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The Black Chapel
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
Art by
whitearabmare
Part 19.
”Adept Hringurhali.”
The raccoon rolled over in her bed, huffed, and snuggled down further. The blankets were thick and fluffy, and she had been exhausted.
”Adept.”
She was having the most wonderful dream . . .
”ADEPT!”
That succeeded in jarring her awake. “What? What?” she asked, sitting up in bed. She Saw that there were ten bright figures staring at her in the Writ. ”Master Marok?”
”Silence, girl, and listen.” Marok sounded as if he was under a great deal of strain. ”Go to the Keep, and tell the King we’ve found him – “
The raccoon felt her tail bottling out. ”You’ve found him! Where is he?”
”Quiet.” Master Maffa’s voice was peremptory, the single word conveyed with all the gentleness of an open-pawed slap. ”The spider’s web is delicate, and we fear losing the quarry. He is here,” and information flooded into her mind, ”within this demesne in the mountains to the northwest. Once we have his exact location the trap-ward will be sprung. Now, go.”
Part of the Order is training in obedience; Halvrika was up and dressed within five minutes, and halfway to the Keep before the great Temple bell chimed the quarter-hour.
The sentries had been told to expect someone from the Cloister, and to let that person in as soon as they were identified. Halvrika had left the Keep earlier that night, just a few hours before, and was allowed past the gate.
By the time she reached the Throne Room, King Aroki was seated. The buck wore a robe over his nightshirt. Trasta, looking equally disheveled, was still rubbing sleep from her eyes, and a clanking sound heralded the arrival of her older brother. Aroki signaled the raccoon to rise and said, “Report, Adept.”
“My King, the Masters report that they have his trail – “
“His trail!?” Meki snorted derisively. “Is that all? Wake us all up for – “
“Silence, Son,” and the King leaned forward. “Explain.”
Halvrika willed herself to not be intimidated. “Majesty, the net cast by the Masters is a very thin spider’s web. Move too hastily, and he might tear through and vanish. We are moving cautiously, following the traces he has left behind, and once his exact location is known, the trap-ward will immobilize him.”
“Then why bother us with this? You’re not telling us anything,” Meki said. “You’re just making excuses.”
“Meki,” and now a note of warning entered the King’s voice. To Halvrika he asked, “You say that the Masters are following traces. Do we know a general area?”
“Yes, Majesty. I was given information before coming here – “
“Good. You!” he bellowed at an attendant. “Bring me a map!”
The man jumped to obey and after a few minutes brought in several maps. One showing the northwestern borders of Shuga was unrolled, and Halvrika’s eyes glowed briefly silver as she called upon the information she’d been given. She knelt by one edge of the map and her black-furred paw came down on a neighboring duchy. “Here, Majesty.”
“The Duchy of Lem,” Trasta remarked. She glanced at Meki.
The buck shrugged. “Duke Evoli is independent-minded, and only grudgingly accepts vassalage at our paws.” He glared at Halvrika. “He might be a useful tool for a fugitive magic-user.”
“Fifteen days’ march,” Aroki muttered, “Over mountains . . . Trasta.”
“Father?”
“Send word to the thegns in that area, have them begin a muster. You will march to Lem with five companies.”
“Father?”
“Yes, Meki?”
“The thegns in that area can muster, at best, four companies,” and the younger buck looked a bit smug as he displayed his knowledge. “I suggest that a sixth company join Trasta’s force on the way, so we have a full legion at our disposal.”
Aroki thought for a moment, then nodded. “Good idea, Son.” To Trasta he said, “After you get things started, you’ll stand ready to move.”
Trasta bowed. “Father.”
“I will notify the Duke’s envoy in the morning. Adept? Keep Princess Trasta informed. I want us to pounce upon our prey as soon as the trap closes.” At his gesture, the raccoon sow bowed and left the room.
It became a routine matter for Halvrika to present herself at the Keep’s gates, every day shortly after the midday meal. The Masters were following the trail and getting closer.
The fourth day after the Council reported its first contact with Amb Tokarv Halvrika was in Trasta’s apartments, alone.
“Another contact?” the doe said. She consulted the map and gazed intently at the town Halvrika was indicating. “Still in the Duchy, I see.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Hmm. They’re following a trail . . . is the trail cold?”
Halvrika shook her head, her short mop of hair swinging, and Trasta felt her breath catch in her throat. She recalled that hair swinging about as the raccoon writhed in orgasm, an orgasm she’d given the sow. She took a deep breath as Halvrika replied, “The trail was warm to start with, and is only growing warmer. I’m assured we’ll have him soon.” The raccoon’s ears twitched as a servant knocked on the door and entered.
The rabbit bowed. “Your pardon, Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
“Prince Meki wanted to let you know that he has allowed a Priestess of Regali into the Keep.”
Trasta gasped and stood up, almost overturning her chair. “Take me there, now!” The rabbit slipped out of the room, with the doe and the sow hot on his heels.
Regali was the consort of Dathur, the Lord of the Underworld. She was, like him, a god of Death, but also the protector of expectant mothers. Trasta was afraid for Seffa, that the priestess’ presence meant that something bad had happened.
The doe charged into her brother and sister-in-law’s apartment, only to draw up short at the sight of the buck seated at a table, his personal copy of The Book of Skulls in front of him and a pitcher and cup near at paw. He looked up crossly at his sister and the Adept. “What is this? I told Angur to tell you, not bring you here.”
“A Priestess, Meki? Is Seffa all right?”
“She’s fine.” He blinked and started to laugh. “You thought I killed her, didn’t you?”
Trasta planted her fists on her hips, arms akimbo. “No, I didn’t. For Azos’ sake, Meki, I’ve never wished you anything but the best, you know that! You and Seffa!” She calmed herself with an effort. “Now, what’s going on?”
“Oh.” Meki took a drink from his cup, and Halvrika smelled wine. “I’m having her divine whether Seffa carries a buck or a doe.” He tapped the scripture. “It says that she can do it, that Regali gives her the power. Right here, The Skull of Grethor, verse twenty-two. Go on in and see – not you,” he snarled as Halvrika turned toward the closed door. “You stay out here, and away from my wife.”
Trasta tapped on the door to the bedroom and a servant let her in. The door closed, leaving Halvrika alone in the room with Meki.
The Adept remained standing, her paws clasped loosely in front of her as the buck refilled his cup. He looked at the raccoon over the rim of his cup as he drank again. “So,” he said, licking his lips, “you’re an Adept.” He slurred the word into an insult.
“Yes, Your Highness,” she said quietly.
“How’d you get that title? You suck that old bear’s cock better than any little boy?”
Halvrika resisted the sudden urge to show him exactly how she earned the title of Adept, and replied, “No, Your Highness. It requires long years of study – “
“I’ll just bet. You’re pretty, sort of,” he mused aloud. Her mild tone seemed to mollify him a bit. “Makes me wonder why they sent you to keep my sister informed. Or is that all you do?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
That was a bit uncomfortably close to the mark. Halvrika said, “I was a logical choice, Your Highness. I knew Amb Tokarv – “
“Yes, I’ve heard of the debauched lives the Order leads. Rest assured that when I’m King those perversities will be looked into, and dealt with.” He went back to his reading, leaving Halvrika alone as the raccoon tried to keep a worried expression off her muzzle.
The bedroom smelled of incense and herbs as Trasta closed the door. Seffa, poor girl, was laying on the bed with her gown hiked and her knees drawn up. The Priestess, a dumpy-looking bovine in the black and silver-edged robes of her matron goddess, was between her legs, sniffing at the doe’s vulva and mumbling indistinctly to herself.
Seffa gave a little start and said, “What was that?”
The cow didn’t raise her head. “A boy tastes different from a girl.” She straightened up, complaining softly as she placed her paws at the small of her back. “Now, where is – ah,” she said as another servant held out a chamber pot. “This is your first water of the morning, Your Highness?”
The doe blushed and nodded. The priestess swirled the urine about in the porcelain bowl, sniffing deeply. She gazed into the distance for a moment, sniffed again, and dipped a finger into the liquid. Trasta resisted the urge to gag as the bovine touched the wet finger to her tongue, then nodded. “Princess Seffa.”
“Yes?” The doe looked so pathetic, laying there, the frightened expression on her face making Trasta send a brief, heartfelt prayer to Azos to safeguard her from her husband, and to Luli to breathe strength into the poor girl.
The priestess smiled at her reassuringly. “Felicitations, Your Highness. Your Highness bears a son.” She bowed, gave the chamber pot back to the servant and left the room.
Seffa sagged back onto the bed. “Thank Azos,” she muttered, “thank You so much . . . “ Her ears laid back at Meki’s joyful shout and he rushed into the room and sat, gathering her up in his arms and hugging her tightly. She returned the embrace as Trasta slipped unnoticed from the room.
Back in her parlor with Halvrika the doe noticed that the raccoon was a bit shaken. “Are you all right?”
Her friend shook her head. “M . . . the Prince,” she stammered. “I think he suspects – about us,” she concluded with a whisper.
Trasta frowned. “We’ve been very careful. There’s no way he could know, at least for certain.” They were alone in the room, and she crossed the room and took the sow in her arms. Halvrika sagged into the embrace, and the doe stroked her hair. “We’ll just have to be more careful.”
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
Art by
whitearabmarePart 19.
”Adept Hringurhali.”
The raccoon rolled over in her bed, huffed, and snuggled down further. The blankets were thick and fluffy, and she had been exhausted.
”Adept.”
She was having the most wonderful dream . . .
”ADEPT!”
That succeeded in jarring her awake. “What? What?” she asked, sitting up in bed. She Saw that there were ten bright figures staring at her in the Writ. ”Master Marok?”
”Silence, girl, and listen.” Marok sounded as if he was under a great deal of strain. ”Go to the Keep, and tell the King we’ve found him – “
The raccoon felt her tail bottling out. ”You’ve found him! Where is he?”
”Quiet.” Master Maffa’s voice was peremptory, the single word conveyed with all the gentleness of an open-pawed slap. ”The spider’s web is delicate, and we fear losing the quarry. He is here,” and information flooded into her mind, ”within this demesne in the mountains to the northwest. Once we have his exact location the trap-ward will be sprung. Now, go.”
Part of the Order is training in obedience; Halvrika was up and dressed within five minutes, and halfway to the Keep before the great Temple bell chimed the quarter-hour.
The sentries had been told to expect someone from the Cloister, and to let that person in as soon as they were identified. Halvrika had left the Keep earlier that night, just a few hours before, and was allowed past the gate.
By the time she reached the Throne Room, King Aroki was seated. The buck wore a robe over his nightshirt. Trasta, looking equally disheveled, was still rubbing sleep from her eyes, and a clanking sound heralded the arrival of her older brother. Aroki signaled the raccoon to rise and said, “Report, Adept.”
“My King, the Masters report that they have his trail – “
“His trail!?” Meki snorted derisively. “Is that all? Wake us all up for – “
“Silence, Son,” and the King leaned forward. “Explain.”
Halvrika willed herself to not be intimidated. “Majesty, the net cast by the Masters is a very thin spider’s web. Move too hastily, and he might tear through and vanish. We are moving cautiously, following the traces he has left behind, and once his exact location is known, the trap-ward will immobilize him.”
“Then why bother us with this? You’re not telling us anything,” Meki said. “You’re just making excuses.”
“Meki,” and now a note of warning entered the King’s voice. To Halvrika he asked, “You say that the Masters are following traces. Do we know a general area?”
“Yes, Majesty. I was given information before coming here – “
“Good. You!” he bellowed at an attendant. “Bring me a map!”
The man jumped to obey and after a few minutes brought in several maps. One showing the northwestern borders of Shuga was unrolled, and Halvrika’s eyes glowed briefly silver as she called upon the information she’d been given. She knelt by one edge of the map and her black-furred paw came down on a neighboring duchy. “Here, Majesty.”
“The Duchy of Lem,” Trasta remarked. She glanced at Meki.
The buck shrugged. “Duke Evoli is independent-minded, and only grudgingly accepts vassalage at our paws.” He glared at Halvrika. “He might be a useful tool for a fugitive magic-user.”
“Fifteen days’ march,” Aroki muttered, “Over mountains . . . Trasta.”
“Father?”
“Send word to the thegns in that area, have them begin a muster. You will march to Lem with five companies.”
“Father?”
“Yes, Meki?”
“The thegns in that area can muster, at best, four companies,” and the younger buck looked a bit smug as he displayed his knowledge. “I suggest that a sixth company join Trasta’s force on the way, so we have a full legion at our disposal.”
Aroki thought for a moment, then nodded. “Good idea, Son.” To Trasta he said, “After you get things started, you’ll stand ready to move.”
Trasta bowed. “Father.”
“I will notify the Duke’s envoy in the morning. Adept? Keep Princess Trasta informed. I want us to pounce upon our prey as soon as the trap closes.” At his gesture, the raccoon sow bowed and left the room.
It became a routine matter for Halvrika to present herself at the Keep’s gates, every day shortly after the midday meal. The Masters were following the trail and getting closer.
The fourth day after the Council reported its first contact with Amb Tokarv Halvrika was in Trasta’s apartments, alone.
“Another contact?” the doe said. She consulted the map and gazed intently at the town Halvrika was indicating. “Still in the Duchy, I see.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Hmm. They’re following a trail . . . is the trail cold?”
Halvrika shook her head, her short mop of hair swinging, and Trasta felt her breath catch in her throat. She recalled that hair swinging about as the raccoon writhed in orgasm, an orgasm she’d given the sow. She took a deep breath as Halvrika replied, “The trail was warm to start with, and is only growing warmer. I’m assured we’ll have him soon.” The raccoon’s ears twitched as a servant knocked on the door and entered.
The rabbit bowed. “Your pardon, Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
“Prince Meki wanted to let you know that he has allowed a Priestess of Regali into the Keep.”
Trasta gasped and stood up, almost overturning her chair. “Take me there, now!” The rabbit slipped out of the room, with the doe and the sow hot on his heels.
Regali was the consort of Dathur, the Lord of the Underworld. She was, like him, a god of Death, but also the protector of expectant mothers. Trasta was afraid for Seffa, that the priestess’ presence meant that something bad had happened.
The doe charged into her brother and sister-in-law’s apartment, only to draw up short at the sight of the buck seated at a table, his personal copy of The Book of Skulls in front of him and a pitcher and cup near at paw. He looked up crossly at his sister and the Adept. “What is this? I told Angur to tell you, not bring you here.”
“A Priestess, Meki? Is Seffa all right?”
“She’s fine.” He blinked and started to laugh. “You thought I killed her, didn’t you?”
Trasta planted her fists on her hips, arms akimbo. “No, I didn’t. For Azos’ sake, Meki, I’ve never wished you anything but the best, you know that! You and Seffa!” She calmed herself with an effort. “Now, what’s going on?”
“Oh.” Meki took a drink from his cup, and Halvrika smelled wine. “I’m having her divine whether Seffa carries a buck or a doe.” He tapped the scripture. “It says that she can do it, that Regali gives her the power. Right here, The Skull of Grethor, verse twenty-two. Go on in and see – not you,” he snarled as Halvrika turned toward the closed door. “You stay out here, and away from my wife.”
Trasta tapped on the door to the bedroom and a servant let her in. The door closed, leaving Halvrika alone in the room with Meki.
The Adept remained standing, her paws clasped loosely in front of her as the buck refilled his cup. He looked at the raccoon over the rim of his cup as he drank again. “So,” he said, licking his lips, “you’re an Adept.” He slurred the word into an insult.
“Yes, Your Highness,” she said quietly.
“How’d you get that title? You suck that old bear’s cock better than any little boy?”
Halvrika resisted the sudden urge to show him exactly how she earned the title of Adept, and replied, “No, Your Highness. It requires long years of study – “
“I’ll just bet. You’re pretty, sort of,” he mused aloud. Her mild tone seemed to mollify him a bit. “Makes me wonder why they sent you to keep my sister informed. Or is that all you do?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
That was a bit uncomfortably close to the mark. Halvrika said, “I was a logical choice, Your Highness. I knew Amb Tokarv – “
“Yes, I’ve heard of the debauched lives the Order leads. Rest assured that when I’m King those perversities will be looked into, and dealt with.” He went back to his reading, leaving Halvrika alone as the raccoon tried to keep a worried expression off her muzzle.
The bedroom smelled of incense and herbs as Trasta closed the door. Seffa, poor girl, was laying on the bed with her gown hiked and her knees drawn up. The Priestess, a dumpy-looking bovine in the black and silver-edged robes of her matron goddess, was between her legs, sniffing at the doe’s vulva and mumbling indistinctly to herself.
Seffa gave a little start and said, “What was that?”
The cow didn’t raise her head. “A boy tastes different from a girl.” She straightened up, complaining softly as she placed her paws at the small of her back. “Now, where is – ah,” she said as another servant held out a chamber pot. “This is your first water of the morning, Your Highness?”
The doe blushed and nodded. The priestess swirled the urine about in the porcelain bowl, sniffing deeply. She gazed into the distance for a moment, sniffed again, and dipped a finger into the liquid. Trasta resisted the urge to gag as the bovine touched the wet finger to her tongue, then nodded. “Princess Seffa.”
“Yes?” The doe looked so pathetic, laying there, the frightened expression on her face making Trasta send a brief, heartfelt prayer to Azos to safeguard her from her husband, and to Luli to breathe strength into the poor girl.
The priestess smiled at her reassuringly. “Felicitations, Your Highness. Your Highness bears a son.” She bowed, gave the chamber pot back to the servant and left the room.
Seffa sagged back onto the bed. “Thank Azos,” she muttered, “thank You so much . . . “ Her ears laid back at Meki’s joyful shout and he rushed into the room and sat, gathering her up in his arms and hugging her tightly. She returned the embrace as Trasta slipped unnoticed from the room.
Back in her parlor with Halvrika the doe noticed that the raccoon was a bit shaken. “Are you all right?”
Her friend shook her head. “M . . . the Prince,” she stammered. “I think he suspects – about us,” she concluded with a whisper.
Trasta frowned. “We’ve been very careful. There’s no way he could know, at least for certain.” They were alone in the room, and she crossed the room and took the sow in her arms. Halvrika sagged into the embrace, and the doe stroked her hair. “We’ll just have to be more careful.”
Category Prose / Fantasy
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 249 x 568px
File Size 21.2 kB
Listed in Folders
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