoured, for this was what they lived for. This was their life.