Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (87 page)

Zelfos came to life and broke the spell.

‘Take it my Lord Petros,’ he cried in sudden and wild delight, ‘take the Sceptre and claim the throne once more. Now is the time my Lord to defeat your enemies. Do it now!’

And so the fallen king, Lord Petros Luminos, Lord of Light, obeyed his evil advisor; but in truth his heart too had leapt at this new chance to save his throne. He stepped up onto the stage and in one quick and confident motion took the Royal Sceptre and lifted it high above his head. The crowd gasped instinctively, thinking that it might be death to him, but it was not so.

He held it there for a moment as all eyes were held to the awesome spectacle.

‘I Lord Petros ruler of all Revelyn, claim the throne once more.’

His words cut the air like a knife.

Suddenly the Royal Sceptre started to glow. It gave off a sudden bluish white light which filled the hall and wrapped quickly around the arm which held the Sceptre. It crackled briefly and sparked about as though examining the wielder, and then with a flash, the light disappeared, and a silence fell upon the hall. Nobody moved, but a mighty tension held them all as one.

Suddenly and simultaneously Lord Petros smiled in relief, and Zelfos, who could no longer contain himself, danced despite his chains, and cackled in high glee.

‘We win, you fools, the Sceptre had spoken. It is the agreement, Lord Petros is the King. We have all seen it. I knew that this would be the end of it.’ He turned to Sylvion Greyfeld and hissed evilly.

‘You cannot go back on your word, for it is what you agreed. You will now die and the rightful power in Revelyn returns to me...to Lord Petros.’ He quickly corrected his words although all who listened knew he spoke truly.

Reigin drew his sword and Anderlorn too. The
Wolvers
, unarmed but seated together in a group sprang to their feet unsure of what to do. Leander cast a worried look around the hall and thought;
this is going to fall apart.

Sylvion stood unsure and bewildered for she had not expected this. She had long trusted in the rightness of her cause
. How could the Royal Sceptre let her down?

Rema drew his bow and aimed it at Zelfos’ heart for he could not fire upon his brother, but he knew that his arrow would not harm the evil man.

Zelfos was elated, and the Lord Petros waved the Royal Sceptre high and boldly, as if to show the throng that he alone was their ruler by every right and law which stood true in Revelyn.

And then a voice of authority rang clear across the Hall.

‘That is not the Royal Sceptre. It is not complete. It cannot rule in this issue.’

It hit the assembly like a thunderclap, and Zelfos turned to face the claimant with a mighty fury building in his wiry body, and he wished his hands were free for in an instant he would slay the insolent fool who saw fit to make light of such a moment.

Every eye turned with Zelfos, and there standing at the top of the stairs from whence the Sceptre box had just entered, stood a strange old man. His hair was long and white, unkempt as was his beard. His skin seemed bleached whiter than bones left long under a desert sun, or else he had been locked away in deepest darkness for an age. He stood upon one leg for his right one was missing below the knee, and instead he supported himself upon a crude wooden crutch. His eyes were deepest blue and all knew that in this mad man there was no fear and he would embrace his coming death without protest.

What folly is this?
Some spoke it loud, but all thought it as though one.

Zelfos’ eyes widened and in recognition hissed like a sorcerer might.

‘
Skolar,
you dare to leave your work. You will die this day for such impudence.’ The crowd looked from the whitened old man to Zelfos and back again.

Sylvion felt a sudden rush of hope and in her heart she felt a strange and deep affinity for this poor wretch who spoke on her behalf.

The
skolar
seemed not the least intimidated by Zelfos’ threat and stepped out onto the wide elevated platform to his left from where official pronouncements could be made. Suddenly behind him, another could be seen. A monk like man, heavily cowled, moved effortlessly beside the
skolar
; none could see his features, but Zelfos felt a wave of intense terror sweep upon him. He did not understand it, but knew by some deeper intuition that he was in the presence of something he could not best. The sorcerer trembled mightily but like a dog protecting a favourite bone, held firm to his twisted quest.

‘
Skolar
you lie, you yourself told me that this Sceptre was complete. On pain of death you did so.’ And then Zelfos had a terrifying thought.
What if he lied to me?
 He forced the thought away. It could not be possible. All obeyed him, and the
Skolar
was no different. Five years he had held him to his work...

‘The Sceptre is not complete. It must be complete to decide upon this issue.’

 The
Skolar’s
cry rang eerily throughout the vaulted hall, and whispered words let those without know something of what had now come to pass.

It seemed now that the contest had become a battle of wills between this strange white man and Zelfos, with neither willing to give any ground at all.

‘What part of the sceptre is missing
Skolar
, ‘ Zelfos cried angrily and stamped about in great irritation upon the stage before the assembly, ‘tell us all what it requires you fool for it has not changed, it is the same Sceptre that Lord Petros used to claim the throne on Frederic’s death.’ Hardly had he spoken the words than he understood the weakness now which lay before him.

If it was different back then, the Sceptre could not have confirmed Lord Petros’ right in the very first instance when he, Zelfos had needed it to be,  ...so what had just happened then was no more than a repeat, and he, Zelfos, had believed it to be true all along.

Inside the sorcerer screamed in silent fear, and looking up felt the eyes of the cowled one see deep into his blackened evil heart and lay him bare. He winced in pain but still he would not be thwarted.

‘What will make this Sceptre complete then
Skolar
?’ he spoke with all the sarcasm and cold contempt that he could muster, hoping against all that what was before him was no more than a foolish desperate bluff.

And then his plans, so long prepared in darkened places out of sight, so carefully constructed so that other fell creatures might follow into the world of men, and take embodiment and fulfill the lusts of their hearts instead of wandering endlessly in empty etherealness. All his plans came crashing down as the
skolar
spoke.

‘The missing piece sorcerer, is the
Shadow Blade
.’

And now these words seem to echo endlessly around the vaulted rafters and stonework of the ancient hall, and hang in the air like a pronouncement of eternal doom.

Shadow Blade..., Shadow Blade...Shadow Blade...

 Noooo !!’Zelfos screamed in fury. ‘No you lie
skolar
, you lie to me your master.’

The old and whitened man ignored his futile rantings. He looked upon Sylvion Greyfeld and smiled, for his heart had longed for this moment.

‘Sylvion Greyfeld, you hold the Shadow Blade. You alone can make the Royal Sceptre complete. Take it my child (and here he paused and seemed to linger lovingly upon his words); take it, my child and take the Sceptre, you will know what to do.’

All within the hall were enthralled by fear and curiosity in equal measure.

No one moved, save Sylvion, who took the
Shadow Blade
from its simple sheath and held it out before the throng. It glowed powerfully from some inner light. Zelfos screamed again in utter frustration for he knew what must come to pass and he had no power to prevent it...and so he screamed aloud.

‘Nooo !! it cannot be allowed. Lord Petros take the blade and claim the throne, do it now you fool or else I am lost...’

But the fallen king could do no more than any other. He watched enthralled as Sylvion took the Royal Sceptre from him and with the Shadow Blade stood boldly before them all. A deathly silence fell upon the hall as Sylvion Greyfeld looked from the Royal Sceptre to the Shadow Blade and back again. She seemed to think upon some puzzle and so after a time turned the Sceptre all about till suddenly she inverted it and gave a simple cry.

‘I see it now!’

And with that she took the Shadow Blade and inserted it into the Sceptre from beneath, into a slot perfectly formed to embrace the deadly shaft. As all assembled watched in astonishment, the Royal Sceptre and the Shadow Blade became as one, except for the hilt which had become the base and enabled Sylvion to hold the now completed Sceptre firmly as one object.

At the moment the two elements became complete as one, the Royal Sceptre burst forth in light far greater than before, and Sylvion turned triumphant to the fallen king.

‘Do you now wish to test this Sceptre one more, Petros Lord of Light, for as you see there is light enough for you here to demonstrate your claim.  I will stand by my promise and allow you first to claim the throne.’

Lord Petros stood speechless, not knowing what to do for he knew deep within that it was now death to him to hold the Royal Sceptre as before.

‘Take the Sceptre now, Zelfos screamed. ‘You have been accepted before; you will again. Do it now you fool, can you not see that all hangs upon your rule?’

But Lord Petros was beaten. He turned his back on Zelfos and left the stage. He crumpled in a heap at Rema’s feet and took no further part in proceedings.

Sylvion held the Royal Sceptre high and out before the silent multitude. The light it offered clothed them all in white and blue, and it seemed that the line between it and its bearer was increasingly hard to define. They too had joined in some mysterious way.

‘I am Sylvion Greyfeld of the House of Hendon.’ Her words rang powerfully throughout the ancient hall and swept out over the waiting crowd without, and it seemed, down the lanes and alleys of the city, to the river and beyond. ‘I stand here before the citizens of Ramos and claim the throne of Revelyn, to rule with justice and compassion and see that the land is rid of all evil.’

She lifted the Royal Sceptre higher still, and cried out a final time.

‘I claim the throne; let the Royal Sceptre judge me now!’

And with a sudden flash the Sceptre poured forth its light in a single column of purest white. It travelled up in the merest moment and punched a hole clear through the roof and on up into the clouds and sent a shock wave out over all the city and its walls and fields beyond. The column stood and swirled continuously as Sylvion stood below it engulfed in purest light. It writhed and coiled around her body, and flashed through her very being, no dark recess of her mind was left untouched and no one who watched was able to move at all. It was the most awesome spectacle of power ever seen in Ramos since its history began almost an age before.

And then with a thunder clap which sent birds and wild ducks flapping and squawking in terror into the sky, it ended, and the mighty column of light collapsed and seemed to disappear into the Royal Sceptre.

Sylvion stood unharmed, and faced the throng before her without a word, and everyone in the hall began to kneel; one here, one there until with a great acceleration all save the cowled monk and the wild white man above her, were kneeling before her.

‘Hail Queen Sylvion!’ cried the bearers of the Royal Sceptre bowing deeply and seemingly deeply pleased that this official duty had found cause to be fulfilled; and all in unison cried out in reply.

‘Hail Queen Sylvion!’ And so it was completed.

She let them acclaim her rule for a time, whilst within a feeling of great peace and purpose overwhelmed her, and then she called for quiet, and they regained their feet and sat or stood as before, but now in great excitement for all the city knew that their ruler had been approved by the highest law of all, and her presence filled them with hope.

Sylvion slowly drew the Shadow Blade from the Sceptre sheath which she handed back to one of the bearers who accepted it as gently as if it were a new born child. She then turned to Zelfos who stood cowed and trembling before her. He did not speak for he knew that all was lost, and though the terror he felt was clear to all, not a single watcher felt any sympathy for his plight.

Sylvion took three quick steps and plunged the blade right through the quivering sorcerer.

‘In the name of El-Arathor, I slay you now and give warning to any other who would bring evil into this land that the Shadow Blade and Queen Sylvion will seek you out and see you gone.’

Zelfos collapsed, but did not bleed. Instead his body convulsed in great torment, until with a scream of disembodiment, some dark ethereal spirit seemed to rise up from the mortal remains and with a flash disappeared into the air, as a foul stench spread quickly over those round about. The scream persisted long and shook all in the hall and not a few without, until it faded and finally disappeared, leaving the sad body of a bald man lying quite dead upon the stage.

A cheer went up from several in the throng but Sylvion silenced them with a gesture.

‘There is still one pressing task which cannot be further left undone,’ she said in a loud and powerful voice which made Rema look at her again, for she seemed now a different person in many ways.

‘Refr Cantiri, come before me.’ She spoke to the fallen king and used his true name to break through the thin shell of shock which encompassed him in that moment.

The man obeyed without a word and stood with slumped shoulders and a face of pure misery before his ruler, the one he had sought to destroy by any means within his vast power...and failed.

‘You have ruled without authority Refr. You have brought this land almost to ruin. Many have fallen, many have lost all. You cannot expect to escape from under the mountain of trouble you have brought upon yourself.’

Her word were evenly offered, and each with a meaning well weighted and judged to prepare him for a deadly sentence. All knew that she was right. All knew that this man had ruled with a selfish indifference to those who most needed justice. He had allowed the sorcerer Zelfos to wield such power that none in Revelyn felt safe.