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Pillar of White Flame
© 2016 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.
Chapter 23’s won the Last Tango in Paris Award for Gratuitous Use of Butter in a Sex Scene!
Art by
rabbi-tom
_______________________
Part 24.
“Meki!” The Queen got up from her chair.
Her son glared at her, a look of hatred and loathing that hit her like a physical blow as he strode past her. Despite his handicap, he was still a cervine, and although it caused a great deal of pain he could still move swiftly. She moved to block him, but an angry sweep of his arm sent her sprawling back into her chair. “Meki, no!” she said.
“I said get away from him!” and the Prince grabbed Ast by the collar of his tunic.
In the Writ, Ast barely noted the sudden appearance of Prince Meki. He was concentrating on his work, and he was surprised as he felt a fist close at the back of his neck. He then felt himself lifted and catapulted backward.
“I SAID – “ And Meki threw the older wolf across the room.
There was a sodden crack as the back of his head struck a corner of the table, the sound eclipsed by Falra’s scream and the heavy impact of Master Ast as he slumped to the floor. Meki stood over the wolf, chest heaving and his fists clenched. There was a sound, and he began to turn toward it.
The fist that struck him on the side of his face loosened a tooth, that spat from his mouth trailing a droplet of blood as the force of the blow spun him around and made him stumble. The elk buck shook his head and looked up, his eyes widening in shock as his father towered over him.
Priest Arkoni came to the door, his jaw dropping as he took in the scene and he focused on the Queen. “Majesty! What – “
“See – see to Ast, Arkoni,” the doe said.
The wolf nodded and dashed to Ast’s side, taking in his injuries. The Master was lying limp on the floor, a smear of blood matting the fur on the back of his neck and a matching blotch on the table above him. He ran his fingers gingerly over the wound and slowly withdrew, kneeling beside his friend. “Can you help him?” Falra asked.
“I can’t,” Arkoni said. “His neck’s been broken.”
Ast could hear him. That explains why I can’t feel anything, he thought. He tried to feel the injuries using his contact with the Writ, but failed. Had he been able to do so, he would have laughed at the irony; the Master Healer of the Order unable to mend himself.
But there was still something he could do, even as he felt his breathing start to grow ragged and his heartbeat began to slow.
He looked up and saw Arkoni bending over him, the pain evident on his friend’s face. He still had command of his facial muscles, and he gave the priest a gentle smile as he closed his eyes and slipped into the Writ for the last time.
”Master Dinest? Marok?”
”Ast? Ast, what is the matter? What ails thee? Thy voice is very soft.”
”I am dying, Marok. Prince Meki hath broken my spine at the neck.” He felt a sudden, startled surge of power from the bear. ”Nay, my friend, thou canst do nothing.”
”I love thee, Ast.” Marok had started crying.
”I love thee, Marok, my friend of old. Perhaps I shall see my wife – yet there is still time, a brief moment. Tell the other Masters – Hold!“ One ear stirred at the sound of a heavy thump, and there was a great deal of screaming. A slight shift in focus, and he quickly returned and told Marok, ”The King . . . Meki the Regent for his son. Warn the others, Marok . . . warn them, and ward the Cl . . . “ His voice fell silent as he sensed the silence and darkness gather around him.
Arkoni saw Ast close his eyes. His breathing grew ragged, labored, and finally his chest fell one last time with a slight, liquid rattling sound between parted and still-smiling lips. The wolf bowed his head in prayer and his ears twitched as the King snorted loudly. He looked up to see Meki sitting with his back to the wall while his father loomed over him and his mother stood near the doorway, screaming. Guards were coming, drawn by the commotion.
A heavy hoof crashed into the younger buck’s side, driving the breath from Meki’s lungs. He woofed and began to curl up defensively. Aroki forestalled him, leaning over and grabbing one of his son’s antlers and punching him hard in the face. “You little shit!” the King bellowed. “He was helping me, Dator damn you!” He struck him in the face two more times before standing up, blood smeared across his knuckles. Another kick caught the younger elk behind his braced knee, and Meki howled in pain while the King turned away from him to face his wife.
“Aroki,” Falra said brokenly, paws reaching out to her mate as tears rolled down her cheeks. Beside her, Thegn Stolipi stood framed in the doorway, a cohort of guards at his back.
Aroki took a few steps toward her and paused to look over his shoulder as his son coughed and started to get to his hooves. “Father,” Meki slurred. He hawked and spat out another tooth, the area around his left eye starting to swell. “I had to,” he said defensively. “Who knows what that wolf was trying to do to you – “
“SHUT UP!” his father roared, and Meki flinched as the older buck cocked a fist. “He was trying to help, you insolent little FAWN! I swear, I – “ He paused in mid-rant, his jaw falling open and his glare faltering.
“A-Aroki?” Falra asked softly.
“F-Falra,” her mate said, and his face suddenly contorted into a mask of agony, his right paw coming up to grip his left arm. He fought the pain, and lost, suddenly falling to his knees.
The wolf left his dead friend’s side and grabbed the King as Stolipi rushed past the Queen. “What is it?” he asked as he helped Arkoni roll the elk onto his back.
“His heart, I think,” and without saying more he slipped Stolipi’s dagger from his belt. He sliced a rent in the cotton shirt, then tore it open and put his ear to the King’s chest. “Yes. You!” he said, pointing at a guard. “Next room, fetch me my medicine chest.”
Stolipi glanced at the man when he hesitated, and his ears went flat. “You heard the healer! RUN!” The man ran, and the priest knelt beside the elk buck, patting his face gently to keep him conscious and speaking to him in a reassuring whisper until the guard could arrive with the medicines.
Meki laboriously got to his hooves and staggered over to his mother, who had sat down. “Mother,” he murmured around his broken teeth, “I thought that he was doing something to Father – “
The elk doe, tears still wetting her face fur, placed a paw on one of his antlers. “I know. You’ve always hated the Order, Son – but now look at what you’ve done.” Using the grip she had, she forced his head to turn so he could take in what she was still staring at. “The Master Healer is dead, and your father may die as a result.” She jerked his head around to face her. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Wha – No!” he spluttered. “I never –“
The guard bustled in with Arkoni’s medical chest, and the priest pulled out a vial, uncorked it, and sniffed. He nodded and touched the liquid to his fingertip, then stuck the finger into Aroki’s mouth, putting the drop under his tongue. The King drew a harsh, deep breath and he seemed to relax.
Arkoni grabbed his auscultation tube and pressed it to the buck’s chest, eyes closing as he concentrated. “Not working,” he muttered, and he straddled the King’s hips and placed his paws over his heart, shoving his weight down on the ribs in a steady rhythm.
As the priest worked, Thegn Stolipi got to his feet and bowed to the Queen. “Majesty,” he said quietly.
Falra tore her gaze away from her husband to look up at him. “Yes?”
The buck said softly, “Majesty, as Captain of the Guard I wish to ask what should be done if . . . “ He let his voice trail off, the implication clear.
The elk doe burst into tears and her son looked up at the thegn. Meki licked blood from his lips and squinted through his black eye. “T-tell Duchess Rolna,” he said, “and summon the High Priest.” He paused, looked back at his father, and said, “And you and two trusted men fetch the Crown from the Treasury. It may be needed.”
Stolipi nodded, just as Arkoni sank back on his haunches and covered his face with both paws.
Falra mimicked the gesture, sobbing and bending nearly double in her seat as the Priest of Rarmyni said with an exhausted sigh, “The King is dead.”
© 2016 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.
Chapter 23’s won the Last Tango in Paris Award for Gratuitous Use of Butter in a Sex Scene!
Art by
rabbi-tom_______________________
Part 24.
“Meki!” The Queen got up from her chair.
Her son glared at her, a look of hatred and loathing that hit her like a physical blow as he strode past her. Despite his handicap, he was still a cervine, and although it caused a great deal of pain he could still move swiftly. She moved to block him, but an angry sweep of his arm sent her sprawling back into her chair. “Meki, no!” she said.
“I said get away from him!” and the Prince grabbed Ast by the collar of his tunic.
In the Writ, Ast barely noted the sudden appearance of Prince Meki. He was concentrating on his work, and he was surprised as he felt a fist close at the back of his neck. He then felt himself lifted and catapulted backward.
“I SAID – “ And Meki threw the older wolf across the room.
There was a sodden crack as the back of his head struck a corner of the table, the sound eclipsed by Falra’s scream and the heavy impact of Master Ast as he slumped to the floor. Meki stood over the wolf, chest heaving and his fists clenched. There was a sound, and he began to turn toward it.
The fist that struck him on the side of his face loosened a tooth, that spat from his mouth trailing a droplet of blood as the force of the blow spun him around and made him stumble. The elk buck shook his head and looked up, his eyes widening in shock as his father towered over him.
Priest Arkoni came to the door, his jaw dropping as he took in the scene and he focused on the Queen. “Majesty! What – “
“See – see to Ast, Arkoni,” the doe said.
The wolf nodded and dashed to Ast’s side, taking in his injuries. The Master was lying limp on the floor, a smear of blood matting the fur on the back of his neck and a matching blotch on the table above him. He ran his fingers gingerly over the wound and slowly withdrew, kneeling beside his friend. “Can you help him?” Falra asked.
“I can’t,” Arkoni said. “His neck’s been broken.”
Ast could hear him. That explains why I can’t feel anything, he thought. He tried to feel the injuries using his contact with the Writ, but failed. Had he been able to do so, he would have laughed at the irony; the Master Healer of the Order unable to mend himself.
But there was still something he could do, even as he felt his breathing start to grow ragged and his heartbeat began to slow.
He looked up and saw Arkoni bending over him, the pain evident on his friend’s face. He still had command of his facial muscles, and he gave the priest a gentle smile as he closed his eyes and slipped into the Writ for the last time.
”Master Dinest? Marok?”
”Ast? Ast, what is the matter? What ails thee? Thy voice is very soft.”
”I am dying, Marok. Prince Meki hath broken my spine at the neck.” He felt a sudden, startled surge of power from the bear. ”Nay, my friend, thou canst do nothing.”
”I love thee, Ast.” Marok had started crying.
”I love thee, Marok, my friend of old. Perhaps I shall see my wife – yet there is still time, a brief moment. Tell the other Masters – Hold!“ One ear stirred at the sound of a heavy thump, and there was a great deal of screaming. A slight shift in focus, and he quickly returned and told Marok, ”The King . . . Meki the Regent for his son. Warn the others, Marok . . . warn them, and ward the Cl . . . “ His voice fell silent as he sensed the silence and darkness gather around him.
Arkoni saw Ast close his eyes. His breathing grew ragged, labored, and finally his chest fell one last time with a slight, liquid rattling sound between parted and still-smiling lips. The wolf bowed his head in prayer and his ears twitched as the King snorted loudly. He looked up to see Meki sitting with his back to the wall while his father loomed over him and his mother stood near the doorway, screaming. Guards were coming, drawn by the commotion.
A heavy hoof crashed into the younger buck’s side, driving the breath from Meki’s lungs. He woofed and began to curl up defensively. Aroki forestalled him, leaning over and grabbing one of his son’s antlers and punching him hard in the face. “You little shit!” the King bellowed. “He was helping me, Dator damn you!” He struck him in the face two more times before standing up, blood smeared across his knuckles. Another kick caught the younger elk behind his braced knee, and Meki howled in pain while the King turned away from him to face his wife.
“Aroki,” Falra said brokenly, paws reaching out to her mate as tears rolled down her cheeks. Beside her, Thegn Stolipi stood framed in the doorway, a cohort of guards at his back.
Aroki took a few steps toward her and paused to look over his shoulder as his son coughed and started to get to his hooves. “Father,” Meki slurred. He hawked and spat out another tooth, the area around his left eye starting to swell. “I had to,” he said defensively. “Who knows what that wolf was trying to do to you – “
“SHUT UP!” his father roared, and Meki flinched as the older buck cocked a fist. “He was trying to help, you insolent little FAWN! I swear, I – “ He paused in mid-rant, his jaw falling open and his glare faltering.
“A-Aroki?” Falra asked softly.
“F-Falra,” her mate said, and his face suddenly contorted into a mask of agony, his right paw coming up to grip his left arm. He fought the pain, and lost, suddenly falling to his knees.
The wolf left his dead friend’s side and grabbed the King as Stolipi rushed past the Queen. “What is it?” he asked as he helped Arkoni roll the elk onto his back.
“His heart, I think,” and without saying more he slipped Stolipi’s dagger from his belt. He sliced a rent in the cotton shirt, then tore it open and put his ear to the King’s chest. “Yes. You!” he said, pointing at a guard. “Next room, fetch me my medicine chest.”
Stolipi glanced at the man when he hesitated, and his ears went flat. “You heard the healer! RUN!” The man ran, and the priest knelt beside the elk buck, patting his face gently to keep him conscious and speaking to him in a reassuring whisper until the guard could arrive with the medicines.
Meki laboriously got to his hooves and staggered over to his mother, who had sat down. “Mother,” he murmured around his broken teeth, “I thought that he was doing something to Father – “
The elk doe, tears still wetting her face fur, placed a paw on one of his antlers. “I know. You’ve always hated the Order, Son – but now look at what you’ve done.” Using the grip she had, she forced his head to turn so he could take in what she was still staring at. “The Master Healer is dead, and your father may die as a result.” She jerked his head around to face her. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Wha – No!” he spluttered. “I never –“
The guard bustled in with Arkoni’s medical chest, and the priest pulled out a vial, uncorked it, and sniffed. He nodded and touched the liquid to his fingertip, then stuck the finger into Aroki’s mouth, putting the drop under his tongue. The King drew a harsh, deep breath and he seemed to relax.
Arkoni grabbed his auscultation tube and pressed it to the buck’s chest, eyes closing as he concentrated. “Not working,” he muttered, and he straddled the King’s hips and placed his paws over his heart, shoving his weight down on the ribs in a steady rhythm.
As the priest worked, Thegn Stolipi got to his feet and bowed to the Queen. “Majesty,” he said quietly.
Falra tore her gaze away from her husband to look up at him. “Yes?”
The buck said softly, “Majesty, as Captain of the Guard I wish to ask what should be done if . . . “ He let his voice trail off, the implication clear.
The elk doe burst into tears and her son looked up at the thegn. Meki licked blood from his lips and squinted through his black eye. “T-tell Duchess Rolna,” he said, “and summon the High Priest.” He paused, looked back at his father, and said, “And you and two trusted men fetch the Crown from the Treasury. It may be needed.”
Stolipi nodded, just as Arkoni sank back on his haunches and covered his face with both paws.
Falra mimicked the gesture, sobbing and bending nearly double in her seat as the Priest of Rarmyni said with an exhausted sigh, “The King is dead.”
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Cervine (Other)
Gender Multiple characters
Size 778 x 1280px
File Size 193.7 kB
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