by Jake Yaniak
The ancient ceremony had a more dreadful reputation. There were tales of gruesome deaths and horrible scenes of punishment resulting from the ceremony. In some accounts as many as a thousand men were judged and killed in one night by the Fateful Wine. But in the years following the revival of the old religion there had not been a single death. For this reason, most of those that had been brought to the temple that day showed little fear of the ceremony. They were mostly annoyed at being put on display, and publicly shamed. But most of these were comforted by the prospect of drinking the cup and, 'like the others', being forever vindicated by the god's judgment.
After darkness had lain on the mountain for nigh an hour an escort arrived from the Temple. Thirty young men, each dressed in bright white robes came carrying lamps in front of them, each having a short sword fastened to their belts. They parted into two lines of fifteen and held their torches aloft while Volthamir and the others passed between them. When the last of them left the nunnery the young men began to walk, their lights leading the way to the Temple.
The people were singing a slow hymn to the fierce god when they entered the temple through a side door near the altar and made their way to the front of the building. When the last of them had taken their place the hymn stopped abruptly and the priest walked up and addressed the god.
'Great god of fire and of darkness,' he cried out, 'judge us! Let your judgment fall into this cup and set us mortals aright. For knowledge fails us and we have need of your wisdom. Choose you, therefore, which of these is innocent of their crimes and which of these must die. Furthermore, we call upon you to judge the heart of the prince of Amlaman. By this cup shall we know that which only the god has hitherto known.'
After saying this and many other things the priest took a large chalice from a table in the center of the altar and filled it with wine from a jar that he carried with him.
One by one he gave the cup to the people who had assembled there. First to an older man named Regens, who drank it reluctantly, then to a plump young woman named Oanasa who seemed to have little fear of it, and finally after all the others he passed the cup to Volthamir. Volthamir's eyes darted across the room to meet the eyes of his uncle. And the young man's anger froze the heart of the older man. 'I have made him look like a fool,' the king thought to himself with great regret.
Volthamir took the chalice from the priest's hands and drunk deep of the wine of Agonistes. He raised the bottom and let the wine slide down his throat; when he finished he cast the golden chalice aside as if it were nothing. The priest stepped back in fear for a moment and then, scampering after the precious object, returned it to the center of the Altar. He raised his hands and began to speak, but he was cut short before he could get a single word to pass from his lips. There was a great cry and gasp from the crowd as old Regens fell to the floor like a cut tree. His mouth frothed and he clutched the cold stones in his hands as he died. The young woman Oanasa stepped back, holding her heart in her hand, staring in shock. In a moment the fit came upon her as well and she lay beside the other man in a pool of her own spit and vomit. Terror struck the others and they moved about in fear and desperation. One after another they fell on the stone and bashed their heads against the floor. Through the whole scene, Volthamir just stood resolute, bracing against death with his eyes fixed on his uncle's. Vulcan looked away and turned his back to the stage. But Volthamir did not die.
When he had regained his courage the king once more looked up at the Altar. But Volthamir was gone. At some point in the midst of all the chaos, Volthamir slipped away from the altar and left the temple.
'Curse the devil!' Volthamir shouted as he stormed away from the temple. He shoved his guards away from him and wandered into the wilds alone in the darkness.
Vulcan confined himself to his bed-chambers the moment he returned from the temple. He locked his door and refused to allow even his wife to enter. When most of the night was spent, Lord Havoc appeared in the palace and made his way past the guards. They were used to his boldness and made no effort to stop him. With a mighty push, he broke the lock on the chamber door and walked into the room. Vulcan was there, still dressed in the same robes he had worn to the ceremony. His face was covered with sweat and tears. 'There is no way to keep you out I suppose,' he laughed madly. 'Try as I might, you have become like my shadow. Every which way I go you darken my steps, and your council is perilous.'
Lord Havoc bowed low and walked slowly toward him.
'Stay back!' Vulcan shouted as he raised his sword. 'It was your counsel that caused all this humiliation. Were it not for you, I would never have put him through all of that. It was your idea! It is your fault. Everything is your doing!' He was weeping as he spoke, but his eyes were full of wrath.
Lord Havoc stepped quickly toward him and smacked the broad side of his sword with the back of his fist. The sword was forced from his hand and went flying against the wall. Vulcan's tears stopped in an instant and he seemed to regain his composure.
'There is no perfect counsel, my king,' Lord Havoc said. 'And whatever counsel I give, it is still the right and duty of the king to decide his own course. For good or ill, you cannot blame others. Let the peasants, who are in every way ruled by chance and happenstance, blame others for their misfortunes. But you, King Vulcan thos Amlaman thos Ramlos, are meant to be above such whimpering.'
'You are right,' Vulcan said with a slight bow, 'Forgive me, Lord Havoc, you have long been my friend and helper. Without you, I would have nothing of which I have today. I owe you more than this. I should do you honor, rather than complain against your counsel.'
'Yet my trouble still remains,' Vulcan continued, 'I have now multiplied my sins against this boy. I am beginning to fear for my life and safety. He is no longer a child, and I cannot long hope to hold the mastery of arms. What can I do? Shall I lock myself away in my secret chambers in the same sorry fashion as my cousin?'
'I do not think that you should do that, my lord,' Havoc answered calmly.
'What shall I do then? Keep a guard at all times between me and my heir? I am at a loss. I feel so ashamed that I can barely look at the boy.'
'Perhaps,' Lord Havoc said thoughtfully, 'it would be best if the boy left the castle for a while. For a long while, I mean. I can take him to your old castle in Ramlos and set him to work against the goblins of the Daunrys.'
'Very well,' Vulcan quickly agreed. 'But promise me one thing, Lord Havoc.' King Vulcan looked him in the eye as he spoke.
'Anything, my lord,' Lord Havoc answered.
'Instruct him in all the ways of a ruler. Teach him the things you taught me. Teach him about Justice, Honor and Compassion. These are three things that no ruler can do well without.'
'I will do as you have asked,' Lord Havoc answered. 'I will teach him truly about each and every one of those great virtues.'
The Departure of Volthamir
On the first day of Primus, under a gray and ominous sky, Lord Havoc and young Volthamir left the palace of Amlaman. Volthamir said his goodbyes with haste; King Vulcan's eyes were elusive, but he gave his nephew a few empty words of encouragement.
Before he turned toward the door he looked once more upon his old home. In that moment he was flooded with memories. He remembered countless dark nights in which he lay cursing his uncle, cursing his father and his mother, cursing the stars in the sky. But he suddenly remembered his mother's voice and a few happy moments from his early childhood. He felt his heart grow heavy and he would have wept, but in that instant the words of Lord Havoc returned to him: 'Do not cry, save your tears! They are like a fine wine, bottle them up and hold them safe from the world for the day of your revenge.'
His old demeanor soon returned and his sorrow left him. He laughed. It was all he could do to keep himself from spitting on the floor and cursing them all aloud. But even as he chuckled he heard a sound coming from the top of the stairs.
He looked up and there he saw Leonara weeping in her nurse's arms. The nurse was unable t
o stop her or comfort her. From the bottom of the stairs Volthamir could hear her say, 'But now I will be all alone!'
Volthamir turned and slowly ascended the steps to meet her. She rushed down the steps to him and hugged him tight. 'Don't go away,' she demanded.
'I must go away,' he told the girl, 'For who else will keep back these dreadful goblins and make the princess of Amlaman safe?'
'There is Lord Vars and Lord Kellin and even the scary one, Lord Havoc. They can kill the goblins, but they cannot be my brother.'
'Ah, but I am too old to be your brother,' Volthamir said.
'No you aren't!' she protested.
'And Vars and Kellin are too old to kill goblins!' Volthamir said with a smile. He pointed at the two gray haired men at the bottom of the stairs with his uncle. Leonara laughed. 'That is why I must go with Lord Havoc,' he continued soberly, 'He is going to help me kill goblins so that I can keep you and your mother, and these very, very old men safe and sound.'
She laughed again and hugged him tight. 'You will come back and visit us, right?'
Volthamir's eyes looked away and he said, 'Of course, we shall see a great deal of one another.'
'Why must you leave so soon, though?' she said, her eyes making one final plea. 'For it is only three days before my birthday; I will be nine years old!'
'I am afraid I must go now,' he said sadly, 'For there are many evil goblins that are making trouble in the north. I must go and stop them.' He paused for a minute and then smiled slyly, 'I must keep all these very old men safe as well as this very very old princess.'
'I'm not old!' she said laughing.
'Nine seems very old to me!' Volthamir said. 'But whether you are old or young, I shall guard and protect you all the same.'
She gave him another hug and then the two parted.
It was nearly dark by the time they left the palace of Japhrian and entered the city. The city of Amlaman was built on the western banks of the Razrin River, which flows out of the southern tip of the Razzun Highlands. The old city was built along the edge of the river, and was inhabited since ancient times with fishermen, merchants, and other working people. As the land prospered the city grew, and soon there were mansions and estates built to the west. Around these mansions was built a great wall, to guard the people from invaders. In the center of this region was built Japhrian palace, where the King of Amlaman has always dwelt.
As a last resort in case the outer city was taken, Japhrian itself was also encircled by a great wall of stone. There was a tall gate on the eastern and western side of the palace wall. The western door was always closed, but the east was opened each day at dawn and so it remained until dusk when it was once more closed.
Through this gate Lord Havoc and Volthamir walked, just as it was about to be closed for the evening. Lord Havoc halted the guards with his thunderous voice and the two were allowed to pass through. They made their way on foot through dark streets by the dim light of a small lantern. There was a chill wind in the air as they walked.
'We have taken no servants,' Volthamir said as he looked around in the dark. It seemed as though he could see formless shadows walking about here and there and the gleam of jealous eyes peering at them from hidden windows.
'We will be better off without their service,' Lord Havoc said gruffly. 'If you are concerned about your safety, you needn't be. The people know Lord Havoc, even in the dark. We will not be assailed by any brigand or robbers, not even by the banks of the river where the common men live.'
They continued on until they passed under the great eastern gate of the city's wall. Beyond these gates there was a crowded section of the city where there were many dark alleyways and broken down houses. Again, though the streets were empty, Volthamir could not help but sense that there were many eyes upon them as they passed. He shuddered and began to walk slightly faster. Lord Havoc chuckled. 'It is good that you are in fear,' he said strangely.
When they had left that portion of the city they came to a more open country. They passed many farms and mansions as they made their way east toward the river. Now that they were out of shadows of the city Volthamir's fears eased and he relaxed a little.
Lord Havoc then spoke, his voice slightly more than a whisper. 'Do you wonder why I said that it was good that you were in fear?'
'I cannot guess, but I would like to know,' he answered. 'I would like to know that - and a great many other things.'
'We have not the time for a great many things,' Lord Havoc laughed. 'But what time we have I will use to its utmost.'
'Then say on,' Volthamir said.
'I said that it was good for you to be in fear because the world is dangerous. You know as well as I do that there are many evil things in this world that conspire against a man's safety and happiness. And that is all that a man wants in life after all: They want to live, that is, they want their lives to continue in security, and they want to be happy. But in order to be happy they must be free of fear.
'There was once a man who undertook a journey over the Daunrys to sell spices in the dark forest of Falsis. During the night he was assailed by goblins. He fled to a dark cave and hid from them. A storm came and shook the foundations of the mountain, hurling stones from the top of the mountain down to the place where he hid. There he spent a long sleepless night. Terrified of the goblins outside, of the delvers he thought might be inside, afraid of the storm and the lightning, yet also afraid of leaving the cave to be crushed by falling stones. Can you imagine that this poor soul was then happy?'
Lord Havoc paused there and it took a while for Volthamir to realize that he meant for him to respond. 'Of course he cannot be happy!' Volthamir said in a hurried voice, half annoyed that he had to answer such a question at all.
'Indeed,' Lord Havoc continued. 'He cannot be happy, because his life is in peril. So now when that man reaches the calm forest on the other side and comes to rest behind log walls in front of a roaring Norasian fire, can he be anything else but happy? Now that he feels his life secure?'
Volthamir did not wait before answering this time, 'Of course. He will be happy then.'
'So when there is fear, there is no happiness; and when there is happiness, there can be no fear.'
'But why do you say, then, that it is good that I am afraid?'
Lord Havoc looked at him, under the light of the stars, Volthamir could see a big toothy smile on his face. There was a look of real pride in his eyes, though Volthamir thought he could see something else in his expression. 'Greed?' he thought to himself.
Lord Havoc finally answered him, 'Because fear is the passion that tells us how to be happy. When it is present, it draws the mind to a problem. In the case of the city streets it draws your mind to your loneliness and vulnerability. We are but two lone travelers and we have naught but our blades and our skill to defend our lives. It is good for us to fear then, so that we can remedy our circumstance and therefore be happy.'
'And how can we ensure that we are secure?' Volthamir asked.
'In this case it is a simple matter of reminding ourselves of our proximity to the castle, and of our skill and reputations. This should be more than enough to comfort us.'
'Then why did you not say those things then, and encourage me against my fears?'
'Because there was something in those dark streets that you were able to see only in the moment of your fear.'
'What is that?' Volthamir said curiously.
'Of that I will speak no more for now,' he pointed ahead. They were coming close to the river and they could now see the great bridge stretching across a narrow section of it, blocking out the reflection of the stars where it lay. 'I will say more about that when we have come across the river. When we were in the city I held my tongue; now I speak to you more plainly. But when we have left this land and come to your uncle's old palace in Ramlos I will tell you the whole truth about everything.'
'For that moment I have long been in anticipation.'
Chapter IV:
Th
e Forest of Heyan
The Great Road
Lord Havoc and Volthamir continued their journey in silence until they had passed through the rest of the city. There was a large settlement on the eastern shore of the river called Estam, which they passed through during the night without so much as a word. The main road then turned sharply toward the northwest, following the shores of the Amla lake for twenty leagues. This portion of the road was well worn and broad. It saw a great deal of traffic both from traders in Ramlos and worshippers at Sten-Agoni, and as a result there were many deep grooves carved into both dirt and stone.
This whole region of Amlaman was arid and flat; little grew there aside from patches of dry grass and thorny bushes. In between these the ground was littered with stones and occasionally a spidery little tree or two. Closer to the lake, however, the land quickly turned to green and there were farms and groves in abundance. The life of that region was tied to the Razrin River; where it flowed, the people prospered. Everywhere else seemed empty and barren.
There were many towns and settlements built along the shores of the lake. These Lord Havoc took some pains to avoid. They left the road for two leagues to pass around a large town called Raysii, because Lord Havoc did not wish to, 'trouble the guards'.
'But we are no brigands,' Volthamir protested as they turned away from the flickering lights of Raysii toward the east.
'Nonetheless, I do not feel like answering questions at this hour.'
So the two walked around the town, staying about a stone's-throw from the eastern wall as they passed.
'We will need to rest eventually, right?' Volthamir said, already feeling his strength leaving him.
