by Jake Yaniak
'I say that justice is surrender because the child will come to realize that he cannot possess what he desires because others have power. And to acquire that which he wants, he must acquiesce to their demands. He must obey. Then he learns that if he will do no injustice to his brother, then his brother will do no injustice to him. And so they meet in the middle, neither doing injustice and therefore, neither getting what they want.
'I will teach you, my son, that which we forgot when our mothers succeeded in replacing the truth of our primitive natures with the folly of our civilized pretensions.
'I will teach you to do that which we are born to do. I will teach you to be a King!'
When Lord Havoc finally stopped speaking, it seemed to Volthamir that a storm had ceased its raging thunder. He stared in awe at the man as though he had seen him for the very first time. 'This is not what you've told my uncle,' Volthamir said quietly. 'For I am sure that he would have turned you out at once.'
'Will you turn me out, my prince?' Lord Havoc said in a soft and fatherly voice. 'All these long years I have watched over you; I have watched over you and waited for this day. And now you must make a choice: You can follow me, and learn to be a king, the sort of which your uncle long ago proved himself unworthy of becoming. Or you can return to your uncle's halls and grovel at his feet and kiss his murderous hands.'
'But you were there too!' Volthamir said, suddenly remembering the dreadful day of his father's death. 'You were just as much a part of it! You put my uncle up to it, no doubt. With your cunning words, and soft spoken counsel. I have no reason to trust you; no reason to choose you over my fool of an uncle.'
'I am offering you a chance, young man,' Havoc said rising to his full height. 'You can kill your uncle at any time to avenge the pathetic creature that was your father. But what will you have done? You will have done nothing more than taken vengeance upon a rat for killing a flee. I do not want you to have something so petty and brutish as empty revenge. Follow me, and you will gain the power to take what you need and the courage to take what you want.'
The following day, after they had spent most of the day traveling along the northern road, Volthamir risked an uneasy question, 'Why did you choose to spare me? It seems to violate everything you have said thus far about justice. Isn't it perilous to take your victim's son into your bosom and train him with the sword?'
'Ah,' Lord Havoc said, pausing awkwardly. 'That is a matter for another time perhaps.'
'More riddles?' Volthamir folded his arms and looked sternly at the old man. 'You promised me the truth about everything, yet there are still dark corners of this house you've built.'
'In time,' Lord Havoc said. 'I will tell you all, but it must be in the proper order. For now I will say only that it was not my choosing that saved you in that day. It was a combination of your uncle's foolishness and the wisdom and foresight of a very clever bird.'
'Arus?' Volthamir said with surprise. 'I remember now. He was there that day on the balcony. But how could he have such foresight? He is a mere bird.'
'Of that you will learn more in due time,' Lord Havoc said as looked up through the canopy of leaves at the fading sunlight. 'But for now let us rest. We will continue our discussion in the morning, after we have breakfasted.'
'One question more,' Volthamir begged.
'Very well,' Lord Havoc said with a sigh.
'You said that my uncle's foolishness saved me. What do you mean by that?'
'When he had followed my every word and executed our plan with precision, and when he had the pathetic Voltan thos Amlaman at his mercy, when all these things had finally come together, he hesitated. For a moment he felt merciful, and that is not what I have sought for all these years.'
'I cannot help but feel that you are, in all of your efforts, working for your own good and not for mine,' Volthamir said softly. 'For clearly you seem to have turned on Vulcan the moment he became of no use to yourself.'
'If that is what you feel, you are already much wiser than your uncle. You say that I turned on your uncle, and you are correct. And why not? If your horse could no longer bear you, would you not find another?'
The Stricken Old Man of Ferwur
They left their camp at first light and continued along the old road into the heart of the forest. The road brought them to a small village that was built along a large stream that flowed out of the Darvnas River. It had no more than twenty log huts, all of them guarded by a decaying fence of wooden pikes. This village they passed without stopping, save for a word or two with some of the children. They came running up to them with smiles on their faces, shouting, 'Lord Havoc! Lord Havoc!'
Lord Havoc patted their heads and turned them back toward their homes with a grin.
'You are more beloved in Heyan than you are in Amlaman, my lord,' Volthamir said after they left the village through the northern gate.
'It is because the people of Amlaman live very far from danger. They have little need of swords and arrows in the palace these days. But here the people are constantly vexed by the marauding goblins of the Daunrys. When a man's life is in peril, he is more thankful for a sharp sword than for wise and crafty words, such as the counselors of Vulcan desire.'
For two more days they traveled along this stream until they came at last to a small town, nestled between the arm of the stream and the Darvnas River from whence it flowed. There was a high wall of stone and wooden beams erected around the entire town. On the southern side there was a large gate with a watch house built on the left hand side. Lord Havoc knocked loudly on the gate and was soon greeted by a strong looking young man with a sword hung upon his shoulder.
'Lord Havoc!' he said with a bow. 'It is an honor.'
The gate was opened and they were warmly welcomed into the village. 'Welcome to Ferwur,' the young man said.
'Tell me young man,' Lord Havoc asked politely. 'Is old man Hashias still living?'
'Old man Hashias?' the man said with a puzzled look on his face. 'You mean the old man who lives out in the north woods with...,' the man paused for a moment and looked awkwardly at his feet, 'with that girl?'
'Yes, that same man,' Lord Havoc answered.
'As far as anyone around here knows, the man still lives. Though it is another question whether or not it is right to call that living. But every now and again someone will go by and check on him. There are some kind ladies who bring him food now and again, or so I've heard. But he does not come near the village anymore. They say that he lives like an animal these days; that he has utterly lost his mind.'
As they came to the center of Ferwur, an old bent figure of a man came rushing out in front of Lord Havoc, seeming not to even notice him. He wore a tattered brown robe with a rope tied about his waist for a belt, a hood was over his head and in his hands he carried a large staff with a long curved end and a small leather sack. He kept running with his eyes fixed on the ground. Lord Havoc stopped and watched the man with wonder, expecting him at any moment to look up and stop his mad charge.
But the old man did not stop. He ran straight up to Lord Havoc's feet and then stooped low to the ground scooping with his arm as he grabbed something right out from underneath Lord Havoc's feet. As he grasped, he bumped Lord Havoc's legs and sent him reeling backwards with surprising force. Volthamir quickly helped him up and drew his sword.
'Old man!' Volthamir shouted, 'Mind who you charge so foolishly!'
The old man rose from the ground and stood up tall. He was cradling something small in the palm of his hand. Lord Havoc came to Volthamir's side and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. 'No harm done, my prince,' he said softly.
The old man seemed to be unaware of them altogether. He opened his leather sack and slipped a small mouse inside before closing it up again and tying it tightly shut. When he was finished packing the animal away and hanging the sack over his shoulder he finally turned his eyes to the two men. 'Mind the little things,' the man said with a warm laugh, 'And they will often mind the big
ger things for you.'
'Wise words, old father,' Lord Havoc said with a grin. 'I see by your crooked staff that you are a shepherd, yet I see no sheep, and there are no pastures within Heyan for your animals to graze.'
The man looked politely at Lord Havoc and answered, 'I am a shepherd, but I have no sheep as of yet. But my sheep will have little need of grazing.' He laughed as he said this and looked them in the eyes. 'I have what I have come here for, however, and I must be leaving.'
'Farewell, old father,' Havoc said politely. 'May you find your flock soon.'
'I have already found some of it,' he laughed. 'Till we meet again,' he said with a warm smile as he turned away from them and walked away toward the west, leaving them standing still and confused.
They restocked in Ferwur and refilled their water-skins in the stream. Then, crossing the north bridge, they struck out into the forest. Lord Havoc left the road after about a half an hour, following an old road that could barely be seen for all the vines and roots that had now overwhelmed it. The day drew on and night fell fast, bringing cold winds with it. The trees were somewhat thin in this region, and there was little protection from the cold. It grew dark and the moon was covered by thick clouds.
'Where are we heading in all this?' Volthamir asked.
'We are going to see an old man,' he answered.
'And that is all?'
'Yes,' he said. 'That is all.'
It began to rain heavily as they came upon the remains of an old gate. There was nothing standing now save for the two posts and the metal hinges upon which two great wooden doors had once hung. The shards of the gate could be seen laying nearby, covered with moss and rot. They passed through and followed a broken path toward a dilapidated old house. It looked as if it had once been a great estate. There was a lot of land that might be used for farming, but it was overgrown with tall grass and thorn bushes, save for a small patch where the remains of a little garden still rose from the ground. The house itself was quite large, but a considerable portion of it had fallen in and was now separated from the rest of the house by wooden boards.
Lord Havoc knocked on the door gently. There was no answer. He knocked once more, but when nobody came he pushed the door open with his left hand. It groaned on its rusted hinges and skidded across the stone floor as it opened. The two men entered and quickly pushed the door closed behind them. 'At least we are out of the rain,' Lord Havoc said as they looked around at the little room.
Around them they could hear the house creaking and groaning from the strength of the cold winds. The room they entered was covered with dust and there was a horrid smell of decay in the air. Arus flew from Havoc's shoulder and lighted upon a shelf somewhere in the darkness.
'Lord Havoc?' a woman's voice called from a darkened corner of the room. On their left side there were the remains of an old stairwell, but it seemed that the entire upper level of the house had caved in some years ago, and the stairs soon after. Neither had been repaired. On the right side of the room there was a small fire struggling against the cold of the winter in a crumbling stone hearth. Near to the fire sat a young woman.
'It is good to see you, my lord,' she said as she rose from an old wooden chair. 'It has been many years since you last came to us. We were afraid that we were forgotten.'
'Nay, I cannot forget the old master of Ferwur,' Havoc said as he took the woman's hand into his. She was no more than twenty years of age, but to Volthamir it seemed like she was an old woman for the great many woes that hung upon her face. She was looked thin and exhausted, her face was dirty with soot from the hearth, and her brown hair was pulled back behind a kerchief. After she had greeted Lord Havoc she took Volthamir's hand and kissed it, bowing low. Volthamir pulled it away immediately when her obeisance was finished.
'Where is Hashias?' Lord Havoc asked thoughtfully. 'And is he well?'
'He is in the other room,' she answered. 'Mother died four years ago, when the roof fell. That is when my father stopped speaking. Now he only hums, and even then only softly.' She looked down and a tear fell from her eye, 'The years have not been kind to Deria.'
'Then Deria is still living?' Havoc asked, sounding somewhat amazed.
'Yes, she was hurt when the roof caved in, but father rescued her. She cannot walk any longer. Now we have a bed for her in the kitchen. It is easier for father to look after her there.'
'Then he is as caring as ever,' Lord Havoc smiled.
'Indeed, and that is the cause of half his sorrow,' the girl said turning her eyes away. 'He thinks that she is going to die soon.' The room became silent for a while. The girl seemed to be struggling to hold her tears back. 'Do not weep, Sarya,' he said in a comforting tone. 'Take me to your father. I want him to meet young Volthamir.'
They followed her into the other room. There was no door separating the rooms, only a thin curtain hung with nails from the frame of the doorway. In the other room there was a large stone fireplace and a great mess of pots and jars, some waiting to be washed, and others seeming to have no place to be stored. In a corner of the room there was a small wooden bed. Upon a small wooden bed in the corner of the room there lay a very sickly looking young girl and, kneeling beside her, a haggardly old man.
'Hashias!' Lord Havoc's voice thundered.
The man turned and looked at him. He was wrinkled and gray, his hair was long and his beard was even longer, hanging almost to his waist as he sat. He held the withered hand of a the sickly girl in his hand. 'Deria!,' Havoc lamented when he saw her. 'It is a shame that she suffers so.'
Hashias said no words, though in his face there was a gleam of joy. He rose from the floor and approached the two men with a glad face. He first took Lord Havoc's hand into his and bowed low putting his forehead to the back of Lord Havoc's palm. He mumbled and cried, but spoke no words.
Volthamir braced himself and with some frustration endured a similar greeting. The kitchen smelled even worse than the first room, and every inch was covered in dust. Volthamir shuddered.
The girl at whose side he knelt was named Deria. 'She has been like this for many years now,' Lord Havoc explained to Volthamir, 'And with each passing year she has withered more and more. By the time she was eleven, she looked older than her grandmother. It is a sad thing to see.'
For most of the evening Volthamir remained silent, just standing still as a statue and watching as Lord Havoc talked with this stricken family. The next morning, after a very uneasy and uncomfortable sleep, Lord Havoc told Sarya that they would be leaving that afternoon. She wept and begged him to stay, but he insisted upon their departure.
'It would do you no good for me to leave the goblins unchecked and stay here to till the farmlands. You know that as well as I. But here is some money. Do not let your father see it, for he has always been too proud. Use it wisely; do not use it all at once, lest he suspect that you have received such a gift. You know the man better than I.'
'Indeed,' Sarya said with tears in her eyes, 'I will use it wisely, Lord Havoc. Go now with our blessing, and with the blessing of Agonistes. You are more kind to us than we deserve. Were we all immortal we could never have the time to repay you.'
'Farewell,' Lord Havoc said, and then they passed out into the cold once more and left the broken down house behind them.
Chapter V:
The Doctrine of Lord Havoc
Coming To Ramlos
Lord Havoc and the prince returned to Ferwur and this time left the village through the western gate. From there they picked up a road that went almost due west toward the edge of the forest. They made good time and passed out of the forest onto the windy western plains after only two days.
Through this and for most of their remaining journey, Volthamir remained silent. He had much to consider, and somehow he knew that none of his questions would be answered directly. 'At least not until we come to Ramlos,' he thought to himself. 'Then we will see whether or not Lord Havoc's word is trustworthy.'
For half the day they traveled east
over an endless sea of grassy hills, until finally the land flattened out before them. They turned north and made their way over the flats toward the northern road, which was now visible as a tiny ribbon of brown in the distance. Far beyond the road the jagged pinnacles of the Razzun Highlands could be seen, veiled by a thick cloud of fog. From Razzun the fog crept out over the road in long thin gray fingers of mist. But the clean morning air from Heyan drove the fog back and the road cleared even as the travelers approached it. Volthamir was struck by the silence of the place. 'Is this not the place the Noras say houses the damned soul of Agonistes?'
'It is the very same place,' Lord Havoc said, concealing a smile.
'Then you do not believe their account?'
Lord Havoc only chuckled.
They followed the road for five days until they came to the foot of Ramlos hill. The northern Fortress of Ramlos was built on a great hill that rose up just south of the westernmost branch of the Heyan forest. It was shaped almost like a star, and from ancient times was called the 'Star Hill' or the Star Stair. On the top there was a great city and all around were villages and towns. The northern side was covered by orchards and vineyards that stretched gently down to the ground and beyond until the land became grassy again and finally struck the Heyan woods.
The city of Ramlos was well fortified with a great stone wall that guarded the palace and the inner city. There were guard towers on the northern, southern and eastern sides. No guard was thought necessary on the western side, since the hill was so near to Razzun. No enemy would dare enter the Razzun Highlands, let alone wage war from there.
