Vankara (Book 1) (3 page)

Well over
two-hundred years ago, a group of rag tag refugees from the nation of Valetta
came to the island, which would eventually be known as Vankara, in an attempt
to escape persecution by the anti-sorcery trials which were occurring all
around the world during that time period. The fae were the indigenous
inhabitants of the island.  They shunned anything tainted by technology believing
acceptance of such things would damage their connection with the natural world.

At first the fae
tolerated the encroachment of their lands by the foreign interlopers and tried
to accept their presence.  But, when the mages from Kamora, Chromis and Tuvalu sought sanctuary in the new settlement of Vankara, the fae began to feel their
hospitality was being taken advantage of.  They were quickly being outnumbered
and knew they would inevitably loose their lands to those who had not been
invited.  Instead of standing idly by and watching the possession of their
lands continue to dwindle, the fae decided to fight for what was originally
theirs.  A five year long war raged between vankaran and fae until it was
finally decided neither side would survive if the war was allowed to continue.

The vankaran king
and fae king finally met and drew up a peace treaty which satisfied both their
people’s needs.  The fae gave up three fourths of the island to the vankarans
and agreed to the building of the Iron Wall.  Since iron is poisonous to the
fae, the wall was designed to separate the two populations forever and give
vankarans a false sense of security by its presence.  How odd it is that people
rarely think to consider their true enemies might be standing right next to
them instead of barricaded behind a symbol of protection.

On the day of the Queen’s
coronation, my father woke me before the sun had a chance of even  considering
the start of a new day.

“Sarah,” he said
shaking my shoulder gently. “Get up, cherub, we need to leave soon.”

I sat up in my bed
rubbing the sleep from my eyes, trying to focus on the lean angular face of my
father lit only by the shimmering light of the candle he held in his hand.

“What time is it?”
I asked drowsily, still trying to whisk away the faint images of a dream in
which I was being crowned Queen of Vankara from my mind. 

“It’s time for us
to go to the palace.  If we want a good spot, we need to get there early.  So
no dawdling today, cherub.  We need to get a move on.”

My father stepped
out of the room allowing me privacy to drag my half-conscience form out of
bed.  I quickly changed out of my white muslin nightgown into a simple maroon
cotton dress with a pale yellow silk ribbon tied around the waist. My mother
had sewn the dress for me so that I could have something special to mark the
day of the Queen’s coronation, a momentous occasion in vankaran history.

We made our way
down the dark streets of Iron City to the palace.  Snow had fallen during the
night, softening our footfalls against the cobblestone streets and lending the
city a serene blanket of purity and renewal.  The closer we got to the palace
the greater the number of people we saw walking along the snow strewn thoroughfares
in the pre-dawn light.

There was a
palpable sense of excitement in the crisp, clean winter air that morning. 
Everyone could feel it.  Strangers smiled and nodded to one another, even
sometimes stopping to talk about the coronation as if they had known each other
for years instead of seconds.  Children scurried around their parents legs
expending their pent up energy the only way they knew how.  Food vendors seemed
to be doing great business selling roasted nuts, muffins and meat pies.  It was
as if we all knew we were about to witness a great moment of history being made
in our own time.

After having
endured the loss of loved ones from a second plague, the citizens of Vankara
saw the Queen’s coronation as a chance of revival for the country.  I suppose
knowing that not even the royal family was immune to the effects of the plague
made Emma Vankar seem more touchable, more human.  She had all of our sympathy
but she also had all of our hope in the palm of her hands that day.

It wasn’t until
almost mid-morning we knew the Queen had completed the rites of her coronation
in the grand Halls of Parliament.  The bells of the Iron City Cathedral rang
loud and clear announcing to the citizens of Vankara we had a newly crowned
leader.  Cheers of joy erupted from the sea of people stretching from the front
steps of the palace all the way back as far as my eyes could see down the
streets of the city.

The sun shone
brightly in the clear blue sky over our heads as if it were bestowing its own
celestial blessing on our new Queen. My parents pushed through the crowd of
people around us until we reached one of the iron columns lining the outer
walls of the west wing of the palace. My father picked me up and stood me on
the tall square base of the column so I could see over the heads of the adults
around me.  All eyes were focused on the palace balcony awaiting the arrival of
our new Queen.

The outer layer of
the Vankaran palace was constructed out of slabs of iron and panes of glazed
glass.   In the predawn light, the glass glistened like water trapped in pools
of iron.  Four towers loomed at the apex of the castle housing platforms for
the royal airships to dock.  On such a momentous occasion all four nations were
present.  It was the only time in my short life I had seen representatives from
the other three nations visit Vankara.   

Half an hour after
the cathedral bells rang, we saw the two iron and cut glass double doors on the
palace balcony swing inward.  It wasn’t until that moment I was thankful my
father had gotten us out of the house so early that morning.  We weren’t at the
front of the throng of people standing before the palace yet we were close
enough for me to see the Queen clearly.

She was dressed in
a gold silk gown which was mostly hidden by the velvet maroon and ermine
collared Mantle of Vankara draped across her shoulders.  The Queen’s crown,
made of gold and encrusted with a multitude of faceted diamonds, sat like a
sparkling beacon of power atop her head.

To me, Emma
Vankara was the complete embodiment of the word femininity.  Her facial
features were as delicate as the edges of a flower petal.  She was petite in
stature but had an innate presence about her which drew your complete focus.
Since her mother had been one of the nine daughters of the King of Kamora, the Queen
had inherited the pale white skin and long thick black hair of her mother’s
people.  Her eyes were partially slanted giving her beauty a small hint of the
exotic.

I watched as a
long stream of people came out of the balcony’s double doors behind the Queen
and almost lost my footing on the column base I stood on when Gabriel stepped
out onto the balcony.  I’m not sure why I was surprised to see him again.  I
had known he took a position as advisor to King Leopold after relinquishing his
apprenticeship with Dr. Pew.  It had been six years since I last saw Gabriel
and he looked exactly the same to me.  His thick black hair was still a mess. 
It appeared advising the royal family on state matters didn’t require a combed
head of hair.

Queen Emma Vankar
looked out at her people as if to make sure all eyes were trained on her. 
Before we knew it, she curtseyed deeply to us, head bowed in complete
supplication.  Several gasps could be heard coming from the crowd and a few of
the Queen’s entourage gave stern looks of disapproval.  It was, indeed, an
unexpected move for a newly crowned monarch to make. 

Suddenly, a wave
of cheering over took the crowd and quickly grew in intensity.  The Queen had
shown humility to her people and her people showered her with adoration for
it.  By the simple act of bowing, Queen Emma had gained the undying respect and
allegiance of everyone in the crowd that day.  It turned out to be a very
shrewd move.

After the Queen rose
from her curtsey, her back straight and proud, she turned to a woman behind her
and seemed to ask her a question.  The woman was tall and slender with pitch
black hair pulled back into an elegant chignon.  Her smooth, caramel colored
skin set off the gold embroidered dark brown robe she wore.  I watched as the
woman walked up to the Queen and laid her hand against the Queen’s throat but
not in a threatening manner.  The woman said a few words then turned away to
retake her position among the other advisors.

“Who’s that
woman?” my mother asked to no one in particular, hoping someone in the crowd
around us would recognize the stranger.

“That there is the
Royal Mage,” a slender grey haired man with crooked teeth answered.  “Isabelle
Granger be her name.”

Even though
Vankara had been founded by a group of refugee mages, it was the first time I
had ever seen one in person.  Once someone was discovered to be a mage, they
were immediately extended an invitation to attend the Royal College of Magical
Sciences where they could live in peace and hone their magical talents.  As far
as I knew, no one ever refused an offer to study at the Royal College.  The royal family personally funded the college providing the students who studied
there with whatever they needed.

After the Royal
Mage resumed her original position, Queen Emma turned to us and began to speak.

“Fellow citizens
of Vankara,” her voice was so loud, I was sure even the people ten streets away
could hear her words clearly.

“Mage musta put a
spell on her voice,” the old man who had answered my mother’s question
commented with a nod of confidence in his statement.

“Thank you all for
coming here today,” Queen Emma continued.  “I am truly humbled by your show of
support and love.  I can only hope that in the years to come I can prove your
faith in me to be justified.”

Queen Emma was
silent for a moment and looked out into the crowd as if she were trying to
memorize all of the faces looking up at her expectantly.

“I know times seem
dark,” she admitted, her words heavy.  “We have all lost those we loved most.” 
Queen Emma’s voice became choked with emotion and she had to stop to recompose
herself.

I heard people
break out in quiet sobs finding a personal connection with Queen Emma in her
sorrow.

“But we are a
strong people,” she said with intense determination.  “We will persevere.  We
will show even death that we are not a people to be taken lightly!  We will
rebuild what has been taken from us no matter what the cost!”

The crowd erupted
into a deafening roar of cheers.  Queen Emma allowed the people to rejoice for
a long while until she finally lifted her hands as if to push down the swell of
the crowd’s buoyant pandemonium.

Almost everyone
quieted to let Queen Emma finish her speech.

“All I ask of each
and every one of you is to keep your faith in me and your elected leaders in
parliament.  Let us be your guiding light through these dark days.  I promise
all of you I will not rest until Vankara is once again the strongest nation in
the world.  I will not rest until every other nation looks to us as a people to
be envied!”

Queen Emma bowed
to us once again causing another frenzy of jubilation among the throng
assembled that day.  When she stood back up, she lifted her hand in a simple
sign of farewell and walked back into the palace with all of her royal advisors
folding inline behind her, all of them except one.

After everyone
else had left, Gabriel stayed on the balcony looking out into the crowd.  I had
an odd feeling he was looking straight at me but the idea seemed preposterous. 
I was but one face in an ocean of them.  How could he possibly single me out
from the crowd of humanity swimming around me?

Finally, he
followed the Queen’s path and walked back inside the palace, closing the double
doors behind him.

The start of Queen
Emma’s reign was a politically chaotic time.  A marriage was quickly arranged
between her and the King of Chromis, Fredick Chromis.  It helped solidify the
peace between our two nations and strengthened Queen Emma’s position as head of
the parliamentary government.

After the loss of
so many people in the second plague, our country found it difficult to function
normally because there simply weren’t enough laborers to do the everyday tasks
of survival.  My father came home one day after work and told us there was a
rumor circulating throughout the city that the Queen had dispatched a messenger
to the sorcerer Dracen to see if he would aid us in our time of need.

Not much was known
about Dracen.  For as much as anyone knew, he had lived hidden within the
depths of Ledmarrow Mountain since the beginning of time.  He was a hermit who
rarely came out of his self-imposed solitude.  On occasion, he would help the
royal family of Vankara but only when he deemed it absolutely necessary. 
Apparently, Dracen thought it was time to intervene in the affairs of mortals
once again after receiving the Queen’s desperate plea for help. 

In the spring of
the following year, Dracen sent Queen Emma his answer.

My mother and I
were preparing supper when we first heard them.  It sounded like the
simultaneous crashing of a thousand metal pots all at once against stone.

“What in heaven’s
name is that racket?” My mother asked making her way toward the door with me
following close behind.

We walked outside
onto the street.  We didn’t see anything at first but the sound of metal
hitting stone which reverberated throughout the city.  People stepped out of
their homes and shops searching for the source of the noise.  Then we saw them.

My first glimpse
of the automatons was a legion of glowing red faces marching down the street we
lived on.  The mechanical people walked in perfect unison with one another. 
Their bodies were composed of a multitude of exposed gears and iron limbs. In
the center of their chest, where a heart would have been on a living human,
glowed a small yellow crystal.