The Black Chapel
© 2013 by Walter Reimer


Part 4.


At the fourth hour from daybreak half a dozen senior officers stood and bowed as Trasta entered the room. Halvrika followed, but not too closely. She and the elk doe were known to be friends, but there was no reason to give gossip more of a lead.

One of the generals sat down at the same time Trasta did, the elderly buck smiling fondly. “Good morning, Niece.”

Trasta smiled back. “Good morning, Uncle Meki. Be seated, all of you. How did we fare during the storm yesterday?”

A wolf whose scarred visage included half a missing ear coughed. “Some minor damage, my Lady – a few tents blown away from not being properly tied down. The soldiers responsible were suitably punished.”

The doe raised an eyebrow. “Suitably?”

“They were told to bivouac out in the open,” the wolf said with a smirk.

Trasta and the others laughed. “That should teach them a lesson. Any damage to the city?”

Her uncle replied, “Some roofs collapsed from the rain and wind. Only minor injuries, thank Azos.”

“We have learned a bit about these storms. Adept Hringurhali?” Trasta prompted.

The generals all turned to look at her, and the raccoon stood up. Halvrika felt a bit self-conscious as she took a breath. “The storm last night was natural, but magically augmented and directed straight here. Evidence from witnesses to the previous storms confirms that those, too, were sent straight at Engery.”

“And you are certain of this, Adept?” a heavyset canine asked.

“I am. I have informed the Arch-Adept at Shuganath last night of my conclusions.”

“Were you able to determine who’s behind this?” Trasta’s uncle, Prince Meki, asked.

“No, Your Highness,” the raccoon replied. “My attempt to trace the magic back to its source was thrown back at me.” Two the officers glanced at each other and Halvrika added, “I discussed my findings with Princess Trasta last night.”

The scarred wolf’s muzzle twisted in a smirk. It didn’t take any effort at mind-scrying to tell what he was thinking. Halvrika sighed inwardly.

The youngest child in a minor noble clan, Halvrika had shown an early aptitude for magic. She had been pledged to the Order, but not before encountering the slightly older Princess Trasta at school. The two had become fast friends, and that friendship, coupled with old stories about what actually happens within the walls and cloisters of the Order and the fact that Trasta hadn’t yet found a buck to marry was the source of rumors that they were lovers.

“A mage capable of turning away a thrust from an Adept must be powerful indeed,” the raccoon commanding the archers ventured.

“There are ways to increase one’s inherent power, true,” Halvrika said. “It may be that the attacker’s will is stronger, or that they are using methods that are . . . Forbidden.” She looked at the assemblage, noting that the smirk had disappeared from Thegn Fulk’s face and the others looked grim.

Trasta frowned. “With the information that Engery is the target of these storms, we cannot set aside the possibility that it’s a prelude to an invasion of Shuga. Do you agree?”

The six men considered what they’d been told, and slowly nodded. Thegn Fulk asked, “Will the Order be sending people to help you, Adept?”

“I do not know at this point, my Lord,” Halvrika replied, “but that decision is up to Arch-Adept Marok in Shuganath.”

“What would you do?” Prince Meki asked.

“Me, Your Highness?” The elk buck nodded. “I would send two more Adepts here – at first. Two would counter the storms, while the third used the disruption to try and find whoever is doing this.” She thought for a moment. “That doesn’t help our current situation, I know. But I have encountered it now.”

“And that means - ?” the archer asked.

“I can attempt to counter it,” Halvrika replied.

“By yourself?” Trasta looked a bit apprehensive at the idea.

The raccooness nodded. “All Adepts have had training in weather-working. I do not need to remind you of the Lay of the Great Battle.” The others exchanged looks; everyone down to the youngest kit knew the song, and how conjured weather helped win the battle that made Shuga a kingdom. “I shall wait for the next storm, and test my power against our adversary.” She gave the others a confident smile.

Prince Meki nodded approvingly. “It’s good to see that the young still have the courage of their forebears, young woman. And any respite from the weather will boost the city’s morale, as well as enable us to get news from the rest of the realm.”

Thegn Fulk said, “That’s right, Your Highness. The roads have been impassable for two days. It’ll be good to let them dry out for a bit.”

“We’re agreed then,” Trasta said. “Adept Hringurhali will see if she can defeat our adversary’s next storm. Dismissed – not you, Adept.” She stood with the others and waited until the generals had left the room, then closed the door before turning to her friend.

“What in Dator’s Dark Realm are you thinking of, Halvrika?” the elk doe asked, her fists on her hips. “You said that facing him wore you out.”

“That’s because I was doing two things at once. Holding back the storm and trying to track back to whoever was sending it,” the raccoon explained. “This time I’ll be well-rested, and I’ll only be doing one thing.” She smiled. “I’ll be all right, Trasta, I promise.”

Trasta walked over to her and hugged her. “You’d better be right.”

She kissed her, and Halvrika returned it, tipping her head back a bit to meet the taller doe partway. Their paws slid down their backs to cup each other’s buttocks, Trasta’s fingertips teasing the base of Halvrika’s tail as their kiss deepened. The doe gave a soft moan as the raccoon’s tongue slid over her own.

Trasta pulled back, breathing a bit harder, a gossamer-thin line of saliva linking their mouths. Halvrika’s eyes were partly closed and a bit glassy with passion. Before the elk kissed her again she whispered, “You’d better be right.”

Halvrika’s paws slid from Trasta’s rear and up the front of her body, resting her palms on the doe’s breasts before leaning in closer to nuzzle against her chest. “I wish we didn’t have to do this,” she whispered. She looked up to see Trasta looking at her questioningly and she added, “Having to hide like this.”

“I know, but we daren’t, ‘Rika. I’d be disgraced, and you – “

“Burned at the stake,” the raccoon said, swallowing hard, “for seducing a member of the High House.”

They held each other close for several minutes.

Finally Halvrika disengaged and stepped back, drawing the back of a paw across her nose. “I – I need to go rest up . . . and meditate,” and she bolted from the room.