by Jake Yaniak
The Fall of Vulcan
On the fourth day of Messest, Vulcan thos Amlaman was found dead in his chambers. In his back there was found a small knife with an ivory handle. One stroke it took to slay him. Not a sound was heard that night, and no clue could be discovered as to the identity of his attacker. Many whispers could be heard in the dark corners of Japhrian. The queen raged and stormed about, cursing the name of 'that ungrateful and pitiless brute'. Indeed, though it was widely believed that Volthamir had been slain in the Daunrys, the circumstances surrounding King Vulcan's death were such that men began openly to doubt the official account of the Prince's departure. By the end of three days the people were fully persuaded that Volthamir had in fact returned to Japhrian to slay the king even as the king had aforetime killed his own predecessor. 'Just', some said. 'Bloodlust,' said others. But all such concerns were stilled when Volthamir at last appeared in the City of Amla.
He rode his horse boldly into the center of town and stood upon a great platform before a multitude of men and women. He spoke without any shadow of doubt on his lips:
'Men of Amlaman, too long have you maintained this delusion, that the right of kings was in blood and ancestry. Nor ought you seek the king in the counsels of the gods, who speak not to man but in fits and dreams. For what else, oh men of Amlaman is a right, but power? Who has the right to do, but not the power to? It cannot be so. The right of men to rule the people belongs to him who has the power to rule them and to no other. Let the old king lay where he was killed. Yes, oh men and women of Amlaman, it was I that killed him. Not for revenge, though, my people, for revenge serves no purpose. But the old king lays dead that you may know that the power of kings is not in their own hands but in the hands of the people they are to protect. It is from this gathering, this city, this kingdom that the king derives his might and authority.'
At this there was a roar of cheers and many voices of agreement. There was a power in his voice that had not before revealed itself. 'He spoke as though he were one of the gods,' it was later said of that speech.
'I give it into your hands to judge, men of Amlaman, who holds it in his power to rule over this great multitude,' Volthamir cried out to the crowd.
'We will have Volthamir!' some shouted. Other voices joined in, 'Volthamir! the Protector of Ramlos and Amlaman. Volthamir Goblin-slayer! Volthamir!' The efforts of Lord Havoc to both slander the memory of Lord Vulcan and inflate the popularity of his nephew had been effective. The people listened to every word with wonder and agreed with every thought of their prince as though it had been their own thought already. The result of this speech and of many other councils and debates was that Volthamir was given the double crown of his uncle and renamed Aganthos thos Amlaman thos Ramlos. The people were hopeful, believing all the betrayals of Vulcan to have come to their end.
New Devotion
The most surprising policy of Volthamir's government was the increased funding and support for the priests of Agonistes. Though he had not so much as set foot upon Mount Daufina since he was compelled to drink the Cup of Trial, he set about the reordering of the worship and the restoration of the temple according to 'more ancient rituals'. He produced from the treasury of Japhrian, he claimed, the most ancient manuscript that had as yet been discovered, detailing the rites and disciplines of the ancient god of Amlaman.
He summoned the priests of Agonistes to Japhrian and accused them with laziness in fulfilling their oaths. 'How many years has it been since the fires on Sten-Agoni were rekindled?' he demanded of them.
'It has been over fifteen years,' Achil said.
'And what has been done in all this time regarding the oath of the people of Amlaman?' To this the old priest had nothing to reply. 'You, Achil, are no High Priest of Agonistes, the great god of Amlaman. In this hour I strip you of your station and put another in your place.'
Achil was sent away from Japhrian a beggar, and Farnaiso, whose family claimed to be descended from the noblest line of priests was set up in his place. 'The fires of the altar must rise higher, Farnaiso, son of the holy men of old. They must burn brighter, cracking the bones of the victims with their heat. The voice of the god must echo down the mountain and into every open window, that all the land of Ramlos and Amlaman will hear and obey the lord to whom they swore their allegiance.'
'It will be as you have commanded,' Farnaiso said confidently.
As the old priest was led away from Japhrian and locked outside the western walls, there arose a great deal of confusion among the spirits of that city. Zefru was summoned and in turn the news came to Gheshtik, lord of the spirits of Amlaman.
'Long did we labor among the priests of the temple to turn the heart of Achil away from the old rites,' Gheshtik grumbled. 'Long did we labor to instill compassion in his heart, and peacefulness. Who is this young king that he so rashly undermines our works?'
Zefru shook his head with frustration, 'I know not, my lord, for the Prince for all these years came only the the temple under compulsion. By all accounts his hatred for Agonistes and his religion was as deep as our own. Why then should he suddenly find the purity of the clerics of such importance?'
'Indeed, Zefru,' Gheshtik said thoughtfully. 'The Prince hated the temple with great passion. The King, however, does not.' Gheshtik paused for a moment, deep in thought. 'By no means can we allow the king to come to the temple. Set a watch. By whatever means we have in our hands we must not suffer the king to enter the Temple of the dark god!'
It was Volthamir's intention, however, to travel to the temple on the morrow. To ensure that his will was carried out in the reformation of the religious rites of Sten-Agoni and also, to claim for himself the woman his uncle had promised him in exchange for the head of Legion; Leonara thasa Amlaman.
The Goddess of Desset
Queen Marel had in her possession a very peculiar mirror. The origin of this mirror was always a mystery in Amlaman. There are some who hold it to be the work of the dwarves who, in ancient times, dwelt in the mountains of Desset, far to the northwest of Japhrian. Others blame its existence on the elves. Some believed it to be an heirloom from the land of the dragons, which lies beyond the ocean to the North. But whatever its origin, somehow or other it had made its way into the treasures and trophies of Japhrian. There it remained hidden for many ages until the time of Lady Marel's marriage to Lord Vulcan.
When it became clear to her that the laws of Amlaman would not permit her daughter to sit on the throne, and when it further became clear that King Vulcan had no intention of doing away with his nephew and heir, she fell into a great fury. In this time of great distress she stole away to the treasury of Japhrian. So fierce was her demeanor that even the guards stepped aside and let her pass, though they had been instructed only to make way for one bearing the seal of the king. Therein she found the Mirror of Evna, as it was called. It was said that some Faerie of the Northern world had been locked therein by the dwarves of Western Weldera. For this reason it was called the Goddess of Desset. The mirror seemed to calm her and she soon returned to her husband's side, an outcome that, in Vulcan's mind, more than justified her acquisition of the Kingdom's treasure. It is my own contention, however, that this moment marks the beginning of Queen Marel's miseries and, as we shall see from its effects, many of the miseries of her husband and her daughter. What power this mirror possessed, or by what power this mirror was possessed, to speak more accurately, we shall see in due time.
In the days following Volthamir's ascension, those servants who were most loyal to King Vulcan were locked away in their chambers awaiting whatever fate their new master saw fit for them. Those were days of fear and confusion, and the hero of Ramlos was given many indulgences. His orders were accepted without challenge, for none had the courage to question him and none had the strength, alone, to refuse him.
Even those that remained loyal to his rebel half-brothers in the west were quieted. For they had no longer the strength to resist him, nor had they any greater claim upon the thro
ne than he.
Queen Marel was permitted to live for a little while longer. For the murder of a woman, Volthamir knew, would turn their hearts away from their new lord. Accordingly Lady Marel was allowed to travel about the palace freely, though she was always shadowed by a 'guard' of three strong men. She knew that it was only a matter of time before her own death would come. It was to her daughter that her thoughts turned. It came into her mind one night, almost as if it were a divine inspiration (as she in fact believed it was), to travel at once to the Nunnery of Agonistes wherein Leonara was yet exiled and deliver to her the strange mirror that had for so long affected her own mind.
In haste she prepared the mirror for travel, wrapping it in a bundle of white cloth bound with a string of red silk. She ordered a carriage and a team of swift horses to be brought to the gate of Japhrian at once, 'For I must hasten to the temple and pray to my god one last time.'
Her guardians did not restrain her, an act which would ultimately cost them dearly, figuring that her one last wish ought at least to be granted her.
The coming of the Queen to Sten-Agoni was swift and unannounced. There were several wealthy 'worshippers' in the Nunnery when she arrived, noblemen who hid their faces like children when they saw their Queen approaching. To these she payed little heed. She pushed past the guards in the same way she done so many years before when she took her prize from the treasury. She hurried to the tower wherein her daughter had, for the past three years been exiled from the Palace of Japhrian. She pounded on the door with such urgency that her daughter was at first afraid to let her into her room. If she had any idea just what her mother had brought to her she would have pushed a table in front of the door and cast herself from the window to perish on the stone walkway below. The door opened and the queen burst through, pushing Leonara to the ground by the force of her entrance. The princess was quite certain that some madness had overtaken her mother. She backed away from her on her hands and feet, pushing her back against the wall. 'Mother,' Leonara said terrified, 'What is the meaning of this?'
The Queen said nothing but handed her the bundle with shaking hands. The moment it passed out of her grasp she seemed to shrivel up and grow frail. Her skin was suddenly pale and it seemed as though a gust of wind would have blown her away like a pile of loose dust in a hurricane. She fell to her knees and wept, 'Your father is slain, and soon I shall be too. Go now, and cast yourself from the window. To die would be better than to wed that monster; that murderer Volthamir.'
'What has happened mother!?' she demanded. But the queen was not able to think nor answer. She turned her head as if she heard a sound and then rushed from the room with a shriek. She darted away into the northern woods and vanished from the knowledge of the men of Amlaman, though her fate is known among other peoples. With great hesitation Leonara unbound the bundle which her mother had thrust before her. When at last the silk ribbon was untied and the cloth set aside she held up to the light of the window a small hand mirror. The mirror was round; the handle and frame were made of some strong but beautiful metal. It had the weight of cast-iron but the look of ivory painted deep blue. The frame had many blue flowers carved upon it in relief, each set with a gemstone of green or yellow. The handle was shaped like a great bird of prey, the beak of which was plated with pure silver. The face of the mirror itself was brilliant and unmarred for all its years of use. It was not glass, but rather some kind of gemstone, polished to such perfection that it reflected the light as brilliantly and clearly as the smoothest mountain lake. It looked almost as if it were a window to another world, and not a mere regurgitation of the onlooker's surroundings. Above the mirror's face there were words carved in strange characters the like of which she had never seen. The words entered into her mind, though, and spoke in a kindly feminine voice, 'Thou art Perfect. Thou art the sun and all else is in thy shadow.'
The moment she looked into the face of that mirror her whole mind was changed and all the torments and trials of her youth seemed to vanish from her mind. The world grew colorless and bleak, full of darkness and shadow. Even the other people who lived and traveled in that mountain seemed cold and lifeless to her. Only in the mirror could she now see any sign of vigor and life; and only in her own reflection could she find any color. It was almost as though all the beauty, life and color of the waking world was captured for her in that mirror, which then reflected that life and strength richer and deeper. But all of this was focused and trapped in her own reflection alone.
She looked upon the virgins with contempt as before, but now she was untroubled and unfeeling. A cruel smirk came upon her face whenever some ill-fortune would come upon them. Or when the follies of one of the foolish rich men who frequented the nunnery was uncovered, she would laugh a cruel and inhuman laugh. No pity was in her heart from that hour and all her words were full of malice. 'Blackhearted art ye,' she would say to the others. The girls would laugh and taunt her as before, but no reaction could they elicit from her. 'Like a ghost she has become,' they said, alarmed. 'She is like a soulless one.'
But soon they began to fear her, for in her voice they could discern a terrible power, which they were not able to understand nor gainsay.
Gheshtik
Five days later fate would descend upon Sten-Agoni, and the first footsteps of her future would fall upon that strange mountain. Volthamir had discovered the hiding place of his beloved, and he hastened to the mountain to make her his bride at last. He stormed up the mountain along those ancient paths that his uncle had restored to the place where the temple of Agonistes stood. But when he approached the Nunnery he found a creature the like of which he had never imagined standing in his path. It was Gheshtik, revealed before his waking eyes.
'Halt thou mortal king,' Gheshtik demanded. Ghoras came to a halt, his mighty body seemed to quiver with fear at the words of the god. Volthamir dismounted and sent Ghoras away from the devil, patting him lightly on the back. The voice of Arus came to his mind and told him to, 'Walk on, King of Amlaman.' He walked toward the spirit without fear, as though he saw nothing. As he drew closer the spirit drew his mighty broadsword and held it up to the king's face. Volthamir sighed.
'I had hoped to find a better welcome here,' Volthamir said, though his voice was altered, for it was Arus whose will was thus expressed. 'Long and hard have you labored, Lord Gheshtik, long have you conspired to prevent my return. But it has all come to naught.'
'I see now, 'Lord of Crows,' Gheshtik laughed, 'that you are that old devil, Agonistes, come to bathe the world in blood anew. But we need you not, Lord of Darkness. No longer can you command the spirits of Weldera. I have grown mighty in your absence, if you have not noticed, while your own soul has withered and waned. Lord of Crows, indeed!'
Agonistes now spoke through Volthamir, this time without pretense, 'I see that you remember your old lord well. This at least I would have expected. But that you would deign to obtrude my coming reveals that you have diminished in wisdom in proportion to your growth in might.' With that Volthamir drew his own blade. Gheshtik lifted his invisible blade above his head and let it fall upon the king. There was a great clash when the swords struck one another and lightning flashed out from their collision. This seemed to take Gheshtik by surprise. 'This blade,' Volthamir said in Agonistes voice, 'was made for such fiends as you. In it lies the might of Legion and many other devils whom you know not, nor have any power to withstand.' Gheshtik thundered and the sky itself darkened and rain poured down upon the earth. The whole world seemed, in that moment to be locked in conflict. He burst forth with great strength and swung his blade at Volthamir. The blade cut a deep gash in Volthamir's arm, but the king's bracers prevented the blade from inflicting any permanent injury. Volthamir laughed and clenched his teeth. He unleashed a fury of blows that sent Gheshtik stumbling backward into the woods. Under the shadow of the trees their duel continued. Branches fell like rain to the ground as the two mighty swordsmen cut and slashed at one another. 'Your mortal flesh must grow weary,' Gheshtik
said with a laugh as they continued their battle. Will you not give it up? I would be happy to have such a soul in my service, if only you will swear allegiance to me. It is better than death, is it not?'
The voice of Agonistes laughed, 'Think not that in slaying this man you will have slain me, for you will only have released my full power from this host.'
They fought on, Gheshtik's blows growing stronger and swifter until gusts of strong wind were sent out from the woods to startle and confound those who stood upon the mountain. But for all the god's raging, he could not prevail against his old master. Volthamir with a swift motion cut the sword from Gheshtik's hand and thrust his blade into the heart of the dark god. Gheshtik let out a thunderous howl that was heard, it was said, as far away as Dadron, where it was taken as an ill omen and a troubling sign. The dark god fell to his knees. 'Come now, my old friend,' Agonistes said with a grin and a laugh, 'Will you not serve me, even as you did before?'
But Gheshtik refused, saying, 'Whatever hell you have in store for me would be better than to live another second groveling under your feet. It was you and your cursed brother who of old brought this damnation upon us, and your lies that led us all to this end.'
His words were ended, however, when a ghostly blade was thrust through his back. 'Zefru,' he said weakly, 'You are a coward.'
Zefru appeared from behind him and pushed his wounded body to the ground with a thud. 'My lord,' he said to Agonistes, laying his face in the earth.
Volthamir said nothing. He sheathed his sword and took the wounded god by the throat and cast him into the depths of the earth, where not even the hardy delvers can descend. There only the Gaians, those poisonous wisps, and the spirits of the damned can be found. Never again, I imagine, will that fell god Gheshtik enter into any of the tales of men or elves.
'You are wiser than your old master,' Agonistes laughed.
Zefru lifted his face and answered, 'You only are my master, Agonistes, god of all Weldera.'