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.

Art by  aspenbear

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Part 40.



Gond Meras blinked and took a half-step back, a paw blindly groping for the symbol of the Pantheon on its chain around his neck. Meki snorted and stalked forward, and his movement spurred the fox into speaking. “What?” was all he was able to gasp at first, but he recovered quickly, “Highness, I – “

“I expect an answer, Priest,” Meki rasped. “Part of this realm is in revolt against the Crown, and there are some saying that they’re inspired by your sermons. You were forbidden to preach, so what have you been doing?” He backed the priest up against the wall, looming over the older man.

“Highness, you were the instrument of Azos’ Will in setting me free, but I could not see the point to it if I wasn’t allowed to preach,” Gond said. “Then the Gods inspired me, and so I wrote my sermons.”

Meki seemed to sag only slightly. He blinked as his ears flicked. “You wrote them?”

“Yes, Highness. I must tell – Highness?” The fox stared, mystified, as Meki tottered back a step and turned away from him. His shoulders shook slightly. “My Prince, are you all right?” he asked as he stepped forward, uncertain whether to call for help or reach out to assist the elk.

“You . . . wrote . . . your sermons,” and to the fox’s amazement the elk started to laugh. Meki continued to laugh until he had to put out a paw and grasp Gond’s shoulder to steady himself. He put his free paw against his side as he finally got himself under control. “You . . . The Hierarchy thought they’d silenced you, and here you figured out a way around them!”

“I didn’t, Highness. Azos came to me, and guided me,” the fox said piously.

“Then praise Azos for it,” Meki said, still chuckling. He limped to the sideboard and poured a small cup of wine, then drank half of it. “Ah! Better. Now, what have you been saying in your written sermons?”

“What I have always said, Highness,” Gond said earnestly. “That the Order is a corrupt and blasphemous assembly that should be done away with, and . . . “ He trailed off, his ears laying back.

“And?” The elk asked as he poured another cup of wine.

“And . . . that the High House is wrong for having protected them for so long,” the priest said reluctantly.

“’Wrong?’”

Gond raised his paws placatingly. “Misguided, perhaps. The recent troubles, and the death of your revered father, the King – these are signs of Azos’ displeasure with the High House for supporting the Order.” The fox’s brush twitched. “You must strike at them, my Prince. You must strike them down.”

Meki scowled. “Easier said than done. As Regent, I have sworn to uphold the Pact – “

“To the fires of Dator with the Pact, Highness!” the fox suddenly declared. His brush snapped back and forth. “The Pact is what is causing the High God to turn His face from you and yours. Your son’s birth is a sign that Azos will bless you if you obey His decree.” The elk frowned pensively and Gond said, “Do not turn your back upon the Gods, Highness. For your son and his realm, I beg you, cast aside the Pact.”

The elk huffed a breath through his nose, but otherwise made no sound for several moments. Finally he said softly, “Go. I need to think.”

“Yes, Highness.” The fox bowed low and let himself out.

Meki waited until the door had closed, then poured another cup of wine and hobbled over to a chair by the window. He settled into it and eased his crippled leg onto a cushioned stool, then sipped at his wine, deep in thought.

It was what he wanted to do; command that the Order be disbanded and suppressed, never to sully the face of the realm or blaspheme against the Pantheon ever again. He was certain that it was the right thing to do.

It would also give him great satisfaction and no small measure of revenge for his crippled leg.

On the other paw, the Pact had stood for centuries, a triune guarantee of stability between the Order, the Pantheon’s Hierarchy and the Crown. He had sworn an oath, as Regent, to uphold the pact and transmit a united realm to his son when the fawn came of age.

He turned slightly in his chair and gazed at the far side of the room where an upturned table stood. The wooden table was festooned with slips of parchment that were connected by lines of different-colored yarn. Each slip described some unusual occurrence or disaster that, whether it was explainable or not, was connected to a slip that held the center of the table.

The Order was written on that central slip.

The more he had studied the matter, the more convinced the elk had become certain that the Order was behind most of the bad things that had befallen the kingdom over the centuries.

Meki turned back to the open window, hoof-hard nails tapping on the chair arm, thinking.


***


A day later, Princess Trasta’s forces reached Alvrad.

The town of Alvrad was the centerpiece of a thriving collection of farms that spread out onto the plains south of the Silver Mountain. Further north, in the foothills of the Holy Mountain itself, the land was too rocky for growing crops, but very suitable for herding. The town held a Temple, of course, and there was a stone-walled Keep on the western side.

Thegn Klina and a portion of his levy had barred the gates of the Keep, while loyal troops and the great majority of the townsfolk stayed close to their homes. Many of the farmers had remained home as well, and only a few had provided their thegn with provisions.

A herald trotted back to where Trasta stood, the Shugan forces she had brought to Thegn Klina’s domain waiting a short distance behind her. Her officers stood behind her, along with a delegation from the town that had come to ask forgiveness and to seek a promise that the town would not be sacked to avenge their thegn’s disloyalty. Clouds and a freshening breeze heralded the onset of a storm, and the rising wind toyed with her headfur.

The elk doe snapped, “Well? What does he say?”

The bear bowed. “Thegn Klina says that he no longer recognizes the High House’s authority over him and his domain, Highness.”

“Why?”

The herald looked a bit nervous. “He says it’s because, well, that the High House and the Order – “ He shut his mouth as she raised a mailed paw.

“I guessed that.” She glanced over her shoulder at an officer. “Order the siege artillery up, archers to the fore. We will assault the place after bombarding it first.” She drew her sword and began to walk back to the lines. “Have riders been dispatched yet?” she asked another.

“Yes, General,” the tall buck replied.

“Good. Let’s pray to Luli that we don’t take too long about this.” Seni gave Trasta her helmet as trumpets blared and soldiers scattered to set up firing positions.

The first arrows began to fly as it started to rain.


***


“Here’s your dinner, child-fucker,” and Marok took the items from the proffered tray without responding to the guard’s insult. Another bottle of wine was traded for an empty flask and the remnants of the previous meal. His silence seemed to irritate the otter, who waved away the servant holding the old tray and slammed the cell door closed.

The bear took the items back to the bed, set the tray down and took the cover from the dish. “Ah.”

So far, someone was managing to prevent the guards from adulterating his food, but the quality had fallen off a bit. The plate held a small loaf of bread, two raw carrots and something that might have been a chop (when it had been cooked yesterday). Still, it looked edible.

Marok sat down and removed the cork from the bottle, took a deep drink, and started to eat.


***


“More levies are coming in from the estates, Your Grace.”

“Good. Have the seneschal see to their provision and lodging. How many so far?”

Her chief aide consulted a small wax tablet in a wooden diptych. “We currently have a thousand men-at-arms, Your Grace.” The ferret glanced up at the canine. “Will we need the rest, do you think?”

Rolna Blanak slouched in her chair, a paw absently brushing at the family crest on her tunic. She had a fearful hangover but had awakened as soon as she’d heard about the riots in Temple Square. Now the canine picked up a mug of cold, strong tea and drained it. “No. Have them mustered, but they are to stay at the estates. If our position becomes untenable here, we shall move out of the city.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” and the ferret scribed a note on a piece of paper. He gave it to a runner and accepted another report. “Thegn Stolipi reports that the last pockets of rebels in the city are . . . here,” and he placed a fingertip on the map of Shuganath that was pinned to the table. He straightened up and said, “We will hold the capital, Your Grace.” Several officers nodded in agreement.

“Thank Azos for that.” She glanced up as a messenger entered the crowded room, pushed through the press of officers and servants, and gave a message to the aide. He glanced at it, then did a double take. “What is it?”

“Your Grace?”

That netted the ferret a raised eyebrow. “What is the message, Rebani?”

Instead of replying, the aide glanced pointedly at a side door. Rolna understood.

The assembly bowed or saluted as she stood up and walked out of the room through the door indicated, with Rebani right behind her.

As soon as the door closed she asked in a voice just above a whisper, “Well?”

The ferret looked nervous as he said, “Your Grace, the message is from the man we have in the Court.” The Duchess nodded; her grandfather had started the custom of placing a sworn man at the Royal Keep in the guise of a servant, stablepaw or other low position. It helped to have another set of eyes and ears, and so far as she could tell no other noble had thought of it. “The message – our man has heard a rumor regarding His Highness the Regent.”

“What about him?”

He told her.

The door was flung open and people scrambled to get out of the way as Rolna charged through the room with no regard for courtesy or protocol. She paused and pointed at an officer and growled, “You. I want a lizard saddled for me and a bodyguard of twenty mustered in the yard by the time I get there. Move!” The buck fairly pronked out of the room and the Duchess headed for her room to get dressed.

And to put on her late father’s sword.