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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 3.
The sound of the great bell was heard throughout Shuganath and its outlying villages, so it was natural that the ringing would attract attention at the nearby Royal Keep.
Princess Trasta’s ears had perked at the first ring, and by the echoes of the last peal had died away she was on her hooves as her two squires hustled to strap her into her armor. The two feline boys were helped by the fact that she was already wearing her quilted arming coat and trews. She flexed this way and that to check the fit, held still while her sword was buckled on, and scooped up her helmet as she walked out of her private apartments.
After all, the news could be either good or bad, and it paid to be ready for anything.
As she strode down the polished stone corridor, a lean but well-muscled red deer buck stepped out of the library and fell in beside her, matching her gait. “The bell hasn’t rung since the High Priest’s death,” the buck observed. “What do you think?”
Trasta spared him a glance as the two of them descended the stairs leading to the Keep’s entrance. “I don’t know. But best to be prepared.”
“Quite so.” The two cervines paused at the gate as a buck in armor with the insignia of the Captain of the Guard stood talking with a goat in priest’s robes. Both bowed as the Princess approached, the priest practically bent double.
“Thegn Stolipi,” Trasta asked, “who is this?”
“A messenger from the Temple,” the thegn said, and the man bowed again. “Here, straighten up, you.”
The goat complied and said to Trasta, “Your Highness, the Hierarchy has sent me to crave an immediate audience with the King’s Majesty.” He looked up at the elk doe, then lowered his eyes respectfully. “Tradition requires that the King be told of the new High Priest’s election.”
“That’s very true,” Trasta said, giving Stolipi and the red deer buck a wink. “Couldn’t you, you know, bend tradition a tiny bit and tell us first?”
The caprine bit his lower lip, his ears drooping. He looked rather young. “N-no, Highness. My word is for the K-King.”
Trasta chuckled. “Then the King will hear it. Thegn, go ahead of us and tell His Majesty that we’re coming.”
The buck took to his heels, and Trasta turned to the red deer. “Chassi, shall we escort this young priest?”
Chassi, Earl of Repor, smiled and gave a slight shrug. “I expect you’ve given Thegn Stolipi enough of a head start.” He bowed to the priest, who looked a bit flustered as he returned the gesture. “This way, please.” The red deer buck put a reassuring paw on the goat’s shoulder as they started up the steps. Trasta followed a few steps behind, suppressing a smile.
The Earl had come to Shuganath some months ago after his father had died, to tender his fealty to her father. He had stayed after she had agreed to spar with him.
After getting to know him a bit better, she told him that she was determined to court him. It surprised and pleased her mother, Queen Falra, because Trasta hadn’t shown much interest in other suitors in the past.
She liked him because he was a good swordsman who acknowledged that he could learn from her, was actually good-looking, and gave her good advice.
He also quite liked her hooves, which was a major surprise.
Two of the House Guard snapped to attention outside the entrance to the Royal Apartments as she and Chassi approached, and Thegn Stolipi stepped out. “The King awaits the message of the Hierarchy,” he said as a clanking sound could be heard coming down the hallway. It was a ways off, but getting closer.
Trasta nodded and waved the thegn back to his post, feeling her heart sink a bit.
Of course, her brother would have heard the bell.
The clanking grew louder, the metallic sound mingled with the clop of hooves, and Prince Meki came around a corner. He took in the others gathered at the door and sneered, “Trying to get to Father first, dear sister? And in armor, too! One might think you’re expecting trouble.”
The doe sighed. “I always expect trouble, Meki, you know that. And we were waiting for you, and to give time for Father to get ready.” From his expression, he didn’t believe her, but then he always expected her to try to undermine him. “Tell you what – you can go in first with the priest.”
Meki glowered and stepped toward the goat, who seemed to cringe a bit as the buck fairly loomed over him. Like his father, Meki was a tall elk buck, well-muscled and broad-chested. Quite unlike his father, his oldest fawn was a cripple, born with a withered right leg that required a hinged iron brace.
This was a bit of a blow to the High House, as the Issem were a military monarchy. The King or his heir was supposed to be able to sit a saddle and lead his troops into battle personally, which Meki was unable to do. This resulted in Meki being the oldest child, but Trasta being the heir to the throne as well as commander of the armies.
It also resulted in Meki growing up to be an abusive bully who was devoted wholly to the Pantheon and loathed the Order (his birth had been attended by a midwife from the Cloister instead of a priestess of Regali), blaming the magic-users for deliberately injuring him.
The goat relaxed – just a bit – as Meki bowed to him and gestured for the guard to open the door. The priest practically scampered in, followed by the others.
Two healers, one a disciple of Rarmyni and the other a Master of the Order, bowed as Meki entered. The buck spat at Master Ast’s feet as he guided the priest into the next room. Trasta gave the wolf an apologetic shrug as she went past him.
Aroki, fourth of his name to sit on the Throne of Shuga, sat in a well-padded armchair. His mate sat at his side as the King raised his right paw with a visible effort when the priest knelt. “Rise,” and he added slowly, “What . . . news?”
The goat stuck his paws into his sleeves and bowed. “The Hierarchs of the Pantheon have prayed to Azos, and with His guidance have chosen Saragi Lefra, adher – “
“What!?” Meki snarled.
The goat paused and Aroki gave his son a sharp glance. The buck gestured for the priest to continue as Meki began to seethe.
“Adherent to Luli and His Divine Mate Valla, to be the new High Priest of Shuga,” the goat said, shooting increasingly fearful glances at Prince Meki. “All h-hail Azos a-and Perrin,” he faltered over the end of the formula.
The Prince was cresting and his fists were clenched. His breath was coming in short, sharp snorts from his flared nostrils. There was a slight creaking sound as his teeth ground together.
“All hail Azos and Perrin,” Aroki and Queen Falra responded. “Tell High Priest . . . Saragi, he is, welcome.” He made a dismissive gesture with his left paw.
The goat took the hint and backed out of the room, bowing until he was out of the room.
Before the door closed, Trasta heard his hooves on the floor as he ran for his life.
As soon as the door was shut Meki rounded on Trasta. “You BITCH!”
The Queen put a paw to her muzzle. “Meki! Language!”
Meki ignored his mother to hobble closer to his sister, his fists clenched. For her part, Trasta remained where she was.
Let him throw the first blow. Falra was hunched in her seat, clinging to her husband. King Aroki held his peace, merely watching and listening to the dispute.
“This is your doing!” the buck raged, spittle fairly flying from his mouth. “Gond would have been elected, if you hadn’t stuck your hoof in!” He raised a fist toward her. “But don’t – “
“Put that down,” Trasta said in her loud battlefield voice. “Put that down, brother, or by Valla you’ll eat it.”
“You wouldn’t dare! I’M the Regent.”
Trasta decided it was time to jab him. “And I’M the Heir, and Commander of the Armies, brother mine. Until your fawn gets born, I’m still the Heir. So yes, you’re Regent – until Father recovers.” She gave him a slow, almost feral grin as what she’d said sunk into him.
A priestess of Regali had determined that the fawn would be a buck; if the child was in fact born male Trasta’s position as Heir would go to her brother. If King Aroki died, Meki would be Regent until his son reached his majority.
Of course, if the priestess had been wrong . . .
Meki growled and turned toward the door, almost running into Earl Chassi. “Out of my way, you male whore. You put her up to this, I’m certain.”
“Mmeki.” The one word from his father brought him up short and he turned to face his father.
Aroki licked his lips and said slowly and deliberately, “The Hierarchs . . . judge . . . as Azos wills. Neither . . . you nor Trasssta . . . had any . . . “ he searched for a word “ . . . influence.” He gave his son a lopsided smile. “I saw . . . to that.”
“You . . . “ The buck’s jaw worked silently for a moment before he whirled and left the room as fast as he could go. Which, by cervine standards, wasn’t very quick. He paused to snarl a choice slur or two at Master Ast before departing. The wolf and his associate, Priest Arkoni from the Temple of Rarmyni, poked their heads in, nodded as they saw that the King was all right, and retreated.
Chassi breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought he was going to hit you, Your Highness.”
Trasta grinned. “He’s been welcome to try for years.” She looked at the Earl curiously. “Aren’t you going to take offense at what he called you?”
A shrug. “In a way, I suppose I am, as a suitor for your paw in marriage.” He smiled. “You may find, Your Highness, that while I may be easy, I’m far from cheap.”
Queen Falra made a scandalized sound behind her paw as her mate and their daughter laughed.
***
Wait a moment. What’s that?
Halvrika reined in the dray-lizard. The two of them had made it over two of the three mountain passes that separated her from Karbur, and the raccooness was starting to get a bit anxious about finally reaching her destination. Luckily, the weather was holding.
Equally luckily there were inns along the way, so she was able to sleep comfortably.
But her Sight was now telling her that there was something amiss, and she had stopped to investigate.
The road had curved and recurved as it went down the mountain, threading its way among the many gorges that pleated the slopes. She hobbled the lizard and stepped gingerly down into a small gorge, her eyes glowing silver as she searched.
There! She slipped partway out of the Writ and looked around. The gorge was steeply sided, but carpeted with grass and dotted with wildflowers. All in all, a nice little patch of upland greenery, good pasturage for feral sheep or goats.
But against the seamless, glowing fabric of the Writ, there were small glimmers that definitely should not have been there. She approached one warily, probing it gently to test it. Satisfied that it posed no danger to her, she crouched down to examine it more closely.
It was a ward, more precisely a fragment of one. Halvrika studied it carefully and sat back on her haunches, her banded tail swishing a bit.
The fragment was very intricate work, and the other fragments were the same. They were very old; how old, she had no way of knowing. Duke Evoli and Master Marok had told her that the Order hadn’t been in Lem in generations.
Yet here were wards, very complex ones. A battle had been fought here, fierce enough to kill (yes, the scars in the Writ could be discerned).
And from the look of them they could only have been cast by a Master.
© 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 3.
The sound of the great bell was heard throughout Shuganath and its outlying villages, so it was natural that the ringing would attract attention at the nearby Royal Keep.
Princess Trasta’s ears had perked at the first ring, and by the echoes of the last peal had died away she was on her hooves as her two squires hustled to strap her into her armor. The two feline boys were helped by the fact that she was already wearing her quilted arming coat and trews. She flexed this way and that to check the fit, held still while her sword was buckled on, and scooped up her helmet as she walked out of her private apartments.
After all, the news could be either good or bad, and it paid to be ready for anything.
As she strode down the polished stone corridor, a lean but well-muscled red deer buck stepped out of the library and fell in beside her, matching her gait. “The bell hasn’t rung since the High Priest’s death,” the buck observed. “What do you think?”
Trasta spared him a glance as the two of them descended the stairs leading to the Keep’s entrance. “I don’t know. But best to be prepared.”
“Quite so.” The two cervines paused at the gate as a buck in armor with the insignia of the Captain of the Guard stood talking with a goat in priest’s robes. Both bowed as the Princess approached, the priest practically bent double.
“Thegn Stolipi,” Trasta asked, “who is this?”
“A messenger from the Temple,” the thegn said, and the man bowed again. “Here, straighten up, you.”
The goat complied and said to Trasta, “Your Highness, the Hierarchy has sent me to crave an immediate audience with the King’s Majesty.” He looked up at the elk doe, then lowered his eyes respectfully. “Tradition requires that the King be told of the new High Priest’s election.”
“That’s very true,” Trasta said, giving Stolipi and the red deer buck a wink. “Couldn’t you, you know, bend tradition a tiny bit and tell us first?”
The caprine bit his lower lip, his ears drooping. He looked rather young. “N-no, Highness. My word is for the K-King.”
Trasta chuckled. “Then the King will hear it. Thegn, go ahead of us and tell His Majesty that we’re coming.”
The buck took to his heels, and Trasta turned to the red deer. “Chassi, shall we escort this young priest?”
Chassi, Earl of Repor, smiled and gave a slight shrug. “I expect you’ve given Thegn Stolipi enough of a head start.” He bowed to the priest, who looked a bit flustered as he returned the gesture. “This way, please.” The red deer buck put a reassuring paw on the goat’s shoulder as they started up the steps. Trasta followed a few steps behind, suppressing a smile.
The Earl had come to Shuganath some months ago after his father had died, to tender his fealty to her father. He had stayed after she had agreed to spar with him.
After getting to know him a bit better, she told him that she was determined to court him. It surprised and pleased her mother, Queen Falra, because Trasta hadn’t shown much interest in other suitors in the past.
She liked him because he was a good swordsman who acknowledged that he could learn from her, was actually good-looking, and gave her good advice.
He also quite liked her hooves, which was a major surprise.
Two of the House Guard snapped to attention outside the entrance to the Royal Apartments as she and Chassi approached, and Thegn Stolipi stepped out. “The King awaits the message of the Hierarchy,” he said as a clanking sound could be heard coming down the hallway. It was a ways off, but getting closer.
Trasta nodded and waved the thegn back to his post, feeling her heart sink a bit.
Of course, her brother would have heard the bell.
The clanking grew louder, the metallic sound mingled with the clop of hooves, and Prince Meki came around a corner. He took in the others gathered at the door and sneered, “Trying to get to Father first, dear sister? And in armor, too! One might think you’re expecting trouble.”
The doe sighed. “I always expect trouble, Meki, you know that. And we were waiting for you, and to give time for Father to get ready.” From his expression, he didn’t believe her, but then he always expected her to try to undermine him. “Tell you what – you can go in first with the priest.”
Meki glowered and stepped toward the goat, who seemed to cringe a bit as the buck fairly loomed over him. Like his father, Meki was a tall elk buck, well-muscled and broad-chested. Quite unlike his father, his oldest fawn was a cripple, born with a withered right leg that required a hinged iron brace.
This was a bit of a blow to the High House, as the Issem were a military monarchy. The King or his heir was supposed to be able to sit a saddle and lead his troops into battle personally, which Meki was unable to do. This resulted in Meki being the oldest child, but Trasta being the heir to the throne as well as commander of the armies.
It also resulted in Meki growing up to be an abusive bully who was devoted wholly to the Pantheon and loathed the Order (his birth had been attended by a midwife from the Cloister instead of a priestess of Regali), blaming the magic-users for deliberately injuring him.
The goat relaxed – just a bit – as Meki bowed to him and gestured for the guard to open the door. The priest practically scampered in, followed by the others.
Two healers, one a disciple of Rarmyni and the other a Master of the Order, bowed as Meki entered. The buck spat at Master Ast’s feet as he guided the priest into the next room. Trasta gave the wolf an apologetic shrug as she went past him.
Aroki, fourth of his name to sit on the Throne of Shuga, sat in a well-padded armchair. His mate sat at his side as the King raised his right paw with a visible effort when the priest knelt. “Rise,” and he added slowly, “What . . . news?”
The goat stuck his paws into his sleeves and bowed. “The Hierarchs of the Pantheon have prayed to Azos, and with His guidance have chosen Saragi Lefra, adher – “
“What!?” Meki snarled.
The goat paused and Aroki gave his son a sharp glance. The buck gestured for the priest to continue as Meki began to seethe.
“Adherent to Luli and His Divine Mate Valla, to be the new High Priest of Shuga,” the goat said, shooting increasingly fearful glances at Prince Meki. “All h-hail Azos a-and Perrin,” he faltered over the end of the formula.
The Prince was cresting and his fists were clenched. His breath was coming in short, sharp snorts from his flared nostrils. There was a slight creaking sound as his teeth ground together.
“All hail Azos and Perrin,” Aroki and Queen Falra responded. “Tell High Priest . . . Saragi, he is, welcome.” He made a dismissive gesture with his left paw.
The goat took the hint and backed out of the room, bowing until he was out of the room.
Before the door closed, Trasta heard his hooves on the floor as he ran for his life.
As soon as the door was shut Meki rounded on Trasta. “You BITCH!”
The Queen put a paw to her muzzle. “Meki! Language!”
Meki ignored his mother to hobble closer to his sister, his fists clenched. For her part, Trasta remained where she was.
Let him throw the first blow. Falra was hunched in her seat, clinging to her husband. King Aroki held his peace, merely watching and listening to the dispute.
“This is your doing!” the buck raged, spittle fairly flying from his mouth. “Gond would have been elected, if you hadn’t stuck your hoof in!” He raised a fist toward her. “But don’t – “
“Put that down,” Trasta said in her loud battlefield voice. “Put that down, brother, or by Valla you’ll eat it.”
“You wouldn’t dare! I’M the Regent.”
Trasta decided it was time to jab him. “And I’M the Heir, and Commander of the Armies, brother mine. Until your fawn gets born, I’m still the Heir. So yes, you’re Regent – until Father recovers.” She gave him a slow, almost feral grin as what she’d said sunk into him.
A priestess of Regali had determined that the fawn would be a buck; if the child was in fact born male Trasta’s position as Heir would go to her brother. If King Aroki died, Meki would be Regent until his son reached his majority.
Of course, if the priestess had been wrong . . .
Meki growled and turned toward the door, almost running into Earl Chassi. “Out of my way, you male whore. You put her up to this, I’m certain.”
“Mmeki.” The one word from his father brought him up short and he turned to face his father.
Aroki licked his lips and said slowly and deliberately, “The Hierarchs . . . judge . . . as Azos wills. Neither . . . you nor Trasssta . . . had any . . . “ he searched for a word “ . . . influence.” He gave his son a lopsided smile. “I saw . . . to that.”
“You . . . “ The buck’s jaw worked silently for a moment before he whirled and left the room as fast as he could go. Which, by cervine standards, wasn’t very quick. He paused to snarl a choice slur or two at Master Ast before departing. The wolf and his associate, Priest Arkoni from the Temple of Rarmyni, poked their heads in, nodded as they saw that the King was all right, and retreated.
Chassi breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought he was going to hit you, Your Highness.”
Trasta grinned. “He’s been welcome to try for years.” She looked at the Earl curiously. “Aren’t you going to take offense at what he called you?”
A shrug. “In a way, I suppose I am, as a suitor for your paw in marriage.” He smiled. “You may find, Your Highness, that while I may be easy, I’m far from cheap.”
Queen Falra made a scandalized sound behind her paw as her mate and their daughter laughed.
***
Wait a moment. What’s that?
Halvrika reined in the dray-lizard. The two of them had made it over two of the three mountain passes that separated her from Karbur, and the raccooness was starting to get a bit anxious about finally reaching her destination. Luckily, the weather was holding.
Equally luckily there were inns along the way, so she was able to sleep comfortably.
But her Sight was now telling her that there was something amiss, and she had stopped to investigate.
The road had curved and recurved as it went down the mountain, threading its way among the many gorges that pleated the slopes. She hobbled the lizard and stepped gingerly down into a small gorge, her eyes glowing silver as she searched.
There! She slipped partway out of the Writ and looked around. The gorge was steeply sided, but carpeted with grass and dotted with wildflowers. All in all, a nice little patch of upland greenery, good pasturage for feral sheep or goats.
But against the seamless, glowing fabric of the Writ, there were small glimmers that definitely should not have been there. She approached one warily, probing it gently to test it. Satisfied that it posed no danger to her, she crouched down to examine it more closely.
It was a ward, more precisely a fragment of one. Halvrika studied it carefully and sat back on her haunches, her banded tail swishing a bit.
The fragment was very intricate work, and the other fragments were the same. They were very old; how old, she had no way of knowing. Duke Evoli and Master Marok had told her that the Order hadn’t been in Lem in generations.
Yet here were wards, very complex ones. A battle had been fought here, fierce enough to kill (yes, the scars in the Writ could be discerned).
And from the look of them they could only have been cast by a Master.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Cervine (Other)
Gender Female
Size 594 x 876px
File Size 91.6 kB
Listed in Folders
Don't want to get careless with induction, nopenope. Could be shocking.
On a more serious note - wouldn't Trassta's NEPHEW become the heir if that priestess wasn't just making stuff up? Meki would still only be regent for him. And she'd still be CO of the army even if he became Regent full time. Doesn't do his power base any good at all.
On a more serious note - wouldn't Trassta's NEPHEW become the heir if that priestess wasn't just making stuff up? Meki would still only be regent for him. And she'd still be CO of the army even if he became Regent full time. Doesn't do his power base any good at all.
No, it doesn't, and Shuga's laws on royal inheritance are a bit arcane. But they acknowledge that a baby's a bit vulnerable to disease and so forth; it's likely he'd be named Heir after a few years when they're sure he won't up and die on them.
Obviously Halvrika won't piece together the little fiddly bits of magic strewn around the ravine. She doesn't have the time, and no telling what might happen.
Obviously Halvrika won't piece together the little fiddly bits of magic strewn around the ravine. She doesn't have the time, and no telling what might happen.
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