The Gray Tower

© 2014 by Walter Reimer

(This is a sequel to The Black Chapel. Reading the earlier story isn’t really necessary, but you may find it useful. Just saying.)

Art by  whitearabmare

Part 1.


At the first sight of the Kingdom of Shuga’s capital city of Shuganath, sheltering at the foot of the Silver Mountain, the troops spontaneously sang a hymn to the Pantheon. Several broke ranks to kneel and thank Luli the Wargod and his shieldmaiden and mate Valla for crowning their efforts with victory and seeing them safely home. The summit of the Mountain itself, inviolate home of the Gods, was wreathed in clouds that heralded the coming of the summer rains.

“Ah, home,” Trasta said feelingly as she climbed back into the saddle. The elk doe had been one of the soldiers to kneel and pray. She was, after all, their General, and they expected it of her. Once the Princess was comfortably seated on her war-beast’s back, she looked down at Halvrika. “Looking forward to home and familiar surroundings, Adept?”

“Like a glutton misses his lunch, Highness,” Halvrika Hringurhali said with a happy grin. The hood of the raccoon sow’s blue cloak was pushed back and her gray-green eyes gleamed in the light. Her tunic, marked with the eye and downward-pointing arrow of her Order, needed a good washing. “I want to sleep in my own bed at the Cloister tonight, instead of on the ground.”

Trasta laughed. “What? Don’t like sleeping rough?” She waggled her eyebrows as the soldiers nearest her chuckled.

“It has its charms,” the sow conceded. “Charms that fade after the first couple of nights. I’m not cut out to be a soldier, I’m afraid.”

“You just need some toughening up,” a canine piped up, and another nudged him as he blushed.

There was more laughter before Trasta dismissed the thegns to take the local levies back to their home towns and villages. After cheers, the soldiers marched away, leaving the Adept and the Princess with the troops of the capital’s garrison to march back home.

“You’re thinking again, Halvrika,” Trasta remarked.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I see smoke coming from your ears,” the doe teased. Her friend and very secret lover gave her an arch look. “Still thinking of Amb Tokarv?”

The raccoon shook her head. The badger boar had trafficked in dark magic, had enslaved innocents to magnify his power.

Had tried to enslave her.

He was now ashes in a ruined tower in a neighboring duchy, the essential bits of his library in her knapsack, but the memory of his treatment of her was like a thunderhead on the far horizon. “It’ll be a while before I forget him,” the sow said, “but I wasn’t thinking of him.”

“So?”

She gave the Princess another sour look. “I was thinking of what’s next. The Eternal Balance decrees that for every triumph there must be a defeat, just as every day is accompanied by night.”

Trasta sniffed. “I think you’re wrong. Night may follow day, but day always comes back.” She grinned at her friend. “How’s that for balance, Adept?” and she laughed at Halvrika’s pout. “Come, you know I’m just teasing.” A rider moved past and looked back at her. The spear he held bore a canvas-wrapped standard.

She nodded in response to his look and the equine unfurled the banner of Shuga’s High House, three diagonal stripes running from lower left to upper right of white, blue and green. It was differenced by a feather worked in silver embroidery, a mark of Trasta’s status as the King’s principal heir. The troops accompanying her raised a triumphant shout at the sight of the flag snapping in the breeze.

The reptilian war-beasts of the cavalry snorted and growled as they ambled along, the infantry marching along behind them in a swinging route step. Townsfolk and farmers waved from the side of the road as they passed, or offered jugs of water or beer. Such offerings were gratefully accepted, with serjeants bawling good-natured abuse at the soldiers who broke ranks for a drink or accept kisses from pretty girls.

Word had been sent ahead, and a group of furs from the city gathered at the gate to cheer as the force approached. The people had been told why the troops had left several weeks earlier, that there was an enemy of the Kingdom that had already tried to assault the port city of Engery.

Trasta reined her war-beast to a halt and stood up in the stirrups. “Good people!” the elk doe shouted, and the crowd quieted to hear the Heir speak. “We return, and with the help of the Gods we have been victorious!” She stood there, arms raised as the crowd shouted their approval, then parted to let the column of troops enter the city.

The road from the gate to the Keep had been cleared by the city guard, and a few citizens lined the pavement to wave or cheer.

A few, however, saw the slim raccoon femme striding alongside the Princess. One or two spat at the ground and turned away, while others merely glared.

Halvrika had no recourse to her Sight to sense their hostility.

Thegn Stolipi, the Keep’s Guard Captain, and Trasta’s uncle Prince Meki were waiting for them at the gate. The thegn put his mailed fist to his chest and bowed as the older elk buck stepped forward. “General Trasta,” he said in his characteristically booming voice, “Welcome home.”

“Your servant, Your Highness,” the doe said, bowing in her saddle as Thegn Stolipi led the troops into the Keep’s courtyard. “How is the King?”

Meki smiled. “The King your father is well, as is the Queen and the rest of your family.” His grin widened. “Are you going to keep your poor old uncle out here in the hot sun all day? I’m getting a pain in my neck looking up at you,” he said as the crowd laughed.

Trasta laughed and slid down the side of the war-beast, landing lightly on her hooves and practically pronking into her uncle’s arms to hug him. He kissed her cheek. “There now! That’s better,” Meki said. The elk buck caught sight of Halvrika and nodded. “Adept Hringurhali.”

“Your Highness.”

“I’m told that the Masters of your Order await your report.”

The raccoon sow bowed again. “My thanks, Your Highness. My Lady Princess, thank you again for your help.”

“And my thanks, for yours,” Trasta said warmly.

Halvrika turned, shouldered her knapsack, and walked away.

Neither could say aloud, before others, what they truly wanted to say.

Trasta watched the slim raccoon walk away for a moment before taking the bridle of her war-beast in one paw and tugging. The huge lizard hissed at her, but followed the scent of food, water, and its own cool stable. Her uncle fell in beside her as the crowd started to disperse and the gates to the Keep closed. “What news, Uncle?” the doe asked. “How are things going?”

“As well as you might expect,” he replied. “Seffa’s starting to show, and Meki’s being a bit of an ass about it. Your father and I are wanting to hear everything about what happened up in the Duchy of Lem.”

She frowned. “Haven’t you been getting my reports?”

“Of course, but you know Aroki – he wants to hear it from you.”

Trasta rolled her eyes and chuckled. “And I’ll bet Mother has found another suitor for me?”

“That’d be a bet you would likely win,” Meki deadpanned, and after a pause they both started to laugh.