Vhamnya's Tale: Rise of a Dark Queen - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

At an early age Vhamnya remembered others saying that her mother Rennyae was the most beautiful woman of her generation. Vhamnya believed it, but only as a shadow of her former glory, like a bridal rose dried on its stem. Certainly her beauty had not brought her any luck, meaning she was either too beautiful or not beautiful enough, for it had earned her only this prison. Her mother reminded her of a preserved flower pressed between leaves, though maybe it had something to do with her mind not surviving the pressing. Nevertheless, Vhamnya took comfort from whenever they were together, and knew her mother did likewise. She would cuddle around her daughter's dark body, stroke her silken silver hair, and in that while some of the dread would ebb from her soul.

Those times became a welcome reprieve from the prison that dominated Vhamnya's childhood. No one but herself and her mother called it that, but she knew others thought it so. They openly called it the manor or the villa, but those names did not matter. A high stone wall surrounded the gardens where she was allowed to play. The solid gate of wood and bronze barred the lane to the outside world. The girl's caretakers never let her outside when it opened. More doors just as solid and just as thick guarded the villa's thresholds, and guards stood on both sides of them. There was a dungeon as well, for the villa held many rooms underground, and there her keepers took Vhamnya when they had decided she had behaved naughtily. The dungeon held its own secrets behind the cellars and behind the wine cave.

Though the servants would beat her if they caught her sneaking down here, her explorations found other inhabitants of this prison beside her mother and her. Many did not stay long, and those who did stay spent their bleak lives lost in darkest blackness, trapped within narrow stone or chained to a wall. For all Vhamnya knew, their only interaction lay within her voice through the door. Some of them screamed at her until she had to flee before the guards arrived, but other whispered their stories to her, and from them Vhamnya learned more of her prison.

From these other prisoners she learned that her captors were evil folk who took pleasure from the corruption and torture of other men. They followed an evil being whom they called the Dark Prince, a spirit who delighted in seduction and betrayal. The prisoners warned her to flee if she could, but Vhamnya would not leave her mother.

When Vhamnya asked her mother of these things, Rennyae wept and trembled. She might scream or beat her fists against the marble walls. She knew better than to ask their captors. After a while Vhamnya stopped trying.

Yet the worst fears lay not in the cramped dungeons, but within the upper wider rooms, particularly in the hall just beneath the villa's great hall, with no door but one and without light or windows. Here her captors invoked fears in hundred ways more banal but a thousand times more worse than the dungeons below. Vhamnya learned of pain from the blood their lances and leeches took from her body. She learned of shame from the kiss of their whips and foul oils with which they anointed her body. She learned to endure, even to the number of tears and the patterning of welts.

Within these tortures she learned one important secret: deep within her torturers' souls, where even they could not admit it, they were afraid of her. On some other level they venerated her. Despite all their cruelties, they would never kill her and some evils they would not inflict on her, though she did not understand why. When they drew the girl's blood in the hall where no light shone, they painted it on the floor in twisting sigils, upon a pulsing black stone that even Vhamnya's eyes could not see, and upon their own foreheads and loins. Then they would perform painful, unspeakable acts on each other amid the darkness, or would bring up the other prisoners from the dungeon. They would mutilate them for hours, until Vhamnya's ears deafened to their screams. All these while they would leave the small dark child to watch. From what she overheard, and what she read in their thoughts, it had something to do with her father.

Then came a day when the servants locked both Vhamnya and her mother together in the dungeon. They gave no explanation, but Vhamnya felt their dread. Something bad was happening, and for the first time the girl ever remember, these cruel men with their knives, lashes, and ill-sounding words lost the control they so enjoyed. It made Vhamnya afraid too, but also curious. What, she wondered, could make these evil men so afraid?

Vhamnya and her mother crouched together on the cold floor when the door finally opened. A foursome of soldiers entered: two of them grabbed the girl; two grabbed Rennyae. Her mother kicked, clawed, and screamed all the way, but Vhamnya lay quietly in their arms. She watched these newcomers she had never seen before, watched their faces, and watched them watch her.

They brought the women up to the villa's great hall. There lay the blood-smeared bodies of the cruel men and women who had been their captors. The sight made Vhamnya's mother shriek even more, but Vhamnya stood quiet. She realized she was glad they had died.

Instead, her eyes went to these new men. She studied the soldiers with their tarnished armor and silver-headed maces, the old men in white robes who leaned on staves topped with golden orbs. They stared at her with fear as well, even more so than her old captors. But also she sensed something new in their minds as they gazed at the small dark girl: wonder.

While the soldiers scoured the villa, one of the old men detailed a younger priest to take Vhamnya to her bedchamber. They waited inside while soldiers stood outside. Vhamnya crouched in a corner while the priest sat on a stool. There his eyes fixed on her. Vhamnya stared back. Despite his fear, she sensed that malice of her erstwhile captors to which she was used was absent from this newcomer. She wondered what his interest might be.

"What?" she asked.

Unbelief gazed wide on his face. "Wha- what do you say?"

"Why are you looking at me?" she demanded.

"Why- well, it's just that I've never seen anyone like you before," he stammered.

Her blue eyes narrowed; sapphire-like points of light. She knew her skin was darker than others around her; her hair was too light to be blond. Her hands had too many fingers. She had wondered why she was like nobody else, even her mother. Now this newcomer, this priest confirmed what had worried her.

Then he added: "It's just that you're so beautiful."

Vhamnya stared. Did he really think her beautiful?

The priest's name was Carvvyn. He brought Vhamnya some bread, cheese, and watered wine. Later, he took her downstairs, out through the garden, and to the gate. More soldiers pushed open the slab of bronze and heavy wood. For the first time in her life the girl stepped out to the world beyond.

Carrvyn led her to a box wagon and helped her inside. Through a narrow window she watched the countryside slide by while she listened to the horse's hoof-clops. She saw things she had never seen before: farmers working their fields, cottages with cook-smoke curling from their rooves, children leading cows along the road. She had never seen other children before.

Some while later, the carriage halted. Peering through her slit window, Vhamnya watched the soliders dismounting, checking their horses, and grabbing a quick meal. Then Carvvyn's face appeared. "How are you?"

"Can I come out?" she asked.

The young priest hesitated. He glanced right and left. "I suppose it couldn't hurt," he decided. He unlocked and opened carriage door. He helped her down, kept hold of her hand, and led her to the roadside.

"I want to see my mother," she demanded.

"She's coming along," he replied.

"Can I see her?"

"Not now, child. I doubt they'll let her out of her cage before we arrive."

Beside the road stood an apple tree with petals blooming. Vhamnya tugged Carvvyn's hand until he relented. They stood underneath, and Vhamnya looked up awe-struck at the pink and white blossoms. Carrvyn plucked one of the flowers and gave it to her. As she breathed the sweet scent, tears filled her eyes.

Vhamnya hugged him.

Just then one of the older priests came up. He spotted the two and frowned. "Come!" he ordered. He put Vhamnya back in her carriage and led Carvvyn away.

Much later that day, they arrived at a large stone building that Vhamnya later learned was called an abbey. The priests took her inside. Briefly she saw her mother in a horse-drawn cage. She was screaming and beating her fists and head against the bars. She did not see Carvvyn again. Soldiers led her up many stairways to a small room with a bed, a stool, and a wash stand. They locked the door when they left.

Later, a wimple-dressed woman brought a bowl of stew, bread, and some weak ale. "Where's Carvvyn?" asked Vhamnya.

"Reverend Carvvyn?" The woman scowled. "What would you with him?"

The girl's tongue stuck. She forced herself to find a word she had never used before: "He's my friend."

The woman stood back and tilted her head. "Reverend Carvvyn has been sent away," she answered.

Anger curdled in Vhamnya's breast. She did not cry. She did not stamp or fit. Instead, she bit back tears, and said, "Then I want to see my mother."

"Your mother, child?" He wimple shook. "She nearly gouged a guard's eyes out. I can't believe you would want to have anything to do with that mad creature."

The girls shook her head. "Because she's my mother, and I want to be with her!"

Speechlessly the woman stared at the child. At that moment her fear, which had pressed at Vhamnya's temples vanished. In its stead Vhamnya read something she had never felt before, not from her captors, not from the soldiers, and not even from her mother. It was pity.

Something was wrong with Vhamnya's life. Other children did not live trapped in prisons and suffering cruelty. Their mothers were not crazed and raving. Soldiers did not take them away to a different prison where they feared to give her any kindness. Vhamnya wondered what was wrong with her.

Continued in Chapter 2

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