by Jeff Inlo
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Yave said not a word to her son when he entered her chambers. Her stare bore holes through him. To those that accompanied the new king, she looked at him not as a son, but as more of a shadow. When he announced Bol's proclamation, her anger rose.
"So, the bastard has left," the queen sneered. "And now you think you can walk in here and cast me aside as if I don't count."
"I am not casting you aside."
Yave's face, now crimson with fury, swelled with distorted proportions. "You are as much responsible for Tun's death as was your father, as were those filthy algors! And now you profit from his death."
Like a spear thrown through the air, this barb drilled Jon to the core. Though not taking a step back, he slouched after flinching from the pain. "I didn't want Tun dead. I wish it were me instead."
"Will that bring him back?" Yave pressed.
"No," Jon replied meekly. "Nothing will bring him back."
Yave sneered. She folded stocky arms across her wide chest. She gathered in her anger, and in long silent moments, she sized up the situation before her. Bol was gone, Bol who refused to do what she asked. But would Jon refuse? Her eyes narrowed under her fairly thick eyebrows.
"So what do you intend to do now?"
Jon straightened as best he could. He spoke in low tones, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I will have the proclamation posted, but there will be no ceremony. Word will spread of the change. Hopefully, it will quell the angry calls that seem to have been growing."
"And how will you approach the other matters?" Yave questioned expectantly.
"What other matters?" Jon replied almost defensively.
"If you are to be king, you now dictate policy. What will you do about our dealings with the elves?!" Yave punctuated this with hostility. "Will you continue to have relations with them, even though it was the elves that made the request that brought your brother to Sanctum?"
"We need the elves," Jon stated with apprehension to his mother's response. He babbled on, hoping to quell the rising objections which were apparent in his mother's expression. "The elves provide us with wood for our fires and with food."
"We can get both ourselves," Yave declared defiantly.
"You would have me send dwarves to the surface?"
"It has been done before."
"Not for such constant needs. We are not prepared for such a monumental change, perhaps over time..."
Yave bit down on her lip. She wanted to press the issue, but instead, she pursued another topic which obviously consumed her with greater ferocity. "Will you at least demand their assistance when we deal with the algors?"
Jon blinked. He was not sure what the queen meant, not sure he wanted to know.
His dumbfounded demeanor irritated Yave. Her angry stare narrowed on a point between his eyes. Her voice was as cold as mountain snow. "You do intend to deal with the algors, don't you? You were at Sanctum. You saw your brother die at the hands of their creation. You can't just let this deed go unpunished."
"It was not the fault of the algors," Jon protested. "It was the sphere ..."
Yave would not let him continue. "It was the algors! They created the sand giants. They failed to control them! Did an algor die in the tier of the dwarves? No! But a dwarf, Tun, died in their tier. They are responsible for the death of a dwarf prince! You can not allow this to go unpunished. We must exact justice."
"There would be no justice in that."
"So you intend to do nothing about this?" Yave questioned in near disbelief.
"What can be done? Nothing will bring Tun back to us."
"But something can be done that will show them all that we still honor his memory!" Yave shouted. "It will show every race that the dwarves will not allow their own to be slaughtered and butchered!"
Jon shook his head in despair. "I can not give you what you ask. A war with the algors will accomplish nothing."
Again, Yave exploded. "And you think you can be king?! I will not allow this! If you don't do what is right, I will not support you. I won't step down."
"You don't have a choice," Jon said sadly. "None of us do."
Yave screamed with vehemence. "Give your orders, post your decrees! And then, see who follows them. You think you can just take over, do you think anyone will listen to you?"
Hern, who stood beside Jon, could take the harangue no longer. For the past many days, he had heard the whispers of revolt grow into near shouts. He held his tongue, waiting for Bol to quell the tide of rebellion, an action never taken. Now, with Bol gone and his friend facing the heavy duties of healing Dunop, he would remain silent no longer.
"Enough of this!" Hern demanded. "You are no longer the queen. And you speak to the king with words of treason. I will no longer permit this."
Yave threw a glance of utter poison toward the minister. "You dare..."
"No, you dare!" Hern cut her off angrily, defiantly. "And you dare too much. As I have said, you are no longer queen. Your service is to the new king. If you can not hold your emotions, then do as Bol. Leave Dunop. Leave now, before we face yet another embarrassment."
It took great determination, but Yave broke her glare from Hern and turned it with impatience towards Jon. "Is this what you want as well?"
Jon did not know what he wanted at this point, only that he did not want to be king. He could only shrug with a pained expression.
Yave would not accept the response. "I will give you one more chance. Will you restore honor to Tun's name? Will you attack the algors?"
"I can't do that."
"Then leave me. We have nothing left to talk about."
Jon simply nodded. He turned from Yave and beckoned Hern to follow.
Though the minister found the situation unresolved, the queen's intentions still unknown, he would not question the king. Hern turned and followed obediently.
As the two exited and turned up a long corridor, their departure was followed by Yave's angry shouts
"Tun should be taking the throne, not you! Tun should be king! Do you hear me?! Do you hear me?"
Her screams faded behind Jon as he nearly ran down the corridor and away from Yave.