by Jake Yaniak
That she moved her bed away from his and con-snorted with a jinn,
Much to mother hog's dismay, this made father squeal,
For now he had a freedom which his wife could not repeal,
Mother hog, now powerless, turned against her child,
Snapping at and chiding her till she herself went wild.
In this can be discerned, by those who have familiarized themselves with her history, the contentions of her parents, her mother's religious zeal, Leonara's own disdain for the cultus of Agonistes, and her own desire for freedom from all of these. It is certain at least that Volthamir understood enough of these to know that his sister desired to be free of her parents.
Volthamir responded very rarely, and even then only with a few lines telling her that he was still living and that the wars were going well. In each of Leonara's letters she closed her message with a plea for his return. But he said nothing of visiting in any of his own messages. But despite his own reluctance to visit Japhrian, as prince he was not able to remain aloof forever.
Three years after he had left the palace, on the eve of her twelfth birthday, Volthamir returned to the palace. His visit was very brief, he was only there to attend to some important political matter, but it left a lasting impression of Leonara.
To her eyes he seemed altogether different. His skin was pale as ever, but he seemed vigorous and full of life, rather than despair. He was much stronger now and as they embraced she was startled by the strength of his arms. He was now a man of twenty-five years, and in every way he was in his prime. 'I have missed you dreadfully, brother,' she said with tears in her eyes.'
Volthamir almost looked away to avoid seeing her tears, but her face had grown so beautiful that he was unable to ignore her. 'And I have missed you as well, young peacock.' She looked down at her feet when he said this. He smiled and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. 'Hold on, sister,' he told her in a kind voice. 'There is no trouble that lasts forever.'
For some reason these words seemed to echo in her heart. Her body warmed up and she stood up tall. 'I hope to see you again soon, my brother,' she said. 'And if you don't come to me, I will ride out to the Daunrys myself to find you.'
Volthamir laughed. 'There will be no need. There will be more reasons for me to come to Japhrian soon enough. Until then, however, do not let the mad-one trouble you. There will come a time that she will have no power over anyone.' These words he said in reference to her mother, Lady Marel.
She watched him closely as he left the palace and rushed to her own bedroom to watch him from the window as he mounted his black horse and rode away into the darkness. She wept all that night, cursing her mother.
Legion
In the month of Solest, the war against the goblins of the Daunrys took a turn for the worst. A Feral king had appeared in the mountains, and the goblins grew bolder. They reclaimed some of the foothills and sent many of the brave Heyan settlers back into the woods.
For most of the history of the world there was no explanation for the origin of Feral kings. It was simply understood that on occasion a hob-goblin of such fierce cunning would arise and lead his tribe to ascendancy. In this case it was a hob-goblin called Legion.
The natural ignorance of goblins would probably have long ago brought about their extinction were it not for the arising of these strange masters. It seemed as though every time goblins found themselves backed into a corner, just as the sword prepared to strike them down forever, a savior would appear, if it is proper to use that term. It seemed that just as the warriors of Ramlos prepared to march into the mountains to finish off the last of the Daunrys goblins, a great and cunning master took control of them. The goblins suddenly began to behave more cunningly, almost rational, and that cunning combined with their lack of compassion is more than any mortal army can manage. The Ramlos warriors were driven out of the mountains. With their heads hanging low they returned to Nolhern with the sad tidings.
'The goblins and orcs have a new master,' they informed Lord Havoc with sorrow in their voices, 'A Feral king, we fear.'
Strangely, Lord Havoc smiled. The men almost gasped, but quickly regained their composure.
'Do not be surprised at my pleasure,' Lord Havoc laughed. 'You have fought hard, and for many long years. And it might seem to you that now things have turned against you. But a Feral king, if indeed you are correct in assuming that such a creature has appeared in the Daunrys, is a phenomenon that arises when the goblins are weakened and imperiled. Encourage yourselves at least in that; we have driven them to the brink. Now nature herself seems to be giving them a hand, but we must prove ourselves masters of even nature. For in the end, even the great goddess of nature cannot argue with victory. We will yet bring an end to the trouble of goblins. A Feral King?' Lord Havoc said in a rhetorical tone, 'It means not that we have failed. It only means that it is time for us to renew our courage, and press on till we come to the end of this war.'
To Volthamir he only said, 'This is news that I had not have counted on. Fortune, if there be any such thing, has smiled upon us.'
'Fortune?' Volthamir questioned. 'A Feral King's rise?'
Lord Havoc chuckled darkly, 'You will see, my prince, what good things can come from the darkness. Goblins act in a certain way, and that way is generally deducible from their animal wants and needs. But a Feral King changes that. Much of the peril that such a creature represents is derived from the fact that their enemies do not realize that when their ruler has changed, their enemies must change as well.'
'So we are going to change our strategy?'
'In such a way as no mortal man would scarce imagine.'
His specific plan, Lord Havoc did not share with any of his men. He did not even fully inform Volthamir of his intentions until it was nearly time to put it into motion. In the meanwhile, however, he acquiesced to the reality of the Feral King's rule and withdrew his men from the eastern plains and foothills. It seemed to the men that the battle against the Daunrys was now all but abandoned. Heyan's freedom had been won, but for as long as Legion, which is what Lord Havoc named the Feral King, was living, it seemed like the notion of living without the fear of goblins was a fleeting dream.
The Fell Wolf
For the next two and a half years Volthamir battled against Legion's goblins. The goblins of the northern Daunrys had joined with the tribes of the central region. This almost doubled their numbers and their weapons were sharp and strong. It was suspected that they had perhaps stumbled upon some ancient dwarven armory that had until then lain hidden in the deep caverns of the mountains. Lord Havoc himself did not partake in any of the battles for the express purpose that he draw not any undue adulation, nor detract from any of the honor that was due the prince of Amlaman.
Accordingly, the people of his uncle's old kingdom grew to love Volthamir dearly. 'Lord Vulcan left us to domineer the southern realm,' they would complain, 'But Volthamir, the son of his murdered cousin, stands by us who were strangers to his father.'
The terrors that ordinarily accompany the appearance of the dreaded Feral King never materialized in Ramlos, mainly due to the fact that Volthamir and his army kept them in check. During all that time there were no raids upon Heyan, and wherever in the eastern lands the goblins plundered, their victims were soon revenged by Volthamir and his men.
In those days, by his own prowess, and by Lord Havoc's absence, Volthamir rose to the center of the people's attention. Every eye was fixed on him when he led his warriors to battle. And every ear eagerly awaited the account of his latest conquests. They had great faith in him, and he suffered no counter assault by the forces of Legion. Soon his fame brought him praises and exaltations. The Unrivaled Prince of Amlaman he was called at first. But after a while his name evolved into the Invincible Prince of Ramlos. Some called him the Fierce Goblin Hunter, or the Ghost of the Heyan Woods. But after his army surrounded and surprised a camp of goblins raiders in the midst of an assault, leaving none to escape alive, he became know
n as the Crafty Wolf of Ramlos, which Lord Havoc by his own efforts changed to Fell Wolf. This name soon became the most popular of his titles, particularly among the people of Heyan who understood the history of the fell black wolves of the forest. It was no small encouragement to them to imagine that such a crafty and opportunistic beast, one who had so perfectly destroyed its own ancient foes, was now vying for their survival.
But to whatever degree he gained the honor of the people of Ramlos, he lost the good will of the rulers of Japhrian. King Vulcan grew both jealous of his successes and honors and suspicious of his new power and authority. Every night he tore at his hair and moaned himself to sleep in fear and regret. 'How could I have been so foolish,' he would groan. 'I have treated my own heir like a traitor, and by exiling him I have given him power and honor incomparable!'
'Fell Wolf indeed,' Lady Marel would complain, 'It is like such an evil creature, no doubt, to devour his own kin.'
The queen's words filled King Vulcan with horror. For he had all but forgotten the words of his cousin. "Kin-slayer becomes kin-slain, I curse you."
Rout and Panic
On the twenty-fifth day of Morest, the first month of the winter, an army of goblins, such as had not been seen in an age, descended onto the plains of Ramlos east of the Heyan forest. They had one intention, if intention is a proper word to use concerning goblins; they desired to retake Heyan and establish themselves once more in the dark regions of that enormous forest.
The army of Volthamir sprung to action without delay and met the brutes in open war on the field that is to this day called Golbfein. There the roots of the mountains stretch out to form tall rock walls on the northeast and southern edges of the field. The land slopes up swiftly toward the east and flattens out as it approaches the forest. It was on these slopes that the fierce battle was held.
For three days the army of Volthamir held them back, driving the army back again and again. But after each assault, the numbers of the warriors of Ramlos decreased, while the number of goblins increased as new goblins joined them from unknown places. Messages were sent to Lord Havoc in Nolhern and to Volthamir in the Heyan woods. Trumpets roared and the men of Ramlos emptied their fortresses and their cities to march to war.
Volthamir rode out from the forest and met up with Lord Havoc about twenty leagues to the north of Golbfein.
'This could not be better for us, my prince,' Lord Havoc said as they rode toward the battle.
'I cannot imagine your meaning,' Volthamir laughed. 'Though I am certain that it is forthcoming.'
Lord Havoc laughed as he spurred his horse on. Volthamir quickened his own pace until both of them rode at nearly a gallop. Their men marched behind them, now only specks in the distance. 'Today we will either be cured of all suffering, or we will become heroes.'
'I can only guess that you have the latter in mind,' Volhamir laughed.
'You have learned much, my prince,' Lord Havoc said as he slowed his horse. They now came to the northern edge of Golbfein and looked down into the field where the men of Ramlos fought. The goblins poured over the foothills like water from a mountain stream. 'It is my intention that this battle mark the end of goblindom. You will ride into the fray, my prince. You must surpass all of your fellows this day. Leave them behind you and spare not a single brute. Drive them back with your lance and your sword. Strike terror into the heart of the Feral King. Shake his dominion, and you will raise yourself so high in the opinions of the men of the Dual kingdom that your devil uncle's cowardice and treachery will be plain to them all. Fear nothing. Death cannot take you if you are strong enough. And if you are not, then death has already taken you. Fear nothing, my prince.'
With these strange words, the two men descended into the battlefield. They appeared more like gods than men as they rode down the northern ridge into Golbfein. The sun was high and their armor shone. Lord Havoc's dark armor rattled as he rode and his crimson cape danced wildly in the wind. Beside him rode Prince Volthamir thos Amlaman, clad in armor of silver, with a black cape and a plume of red-dyed horsehair atop his silver helm. The men cheered and the goblins shrieked in terror. Their coming was like the beating of a wave against a mound of sand. In their wake they brought a horde of warriors. Lord Havoc commanded them to hold their ground and drive the goblins slowly back into the foothills. But Prince Volthamir and himself rode up to the front of the skirmish and tore into the goblins with their lances and their swords.
Lord Havoc's horse seemed to dance around between the goblins as he battled. More than forty orcs tasted the cold steel of his spear's head that day, and countless goblins as well. Finally a bold high-orc shattered his lance with an axe. Lord Havoc, undaunted, drew his sword and cut the orc's head from his body. He snatched the orc's axe and rode off into the fray to create more mischief.
Volthamir killed many more orcs with his lance. In the end he cast it into the heart of an orc archer, that nearly caught him in the shoulder with an arrow. He drew his blade and rode about beheading those orcs that were tall enough for him to reach; the others his simply rode down with his horse. 'Excellent work Ghoras, he spoke to his beast. But there is much more for us to do.'
Together Lord Havoc and the prince pushed their way through the goblin army to the very midst of their ranks. Every arrow was broken on their armor, every swing of the axe was too slow to catch them, every spear was broken against their shields and every sword was shattered on their breastplates. For all that day they battled against the goblins. Finally, when the sun began to pass beyond the distant Heyan woods, the goblins retreated to their mountain camps. The men would have followed them, but Lord Havoc cautioned them against obeying their zeal. 'They are weakened right now, but they will find comfort in the night and passion from their injuries. Let us wait until the old ally of mankind reappears in the eastern sky.
The following morning, Volthamir was awakened by the sound of horns blowing. The goblins had regrouped during the night, and were now making a bold assault on the southern field. They had trodden down several hundred men of Ramlos and were making a mad rush toward the woods. Volthamir left his tent in a hurry and mounted his horse. At that moment Lord Havoc rode up beside him with a grin on his face.
'I will never grow accustomed to your peculiar enjoyments,' Volthamir said as he shook his head. 'The goblins strike hard at our men, and you grin as though you were just given a gift.'
'We have been given a gift, my prince,' Lord Havoc nodded and pointed toward the south. 'There lies more than mere carnage, it is another chance for the Fell Wolf to save the people of Ramlos; another opportunity to win the day and gain honor. Remember, my prince, the more honor you win, the more repugnant your uncle's suspicions will be in the nostrils of his people.'
'Very well then,' Volthamir said, drawing his sword, 'Let us do it then.'
They rode to the south swiftly and leapt without hesitation into the thick of the battle. Lord Havoc still carried the orc-axe that he had taken the day before. With its broad blade he dropped many goblins and orcs headless to the ground. Volthamir's strong arms thrust his spear about wildly among the goblins. He slew more than forty before he finally dropped his weapon, stabbed through three goblins at once. After that he drew his long, double edged sword. With this he did even more damage, and by the end of the day the goblins fled back to the mountains again.
At this point the men of Ramlos were so emboldened that they would have marched straight into the mountains to wipe out the goblins forever. But Lord Havoc stayed them once more.
'It will do us no good to sacrifice so great a victory by foolishly following them into their mountain caves. Many greater warriors led by greater generals have met worse fates by so doing.'
Ramlos was saved and the power of the goblins was broken. It was now proved to all that the Fell Wolf of Ramlos was their protector. Even a Feral King could do nothing against him. All throughout Heyan there were feasts and celebrations, honoring the bravery and courage of the Prince of Amlaman with songs an
d dances. Despite his own modesty, Volthamir soon realized that there was naught he could do to stop the fawning and bowing, the singing of praises and exultations.
The Naming Stone
Three weeks later, in Lord Havoc's chamber, Volthamir and his old teacher took council. Arus was there, perched atop his swing as always. They had just finished a meal of venison and potatoes. Lord Havoc was feeding Arus scraps from his plate and Volthamir was finishing the last of his mug. There was a long silence, broken only by the quiet sounds of the bird eating and their own breathing.
Finally Volthamir spoke, 'I think I have decided what it is that I want.'
Lord Havoc looked at him blankly, as though he did not understand him. Volhamir grew agitated and then, shaking his head, regained his composure. 'You asked me once, many years ago, "What is it that you desire?"' Lord Havoc still said nothing. 'But before I say anything, I must ask you- nay demand of you your own desires. You have done much for me, and hid much more from my eyes. Tell me now, Lord Havoc, what is it that YOU desire?'
Lord Havoc sat up and smiled broadly. 'You wish to know what I desire? Very well. I will answer you truthfully. I will tell you now what I have never spoken to mortal ears.'
Lord Havoc stood up and slid his chair away from him. He looked about the room for a moment, as though he were afraid that there were spies all about him. He opened the thick oak door and peered down the steps toward his chambers. He shut the door tight and fastened the lock.
He returned to his seat and sat down, keeping his back straight and his posture perfectly balanced. Then he began to speak in a low but strong voice.
'If you will believe the old stories,' he began, 'the Ancients, whom the vulgar refer to as Elves, were the keepers of many powerful secrets. And such tales and legends as they preserved to us we ought not disregard too lightly. There were many truths hidden within their lies. In fact, I would go so far as to say that there were far too many truths thus hidden.
