Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (6 page)

He lay on the simple bed having ensured the door was well secured, and the curtains to the small window were drawn close. The room was warm, and enough moonlight found its way in so that it was not completely dark. As he felt sleep creep upon him he went over the events of recent days.

It seemed more than the twenty days which had passed since he had set out from
Farview
on the eastern edge of the Central Upthrust.
Farview
was one of his favourite places. It sat right on the edge of the great escarpment which plunged down two thousand cubits or more to the Lowland plains. On a good day you could see the distant Vigarn River shimmering in the sunlight, and beyond to the vast Plains of Amrosi, and sometimes, if the air was crystal clear and still after the rain, the top of the Eastern Upthrust could be seen just peeping over the horizon. Rema liked to think that a map of Revelyn looked a lot like an Eagle’s head and the small Eastern Upthrust formed its eye, but his good friend Goldsmith Cantor, who was never one for looking at drawings and maps would say he was dreaming, for he couldn’t see it.

He’d left Sylvion there. She had planned to visit her
kindma
on the plains below in her old hometown of
Wildwood
on the southern edge of the great Wildwood forest, where the fast flowing Vigarn traveled rapidly east before swinging more slowly around in a vast loop and heading southwards towards its junction with small and mystical Snake River.  He had tried to dissuade her going; there had been renewed outbreaks of violence at
Morraine
not far from
Wildwood
.  Houses had been burnt and farms destroyed, and the indiscriminate nature of it all had worried Rema, but Sylvion had just laughed at him. She was full of spirit and would not be persuaded that she might be in any danger. It was her home and nothing would stop her seeing her precious
kindma.

She had poked him hard in the ribs and laughed. ‘You worry about me Rema Bowman, and you, off to
Ramos
where the King sits. He will imprison any man from the Mighty Mountains without reason. He has grown paranoid and fearful beyond all sense. It is you who should be staying, not me; there is fifty times the danger in that sad city for you than I will face in my simple town.’

‘I wouldn’t go by choice,’ Rema had replied solemnly, ‘But Serenna is in trouble and I cannot ignore her request.’

‘Serenna is always in trouble,’ Sylvion tossed her dark hair in anger, ‘she has no sense at all, running off and marrying that idiot Jycob, just because he has money and position, and to defy her parents like that. She
is
trouble.’

‘She is still my favourite cousin and I grew up with her. Headstrong she may be, but I cannot ignore her request. And speaking of headstrong, who are you to talk.’ Rema grabbed Sylvion around the waist and swung her laughing in a wild circle. She kissed him as her feet hit the ground; they embraced for a time and then stood right on the edge of the mighty cliffs gazing out over the plains, and happy beyond words.

‘Take care,’ he had said, ‘For I cannot lose you.’ She smiled back.

‘I will be safe. You too must take no risks.’ She had given him a simple gold ring which was inscribed in the old Revelin language,
Infini amoran,
which means ‘forever my love.’ And so they had parted.

Rema lay on the soft straw mattress and remembered. He missed her so much and now with all that had happened he was deeply worried for her safety. The dying
Wolver
had breathed her name. This was incomprehensible. Something serious was unfolding. He played unconsciously with the ring of gold on his right middle finger and vowed soundlessly upon it that he would make right whatever had befallen her.

The news that his cousin Serenna was in trouble had not surprised him. She was always getting herself into difficult situations, They had grown up together high in the Mighty Mountains in the remote village of
The
Safeness.
They had chased the swift Orax mountain goats together, mimicking the nimble, quick and surefooted creatures until they too could fearlessly roam the mountain slopes in safety. Serenna was older, taller, possessed a flaming mass of red hair, and was absolutely fearless. He had lost count of the number of times she had broken a bone or sprained an ankle. Once she fell from a cliff and was only saved by clinging to a stunted bush on the very edge of a sheer drop into a raging stream. It had taken all of Rema’s skill to throw a rope and secure her and help her scramble to safety. She had just laughed in exhilaration and then kissed him full on the lips in a simple show of young affection which had at first embarrassed him. They had grown to be soul mates and he would always forgive her while others condemned.

Her behaviour became more reckless as she grew older and she fought with everyone. Only Rema remained her friend; and finally as though to defy her parents she had disappeared just after her eighteenth birthday and was not heard of again. There was no news of her until three years before when she sent him word that she had married a cloth merchant, Jycob Menin and was living in
Ramos
which was the King’s city. Worn out with worry and hurt, her parents disowned her, but Rema had kept up an infrequent communication, sending word perhaps twice a year. He had heard nothing back until she had sent a short letter just recently.  Serenna begged his forgiveness and asked for help. Her husband Jycob had threatened to throw her out on the street and she hinted of beatings and other more sinister things. Of course Rema felt obliged to respond to her call. He knew that no other would.

He had left
Farview
and Sylvion on the last full moon. He’d traveled alone; Goodman Cantor his closest friend was unable to leave his work. Goodman was a skilled swordsman and a singer whose reputation had begun to come to the notice of the Council, but he still worked daily in his father’s growing business as a candlemaker; and there was always a demand for the quality wax candles of Cantor.

Looking back Rema was glad now that he had left
Fairview
quietly under cover of darkness. He knew he would be traveling into some danger. Any Mighty Mountains man was treated with suspicion in the Lowlands and the situation in
Ramos
was reported to be highly unstable as King Petros Luminos seemed to be descending into some deeper form of madness; as if he could get any madder. His violent ways and unjust dealings with his subjects had stripped much of the peace from the land he ruled and the Council was concerned that he was turning his eyes to the vast resources of the Central Upthurst which was causing serious concern.

To reach the plains of the Lowlands below
Fairview
by the quickest route meant taking the large woven basket that was winched down on a thick rope by a huge derrick which was swung out over the great cliff at a point where it was somewhat indented giving some protection from the wind. It was not for the faint hearted, but the rope had only parted once, many years before and then by luck had cost only the life of three prize pigs. The basket could carry five men if required, but three was normal. The rope was made of a specially woven hemp spooled onto a huge wooden wheel which was turned by a pair of work horses walking in endless circles. The two thousand cubit drop was too great to do in one continuous lift, so cut into the rock at five hundred cubit intervals were large chambers in which were replicated all the mechanisms required. There were dwellings and stables and a forge at each stopping point, for horses were needed at every level. Most travelers were grateful for the stops, but the toll was not cheap and only those of reasonable means, or soldiers on Council business could afford to travel in such a manner. Rema had shared the basket with a wool merchant who was traveling to
Amrosi
to secure a shipment for the next season’s weaving. He was a sullen fellow and Rema wondered why he was traveling at night, but reasoned fairly that the merchant might well have wondered the same of him.

Rema had traveled by hired cart over rough roads south towards Ramos, skirting the Great Southern Forest. At times he walked alone and slept rough in an isolated haystack. He would shoot a hare and roast it over a simple fire. His unusual bow was not taken seriously by any and south of the Snake River which was more settled, he carried it wrapped in a cloth and strapped to his back with his quiver and arrows. It could have been any number of things, and then it was a common enough sight to see a traveler on the roads carrying a bundle in that manner. Usually he enjoyed this type of overland travel, a chance to meet some interesting people who knew the roads and the mood of the countryside. He could listen and learn with little conversation, but he had found it strange this time. He was struck by the change in the population. Usually the Lowlanders were friendly enough if they did not know you were from the Upthrust, and even then it was only the rudest who would say anything to your face. But on this trip Rema found it hard to get into conversation with anyone who had no need to. Windows in villages were shut and almost everyone seemed to avoid contact with each other. Fear hung in the air. There was evidence of fire and burnt buildings in almost every hamlet, and the farms looked tired and unproductive. On such rich plains Rema thought it all most unusual. And he had noticed more soldiers and mounted guards all riding black horses with much yelling and general intimidation. He himself was struck by an oafish guard who took some exception to the way Rema had looked at him. He still ached from the boot to his ribs and a gloved fist to the jaw.

In an inn on the road just north of
Ramos
he had fallen into conversation with an intelligent man who claimed to be on the run, having been accused unjustly of theft and other crimes. He had said that there was trouble brewing for all but would not give more details. He was nervous and left quickly pulling a hood low over his face.

Rema had found Serenna after two days in
Ramos
. Her directions were not clear and the city had changed so much since he had last visited many years before; his search for his troublesome cousin was full of a growing anxiety. There was something greatly wrong in
Ramos
which sat on the mighty Luminos River. The King had by decree co-joined his title with this mighty river by way of boosting his importance. Lord Petros Luminos, it was a name feared by all.  The king had tried to change the name of the city to
Petros,
but such was the outcry and the drop in trade that in a fury he had to leave it by its known name and instead by decree, changed the name of a port town on the eastern coast to
Petros.
Not a few had died in the uprising that this had caused. But he had prevailed, and the name was now
Petros
on pain of death.

The Luminos River was almost three leagues wide where
Ramos
sat on its northern bank and the water traffic was constant and confused. The city lay almost a hundred leagues from the sea but the river was navigable all the way to
Ramos,
and well beyond
.
It was unusual in that the prevailing winds allowed the biggest of sailing ships, carefully managed to sail right up to the city and the current was always strong enough to take them back again once their business was completed.

Rema had been beaten and robbed twice within a day of arriving in
Ramos
; he was not seriously injured and he only lost a small amount of money, being able to escape on both occasions by a combination of wit and swift running through narrow alleys. By the time he found Serenna, having slept rough one night under a bridge with a group of drunken sailors who had no ship that would take them, he wondered why anyone would ever want to live in such a lawless place.

Serenna lived in a sombre but rich looking timber and stone house not far from the wharves. She opened the door to his knock, and was overwhelmed to see him. He remembered her first words.

‘Oh Rema, you’ve come, I knew you would, come in, quickly,’ she was crying immediately but he noticed that she took a moment to look quickly up and down the narrow street to see if anyone had noticed her visitor. It seemed not, but she was wrong. Rema had been spotted; in fact he now realised that he had walked right into a trap.

They had talked awkwardly at first. Rema was cool and unsure of his temperamental friend, whilst she was keenly aware that she had acted unwisely in leaving her community so hastily, and was unsure how to repair the hurt.

Rema was introduced later that evening to her husband Jycob whom he thought a strange character, almost soft and too polite; he’d had a vision of a huge hulking brute of a man, but this was not the case. However, later that evening he overheard a short exchange between Jycob and a servant which gave him immediate cause for alarm. It was little garbled since there was wall between him and those he was straining to hear, and he was trying to talk with Serenna at the same time; but as far as could tell, Jycob was wanting to get a message to someone in authority to the effect that ‘he had arrived.’ He realised that in some way he had been lured to
Ramos
and to that very house for some sinister reason.

Feigning tiredness he had asked for a bed and was shown to a private guest room by Serenna. He had had a short and difficult conversation with her which revealed a number of things. She regretted her marriage to Jycob but was being treated well, only that for a short time before she sent her letter asking for help this had not been the case. This confirmed in Rema’s mind that she had been used to bring him to
Ramos
for some reason. Promising to talk more in the morning he waited until the house was quiet, and then collecting his things he had left by a rear entrance only to be accosted in an alley by a waiting guard who had slashed at him with a sword, cutting his right thigh. Rema had managed to elude this man by climbing several walls and running over rooftops using all his mountain experience until finally losing himself in the many streets and alleyways. He had spent a night in a drinking inn and left Ramos early the next morning by a western road, not wanting to return the way he had come.