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Pillar of White Flame
© 2015 by Walter Reimer
This is a sequel to The Gray Tower, which is a sequel to The Black Chapel. It’s not really necessary to read the previous two stories, but they provide important plot points and great yiff, so you’re missing out if you don’t. Just saying.
Art by
whitearabmare
_______________________
Part 2.
The great Temple of All Gods stood a short distance away from the Royal Keep in the heart of Shuganath, oriented toward the high peak that towered over the city. The Silver Mountain was the inviolate home of the Pantheon, and the temple was set up so that worshippers would face the peak as they prayed.
Part of the structure was taken up by a private chapel, reserved for either the Hierarchs or the Royal House. The doors of the chapel closed on the last of the high prelates, locked, and two priests of Luli took up guard positions before the doors, bared swords clasped in mailed paws as befitted the adherents of the War-god.
Two priests faced the closed and locked doors. They had bowed as the Hierarchs entered, but they would not be allowed inside until a decision had been made.
Then one would be invited in, to be acclaimed as the new High Priest of the Pantheon.
They were dressed identically, in white robes with a black sash over the shoulders and a similar length of blue cloth acting as a belt. A medallion in silver and lapis lazuli depicting the whirlpool symbol of the Pantheon glittered around their necks, and they wore white skullcaps with holes cut for the ears.
Part of their vigil was quiet meditation, but one of the two priests, a middle-aged wolf, hawked and spat to one side. “Day after day we have to stand here,” Saragi Lefra grumbled, reaching into his robe to scratch himself. A veteran soldier, he had gone into the priesthood to venerate Luli and His mate, Valla. He was a devoted priest, but sometimes his battlefield manners manifested themselves. “D’you think they’ll finally stop wanking around in there and pick someone?”
Gond Meras, the other candidate, shrugged. The red fox was an adherent of Azos, the King of the Gods and the giver of laws and justice. “Azos does not tell me about that,” he said quietly, “but I also wish they’d come to a decision.”
Lefra grunted, a grumbling, surly sound. “I wish I was home. My wife will be baking pies today.”
“I wish I was home, too,” Gond said quietly. “I miss Engery.”
The wolf perked an ear. “I heard you were from there. What’s it like?”
“It’s a beautiful place,” the fox said almost wistfully. “I can close my eyes and almost hear the gulls mewing and the shouts of the fishmongers on the quay near the temple. But Azos commanded that I speak out, and for that I’m here.” Gond had given sermons criticizing the High House and the Hierarchy for supporting and protecting the Order, and had attacked the Order vehemently (if not stridently) for heresy and immorality.
For inciting the citizens in Engery and its surrounding villages to riot, Gond had been brought to Shuga in chains to stand trial for treason.
For presuming to speak for Azos, he was also charged with blasphemy.
The trial had gone for almost as long as the conclave, with Gond defending himself rather adroitly until his candidacy had been proposed. His fate was now in abeyance while the prelates conferred.
The wolf nodded. “So here we stand,” and he gave the fox a sour grin, “like two errant schoolchildren outside the headmaster’s office.”
“If you didn’t want to be considered,” Gond said in an insinuating tone, “you can always back away. No one will think ill of you for it.”
Saragi chuckled, then gave a booming laugh that was quite out of place. “Luli and Valla would turn their faces away from me if I acted the coward.” He crested at the fox. “Battle is joined, and I will never retreat, especially from the likes of you, traitor.”
The fox crested back at the wolf. “I am no traitor,” he snarled. “Azos has spoken to me! TO ME! He tells me that the Order is evil, and that the King is WRONG to allow their blasphemies to enjoy the protection of the High House!” His teeth bared, he stepped toward the wolf, who clenched his fists.
One of the warrior-monks guarding the door looked at the other, and they exchanged smirks.
The clatter of the doors unlocking sounded almost preternaturally loud, and one of the door-guards stifled a snicker as the two older men suddenly faced the doorway, Gond struggling to compose his features while Saragi merely looked placid. They stood, paws clasped before them, as the doors opened.
The gaunt, aged features of Hierarch Pennara glared at them. The gray-furred ermine scowled, and when she spoke her voice sounded like dry leaves rustling over a rock shelf.
***
Dry leaves rustled and skittered across the road, wafted by an errant breeze as Halvrika slowed and finally reined in her dray-lizard at a point near the top of the first pass. The mountain was a rather high one, forcing her to wrap her cloak a bit tighter around herself. Despite the stony ground and uneven terrain, there were a few farms lower down, with farmers tending flocks of feral sheep and goats.
The lizard hissed and thrashed its tail a bit, rocking the wagon from side to side and only quieting when the raccoon flicked it with her goad. “Steady, there,” she said, “and you’ll get something to drink when I do.”
The road curved to the left around a crag as it rose to the mountain’s summit, and after a few snaps of the goad the lizard started moving forward again.
As she came around the spur, Halvrika saw that she no longer had the road to herself. Two men, one canine and the other feline, were seated beside a gnarled and weather-blasted tree. They were dressed in homespun breeches and shirts, with fur-lined vests and boots. They wore strange hats that resembled, if nothing else, small round kettles with flattened rims perhaps two fingers wide.
The feline was tugging on one of his boots, trying to remove it, and as Halvrika drew closer she heard him sigh, “Nothing is to be done.” He flopped over on his back, a vision of complete hopelessness.
“Don’t be like that,” the canine chided. “He’ll be here; all we have to do is wait.”
“But we’ve been waiting so long,” the cat whined.
“I’ll ask this person,” the canine said, and he got to his feet and walked forward. “Good morning, young woman.”
“Good morning.” Her Sight revealed nothing.
“Have you, by chance, passed a tall – “
“He’s short,” the feline interjected.
The canine seemed to flinch and half-turned. “Let’s not start that again. He’s taller than me.”
“No, he’s not. He’s shorter than you.”
The canine huffed. “Vali, we always have this argument.”
“We do?” The feline, Vali, looked a bit nonplussed before taking off his bowl-shaped hat and rapping on his skull with his knuckles. “My memory’s so poor, Estri.”
“Never mind,” Estri said tolerantly as he smiled at Halvrika. “Have you seen a buck on this road? Perhaps passed him along your way?”
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t passed a buck today,” Halvrika replied. “There’s been no one on the road but me since I left the inn this morning.”
“I’m hungry,” Vali suddenly remarked.
“If you should see him on your way down the mountain,” Estri resumed with a glare at his companion, “his name is Godot. Could you tell him that we’re waiting for him?”
“We’ve been waiting a long time,” Vali supplied.
“I will.”
“Thank you.” Estri turned back to Vali as the wagon started moving again.
Halvrika was starting down the slope from the summit, but not before her ears swiveled to catch Vali say, “Maybe I’ll just hang myself.”
“That rope’s too short,” Estri said as the wagon went around another bend.
Halvrika shook her head.
That was a bit absurd, she thought.
***
There had been a crowd outside the Temple since the death of High Priest Makari, and it had only gotten larger as the Hierarchs had dithered and debated over a possible successor.
The news that Gond, charged as he was with blasphemy and treason, was being considered as a candidate had caused a sensation. The people who had read the copies of his sermons and commentaries on The Book of Skulls had swelled the ranks of those who were waiting.
A few fights had broken out, here and there.
Ears perked as the great bell of the Temple, silent since Makari’s death, began to toll in a measured knell. After the twelfth ring, one for each member of the Pantheon, Hierarch Hezhist stepped out onto a balcony and the crowd went quiet.
The mouse spread his arms wide, the silver-thread brocade on his sleeves flashing in the sunlight. “Good people!” he said in a loud, carrying voice. “All those who bend the knee in reverence to Almighty Azos, King of the Gods of Shuga, and His Holy Queen Perrin! All those who bow the head to before the Gods of the Pantheon! Hear me!”
“Many days and nights the Hierarchs have besought the will of Azos, begging Him to guide His servants. We have begged Perrin to show us mercy.”
“Many days and nights we have sought the Puissant Will of the Gods, and They have heard us.” Hezhist paused as a swelling wave of cheers and applause greeted his words.
© 2015 by Walter Reimer
This is a sequel to The Gray Tower, which is a sequel to The Black Chapel. It’s not really necessary to read the previous two stories, but they provide important plot points and great yiff, so you’re missing out if you don’t. Just saying.
Art by
whitearabmare_______________________
Part 2.
The great Temple of All Gods stood a short distance away from the Royal Keep in the heart of Shuganath, oriented toward the high peak that towered over the city. The Silver Mountain was the inviolate home of the Pantheon, and the temple was set up so that worshippers would face the peak as they prayed.
Part of the structure was taken up by a private chapel, reserved for either the Hierarchs or the Royal House. The doors of the chapel closed on the last of the high prelates, locked, and two priests of Luli took up guard positions before the doors, bared swords clasped in mailed paws as befitted the adherents of the War-god.
Two priests faced the closed and locked doors. They had bowed as the Hierarchs entered, but they would not be allowed inside until a decision had been made.
Then one would be invited in, to be acclaimed as the new High Priest of the Pantheon.
They were dressed identically, in white robes with a black sash over the shoulders and a similar length of blue cloth acting as a belt. A medallion in silver and lapis lazuli depicting the whirlpool symbol of the Pantheon glittered around their necks, and they wore white skullcaps with holes cut for the ears.
Part of their vigil was quiet meditation, but one of the two priests, a middle-aged wolf, hawked and spat to one side. “Day after day we have to stand here,” Saragi Lefra grumbled, reaching into his robe to scratch himself. A veteran soldier, he had gone into the priesthood to venerate Luli and His mate, Valla. He was a devoted priest, but sometimes his battlefield manners manifested themselves. “D’you think they’ll finally stop wanking around in there and pick someone?”
Gond Meras, the other candidate, shrugged. The red fox was an adherent of Azos, the King of the Gods and the giver of laws and justice. “Azos does not tell me about that,” he said quietly, “but I also wish they’d come to a decision.”
Lefra grunted, a grumbling, surly sound. “I wish I was home. My wife will be baking pies today.”
“I wish I was home, too,” Gond said quietly. “I miss Engery.”
The wolf perked an ear. “I heard you were from there. What’s it like?”
“It’s a beautiful place,” the fox said almost wistfully. “I can close my eyes and almost hear the gulls mewing and the shouts of the fishmongers on the quay near the temple. But Azos commanded that I speak out, and for that I’m here.” Gond had given sermons criticizing the High House and the Hierarchy for supporting and protecting the Order, and had attacked the Order vehemently (if not stridently) for heresy and immorality.
For inciting the citizens in Engery and its surrounding villages to riot, Gond had been brought to Shuga in chains to stand trial for treason.
For presuming to speak for Azos, he was also charged with blasphemy.
The trial had gone for almost as long as the conclave, with Gond defending himself rather adroitly until his candidacy had been proposed. His fate was now in abeyance while the prelates conferred.
The wolf nodded. “So here we stand,” and he gave the fox a sour grin, “like two errant schoolchildren outside the headmaster’s office.”
“If you didn’t want to be considered,” Gond said in an insinuating tone, “you can always back away. No one will think ill of you for it.”
Saragi chuckled, then gave a booming laugh that was quite out of place. “Luli and Valla would turn their faces away from me if I acted the coward.” He crested at the fox. “Battle is joined, and I will never retreat, especially from the likes of you, traitor.”
The fox crested back at the wolf. “I am no traitor,” he snarled. “Azos has spoken to me! TO ME! He tells me that the Order is evil, and that the King is WRONG to allow their blasphemies to enjoy the protection of the High House!” His teeth bared, he stepped toward the wolf, who clenched his fists.
One of the warrior-monks guarding the door looked at the other, and they exchanged smirks.
The clatter of the doors unlocking sounded almost preternaturally loud, and one of the door-guards stifled a snicker as the two older men suddenly faced the doorway, Gond struggling to compose his features while Saragi merely looked placid. They stood, paws clasped before them, as the doors opened.
The gaunt, aged features of Hierarch Pennara glared at them. The gray-furred ermine scowled, and when she spoke her voice sounded like dry leaves rustling over a rock shelf.
***
Dry leaves rustled and skittered across the road, wafted by an errant breeze as Halvrika slowed and finally reined in her dray-lizard at a point near the top of the first pass. The mountain was a rather high one, forcing her to wrap her cloak a bit tighter around herself. Despite the stony ground and uneven terrain, there were a few farms lower down, with farmers tending flocks of feral sheep and goats.
The lizard hissed and thrashed its tail a bit, rocking the wagon from side to side and only quieting when the raccoon flicked it with her goad. “Steady, there,” she said, “and you’ll get something to drink when I do.”
The road curved to the left around a crag as it rose to the mountain’s summit, and after a few snaps of the goad the lizard started moving forward again.
As she came around the spur, Halvrika saw that she no longer had the road to herself. Two men, one canine and the other feline, were seated beside a gnarled and weather-blasted tree. They were dressed in homespun breeches and shirts, with fur-lined vests and boots. They wore strange hats that resembled, if nothing else, small round kettles with flattened rims perhaps two fingers wide.
The feline was tugging on one of his boots, trying to remove it, and as Halvrika drew closer she heard him sigh, “Nothing is to be done.” He flopped over on his back, a vision of complete hopelessness.
“Don’t be like that,” the canine chided. “He’ll be here; all we have to do is wait.”
“But we’ve been waiting so long,” the cat whined.
“I’ll ask this person,” the canine said, and he got to his feet and walked forward. “Good morning, young woman.”
“Good morning.” Her Sight revealed nothing.
“Have you, by chance, passed a tall – “
“He’s short,” the feline interjected.
The canine seemed to flinch and half-turned. “Let’s not start that again. He’s taller than me.”
“No, he’s not. He’s shorter than you.”
The canine huffed. “Vali, we always have this argument.”
“We do?” The feline, Vali, looked a bit nonplussed before taking off his bowl-shaped hat and rapping on his skull with his knuckles. “My memory’s so poor, Estri.”
“Never mind,” Estri said tolerantly as he smiled at Halvrika. “Have you seen a buck on this road? Perhaps passed him along your way?”
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t passed a buck today,” Halvrika replied. “There’s been no one on the road but me since I left the inn this morning.”
“I’m hungry,” Vali suddenly remarked.
“If you should see him on your way down the mountain,” Estri resumed with a glare at his companion, “his name is Godot. Could you tell him that we’re waiting for him?”
“We’ve been waiting a long time,” Vali supplied.
“I will.”
“Thank you.” Estri turned back to Vali as the wagon started moving again.
Halvrika was starting down the slope from the summit, but not before her ears swiveled to catch Vali say, “Maybe I’ll just hang myself.”
“That rope’s too short,” Estri said as the wagon went around another bend.
Halvrika shook her head.
That was a bit absurd, she thought.
***
There had been a crowd outside the Temple since the death of High Priest Makari, and it had only gotten larger as the Hierarchs had dithered and debated over a possible successor.
The news that Gond, charged as he was with blasphemy and treason, was being considered as a candidate had caused a sensation. The people who had read the copies of his sermons and commentaries on The Book of Skulls had swelled the ranks of those who were waiting.
A few fights had broken out, here and there.
Ears perked as the great bell of the Temple, silent since Makari’s death, began to toll in a measured knell. After the twelfth ring, one for each member of the Pantheon, Hierarch Hezhist stepped out onto a balcony and the crowd went quiet.
The mouse spread his arms wide, the silver-thread brocade on his sleeves flashing in the sunlight. “Good people!” he said in a loud, carrying voice. “All those who bend the knee in reverence to Almighty Azos, King of the Gods of Shuga, and His Holy Queen Perrin! All those who bow the head to before the Gods of the Pantheon! Hear me!”
“Many days and nights the Hierarchs have besought the will of Azos, begging Him to guide His servants. We have begged Perrin to show us mercy.”
“Many days and nights we have sought the Puissant Will of the Gods, and They have heard us.” Hezhist paused as a swelling wave of cheers and applause greeted his words.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Raccoon
Gender Female
Size 594 x 876px
File Size 91.6 kB
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