Pillar of White Flame

© 2017 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  tegerio, with color by  Major Matt Mason



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Part 58.



Halvrika sighed as she surveyed the barrier before her.

Blackberry bushes.

Why in the Eternal Balance did it have to be blackberry bushes?

The fruit, she noted disgustedly, wasn’t ripe yet. There wasn’t even the consolation of a sweet treat in return for trying to fight her way through bushes bearing thorns the length of the first joint on her thumb. Her Sight spread out beyond her, showing her the surrounding landscape. The bushes were arranged in three parallel rows, interspersed with shade trees, which ran east and west for about two hundred yards. The raccoon sow was closer to the eastern end of the rows, which put her closer to the northern road to Shuga.

Nothing for it, then. She stretched, wincing as her back protested, then rested the wooden shaft of her guisarme against her shoulder and set off to the east. Moving closer to the road when she was still in the Duchy of Lem might put her in danger of encountering more patrols, but she had more important concerns at the moment.

Namely, shelter for the day, food, and water.

Her Sight was able to detect several animals that, like her, were taking advantage of the night. An owl and several bats were in the air, a rabbit was busily grazing, and field mice scurried about. There was nothing larger than the rabbit for more than a half-mile in any direction, and she was reassured by that.

The sky was cloudless, and the moon was a delicate curve in the sky. The weather was holding and under any other circumstances she would be enjoying her journey. Of course, these weren’t ordinary circumstances; she was doing her best to control the insistent throbbing in her sex, and her injuries and muscles ached.

Her feet hurt, too.

She reached the road, looked up at the sky for a moment, and began heading south again. With any luck, she could reach a farmhouse or inn before the sun came up. A glamor could hide her, but such things took greater effort in daylight.

The sensations thudding through her got more demanding as she trudged along the road. The raccoon tried to ignore it, but she felt her trousers getting wetter and wetter as her juices flowed unimpeded. The fur between her legs was becoming uncomfortable, and she expanded her Sight.

Hmm . . . there was a river about a mile south, with the road crossing it; the river flowed into a lake to the southwest, and south of the river – yes! There was an inn beside the road, maybe another five miles from where she stood.

But was it on the Shugan side of the border? At this point she really didn’t care much.


***


“Executed?” Rolna echoed. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am. The message doesn’t elaborate, but the why of it’s quite clear,” Marok said. He munched on a piece of cheese, swallowed and added, “The Regent is going to use the threat of my death to persuade the Order to surrender.” He sighed, and took a swallow from the wine bottle. “Your Grace, I must contact my colleagues at the Cloister.”

“Are you able to do that?”

The bear chuckled. “Prince Meki never asked the Order to set the wards to block my abilities. Please keep watch and call if you hear or see anyone coming.”

He could See the canine femme nodding. “I will, Master Dinest.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Rolna.”

“Rolna, then. Thank you,” and the bear smiled as he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. ”Arch-Adept Kulorn? ‘Tis Arch-Adept Dinest calls thee.”

”Arch-Adept Dinest? Attend, for the attacker at our gates hath increased his assault upon our wards.” The bull sounded exhausted.

Marok’s brow furrowed. ”It saddens me to relate, but I am marked to die by the Crown Prince’s decree. A scaffold is being prepared. I judge that it is time for Arch-Adept Jesko to have the offense she hath craved.”

”I agree,” the bull said. ”She will welcome the chance, as will her Adepts.”


***


The thegns and officers of the two armies were seated on the slopes of a grassy hill, sharing wineskins and food as Thegn Ranol and Seneschal Rebani took their places at the foot of the hill. The ferret stepped back after another low-voiced exchange between him and the raccoon, and Ranol said in a carrying tone, “Fellow soldiers, we have a job to do.”

“Those of you who are vassals of Duchess Blanak know that Her Grace is under arrest, by the order of Prince Meki.” He paused as a few thegns muttered amongst themselves and one or two sat up. “That alone has spurred you into action, to march here from your lands to the Royal Demesne.”

“You of the Western Armies have followed me here despite Prince Meki, and Princess Trasta, asking us to stay where we were. To sit idly by as this kingdom is lacerated!” He waited as the muttering started again, and waited until it slowly died down. “I will not sit on my paws as this injustice continues. I will march on Shuganath, not in the name or in support of Prince Meki, or Princess Trasta. “

“I march in the name of the King!” the raccoon boar roared. “I march to save this realm, so that the King will have a realm to rule when he comes of age!” He paused and caught his breath. “Will you march with me?” he asked, and waited for a reply.

“Your daughter’s in the Order,” one thegn said after a moment. “You’re not marching us to the capital to save her?”

“No,” the boar said simply. “My daughter is far to the north, in Lem. But even if she were immured in the Cloister, it would not matter. She has not been my daughter for nearly twenty years,” and the thegn’s ears went down at the admission. “Again, this kingdom is starting to fall apart. You all know the histories, how it was before the Issem became the High House. It is not called the Age of Blood for nothing.” He paused again and accepted a waterskin from Rebani. The thegns talked among themselves, a few recalling the lessons they’d learned at school or from their fathers.

The assembly quieted as Thegn Ranol said, “Once again, it is my intention to lead this army to Shuganath. Will you march with me?”

One by one, the thegns stood up, until no one was left sitting on the grassy hillock.


***


The burly otter who owned and operated The Leaping Trout finished sweeping the common room floor as his son ran in. “Father! Father! There’s someone – “

“A customer? Good! Invite him in,” the older man said. He could hear his wife and daughter bustling about in the kitchen.

The younger otter took a breath to calm himself. “There’s someone out in the stables, asleep.” He blushed. “It’s a girl.”

That caused the innkeeper to frown, and he gripped the broom in one muscled paw. “Let’s go see, Noali,” and he let the lad precede him to the lizard-stables. The rooster in the garden crowed to greet the rising sun and a small wisp of mist rose from the river that ran behind the inn. The two otters, father and son, reached the stable and looked over the gate.

Yeah, sure enough.

She had a striped tail and a dark fur mask, so she was a raccoon. They were seldom seen around these parts. The girl, maybe in her twenties, was curled up on the straw and covered by a hooded cloak. A knapsack was doing duty as a pillow, and one of her paws was curled around the wooden handle of a broad-bladed brush axe.

As father and son looked at her, she started to stir, and to their surprise she said in a hoarse voice, “If you want me to leave, just say so.” She sat up slowly and, it appeared, painfully, maintaining her grip on the brush axe.

The innkeeper felt his son grab his arm. “Father! She only has one eye!” The young otter gave a yelp as his father flicked his ear.

“Are you all right, young woman?” he asked.

She gave him a weary smile. “I’ve walked all night, from that direction,” and she waved her free paw in a vaguely northerly direction. “I apologize for sleeping in your stable, but you were closed.”

He chuckled. “Well, we’re open now, young woman, so come on in and have some breakfast. Walked all night, you say? You’ll be wanting a bed to sleep in, not a pile of straw.” The raccoon sow got unsteadily to her feet and he reached out to steady her as she swayed and almost hit the gate. “Easy n – “

”DON’T TOUCH ME!” she abruptly screamed, stumbling back a step and pointing the blade of her axe at him. She blinked her good eye and seemed to relax a bit. “I’m sorry,” she said miserably, “but I don’t – don’t want to be touched.”

The otter nodded as he withdrew his paw slowly. Word had come from travelers that there’d been trouble. “You don’t want to be touched, you won’t be, that’s fair. Will you come in?”

“I don’t have much money.”

“How much do you have?” The raccoon took a small purse from her knapsack and opened it before tipping it toward him to see. “I count at least five silvers there, girl, and one is enough for a night’s stay and three good meals. We have a deal?”

“Yes,” and she nodded jerkily. “I can’t stay long.”

“I run an inn, not a big hostel like you find in a town,” the otter said. He stood away from the gate and cocked his head. “Now, will you come in?”

Again, a jerky nod. “Thank you. Molluta’s blessings on you,” she said, pronouncing the goddess of fortune’s name as if she was unfamiliar with it.

“Greva’s blessing on you,” the otter said briskly. “Come this way, and we’ll get some food in you. I hope you like fish.”

“Fish . . . it’s been days since I had fish.” She paused, blinking up at him. “Where is this place? I – I’m afraid I’m a little lost.”

“You’re in the lands of the Duke of Lem,” the man replied.

She closed her eye as if pained. “And Shuga?”

“Ah, it’s the King’s Lands you’re headed for? Well, those are just down the road about a league.” He held the inn’s front door open for her. “Come in, come in. I can hear your stomach from here, young woman. What’s your name, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Halvrika swallowed. There was no way she would give out her right name, even if she was only a league from the border with Shuga. “Chama,” she replied, recalling the erminess at Karbur.

“Chama, then. Take a seat and Noali will get you something to drink.” He headed for the kitchen to get her breakfast started, not noticing that she took a seat where she had a view of the front and kitchen entrances to the room. The brush axe was leaned against the wall behind her and she ate hungrily when the innkeeper returned and placed a flatbread trencher before her. The trencher received a hot helping of a rich, thick fish stew, and as soon as the otter gave her a spoon the raccoon tucked into the meal. A cup of ale was placed by her as she ate.


***


“Were you able to get in touch with the Order?” Rolna asked when she saw Marok’s face at his cell window.

The bear looked very pleased with himself. “Yes, I was. Shall we leave this place, Rolna? It’s a sure bet that if I’m found missing, our dear Prince might take his frustrations out on you – and he seems to have quite deep frustrations.”

The canine femme smothered a laugh. “Of course I would love to leave. I haven’t had a bath in a while, and – “ Her voice trailed away as the door of her cell swung open, followed by Marok’s.

Marok stepped out into the hallway. “Shall we go?”

“Were you able to do that the entire time you were in there?” she asked crossly as she stepped out of her cell.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He held up a bottle. “The King’s wines are not to be denied, Your Grace.”