by John Marco
"So they just kept bombarding you," sighed Richius. "Amazing."
"For ten years," Marus echoed. He shut his eyes in remembrance of the bloody days. "It's over now, though. It's time for Nar to pay for what they've done."
"Tell me about Haran Island," said Richius. "What's that mean, Haran? Is that a Lissen word?"
"Sort of," said Marus. He pointed to the boat's figurehead, the remarkable, two-headed fish. "That's a haran."
"That? A fish?"
"Not just a fish," said Marus. "A haran. The word means divine one, or something like that. Lissens used to believe the harans were Gods, because they were so intelligent. There are still some of them, but only a few. All of them live in the waters around the queen's palace."
"They're incredible looking," remarked Richius. "Are they big?"
"Sometimes. No bigger than a man, usually."
"What?" Richius stepped back from the railing. "That big?"
"You'll see them when you get to the palace, Richius. The queen has some in her water garden. I'm sure she'll show them to you, if you ask."
"Tell me about your queen. What's she like?"
Marus beamed. "That's a treat I'll leave for you to imagine, my friend. Just trust me when I say that Queen Jelena is very special. You will be in awe of her, I know it."
Richius returned his gaze to the snowy horizon. "I have no doubt."
For nearly an hour the boat kept its slow pace through the canal, the oarsmen rowing with gentle ease. The waterway had narrowed some, branching off in places to link with other similar avenues, and all around them rose the weird structures of Liss. Overhead great bridges spanned, ancient constructs of sculpted stone, filled with folk going about their daily chores. They had left the ruins behind and were in the heart of Liss, where even the long-range guns of Naren dreadnoughts could not reach. The destruction had given way to marvelous architecture. Richius relaxed as they cruised leisurely along, astonished at the sights. The light snow fell in his hair and eyelashes, reminding him of Aramoor, and he thought of Dyana and Shani again, and how wonderful they too would find this place. Someday, he would bring them here and show them the marvels. When the world was at peace, there would be time for such pleasures.
Fleet Commander Prakna and Marus lingered in the back of the boat with the sailors, leaving Richius alone on the bow. Richius supposed it was their way of getting him acclimated to his new home, and he appreciated the privacy. Just days before, he had considered forming the Lissen army as something of a dream, but now he was here in Liss. What he had told Prakna in Falindar still haunted him--he wasn't really sure he was up to the task. But the people who waved to him from the bridges and balconies seemed to have no such doubts. Would they be disappointed?
At last the narrowness of the canal opened into a vast lake of crystal green water. Across the lake was a single island, detached from the others, without even a bridge connecting it. Green and gold sloops circled the island, and great hills rolled across it, studded with trees. At the center of the island was a simple structure of white limestone, a castle with three towers, the center spire taller than the others, and ringed with a river of sparkling water. Richius stood up and peered across the lake. The palace was lovely, perfect in its simplicity. Unlike the other buildings of Liss, this one seemed timeless, untouched by weather or war, gleaming in a thin sheen of snow. The river around it danced with sunlight and moved with life as flocks of gray waterfowl floated and flew across its surface. Beyond the river, near the central tower, was a gateway of cascading water, a giant waterfall that sprouted up from nowhere and fell against the rocks, feeding the river. Beneath the waterfall was a half-moon arch parting the cascade like a curtain and bidding visitors entrance. The arch was unimaginably tall, and the water that flanked it seemed to rise up as if by magic. Richius stared at it, amazed. He had already seen Nar with its stellar cathedral and foreboding Black Palace, and he had lived the last year in Falindar, a citadel whose beauty he had thought matchless. But the palace of Queen Jelena wasn't like any of these. It was effortless, a designer's inspired dream. If God had a home on earth, it would have been like this incomparable palace.
"I love this," said Richius softly. He wasn't quite out of earshot and didn't care who heard him. The palace had stirred something in him, something that made him yearn for his own home and steeled his conviction to fight against Nar. Prakna, hearing his statement, crossed the deck and stood beside him, sharing his admiration.
"That's Haran Island," said the commander. "Where the queen lives."
"It's magnificent," said Richius. "Truly. I'm not sure if I've ever seen anything so beautiful. How does the water rise like that?"
"Underground springs. The builders who made the palace wanted to make use of them, so they built the water gate." The fleet commander sighed. "Every time I see this place, I feel like weeping. To a Lissen, this island is what we fight for. It's the true heart of our homeland."
"Marus won't tell me about Queen Jelena," said Richius. "Will you?"
Prakna shook his head.
"I thought Liss had a king. What happened?"
"King Tyri died. I'll let the queen explain it to you."
"What does she want me for?" Richius pressed. "Do you know?"
"I think I do," replied Prakna, but didn't elaborate. He glanced up at the silver clouds and let the snowflakes speckle his beard. "She's an extraordinary woman. You should be honored."
"I am," said Richius. "I just want to know what to expect."
"Enough, Vantran, please. I'm sure Jelena has her reasons for wanting to meet you. Why should I guess at them when you'll find out soon enough? I've spoken to her guardians onboard. They will take you to her, alone. I am not even to be there when she greets you."
"What? Why not?"
"Because it is her will, that's why," said the commander. "Now, no more questions. Enjoy the moment. In the morning things will be different. We will set to work, you and I. But today is yours. This moment is yours. Today you are a hero, Richius Vantran."
The words were so final Richius couldn't reply. The royal boat drifted closer to the island. It took long minutes for the little vessel to reach its destination, and when it did the guardians of Queen Jelena who had piloted the boat took care of all the dock work. Neither Prakna nor Marus offered assistance. True to their high stations, they simply watched the others work, and when the vessel was secured to the dock Prakna gestured to Richius to disembark first.
"She wants to see you, not me," said the commander. "Go ahead."
Richius puzzled over his next move. "You're not coming at all?"
"I'll see the queen later," said Prakna. "For now, her business is with the Jackal of Nar. Don't worry. These men will take you to her." Prakna gave him an encouraging wink. "Go on, boy. She's waiting."
"I'll see you later, then," said Richius to his friends, and stepped off the rocking boat onto the snow-covered dock. The palace of the queen gleamed in front of him. He could hear the roar of the amazing waterfall, feel the spray of it on his face. Guardians like the ones that had ferried him here studded the grounds. Two of them came forward and bowed.
"King Vantran," said one of them. "My lady, Queen Jelena, begs an audience with you. She has already been told of your arrival and awaits you. Would you come with us, please?"
"Lead on," directed Richius.
It was a long walk to the palace, along an avenue of smooth cobblestones laid carefully in golden mortar. There were no children here, just the handful of young men guarding their queen. None of them appeared older than Richius, and so many youthful faces made him feel oddly ancient. When they reached the water gate, Richius paused to marvel at it, looking up at the great arch and letting the roar of water surround him. His guides made no attempt to rush him, allowing him time to ponder the fantastic gate. After a minute, though, Richius was satisfied, and crossed the threshold to enter the palace.
All at once the palace enveloped him in a near soundless chamber. The waterfall
outside was only feet away, but the thick walls of stone swallowed the noise. Inside, the simplicity of the exterior had been carried over into the interior design. The walls were bare but for beautiful tapestries that hung loosely from the mouths of gilded haran heads, the same compelling creature Richius had seen on the figurehead. He studied the tapestries, noticing strange depictions in the embroidery, pictures of heroic sailing ships and ancient, godlike fish-men rising from the sea. Naked mermaids played on some, while hateful, armored Narens strode on others, their black weapons reflecting their wild faces. All of Liss' bloody history appeared on the tapestries, and there were dozens of them in the chamber, draping across the plain white walls, a gallery of sad and astonishing portraits. Richius let out an amazed whistle, which promptly echoed through the vaulted ceiling.
"We're to take you to the water garden," said the guardian. "Queen Jelena will meet you there."
The water garden lay just outside the grand room of tapestries, at the end of a domed corridor that terminated in a pair of wrought-iron doors. The doors were flung open wide. Both guides stood aside for Richius to pass and shooed him through the portal. Richius stepped out of the palace and into a vast plain of falling water and gentle hills, encircled by a curved row of tall, white columns. Tiny streams and rivulets wound through the garden, and rose vines climbed up the columns, dormant from winter. Snowflakes fell onto the heads of statues--young, nude women with serene expressions or mischievous smiles. At the left of the garden was a sloping hill with a stairway of slate that disappeared into a thickness of bushes. But most remarkable of all was a giant glass enclosure rising up out of a lake, filled with green water that splashed out over its rim. Gigantic in circumference, the enclosure anchored the garden, drawing Richius inexorably toward it. Behind him, the royal guardians closed the iron doors, sealing him off, but Richius hardly noticed at all, so taken was he by the enclosure and its unusual contents. Haran.
Half a dozen of them stared back at him through the glass, their eyes full of sentience. Two heads each, like the heads of serpents, twisted on prehensile necks while their scaly bodies drifted through the water. Some were small, like trout. Others were as big as sharks. Like the palace they called home, the creatures were divine, even beautiful. Richius put his palm up to the glass and held it there. Seeing his gesture, a haran came up close and put a single mouth to his hand, as if to taste it though the glass. Its other head watched Richius, opening its mouth and blowing out a stream of bubbles. Awe-struck, Richius put his other hand to the glass for the second head, which like its twin now nudged at the barrier between them. Other haran gathered to watch, swishing their spiky tails, amused by the stranger in their midst. Richius laughed with delight. The creatures seemed to sense his joy and bobbed their heads, blowing rhythmic bubbles through their snouts. In pictures these things might have seemed demons, but to Richius they were godlike, just as Marus had claimed. He no longer wondered why the Lissens had worshipped them. As they laughed with him and slashed their fins, he knew why.
"Yes," called a voice from above. "They are special, aren't they?"
Startled, Richius removed his hands from the glass and stepped back from the enclosure. The haran all looked left. Richius followed their lead and gazed up to the top of the hill. There on the stairs stood a woman, a girl really, with long golden hair that fell to her knees and a shift of red and sea-green. Her shoulders were wrapped with silk, and the trailing skirt she wore over her long legs blanketed the ground behind her. Her eyes were emerald and fiery, and her teeth lit her face with a dazzling alabaster glow. She had red lips highly painted and soft cheeks gently rouged, and two hoops of gold dangled from her ears, clinking when she moved. On her feet were a pair of soft slippers that barely repelled the snow, but she stood as if impervious to cold, her hair wet with melted snow-flakes. Richius gazed up at her.
Sabrina, he whispered to himself. She looks like Sabrina.
"You're the Jackal of Nar," said the young woman. She began descending the stairs, hardly disturbing the snow.
"I'm Richius Vantran," said Richius. "Who are you?"
She waited until she had reached the bottom of the stairs before answering. "My name is Jelena," she said gently. "I am queen here."
"Queen? Oh, but that's impossible. You're so . . ."
"Young?" guessed the woman. She went and stood before him, flashing him a lovely smile. "Yes, I am young. I am also queen, Richius Vantran." She took his hand in hers, then, remarkably, dropped to her knees before him, lowering her gaze to the ground and soaking her skirt in the wet earth. "I am your servant, Richius Vantran. Liss is yours."
"No, don't," begged Richius. "Rise, please," He tried to urge her up but she would not come.
"Liss is yours," she repeated adamantly. "We have very little for you to take, but whatever you see, whatever you desire, is yours. This is our thanks for your coming to us."
"My lady, please rise. That is all I ask of you."
She did not rise but she did at last look up at him. "Richius Vantran, Jackal of Nar, you have come to help us. You must understand our gratitude. Do not shun what little we can offer you."
As gently as he could, Richius pulled his hand away. "Queen Jelena, Prakna is already giving me all that I could want. I am here for less than noble purposes. You must already know that."
"You're here for revenge," said the girl. "I know about you, Richius Vantran. You are not so different from us. That is why you've agreed to help us."
"You've heard fairy tales, my lady. Too many of them, I think." Richius stooped a little, took her hand again, and drew her to her feet. "You mustn't bow to me. You're a queen. And I'm not worth it."
She was so perfect, like her palace, and her hand was soft and flawless like her face. When he pulled her up she made a sad grimace.
"I'm not sure I can do the things Prakna's asked of me," Richius continued. "Maybe everything you've heard about me is wrong. I will try, though. I'll do my best. But you should know I do this thing for selfish reasons."
The young queen looked away, turning her attention to the aquarium. "And you should know that we've brought you here for selfish reasons, too. As I said, we're not so different from each other."
Richius studied her. She was waiting for something. Why, he wondered, had she brought him here? Very softly he padded closer and pretended to watch the miraculous fish, waiting for her to speak. When she did her voice was low, rife with sadness.
"I want to thank you for coming to us, Richius Vantran. I can make you no promises, but I tell you again what I told you before. Anything you want while you are here on my soil, I will grant you willingly." Her eyes shifted from the enclosure, and she realized suddenly that he was staring at her. She smiled. "What is it? Do you see something?"
"Forgive me," said Richius. "You remind me of someone, that's all."
"Someone special?"
Richius nodded. "Oh, yes. Tell me, Queen Jelena, why did you bring me here? I don't mean to sound rude, but is there anything I should know?"
Jelena's face reddened. "Am I that obvious? It is nothing, really. Call it curiosity."
"I would call it that if I thought that's all it was." Richius stepped a little closer and dared to touch her hand again. "Anything?"
His gesture made her tremble, and she looked for all the world like a little girl. "King Vantran, I needed to see you. I've waited for months to know what you were like. I couldn't wait any longer, not another day. They speak of you in high tones here. Prakna says you are a great leader. My mother and father called you a hero. I had to see you for myself."
"I don't understand," said Richius. "Your mother and father? Who are they?"
She laughed prettily. "You said I was young, didn't you? How long do you think I've been queen? My mother and father ruled here before me, King Vantran. They were the true King and Queen of Liss." She reached out and touched his face. "You were twenty-five years old when your father died. That's when you became king of Aramoor. I am seventeen. Barely
a woman. And I am lost and need your help."
Suddenly Richius grasped the sadness in the young queen's eyes. It was that same vacant look that he had seen reflected back at him from mirrors two years ago, when he had ascended the throne of Aramoor. Hardly more than a boy, he had been forced past manhood directly to kingship, and the shock had left him reeling. As it had, no doubt, this girl.
"Queen Jelena, I'm sorry for you," he offered. "Truly, I am. Your pain must be great."
"And my confusion," said Jelena. "King Vantran, I need to know what to do, and there is no one on Liss who can tell me. Just as there is no one here to lead an army for me. Prakna is a hero, but he is not king. The people look to me to lead. And I'm just a child." She grimaced. "As you so rightly observed."
"No," Richius corrected. "I was wrong to say that. Do you know what Prakna and the others call you, Queen Jelena? They call you extraordinary. They say you are remarkable. And they are right. Anyone who can step onto a throne at so young an age, even survive it, must be remarkable."
A blush colored Jelena's cheeks. "You are kind, King Vantran. But I'll need more than words, even pretty ones. I need guidance. When you make this army, when you work it into a thing you think will succeed, will you also come to me? I'm asking for a tutor, King Vantran. Can you do this, too?"
It was such a sad, misguided question, Richius couldn't help but smile. "Queen Jelena--"
"Just Jelena," she interrupted. "I don't want to be called queen by you."
"Nor I king. And I am not a king anymore, anyway. But my lady, I fear you've misjudged me. Maybe Prakna, too. Maybe all of Liss, even. I am just a man. And just a vengeful one at that. Maybe I have some knowledge of tactics Prakna doesn't. I hope so. But I swear to you, if you think I can teach you anything about governing, you are wrong." A great, grieving guilt dropped over him. "Aramoor isn't mine anymore, because I am the world's worst king. I lost my father's homeland because I can't govern." He scoffed at himself bitterly. "You want a tutor? You've chosen the wrong hero, my lady."