by Jake Yaniak
The secret sons and daughters of Voltan rose to prominence in those days. Their half-claim to the Amlaman throne inspired secret ambitions in the hearts of the proud and bold. Plans were made by the powerful and the whole people moved in unison toward war, though no one so much as spoke the word. It was like a dam that is ready to burst, there is naught but a trickle of water here and the quiet creaking of wood there. No one suspects that in an instant the water might burst forth and splinter every brace and wash away the structure in a flash of foaming water.
Such was the state of affairs in the west, in the latter days of King Vulcan's reign.
The second cause of Amlaman's weakened position was the discontent among the people of Ramlos, where King Vulcan had ruled in his younger days. Though he had ruled them well in the past, it had now been many years since he had any direct dealings with them. Lord Kellin, one of King Vulcan's chief advisors and companions, had been put in charge of administering the government in all the lands north of the Temple Mountain. But the people were not content, and they looked rather to Lord Havoc for their protection. Lately they were much enamored of Prince Volthamir, who had brought fresh vigor to their struggle against the goblins of the Daunrys. They did not resent King Vulcan as much as the people in the frontiers did, but they were every day growing more pleased with the Prince's heroic leadership and less pleased by the King's disinterest. Were things to come to a point, they would certainly find that their sentiments belonged to the Prince.
The prudent in Japhrian were soon aware that the hearts of the northern realm were in the Prince's hands. The King could do little more than pull at his hair and curse his foolishness, 'If only I hadn't put my trust in that confounded Lord Havoc. It was his idea to give the boy the Cup of Trial. All this falls on his old head. And now my own homeland prefers the son of the old tyrant to their rightful lord and master!'
Now pressed by fear, King Vulcan summoned the Prince to Japhrian for a council. It was his intention to draw from the Prince some token of loyalty, by which he might know without doubt that he had nothing to fear from him. He would tell him all his plans for his succession and all the powers and privileges that would pass from him to the Prince upon his passing. He hoped that by promising the prince everything, he might hold on to it for just that much longer.
This is what brought Prince Volthamir to Japhrian palace on the evening of the fifteenth day of Leonius in his twenty eighth year. This was the last time he ever came to the palace at his uncle's by invitation.
Tour of Japhrian
King Vulcan was in a cheery mood when he saw his nephew arrive. Partly in hope and partly inebriated, the King rushed to his heir's side and led him in to the council hall of Japhrian.
'My son,' he said with a forced smile, 'it is truly good to see you. You have done much for Amlaman in the north. Yes, we have heard of your mighty deeds against the goblins of the Daunrys. Indeed, there are few now who do not know your name.'
The King spoke rapidly and nervously as they came to their places at the council table. Lord Vars was seated there among several other important men.
'Prince Volthamir!' Vars said softly, now seeming quite old to Volthamir's eyes. 'I am glad to see that you are well. I can remember well when you studied the arts of combat under my tuteledge. And look at you now! So strong and mighty. A god among the men of Amlaman you seem. I am honored to have instructed one so strong in the arts of war.'
Volthamir sat down gently and looked the old man in the eyes. The Prince's face showed no emotion as he said, 'What I learnt from you, Lord Havoc perfected. And what I learnt from Lord Havoc, you yourself have never learned.'
Lord Vars sat straight in his chair with a look of amazement. 'I see time has done nothing to dull your tongue,' he shrugged his shoulders and laughed. 'I suppose I shouldn't expect anything different from you. Where is the old knight anyway? I would have expected to see him at such a gathering.'
'Lord Havoc is in Heyan, keeping watch over the eastern plains. But I do not think he would have come, even if he were bidden.'
The King grew more and more nervous as the night wore on. They spoke about the war against Legion and the Prince's many successes. Lord Vars listened with envy to the Prince's account of the battle he and Lord Havoc fought on the field of Golbfein. He felt belittled and unappreciated, and not a little scorned. 'What would he be without the elements of war, which he learned from me,' Vars thought to himself as he listened to the prince's tales. 'Lord Havoc would have left Japhrian with a spoiled little girl if it were not for my hard training.'
After they had supped, King Vulcan led the prince on a tour, as it were, of Japhrian. He took him round to each section of the palace and showed him all of the curious things and explained to him the purpose of each section as though he had never been to the royal house before. He almost seemed like a man who was trying to sell an estate to a very wealthy person and wishes to ensure that they fully appreciate every detail.
He led him first from the dining hall into the throne room. Here he pointed out how wide each pillar was and how strong was the workmanship thereof. He showed him how every piece of wood and every stone had been cut and polished to perfection. The marble from the throne was as smooth as glass and it was edged with gold. The cushion, though well worn, was a deep purple, the sort of which is very rare in the northern part of the world.
He showed him the carpet and how it was meticulously maintained so that despite its daily trampling it looked no worse for it. He sat him down in his throne and stood at his side, gesturing toward the tall wooden doors that stood due east from the throne.
'When you are king, my son, all the people of Amlaman and Ramlos will come through those ancient doors to worship you. And you will sit where you sit now and rule over them in wisdom and strength. I do not doubt that you will reign long, for you are strong and wise, and the people of the north love you. But come, I will show you more.'
Vulcan now led him to the center of the throne room and showed him the northern and southern doors. 'To the north lies the dining hall, the finest in all Weldera. To the south are the bathhouses. Come, we have improved them much since you were a child.'
With that he swung open the doors to the southern wing of the palace. They walked through long halls tiled with a smooth white stone. They came at length to a large pool, built out of large white stones. The ceiling was very high in this room, with a window looking up to the stars. 'No finer bath will be found in this whole world I don't suppose,' the king said proudly. 'The water flows into the pool from a small stream that springs from the hills to the north. And there is a furnace below the pool that keeps the water as warm as you please.'
Volthamir seemed unmoved. Vulcan continued in a nervous voice, 'You will find, my son, that the one big difference between the great and the base are the quality of their bath houses. Go into the wilderness, and see what sort of bath houses they have there. Or travel to the Devil-woods on the other side of the Daunrys, you will find no clean baths there. Peasants, it is well known, will sometimes go their entire lives without bathing once, not in the proper sense of the word.'
Vulcan could see that he had not yet impressed the hardened prince. So he next took him to the bedchambers and showed him how many rooms there were and how many servants were kept in the palace. He showed him also where all the food was kept, and how they had so many pounds of sugar. 'More sugar than all the kings of old combined!' he boasted.
Finally he led Volthamir down into the dungeons of the palace. Past many guardrooms they came to the vault of Japhrian. 'My son, when you are king, the treasury of Amlaman will be placed into your stewardship. May the great god guide you in your judgments, even as he has guided me. This is the vault of Amlaman,' the king swung open the heavy iron door and stepped inside. Volthamir entered after him with a look of frustration on his face. There he saw mounds of precious things, carefully stacked one on top of another. There were more chests than he could count, all carefully organized and stacked
along the wall. There were ancient heirlooms and finely crafted golden weapons. 'Better for show than for combat,' the king laughed. Only a fool would fight with so fragile a blade.'
All along the walls were hung golden shields and crimson tapestries of exceedingly fine workmanship. 'All of this, I tell you, will be yours someday,' King Vulcan said. He looked into Volthamir's eyes and studied the young man. 'You are the pride of all Amlaman, my son.'
Volthamir was silent. There was an empty look in his eyes as one who is bored or whose thoughts are far away.
'What is it, my son?' Vulcan said in a weak voice, desperately wishing for some response. 'I have shown you all that I have. And further I have promised you that it will all pass to you. It will be yours and your sons after you. It will be as it ought to have been.' The king cupped his hand over his mouth as he said this last thing. The prince stirred finally and then shook his head.
'I do not want any of this,' he said in a toneless voice. He turned his back to the vault and started back toward the stairs. Vulcan rushed after him, now the effects of his fear took complete hold of him.
'What is it that you desire? Name it my son. Simply name it and it shall be thine. On my word as king, you shall have it. Whatever it may be that you desire.'
Volthamir ascended the stairs and disappeared from the halls of Japhrian.
Missed
Princess Leonara burst from her bed chamber, flinging the heavy doors aside with all her might. Her maid followed after her frantically. 'My lady!' the confounded girl shrieked, 'you must calm yourself.'
Leonara slammed the door behind her and bolted it shut. Her maid called and pounded in vain. The guards watched her closely as she rushed down the hall toward her mother's chamber. Her face was flushed red with anger and every muscle in her body was tensed. She came to her mother's door and pounded loudly on it with both fists. The guards rolled their eyes in her direction, but they did not stop her. They had learned not to come between the Queen and her daughter when they were at odds. Leonara pounded again and again until finally her mother came to the door and pulled her quickly inside.
'Do not make a spectacle, you brutish girl!' Queen Marel said in a hissed whisper. 'You will make us both the laughing stock of the palace.'
'We are that already, dear mother,' Leonara said with venom in her voice. 'I don't doubt but that every pauper in the southern kingdom knows how terrible we are.'
'Is that what you came to my door in such a rage for? To taunt your sad mother further?'
'You didn't tell me he was here!' Leonara screamed at her mother with a seemingly unquenchable anger.
'Tell you who was here? The prince? My dear daughter, since when does the queen report to the princess? Your father called the prince here for his own ends, not so you could dote upon him like he were a suitor. Now be gone with you, and do not trouble me any further with your whimsical complaints!'
With that the Queen grabbed Leonara's arm and pushed her away. Leonara fell to her feet and begged her, 'Mother!' she cried, 'I only wish to see him, to hear my brother's voice. Why but for cruelty would you not tell me that he had come? And now, look below. The dining hall is empty and dark; the floors are scrubbed and dried and the servants have gone to bed. Where is the prince? He has left the palace already. All I wish is to see him. He is the only person that is never cross with me. I have no companionship in my parents, the one who serves a Temple he hates and the other who mocks the Temple she loves.'
With those words the Queen rose to her full height and slapped her daughter across the face with the back of her ringed hand. Leonara fell to the ground holding her cheek with her hand. She lay there for a moment rubbing her sore cheek, but as she regained herself her heart was filled with rage. She stood up with the swiftness of a bolt of thunder and walked quickly toward her mother.
Queen Marel froze at the sight of her. For the first time she now realized that her daughter was quite grown, now her equal in stature. But Leonara did not assault her mother, though the guards who had hitherto remained aloof had now closed in behind her. Instead she fell once more to her mother's feet and wept, taking hold of the bottom of her dress.
The Queen looked down on her with disdain and brushed her away from the bottom of her dress. 'Be gone from me, daughter. You have no sense; and I do not have the time nor the strength to correct you.'
Sudden Resolve
It was about midnight when Volthamir departed from the palace. It was a cool night; the spring hadn't quite conquered the cold of winter as of yet. There was a gentle wind in the air that swept Volthamir's long dark hair into his face as he mounted his horse. He left the stable and followed the road along the outer wall of the palace. This brought him at last to the eastern side of Japhrian.
High in the sky the Storm Moon rose above Amlaman, shining a pale light on all its inhabitants. Volthamir's mind wandered into the past. He was passing below his father's old bedchamber. It had now been over twenty years since the dread night on which his father was slain. It was a different moon that reigned that day. It was the Harvest Moon that lorded it over the night every fifteenth day of Messest.
He paused for a moment beneath his old window and listened closely. For some reason he half expected to hear the sound of his own childish whimpers, or perhaps the stupid chuckle of fat King Voltan, his father. Maybe he expected to hear the screams of his rightly jealous mother as she hurled fine porcelain at her husband as was her custom in those days.
But none of those seemingly ancient sounds came down to his ears. He shook his head, and returning to the present he prepared to leave. But just as he started the wind died down and a soft and gentle voice could be heard from the balcony above him. He stood still for a while and listened to the strange words.
Through deepest night and shadow black,
Through gale and storm and thunder crack,
Through hidden vale and den and dale,
I sought you on your secret trail,
Though hidden from my searching sight.
Though you carry neither lamp nor light,
Though years go by and ages pass,
I seek you through my looking glass,
When all life ends and turns to dust,
When mountains fall and castles rust,
When Sun and Moon their orbits shed
I will seek you out among the dead.
The song was beautiful, but the words chilled his heart. As he watched now he could see the singer, seated on a stool looking out over the balcony.
Much to his surprise, it was Princess Leonara, in a white gown with her long golden hair waving about in the gentle midnight breeze. The Storm Moon illuminated her, making her appear to Volthamir like a radiant goddess. 'A Moon Goddess,' he whispered to himself.
He stood motionless for just a moment, but despite his outward stance his mind rushed through a thousand thoughts in that brief instant. Suddenly, as though he fled from some dread terror or danger, he reared his horse about and rushed back to the palace. He had fully made up his mind.
Madness
It was well past midnight when King Vulcan and his wife finally spoke. The Queen had a great deal of anger still burning within her bosom as she complained. She was angry about her daughter's impulsive intrusion on her chambers. She was angry about Leonara's tone of voice, her lack of respect; her disdain of custom and her lack of honor.
All these things enraged the king, and he set himself about considering his duties. He could not allow the Queen of Amlaman to be thus dishonored. Nor could he allow his only daughter to grow up undisciplined (It had not occurred to him that she was in fact already grown up and undisciplined). He retired to his own bed chambers and drank deeply from a half filled vial of liquor. Suddenly he felt himself calm down. His frustration left him and he thought about what he needed to do with what seemed to him to be a clear mind.
In a moment of resolve, he rose and stormed out of his chamber, rushed over to Leonara's room and pounded on the door. 'It is time for
things to be made right in Japhrian,' he said to himself.
But from within he could hear what seemed to him to be the sounds of war.
Leonara and her mother were in the midst of an argument such as Vulcan had never imagined could take place save for within the fiery pit of Abban-Don. There was the sound of breaking glass, screams and cries, blasphemes and curses, all strung together like so many pearls on a necklace.
He opened the door and marched in, holding his hand in the air, signifying that the king was about to speak. His servants dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, but the Princess and the Queen ignored him. In a drunken rage, he shook his head and leaped into the fray with his own shouts, curses and petty insults.
Now in the midst of the conflict, the King quickly remembered that it was his wife whom he feared most out of the two women. He left off being their drunken arbiter and became the drunken advocate of his wife.
Leonara, now trapped between the anger of her father and the indignant and pitiless sneers of her mother unleashed her most vicious insults against them, saying things which a peasant might be sentenced to death for saying.
But before aught else could transpire, a servant called to them from the doorway, 'Prince Volthamir has returned, my lord. He demands the presence of the King and Queen.' There was a look of absolute shock on the servant's pale face as he beheld the scene before him. 'He asks also for the Princess to be present.'
King Vulcan was sober in an instant.
Desire
Arm in arm, as though they were newlywed, King Vulcan thos Amlaman and Queen Marel thasa Amlaman descended the stairs and entered the main hall of Japhrian palace. Leonara followed quickly behind them. By the time the three entered the main hall it seemed as though they were a perfectly harmonious family. The house of Vulcan had, by this time, mastered the art of pretense, and the Princess smiled at her parents and looked them in the eyes as though none of the things that had just occurred had affected her in the least. As much as she hated them, it was apparent that she had learned well from them. Knowing this she hated herself with all the more violence.