Free Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls by Chris Ward Page B

It was a vast and mysterious place of open woodland, huge trees and glades, hidden valleys and ridges which grew to become small mountains riddled with caves. Folklore had it that it was a dangerous place full of magic and strange creatures, and to be avoided at all cost. There were no roads though Wildwood forest and all travel north of Wildwood town which was very rare, meant a long circuit around to the west or the east. The Svern river cut through its centre, but in living memory no one had ever traveled the fifty leagues of the river which went through Wildwood forest. Every so often a dead animal or human was washed out of the forest and came to rest on the banks of the Vigarn. Wildwood township was sited on the junction of the two rivers, the eastward flowing Vigarn, mighty and rapid, and the southerly Svern, smaller and slower but more feared and completely unknown. The appearance of these dead, floating bloated and rotting in the cold water was always considered an evil omen in Wildwood. At times on a clear day, with not a cloud in the sky, thunder could be heard in the forest and the ground would tremble. This was a time for being inside with doors and shutters securely bolted, for who knew what might happen to any unlucky enough to be caught by the evil which roamed free in the wild woods. Sure enough you might turn up floating in the Svern, but most likely there would be no trace.
     
     It was rare for any but the bravest of Wildwood’s inhabitants to travel more than a few hundred paces into the forest in search of firewood or wild berries, except for Sylvion Greyfeld who had grown up with the forest as her own. No matter how her parents had tried to dissuade her, she had spent much of her free time in her youth roaming through the forest. She never traveled far, and always made sure she knew her way back home, but it never scared her. She loved the trees, so old and knowing, so durable and textured. Each tree was home to a thousand little creatures and none of them were afraid. The talk of magic did not scare her.
    And then one day when she was ten, she had met the Equin.
     
    The day dawned clear and Sylvion woke early, refreshed from a peaceful night’s sleep. She was eager with anticipation. To be home was wonderful despite the dark clouds of malevolence which had so suddenly appeared over her beloved town. She hummed merrily to herself as she washed with cool water from her large jug, the one she had used all her life. A highly polished metal plate was fixed to the wall behind the simple wash bench. Very few dwellings had such a Reflector, and this was a gift from Rema who had brought it all the way from the Mighty Mountains, the only place in all of Revelyn that the Depletium was mined. He could not have afforded it himself, but he had saved the life of a friend whose grateful father owned one of the only three mines in the Mountains. The hard metal could be worked with heat and skill for many purposes, arrow heads, blades and knives; and also as reflectors . It took a week of burnishing to produce the shine which allowed the flat metal sheet to throw back an almost perfect reflection, but the miracle of such a thing was highly prized. Whilst the superstitious thought it dangerous to see yourself as others did, it was a belief Sylvion knew was doomed to die.
     
    She washed her tangled hair and brushed it carefully, then tied it back with several delicate leather thongs. Her face now shone with the youthful health of the self assured. She descended the narrow wooden stairs to find her kindma already fussing about in the simple kitchen, organising a breakfast of cereal and fruit. This morning was special and there were several hard boiled eggs already cooling in readiness as a treat. Sylvion sensed that her mother was troubled, but not wanting to spoil a perfect morning did not inquire.
    They talked of happy things, but at one point her kindma spoke a little of her mind.
    ‘Dear when you get back there