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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
30.
The gates of the Order were closed, and locked, and warded.
The neighbors understood.
Any intrusion would have been poor manners, at such a solemn time.
The mortal remains of Orn Jaas rested on a wooden bier beside the pond in the central garden. Wrapped in white linen, the stallion’s corpse was warded to bar putrefaction. All around the bier sat the assembled Order of the Surveillant Eye; the Masters sat closest, followed by concentric rings made up of Adepts, Acolytes and Novices.
In the Writ, one with the Sight could See waves of power rippling inward, centered upon and focusing on the swathed body.
”This is Orn Jaas,” Master Kulorn intoned, ”and it is not Orn Jaas. All that was him has passed beyond this existence to become one with the Eternal Writ.” The bull raised his muzzle, eyes closed as the sun shone on his face. ”We gather to urge his fleshly shell to follow him.”
Gradually the waves of power increased, washing over the body, and little by little the glow around it increased until it flared like the sun at midday. Just as gradually the light faded, to reveal that the body was gone, washed away like a sand-castle.
Halvrika opened her eyes to the waking world to see the wooden platform bare, and she slowly dried her tears with a small cloth she had gripped in her paws. The Masters rose and bowed to the empty bier before leaving. The Adepts did the same, followed by the Acolytes and the Novices.
The raccoon sow pulled back the hood on her cloak and nodded as Master Maffa walked over to her. “Adept, are you well?”
“Yes, Master, I am.”
“I have sent your father a letter regarding your training.”
“Do you think he will respond favorably?” Halvrika asked.
Maffa’s look was motherly. “Do you think he won’t?” She must have looked uncertain, because the older woman patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Rest easy, my dear. I’m sure he’ll welcome the chance to train you.” She walked off, leaving Halvrika to her thoughts.
***
The old man felt the first drops of rain falling on his hood, and busied himself in pulling in the net he’d cast into the sea. The net jerked under his fingers, telling him that he’d caught something. From the outline, it was a good-sized fish.
Perfect. Just in time for dinner.
The otter retraced his steps up the beach and past the dune line to where his house sat, snug and secure from the storm. His memory, and the Sight he’d learned as a pup, helped him into the house and prevented him from cutting himself as he meticulously scaled and gutted the fish. He set a pan on the stove and carefully built up the fire.
He’d never risen above Acolyte in the Order, having failed at Attunement, but he had used his skills when he got home to his village south of Engery to help his father and older brothers catch fish. He’d done his best, until he got older and his eyesight finally failed. Still, he was able to look after himself, and even managed to sell some fish in the village market.
Dinner was almost finished when he heard sounds outside, under the sound of the rain.
It was an ugly, growling noise, unintelligible apart from scattered shouts.
“Magic-user!”
“Blasphemer!”
The otter frowned, his whiskers twitching. He’d heard in the village about some priest up in Engery stirring up trouble; so much, in fact, that the King had sent an army to sort things out.
Still, he wasn’t worried very much. He had lived in the village nearly his entire life, and they were his friends and neighbors.
He stood up and edged around the table to the door as someone pounded on it.
The door was shoved open before he could reach it. “Hello!” he said quietly. “I’m afraid I just had dinner – “
When they were finished, the mob burned the hovel down.
***
Trasta raised the glass goblet and admired the deep red hue of the wine before taking another sip. Across the table from her, Earl Chassi carefully cut another piece of vegetable pie and savored the mouthful. Nearby, Dame Karalla and Padzi watched as their charges proceeded through the meal.
The elk doe put her fork down after eating her last bite, then leaned back in her seat and sighed. “That was an excellent dinner, Chassi.”
“If you liked it, you can thank Padzi,” the buck said with a smile. The equine nodded in acknowledgement as Chassi added, “He’s a fellow of many talents.”
“He’s a very good cook, at least,” Trasta said, giving the donkey a wink. “I have to remember not to eat so much if we’re going to be sparring tomorrow.”
Chassi drained his wineglass and said, “Quite true, Trasta, although you might want to at least sample the dessert.”
“Dessert, eh? And what might that be?” Great Luli, had she just given him a coy smile?
Chassi gave her an amused smile in return. “Padzi?”
The jack bowed to his superior and nodded to Dame Karalla. The donkey and the weasel brought two small trays forward and placed them before the diners, taking away the empty plates and the uneaten portion of the pie. Karalla removed the tray cover, revealing a dense brown cake studded with currants and raisins, with a small attendant pitcher of thin custard.
Trasta smiled at her lady in waiting, who smiled back and gave her charge a sly wink before retreating to the sideboard to stand beside Padzi. “It does smell good,” she observed, sniffing at the fragrant steam rising from the cake. “Cinnamon and – ginger?” She saw Chassi nod as the buck dug a small hole in the top of his serving and drizzled custard on the cake. She copied his actions and tried a bite.
The cake was dense and sweet, with notes from the spices and a smokiness from molasses. The custard had lemon in it to contrast with the cake. Trasta swallowed her mouthful and said, “That’s delicious.”
Padzi bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Karalla poured small glasses of dessert wine for the pair. Chassi took a tiny sip of the liqueur and said, “What weapons do you suggest we use tomorrow?”
“Well, we can always practice with sword or cudgel – those are useful in a melee – how are you with the pilum?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Throwing spear.”
“Ah. I can throw one a fair distance,” Chassi admitted, “but my aim could stand improvement.” He lifted another forkful of cake and custard to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
Trasta found herself staring at the thin strand of custard that stretched out from the buck’s fork to his plate, and suppressed a giggle. She blinked as she caught Chassi looking at her, and realized that he expected a reply. “Ah, well, I’m sure we can practice on that, as well as on melee weapons.”
“And unarmed combat?”
“Unarmed? I suppose some practice may be useful in that, too.”
Chassi nodded. “What style do you prefer in unarmed combat?”
Trasta smiled. “Phutrian. It emphasizes leverage and pressure points – “
“Which is suitable for enemies larger than you. I find Zerkrisi is a better fit for me – “
“Because it concentrates on finding and exploiting weaknesses. With your ability at shash, I shouldn’t wonder why you’d be attracted to that style,” Trasta said. “It would be interesting to see which style would prevail, if they were pitted against each other.”
“Hmm. I suppose so.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin as he gazed across the table at her.
She caught his speculative look. “Yes?”
He placed the napkin on the table beside his plate. “Oh, I was just wondering.”
“What?”
“You were saying earlier that we shouldn’t eat so much, as we’re going to be in the exercise yard in the morning. And you thought it might be interesting to see how Zerkrisi and Phutrian styles would compare against each other.”
“Yes, so?”
Chassi smiled. “I would usually take a walk after such a nice meal, especially with an attractive doe to admire the night sky with me,” and his smile widened into a grin as she chuckled, “but I think we can work off dinner by a bit of paw-to-paw combat.”
Trasta blinked. “What, here?”
“Why not? The room’s quite large enough, if we move the table out of the way,” Chassi replied, ignoring the surprised looks on Padzi’s and Karalla’s faces. “Plenty of space.”
“Is this a challenge, my Lord Earl?” Trasta asked, resting her elbow on the table and her chin upon her fist.
Chassi gave a nonchalant shrug. “An experiment, Your Highness. In the Book of Skulls, Rarmyni counsels His adherents to experiment.”
She looked at him appraisingly. “Then we honor both Rarmyni and Luli, with this experiment.” She nodded and started to stand up. “Let’s try it, then.”
“Your Highness?” Karalla ventured.
Trasta waved her off. “It’s all right, Dame Karalla. I’m in good paws, and I shall win easily enough.”
“Um, my Lord – “ Padzi said.
“Not a word, old friend,” Chassi interrupted. “Help me move this table, there’s a good fellow.”
Trasta stretched, flexing her paws as the buck and the jack moved the table and chairs out of the way, leaving a spot about ten feet square on the carpeted floor. “Are you certain this is a good idea, my Lady?” Karalla asked. “I mean, you’ve had quite a lot of wine – “
“Nonsense, Karalla. You think I can’t beat him?”
“I didn’t say that – “
“I’ll be fine. Now, step outside please.”
“You too, Padzi.”
“My Lord – “
“Step outside, my friend.” The doe and the buck ushered their aides from the room and closed the door. “Now,” Chassi said, “shall we begin?”
“One moment.” In the course of her stretching, Trasta had discovered that the gown she was wearing restricted the movement of her legs. It would effectively hobble her in a fight. Well, he’s already seen me naked . . . “Come here and help me get this off.”
The buck blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Having this dress on is like wearing leg irons.” She turned her back to him. “Could you unlace this, Chassi?”
There was a pause, and she felt him step closer to her. “Very well.” She felt him undo the knot at the nape of her neck, and felt him work his way down her back to just above her tail. Trasta pulled away and pulled the dress up and over her head, shaking it out and draping it carefully over the back of a chair. Removing the dress left her in a bandeau and the short, sleeveless pants that comprised her underwear. She turned to see Chassi removing his tunic and laying it across the back of his own chair. “If you wish to be more comfortable, I claim that right as well,” the red deer buck said.
“All right.” Without the dress, movement was certainly easier, and she took up a stance in the middle of the carpet, fists clenched loosely and hooves solidly on the floor. “When you’re ready.”
“All right, then.” He took up an opposing stance to her, left paw close in a guard position, and his right arm extended, elbow bent and paw up. She placed her own forearm against the back of his.
A pause, and they both moved, Trasta sweeping her right arm down to strike the buck and Chassi deflecting the blow, grasping her wrist and pulling her slightly off-balance. She countered by lowering her left shoulder and driving herself into him to knock him out of his stance.
Chassi pivoted, the buck ending up pressed against the doe’s back with her arm, still grasped at the wrist, behind her back. His free arm was around her chest, just under her breasts.
Trasta reached with her free arm, grasped one of his antlers, and threw her upper body forward. Chassi pitched over her, releasing her wrist as he landed on his back. The doe pounced, straddling his chest and using her thighs to pin his arms against his sides, then grabbing his legs and drawing them up to her chest before rocking back as his hooves flailed uselessly.
“Hah!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Got you! Now, do – OW!” She scrambled free of him and pronked a few feet away, rubbing her backside. “YOU BIT ME!”
Chassi got to his feet, shaking his head a bit. “Zerkrisi, remember? Find and exploit weak points?” He chuckled. “Fortunately you gave me quite an obvious target.”
Trasta snorted. “My arse is not big.”
“When it’s right in my face, it appears so,” he countered. “You smell good too, and that was a bit distracting.” He raised his paws. “I’ll concede to you, though. Another round?”
Cracking her neck, the doe stepped forward, and they both rushed at each other. They met just off-center on the carpet, she trying to apply pressure to his joints, while he tried to hold her off and wait until she gave him a weakness to exploit.
Which resulted in the two of them grappling, face to face.
She started to be aware that he smelled good, too, and his bare chest was up against her. She could almost feel his heart beating. Her eyes, closed in the effort of trying to throw him, fluttered open and looked up at him.
He was staring at her, and she started to frame a question.
Then he twisted his hips, and threw her off her hooves.
They landed on the carpet with a jarring crash, the buck landing on top of the doe. Slightly dazed, they blinked and caught their breath before realizing where they were and who they were holding onto.
© 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
whitearabmare30.
The gates of the Order were closed, and locked, and warded.
The neighbors understood.
Any intrusion would have been poor manners, at such a solemn time.
The mortal remains of Orn Jaas rested on a wooden bier beside the pond in the central garden. Wrapped in white linen, the stallion’s corpse was warded to bar putrefaction. All around the bier sat the assembled Order of the Surveillant Eye; the Masters sat closest, followed by concentric rings made up of Adepts, Acolytes and Novices.
In the Writ, one with the Sight could See waves of power rippling inward, centered upon and focusing on the swathed body.
”This is Orn Jaas,” Master Kulorn intoned, ”and it is not Orn Jaas. All that was him has passed beyond this existence to become one with the Eternal Writ.” The bull raised his muzzle, eyes closed as the sun shone on his face. ”We gather to urge his fleshly shell to follow him.”
Gradually the waves of power increased, washing over the body, and little by little the glow around it increased until it flared like the sun at midday. Just as gradually the light faded, to reveal that the body was gone, washed away like a sand-castle.
Halvrika opened her eyes to the waking world to see the wooden platform bare, and she slowly dried her tears with a small cloth she had gripped in her paws. The Masters rose and bowed to the empty bier before leaving. The Adepts did the same, followed by the Acolytes and the Novices.
The raccoon sow pulled back the hood on her cloak and nodded as Master Maffa walked over to her. “Adept, are you well?”
“Yes, Master, I am.”
“I have sent your father a letter regarding your training.”
“Do you think he will respond favorably?” Halvrika asked.
Maffa’s look was motherly. “Do you think he won’t?” She must have looked uncertain, because the older woman patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Rest easy, my dear. I’m sure he’ll welcome the chance to train you.” She walked off, leaving Halvrika to her thoughts.
***
The old man felt the first drops of rain falling on his hood, and busied himself in pulling in the net he’d cast into the sea. The net jerked under his fingers, telling him that he’d caught something. From the outline, it was a good-sized fish.
Perfect. Just in time for dinner.
The otter retraced his steps up the beach and past the dune line to where his house sat, snug and secure from the storm. His memory, and the Sight he’d learned as a pup, helped him into the house and prevented him from cutting himself as he meticulously scaled and gutted the fish. He set a pan on the stove and carefully built up the fire.
He’d never risen above Acolyte in the Order, having failed at Attunement, but he had used his skills when he got home to his village south of Engery to help his father and older brothers catch fish. He’d done his best, until he got older and his eyesight finally failed. Still, he was able to look after himself, and even managed to sell some fish in the village market.
Dinner was almost finished when he heard sounds outside, under the sound of the rain.
It was an ugly, growling noise, unintelligible apart from scattered shouts.
“Magic-user!”
“Blasphemer!”
The otter frowned, his whiskers twitching. He’d heard in the village about some priest up in Engery stirring up trouble; so much, in fact, that the King had sent an army to sort things out.
Still, he wasn’t worried very much. He had lived in the village nearly his entire life, and they were his friends and neighbors.
He stood up and edged around the table to the door as someone pounded on it.
The door was shoved open before he could reach it. “Hello!” he said quietly. “I’m afraid I just had dinner – “
When they were finished, the mob burned the hovel down.
***
Trasta raised the glass goblet and admired the deep red hue of the wine before taking another sip. Across the table from her, Earl Chassi carefully cut another piece of vegetable pie and savored the mouthful. Nearby, Dame Karalla and Padzi watched as their charges proceeded through the meal.
The elk doe put her fork down after eating her last bite, then leaned back in her seat and sighed. “That was an excellent dinner, Chassi.”
“If you liked it, you can thank Padzi,” the buck said with a smile. The equine nodded in acknowledgement as Chassi added, “He’s a fellow of many talents.”
“He’s a very good cook, at least,” Trasta said, giving the donkey a wink. “I have to remember not to eat so much if we’re going to be sparring tomorrow.”
Chassi drained his wineglass and said, “Quite true, Trasta, although you might want to at least sample the dessert.”
“Dessert, eh? And what might that be?” Great Luli, had she just given him a coy smile?
Chassi gave her an amused smile in return. “Padzi?”
The jack bowed to his superior and nodded to Dame Karalla. The donkey and the weasel brought two small trays forward and placed them before the diners, taking away the empty plates and the uneaten portion of the pie. Karalla removed the tray cover, revealing a dense brown cake studded with currants and raisins, with a small attendant pitcher of thin custard.
Trasta smiled at her lady in waiting, who smiled back and gave her charge a sly wink before retreating to the sideboard to stand beside Padzi. “It does smell good,” she observed, sniffing at the fragrant steam rising from the cake. “Cinnamon and – ginger?” She saw Chassi nod as the buck dug a small hole in the top of his serving and drizzled custard on the cake. She copied his actions and tried a bite.
The cake was dense and sweet, with notes from the spices and a smokiness from molasses. The custard had lemon in it to contrast with the cake. Trasta swallowed her mouthful and said, “That’s delicious.”
Padzi bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Karalla poured small glasses of dessert wine for the pair. Chassi took a tiny sip of the liqueur and said, “What weapons do you suggest we use tomorrow?”
“Well, we can always practice with sword or cudgel – those are useful in a melee – how are you with the pilum?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Throwing spear.”
“Ah. I can throw one a fair distance,” Chassi admitted, “but my aim could stand improvement.” He lifted another forkful of cake and custard to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
Trasta found herself staring at the thin strand of custard that stretched out from the buck’s fork to his plate, and suppressed a giggle. She blinked as she caught Chassi looking at her, and realized that he expected a reply. “Ah, well, I’m sure we can practice on that, as well as on melee weapons.”
“And unarmed combat?”
“Unarmed? I suppose some practice may be useful in that, too.”
Chassi nodded. “What style do you prefer in unarmed combat?”
Trasta smiled. “Phutrian. It emphasizes leverage and pressure points – “
“Which is suitable for enemies larger than you. I find Zerkrisi is a better fit for me – “
“Because it concentrates on finding and exploiting weaknesses. With your ability at shash, I shouldn’t wonder why you’d be attracted to that style,” Trasta said. “It would be interesting to see which style would prevail, if they were pitted against each other.”
“Hmm. I suppose so.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin as he gazed across the table at her.
She caught his speculative look. “Yes?”
He placed the napkin on the table beside his plate. “Oh, I was just wondering.”
“What?”
“You were saying earlier that we shouldn’t eat so much, as we’re going to be in the exercise yard in the morning. And you thought it might be interesting to see how Zerkrisi and Phutrian styles would compare against each other.”
“Yes, so?”
Chassi smiled. “I would usually take a walk after such a nice meal, especially with an attractive doe to admire the night sky with me,” and his smile widened into a grin as she chuckled, “but I think we can work off dinner by a bit of paw-to-paw combat.”
Trasta blinked. “What, here?”
“Why not? The room’s quite large enough, if we move the table out of the way,” Chassi replied, ignoring the surprised looks on Padzi’s and Karalla’s faces. “Plenty of space.”
“Is this a challenge, my Lord Earl?” Trasta asked, resting her elbow on the table and her chin upon her fist.
Chassi gave a nonchalant shrug. “An experiment, Your Highness. In the Book of Skulls, Rarmyni counsels His adherents to experiment.”
She looked at him appraisingly. “Then we honor both Rarmyni and Luli, with this experiment.” She nodded and started to stand up. “Let’s try it, then.”
“Your Highness?” Karalla ventured.
Trasta waved her off. “It’s all right, Dame Karalla. I’m in good paws, and I shall win easily enough.”
“Um, my Lord – “ Padzi said.
“Not a word, old friend,” Chassi interrupted. “Help me move this table, there’s a good fellow.”
Trasta stretched, flexing her paws as the buck and the jack moved the table and chairs out of the way, leaving a spot about ten feet square on the carpeted floor. “Are you certain this is a good idea, my Lady?” Karalla asked. “I mean, you’ve had quite a lot of wine – “
“Nonsense, Karalla. You think I can’t beat him?”
“I didn’t say that – “
“I’ll be fine. Now, step outside please.”
“You too, Padzi.”
“My Lord – “
“Step outside, my friend.” The doe and the buck ushered their aides from the room and closed the door. “Now,” Chassi said, “shall we begin?”
“One moment.” In the course of her stretching, Trasta had discovered that the gown she was wearing restricted the movement of her legs. It would effectively hobble her in a fight. Well, he’s already seen me naked . . . “Come here and help me get this off.”
The buck blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Having this dress on is like wearing leg irons.” She turned her back to him. “Could you unlace this, Chassi?”
There was a pause, and she felt him step closer to her. “Very well.” She felt him undo the knot at the nape of her neck, and felt him work his way down her back to just above her tail. Trasta pulled away and pulled the dress up and over her head, shaking it out and draping it carefully over the back of a chair. Removing the dress left her in a bandeau and the short, sleeveless pants that comprised her underwear. She turned to see Chassi removing his tunic and laying it across the back of his own chair. “If you wish to be more comfortable, I claim that right as well,” the red deer buck said.
“All right.” Without the dress, movement was certainly easier, and she took up a stance in the middle of the carpet, fists clenched loosely and hooves solidly on the floor. “When you’re ready.”
“All right, then.” He took up an opposing stance to her, left paw close in a guard position, and his right arm extended, elbow bent and paw up. She placed her own forearm against the back of his.
A pause, and they both moved, Trasta sweeping her right arm down to strike the buck and Chassi deflecting the blow, grasping her wrist and pulling her slightly off-balance. She countered by lowering her left shoulder and driving herself into him to knock him out of his stance.
Chassi pivoted, the buck ending up pressed against the doe’s back with her arm, still grasped at the wrist, behind her back. His free arm was around her chest, just under her breasts.
Trasta reached with her free arm, grasped one of his antlers, and threw her upper body forward. Chassi pitched over her, releasing her wrist as he landed on his back. The doe pounced, straddling his chest and using her thighs to pin his arms against his sides, then grabbing his legs and drawing them up to her chest before rocking back as his hooves flailed uselessly.
“Hah!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Got you! Now, do – OW!” She scrambled free of him and pronked a few feet away, rubbing her backside. “YOU BIT ME!”
Chassi got to his feet, shaking his head a bit. “Zerkrisi, remember? Find and exploit weak points?” He chuckled. “Fortunately you gave me quite an obvious target.”
Trasta snorted. “My arse is not big.”
“When it’s right in my face, it appears so,” he countered. “You smell good too, and that was a bit distracting.” He raised his paws. “I’ll concede to you, though. Another round?”
Cracking her neck, the doe stepped forward, and they both rushed at each other. They met just off-center on the carpet, she trying to apply pressure to his joints, while he tried to hold her off and wait until she gave him a weakness to exploit.
Which resulted in the two of them grappling, face to face.
She started to be aware that he smelled good, too, and his bare chest was up against her. She could almost feel his heart beating. Her eyes, closed in the effort of trying to throw him, fluttered open and looked up at him.
He was staring at her, and she started to frame a question.
Then he twisted his hips, and threw her off her hooves.
They landed on the carpet with a jarring crash, the buck landing on top of the doe. Slightly dazed, they blinked and caught their breath before realizing where they were and who they were holding onto.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 249 x 568px
File Size 21.2 kB
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