Chapter the Ninth: Families
#9 of A Stage of Destinies
Yet when the sickness was sore in the land,
And neither planets nor herbs assuaged,
They took their lives in their lancet-hand
And, oh, what a wonderful war they waged!
Yes, when the crosses were chalked on the door-
(Yes, when the terrible dead-cart rolled!)
Excellent courage our fathers bore-
None too learned, but nobly bold
Into the fight went our fathers of old.
-Rudyard Kipling, Our Fathers of Old
Derrick raced happily through the camp as several small rabbits laughed and ran with him. Very few of them could speak his language, and he certainly could not speak theirs, but still they were managing to have a great deal of fun. He had picked up a few phrases, and words, and was beginning to get by without a translator. This was something of a golden time for him, and the first happy days he had since the death of his beloved mother. His father was on the mend (and much quicker than when he had been wounded before), and he was among an interesting group of people who treated him like he was something important. He had found himself exceedingly popular among the children due in part to his how exotic he appeared to them (being of fox stock), and in part because of the decorations he wore. Only adults were allowed such accoutrement, and only after they had survived a battle in which they had slain a warrior.
Adrian on the other hand was quite miserable. The season was growing cooler, and such similar was his humor, but a restless wanderlust had overtaken him. Unfortunately, he was confined to limping, and healing. He found some solace in watching his son gallivant and frolic with rabbit children, and chuckle at the young girl's notice of him, but still that only filled him with the urge to move more. The fox was never one to feel comfortable when others waited on, or attended him, and there were Mumgatu in every direction whom were determined to make him as comfortable as possible as long as he was there esteemed guest. All this was performed in addition to avoiding their queen like a plague-bearer so that he could assure himself free from her passionate ire.
The sun shone bright marigold in the egg-shell blue heavens, and white clouds wandered lazily across the horizons as the Beduin wished to do, but he was trapped with polite hosts, hot daylight, and tall, healthy grass. He sighed deeply as he stared over the hill at the thick, black smoke that rose over Benuith like grasping fingers. It seemed to him almost that the city extended the trails as some jet hand grasping at the air to save itself with some unseen hope much the way a child does when dying from some incurable malady. A small part of him pitied the town as he bore witness to the death-knell of its innocence. Nothing would ever be the same for its people. For the first time, they had known war first-hand, and the land would never forget it. Now clean, his nose could catch the faint stink of death, and burning fur and flesh from the distant stronghold. To the east screams could be heard in the distance as Mumgatu raiding parties clashed with militias who were rising to protect their lands, and flames arose to greet the sun as crops were set ablaze. To the west the trees danced lazily in a supple breeze as the satisfying zephyr sang liltingly between their blissful branches. Adrian stared at the gates of Benuith, and the festering pile of its sons and daughters that lay strewn about before it, and turned to share tea with its ravagers.
The Beduin warrior seated himself solitarily on a neatly knitted blanket of white, and purple beside one of the larger fires. Most of the tribesmen and women were either watching their children, or enjoying some of the spoils of their recent conquest. Regardless of the number of white-shields that were hired, the city had fallen quite easily against the sudden incursion of the enemy horde. Numbers were relatively even, but the savagery of the Mumgatu was unexpected as well as their ability to get through what should have been a locked gate. The population that could flee ran for their lives while less fortunate neighbors fell to spears, and clubs. Truth told more were more people killed under the feet of their city-mates as they fled in mad panic. Nothing is beneath instinct when it calls one to vie for mortal sustenance when said mortality is called into dire straits. One might doom a child to die to save oneself.
Adrian sipped the strong tea provided for him by one of the younger women, and smiled at her as she cast him a lusty eye. His expression returned to its previous dour as soon as her back was turned, and his mind returned to thoughts and strategy of coming war. Far in the distance a peal of thunder rumbled through the hills, and a cool wind blew in from the north. The wind of his home comforted his wounds, and eased his mind.
"What thought's you have?"
The fox looked up at the towering woman who stood over him, and followed the brandings up her legs, over her belly, and to her face. She looked down at the Beduin seriously, and he worried for a moment. His heart sank at her expression, and more so at the idea that it had only been two days.
"Nothing quite as dark as what fills me now" he said quietly, and slowly rose to his feet. "So" he said, and paused to take a deep breath, "my idleness was not enough then? I hoped it would be. Very well, if I've offended I'll make amend. I'll even go so far as to surrender and take none of you with me if you'll swear on your gods to spare my son to live, and bring him up to be a warrior." She looked him over, and thought to smirk, but the electricity of the air made her exceedingly edgy. She took a deep breath as she crossed her arms. Her chest sank as she slowly let it out, and dipped her head a bit.
"Relax your self, Beduinson" she said quietly, "I've chosen to end our separation early as my temper has cooled. You are in no danger and your son certainly isn't." She stared at him for a moment impressed with his devotion to his boy. Just a moment ago he offered to lay down his blade to save him, and she never expected Adrian Beduinson to ever make such a plea.
"However" she continued, "I have heavy things to discuss. Powerfully heavy things that I think. Take you're seat back, and I talk. You listen, and see if we have to part for more days."
Adrian looked deeply into her eyes, and basked for a moment in the vibrant blue of her retinas. There was something there that he didn't like. A cool wind blew between them causing their hair to dance for a moment in the dull rumbling of the camp. A lazy trail of smoke wafted languidly between them above the fire that distorted the air into a carnival of flutter, and played strange, eclectic lights on their forms. He took a breath, and slowly sat down on the bedroll with his eyes closed. His potent arms crossed at his chest and he grumbled something under his breath. She sat down on the grass in front of him in a similar fashion. It never ceased to please Adrian to see these rabbits and their ways. For one to imagine a northern queen kneeling on the grass with some nobody-commoner was a fairy tale. Further more one wouldn't find a queen kneeling in the grass to begin with.
"Ok" he said after a few moments, and lifted his drink to his lips, "Out with it then, wench. What are you so intent on speaking about?" He set his drink aside, and opened his eyes. She looked back, statuesque and rigorous.
"I don't kill any Beduin this day" she said, "but maybe I kill them in the future day." She looked at him plainly waiting for some reaction, but he didn't even bat an eyelash.
"Why is that?" he said after a long pause, and slowly pushed a yellow war-braid of hair out of his face, and over his shoulder. "Why would you think you will kill Beduin sons or daughters at some day in the future?"
"I meet man" she said in a calm and resolute fashion, "And he tell me things. He make me offers. I hear them, I like them, I take them." She paused a moment and scratched at her leg.
"So why would you tell me this?" he posed before she could continue, "Why would you let me in on this little business deal. Do you want me to talk you out of it? Do you seek absolution, or forgiveness for this bargain?" His voice rose as he spoke and he leaned towards her. Most would find his manner intimidating, but the rabbitess was unimpressed, or at least unyielding.
"Why is it that the world conspires against the Beduin?" he thought to himself, "Why are we so important that we are hounded that nations trek hundreds and hundreds of miles just to try to slay us?" His eyes narrowed, and the paw on his knee tightened a bit.
"Of course not" she barked in an irked manner, "I don't need your forgiveness! I go to fight and maybe die against most worthy foe! That my business!" She paused for a moment, and breathed. "I just want us still be friends" she continued in a calmer, more honest voice. "You will still be Budakha's friend at any time we don't fight? If you there to fight with them."
A long stare greeted her words, and she felt a small part of her sadden. This was not something she would take back, but she had hoped that the fox would at least remain her confidant.
"We can be friends" he said at last, "but if I am there, and I fight with my Beduin Son brethren then you cannot expect any quarter. I will kill you as freely as I would kill a tiger." He put his hand on her knee, and she smiled.
"As I hoped" she said in a relieved manner, and leaned forward. Their muzzles met in a kiss, light at first, then increasingly passionate. Her knees scooted slowly along the ground, and his arms pulled her into his lap as their embrace closed and heated. The fox lifted his hand, and pressed against her shoulder until she pushed back away from his face, and slid off of his lap. His chin fell to his chest and a slow sigh exited his nose.
"Step back, good queen" he said sadly, "consider yourself and beware the opening to wounds that swords cannot ward against. It is best that my son and I go. If we meet again I pray to mighty Clovis that it is not on opposing sides of a battle."
He arose slowly pausing only to gently press her hand away as it reached for him, and he walked hesitantly from the woman, who remained seated. She watched him leave, and felt her chest tightening with each step that carried the warrior from her. As he disappeared into the crowded camp she stepped to her feet, and walked swiftly towards the trees.
Other rabbits watched her curiously as her pace quickened with each step. After reaching the edge of the camp she broke into a run feeling tears well in her eyes that not even the resolve of her warrior heart could hold back. Leaves and branches bounced off of her body as she bolted through the copse in sniffling lament. Thunder shook the skies to the north as she reached the edge of a brook that sang happily in contrast to her distress, and she fell to her knees beside it. Her face looked back at her from the surface just above a few minnows that fled her as several of her thin braids fell into the water and disturbed her reflection into ripples. More thunder sounded over the highlands, and a strong wind rushed over her muscular body that shook the tender limbs of the trees making them whip around and shower her with leaves. Tears began to fall into the creek before her, and she buried her face in her paws, and sobbed quietly to the dispassionate thicket surrounding her.
Brodry looked out of the window of the carriage at the town that surrounded them. Weeks of travel were behind them now, and he was pleased to see some vestige of civilization regardless of its size. The land consisted of small houses, many of which were crowned with thatch roofs, and simple dirt roads between vast farm lands where crops grew, or animals grazed. He began to notice over time that there was little diversity amongst the denizens of these small communities, and that they seemed to be solely populated by tigers. Occasionally some other breed of cat would pop up, but for the most part there were only others of his own kind. He wondered at this for awhile, and decided that this must be some pocket community where his own people had prospered like you found occasionally in his homeland. A nation comprised of a sole people was unheard of in his homeland where many races congregated in cities. Perhaps there would be boroughs and streets of one race, or even an isolated farming community, but never a whole city of one kind.
Tigers of various ages tended the fields hardily as the winter began to approach, and harvest season came upon them. Men and women in simple clothes leading simple lives singing merrily in the fields about heroes, or lovers, or the task before them filled the landscape. A smile crept across the young man's face as he watched them, and the occasional group of children that were bounding across the landscape and laughing heartily in the headiness of their youths.
"This is a beautiful country" he said without taking his eyes off of the scenic farmscape that reminded him pleasantly of his home, "I would love to spend some time in a place like this."
"There is a reason for that" Couric said in a regal fashion, "this is my land. These are Sherftii farms, and citizens of our collective peoples." He looked back into the wagon at his contemporary whom had turned his eyes hopefully in his direction. "You most certainly will have the opportunity to spend more time here if you would like."
A smile spread across Brodry's face, and he looked back out to the fields and pastures. There was a group of young women washing clothes by the river singing some pleasant song which teased him with a melody, but denied him words just beyond understanding while their children or their siblings chased small domestic lizards around just within eyesight of their keepers. Everyone seemed so happy to him and it warmed his heart. Slowly, his mood darkened as he thought about his own youth, and wished it had been like the scenic dream that played before him here.
Memories tormented him, and he turned away from the window. He could faintly hear the drunken slurring of his father screaming at his sisters, and him. The sound of fists striking flesh resounded in his ears, and the feeling of much larger paws tightening around his neck made a lump for in his throat. He sighed deeply and snatched a bottle of Chalmer's wine. The old fox looked up and spoke in protest, but he silenced him with a cold, hateful glare. It made him feel better simply to see the fox shy away from his argument and concede from fear alone, and he drank thirstily from the vessel. Chalmer cast him a hatefully judgmental glance, and the tiger felt his heart sink again. It was the same kind of look that his father used to give him whenever he failed to please the old man (which generally included everything he did, or was). He capped the bottle, set it down, and stood up.
Couric was busying himself driving the wagon as he looked fondly over the country that he recognized as his rightful kingdom. An unseasonable warm breeze blew past his wavy hair, and elated his mood with its autumnal aroma. This was the land of his goddess, and he thought back to the last conversation he had with his father. She was certainly here in every aspect, and every tree, and every blade of grass, or smiling face. This was truly the incarnation of precious Dalma, and love swelled religiously in his heart for the bounty of nature. His reverie broke when he felt a warm hand on his thick arm.
A quick glance brought the needful expression of his young love into view, and he smiled warmly. The youthful warrior was in one of his moods, and sought the comfort of his mentor and lover. Couric lifted his arm and allowed the warrior to settle against his snuggle against him. Brodry felt immediately better as he felt the weight of Couric's solid appendage resting reassuringly across his body. He always felt like a small child being protected by a large man in his mate's embrace, like he a little boy seeking shelter from hardship with his father. Or at least how a father should be to a son...
"Look, my love" the older tiger said softly as he pointed ahead. A huge rampart loomed in the distance before them and dominated the horizon. "That is finally it, our destination and the beginning of the real challenge. That is my city, and our capital."
Brodry looked on and was relatively amazed at the size of it. The city was almost the size of Mariath if you included the housing outside the protective wall. He had heard his mate speak of the size of the settlement, but had no idea how close to accurate he had made. His mood immediately lifted, and he put his head on the shoulder of his proud and precious love. His dearest Couric more prized of him than all the land that surrounded, or the city that impended ahead. His mentor, his trainer, his leader, his love without whom nothing could matter, and life could not continue. Brodry could not think of what he might do if he lost the Sherftii warrior at his side.
Couric felt his companion lift his forehead and rest it against his own face for a moment before wrapping a dense arm around his chest. He smiled at his love-struck mate, and lifted his muzzle to his own. Their lips met in soft passion and played over each other with loving choreography for a long series of moments that stretched as the sun descended the autumnal sky. Behind them, the mood of the other passengers was not nearly as romantic.
Chalmer watched the pair and jealousy raged in his heart. He chafed under their closeness, and envied the young tiger's favor. A feeling welled in him that had haunted him for years since the departure of his favorite child, and abraded his ire as he felt his facial scar burn, and itch. Beautiful young Couric who had spurned and wounded him, the one boy he wanted above all the others...the one that he wished might stay with him forever. He loved his spirit, and the exotic stories that he could tell him about his homeland, and the look in his pragmatic eyes when he gazed upon them. If ever the old fox had loved anyone, it was the broad-chested warrior that sat in the front of his carriage. The truest reason that he had come along on this journey was for the chance to be close to him once again, and possibly regain his favor. Now that his stunning youth was a man, he could fulfill a certain longing in him that no other had been worthy to accommodate. Unfortunately there he was and he was tightly in the arms of another.
Anger and hatred blazed in his bitter soul as their embrace extended, and he thought about how the younger man treated him. Couric would be his, and this nameless, landless, penniless roustabout had no right to keep him from this.
His eyes scanned around for a moment, and finally rested on the bottle that they had argued over earlier. A quick glance let him know that the pair was still not watching, and he slipped a vial of white powder from an inner pocket of his robes. A sinister grin spread across his face as he filled the bottle with the contents of the small vial, and swirled it around. From his left, the eyes of one of his young "assistants" as his actions continued. Chalmer lay back across several pillows, and smiled at his own genius before looking to the youth beside him who now pretended to be napping. The guild master shook the young cat "awake" and snapped his fingers twice. The child sighed very quietly, and lifted himself from his rest. Chalmer closed his eyes contentedly as the kitten removed his belt and basked in his domination. The young boy licked his lips as he looked at the bottle, and then at the tigers. He considered what the old man might be planning, and bit his lip slightly before beginning his work.
Derrick's small body shivered wretchedly. For the days since they had rode from Benuith it had been raining so heavily that he wasn't sure there was a trail before them any longer. His father and he had very suddenly left the Mumgatu camp to his confusion, and stolen a mount from the city before hurriedly heading to the east. His father said they had one last stop to make before heading north.
Today there was no heavy rain, only a despondent drizzle under grey, pregnant skies that cast ominous darkness over what he was sure was still the daylight. The wind blew southward and chilled him even under the heavy blanket he and his sire were wrapped in. Days of exposure to the elements had left the cloth of it soaked completely through in spite of its water-resistant waxing on the outside. He begged for relief, and shelter in earlier days as the roaring thunder and occasional bolt of lightning ignited the sky, but his father assured him that travel was necessary, even in such uninviting weather. Water dripped off the wide-brimmed hat the older fox was wearing to shelter them, and dripped onto the kits nose making him sneeze. He found himself once again wishing he could crawl into the warm, dry arms of his mother where everything would be alright. Unfortunately it seemed that nothing would ever be alright again.
He peeked out of the blanket and opted to simply endure the drizzle as he was already soaked to the bone, and looked at the change in the landscape. Around him any things had changed. The forest had receded into a wide treeless valley that was beset on all sides with various sectioned off fields. Several of which had been long left to waste, and now stood overgrown with grass and weeds, and a few untended cattle lizards roamed aimlessly among them grazing off of what they saw fit. In the cultivated fields, a few men and women, mostly of fox breeding toiled miserably to bring in the harvest before it flooded out. They stood in shin deep water already, caked in mud and utterly wretched in their demeanors. Several of them stopped what they were doing and stared at the pair as they road up the path to an old farmhouse that stood atop a hill in the center of the valley. From here, he could see the structure as it loomed ominously, unpainted and in a state of apparent disrepair. Beside it was a small guest house that not only looked uninhabited, but now unlivable. The valley rang with the sound of shudders banging open and closed as the cold northern wind brushed them rudely back and forth.
A pair of small, dark-haired fox girls ran up to the travelers under tout leather umbrellas, and asked them if they were alright. Adrian replied that they were fine, only a bit wet and hungry. He was there to see the master of the house, and to discuss business with him of some importance. The girls looked at each other for a moment, and then back to the imposing man before them.
"Grandpa doesn't see strangers" she said worriedly, "He says that no one is to come to the house unless someone knows them." Both girls looked a bit unsure of what to do as their elders orders battled with god-prescribed hospitality, and good-natured pity.
"Your grandfather knows me, and so do all of his children" he said, "I promise you that. You needn't worry of punishments girls, for he'll be pleased to see the parcel that I bring for him.
The young ladies whispered back and forth between the pair of them for a moment, and finally came to an apparent decision. The bolder of the two looked up, and motioned for them to follow. They soon found themselves hitching their beast up in a stable, and following the children into the house where they were set beside the fire with towels and hot tea. One of the girls left to find them dry clothes, and the other to speak to their grandfather who apparently was in one of the lofted areas of the house. Adrian looked remorsefully around the house, and sighed distantly. Derrick sipped gratefully at his tea, and thanked the girls for their hospitality.
The door opened and a few heavy stomps heralded a soaked and muddied man attempting to shake his boots off before entering. Adrian sat motionless and stared at the fire as he walked in with the words "Aliel, Sarya, who was that-"
His sentence stopped abruptly, and his wet hat fell from his hands with a sopping thump on the floor. The fox stood dripping with a shocked expression on his face as he stared at Derrick's father. Adrian took a deep breath as his son looked over the farmer, whose hands had begun to shake in fear as he reached behind the doorframe and grabbed a long knife from the kitchen. The Beduin's head slowly turned towards him and he flatly spoke the words: "Hello, Brother."
One of the girls came back from the stairwell, and looked confusedly at her father who stood brandishing a knife at the seemingly unimpressed stranger who sat idly by the fire where she had left him. Her father quickly grabbed her, and she let out a surprised yelp as he yanked her behind him.
"Stay back, Aliel!" he said alarmed, "you run and get Kavohl, and his brothers...this is the man what killed your uncles!" The girl looked around her father at the dour expression of the blond haired fox, and fear crept into her. She clung to his leg, and shuttered as his eyes descended to meet hers, then returned to her father's face. She felt her leg warming as her tiny bladder failed her, and she smelled the fear that her own sire produced. This worried her further, because she had never known her father to fear anything.
"I am your brother, Elwick" he said coldly emphasizing the am, "and you have nothing to fear from me. You know why I killed your brothers, and I envy that. Hate me if you will, but we know who struck the first blow, so save me your pitiful display of vengeance, and fear, and tend to your child. She's half scared to fainting, and needs an adult to help her."
"Don't you dare speak of blows!" he shouted, "Don't you dare! We had to do what we did because we had to protect our sister! You just wouldn't die! You came here, and wouldn't leave! You made her love you, and threatened to take her away from us to some horrible end! We had to act, and you paid us for our love of our family with heartless mutilation you...you...you..."
"Murderer?" Adrian interjected. "Is that what you are looking for?" He turned and slowly rose to his feet as a look of outrage slowly crossed the placidity from his features. "Is it murderer that you would label me, you bumpkin?" He walked calmly towards his brother in law who waved a knife menacingly to guard him self and his daughter. His face was masked with mortal terror as he saw for the first time since Adrian had left them the true face of death. This time, he wouldn't run.
"You would dare call me a murderer" he said angrily, and leapt at the shaking fox. His opponents weapon swung fearfully without discipline towards him, and he caught the hand and took the knife with no real effort. His free hand clutched his brother in law's throat and slammed him against the wall. Derrick sipped at his tea and pretended that he was not afraid. In a way, he was struck with awe at his father's imposition, but didn't he call this man family? Confusion swept through the young fox, and he simply resolved to learn how to ignore it.
"You would dare" he said in a near shout, "you Kin slayer?! You thief of youth!" His young niece shrieked and threw her tiny body against him pummeling his leg ineffectively with her tiny fists. Elwick glanced in true terror at the girl, and back to the Beduin who held him helpless. He was awestruck with his strength, and pleaded with his eyes for him not to hurt anyone.
"I can't believe your nerve" he hissed into Elwick's face as he leaned forward nose to nose with him, "I tried so hard to fit in here! I gave up all of my dreams for your sister! I loved her more than anything I have ever known, and for what? So that her idiot brothers could accost me in the woods for something that is known only to Clovis himself, and then blame me when I strike them down to save myself!"
Elwick's eyes widened as he felt his breathing passage closing under the incredible strength of Adrian's hand. He shook his head no in a mortified terror, and the smell of urine wafted to Adrian's nose. "Coward" he said through his teeth, and jerked his leg slightly throwing the tiny girl to the ground. He felt his mind slipping slowly away to instinct as a killing urge rose in him fueled by hate, and old injuries.
The girl landed with an 'oof' and her mind raced rapidly. She quickly scrambled to her knees and shouted "Grampa Sam-Sam said he'd talk to you! He said he wanted to talk to you!"
Adrian stopped, and felt his heart rate slowing. He had come here for business, and that business did not include killing. He slowly released his grip from his brother's neck and let him free. He glanced down at his trousers to see if they were wet as he suspected, but they were already rain soaked so little could be appraised. Elwick sank down the wall onto his rump, and his daughter rushed to his lap and buried her face into his chest sobbing. Adrian sank to his haunches and looked the younger fox in the eyes.
"If you had let us be" he said hatefully, "I would have never left. I was ready to give up everything for your sister, and family, and lay down my sword to rust! I could have had a simple farmer's life of peace, and hospitality, but you and your lizard-shit brother's had to destroy that! Call me a killer if you'd like, Son of Samuith, because I am that and more, but don't you ever, EVER call me a murderer! If you had let us be, we never would have left this farm, and your sister...my wife would still be alive! Think about that, you bastard, it's your fault she is dead. You and your brothers murdered my wife, and it is only for your father's sake that I suffer you to live."
He rose to his feet, and walked heavily towards the steps and tears ran from Elwick's eyes. "Come, Derrick" he said in a commanding tone, "We have a man to see, and we've tarried enough with this boy." Derrick rose quickly to his feet, and walked over to the father and daughter pair by the kitchen. He held his cup out until the man took it, and then followed quickly after his father.
"Amazing" Elwick said as the boy hurried away, "his eyes, he looks so much like Riadne." His eyes followed over the child's form, and rested on his small weapon. "And" he continued, "He already has a blade."
"Oh, sweet Dalma...is it really you!"
The hands of an aged and grizzled slave reached out for Couric as his grandfather embraced him and nearly wept. "We had thought you all gone...dead, and gone forever."
"Well" he said proudly, "I have returned. I have come back, and in one month, I will have an army of thirty-thousand warriors behind me. Spread my word amongst the slaves. If they will bolster my ranks from inside the walls, then I will grant them, every man, his freedom, and citizenship of the collective when I sit on the throne." Couric smiled broadly, but kept his eyes narrow to let all of the men nearby know that he was serious, and cunning. They looked around at each other nervously. No one had ever raised an army against the Sherftii for the purpose of revolution, or coup, and the idea of sending slaves against their masters was unthinkable.
Couric and his entourage had arrived in the capital city of the Sherftii peoples only one day earlier, and in such short a time found a great deal of things interesting. Morale in the city was an interesting mixture of abysmally poor, and toweringly high.
As it had turned out, Razzar's tiger supremacist view had earned him a large following amongst people without any other racial lineage, or relatives, but given him a very bad name amongst those who did. The city was split down the middle politically. Non-tigers had in many cases been moved into ghettos, or ejected from the city which had split up a number of families. Lines were being traced to determine the race of "True Tigers", or those without lion, cat, or lynx blood. Those who were found to be "pure" were given special treatment under the law, and greater penalties were set others based on how "impure" they had been judged. They paid heavier taxes, and received more harassment from soldiers and police. There were even cases of slaves who had been freed by previous kings being placed back into slavery which had raised a lot of outrage amongst the more libertarian of the populace.
A great deal of unrest plagued the city in these days, as Razzar was only able to ride the wave of Kalafax's victory over the Beduin for so long. The war effort had fallen short of the ex-king's noble plans as more and more tribes united against them, and the battles became costlier, and less often victorious. After two years of conflict the campaign had been abandoned, and the economic decline that it had imposed was blamed on the previous establishment.
With this wealth of information, Couric was set to play his strategy. This is how he found himself in the back room of an inn discussing revolution with a varied group of slaves, courtesans, and soldiers. Each had been brought by his word carried through a servant, except the old man whom had been requested by the others to verify his story.
"So who do you say this young revolutionary is" a general said after Couric had finished his statement, "since you seem to know him so well?"
"I'd know this boy anywhere" the man said excitedly, "This is my grandson, Couric, Son of Kalafax. Oh he's the issue of my sweet daughter as sure as my claws are black." The rest of the assembly seemed to be content with this, and nodded to each other.
"Master Couric" said the words of a priest, "What you are talking about has never been done, at least no recorded. Don't you feel that maybe we should not set such a precedent? What if others get the same idea? The anarchy of coup after coup could and revolution after revolution could destroy our civilization forever!" He wrung his hands slightly, and looked nervously at the large cat before him.
"Fear not, your holiness" Couric replied, "For I am most assuredly blessed by Dalma. In part, I say because it is my throne that the blackguard sits upon, and therefore my rightful property, but also in that I carry from her a divine quest. Razzar could not-would not- fulfill the mission of my father who was instructed by the goddess herself to see his work done. I will fulfill that mission, and our kingdom will prosper, never again to be plagued by vicious foxes of the blond persuasion."
"Of course" said a courtesan, "but still, what if someone rises and army against you? You will show that a king can be unseated." He looked around the table as a few other men and women seconded his notion, but the priest who spoke the first objection raised his hand.
"You have not heard his words" the priest said, "He has the goddess' favor, and therefore we cannot lose. If someone else were to try, he could not be unseated for he had the protection of the goddess." His hand moved quietly back to the table, and he looked into the eyes of Couric. "Unless" he continued, "He ever loses that favor."
"You'll see that I won't." Couric responded, "I am the son of Kalafax. I carry his mace, and I carry his dream. I will raise this nation from the mockery that Razzar has allowed it to degenerate to, and I will stamp the menace of fox-kind from our precious goddess' face." He set his father's mace that now belonged to him on the table, and the others stared in awe. If ever any of the other's doubted his claim to the throne they now believed him. "Gentlemen" he said proudly, "This mace is now named "Red Justice", and it will fly in emblem on my flags of green, orange, and white. You've lived in the autumn of my family's claim, and now is the winter. Now our city sleeps in unrest awaiting some change. I am that green summer that shines glorious in the morning to remind every soul that we are no nation of tigers, but a nation of felines. We are a people, and we will hold this land forever. We will be one, or not at all, this is the wisdom of the goddess, and she has gifted it to me to bring to the whole."
One after another the men and women stood in cheer of the expatriated king, and pledged their service to him with hope, and full hearts. Soon, word would be spread through the slaves, people, and soldiers that the true king was coming back, and that change was on the horizon. There would be a fight, but each member of the conclave was convinced it would be short, and worth the effort. The Sherftii people had been waiting for a long time to see something great come and save them from their descent, and now he stood before them in black, orange, white, and eyes of beautiful green.
Adrian walked slowly into the room and looked at the old fox. He had aged twenty years in the four since he had last seen him, and his hair was mostly gone, and bright white. He was sitting facing away from him, looking at an old blanket that was hung on the wall. The room looked like it had not been cleaned in a month, and smelled a bit of the elderly.
"Adrian" the old man croaked, "Of Beduin Bred. Come in, and sit if you would like. I have many questions to ask you, but the first is the most important. I will not make you wait to learn why, but rather ask you strait out: Where is my daughter?" He slowly turned his chair to face them, and they both looked a bit shocked. His face was sunken, and haggard, and his eyes glazed over with cataract. He looked completely different than Adrian remembered. There seemed no joy in the old man now, and the love that he had shown him in his youth was gone.
"Most regrettably" Adrian responded, "She is..." He paused for a moment, and took a deep breath. His throat tightened into a lump, and he had to dig his claws into his palm to keep his proud emotion in check. "Dead" he completed at last, "A victim of a most unfortunate circumstance, of home I am deeply grieved." His lip and nose quivered a bit in spite of the effort that he put forth to hide himself.
"I expected as much" said Samuith and he sighed deeply, "The second is also quite important, and impromptu: Who is that boy with you?" The old fox's dead eyes stared blankly ahead in Adrian's general direction, and he wondered at how he had managed to recognize that a child was there at all.
"This is my son, and you grand child" Adrian responded, "His name is Derrick by his mother, and I call him as much. She bore him five years ago and I have recently come into the raising of him. She and I were parted due to a mistake, and a foolish, prideful heart that couldn't forgive." He sighed for a moment, allowing just a small emotion show out of respect for his father in law. "I suppose no man lives his life without regret."
"Indeed!" the man said suddenly, and startled Derrick, "He does not!" Samuith looked as if he might rise from his chair in a rage, but calmed quickly. He sighed deeply, and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I feared as much. Recently I assume? My wife went mad when you left with my daughter, and never said a word until a few months ago. She got up from bed, and started screaming to Riadne 'stop! Stop! Please don't go, my baby! Come back! Come back!'" He illustrated her fit for a moment by waving his hands as he spoke in a slightly higher voice. After he stopped, his grizzled limbs fell into his lap, and his head hung to his chest. Tears squeezed out of his eyes and he choked a few times on quiet sobs. "She...she ran out onto the roof and leapt at some phantom!" he continued, "All the while she cried for her baby to come back to her. From the sound she made when she hit, I was glad I lost my eyes so I couldn't see her."
The old fox put his face in his hands, and sobbed for a moment, and derrick eased towards him. He was a bit afraid of him, but felt terribly sorry for his grandfather's condition. The old man looked up as the child's hand rested on his knee comfortingly, and he smiled through his tears.
"Would you come to this tired old thing, boy?" he said brokenly, and slowly picked the child up, "Are you not afraid of the monster that I've become in just nine short years? This is what death can do to you boy, it is the loss of my family that makes me thus." Derrick felt a tear welling in his eye, but he forced it back.
"I'm not afraid" he said, and hugged the old man tightly, "If we're family, then I have no reason to fear. Mommy said that she missed you, and wanted to see you again, but she didn't want you to see what she had become. She's gone to Urcain now, and we'll miss her, but if we don't live well to honor her, then we fail in our service to the dead."
"Well" Samuith said as he rubbed the boy's hair, "someone has at least put some values in you. I'll bet it was your mother, but I suppose it could have been the man."
"I taught him that" Adrian said harshly, "as he stood over me in the hospital. I hoped he could have it if I died from the wounds that my wife gave me before the city-guard killed her. That is how she died; she stabbed me over and over until a guard dropped her with arrows. I should have been the one to die, but I wasn't. It's past now, and best not thought about."
"Very well" Samuith said, and turned his head towards the Beduin's voice, "Then I will ask you this: Why did you kill my sons, Adrian?" His eyes narrowed in anger, and Derrick could feel the heat rising in him. He felt terribly helpless, and wish he had some idea as to what the men were talking about. Apparently, so much had happened that he knew nothing about.
"They attacked me!" Adrian shouted, and stepped forward aggressively, "I'm sick of this guilt! I've a scar on my arm that has burned for nine years with the betrayal of a beloved family! I won't have that anymore!" He stomped in a circle for a moment in a frustrated rage as his breath came fast and heavy. "They fell on me in the woods" he said, "While I was hunting with blades and arrows! I kill the eldest boy before I even knew who he was. The other I wounded mortally with my won arrow. They wore masks, and attacked me to take my life! I know what play fighting looks like, and they were most murderous, I assure you! Why Samuith? Why would your sons attack me to kill my life, and widow my sweetest treasure? Had that not happened, I would have farmed to this day, happy and content in a beautiful vixens arms! I wouldn't have missed the first five years of my son's life in ignorance of his birth, and I most assuredly would never have set a blade to a brother! Why did this happen? Answer me that! Where would young men get the notion to widow their sister when she was so freshly and happily married? I've answered your questions in full honesty, now answer mine!"
The Beduin ceased ranting, and pacing, and stood on the verge of tears awaiting an answer. The old fox sat quietly, shocked and appalled at his son in laws reaction, and explanation. It didn't take half of Samuith's wisdom to recognize he spoke the truth.
"I don't know" he said at last, "but I assure you it was not my doing. That was my hope for you, what you described losing. I wanted you to have a life of simple happiness. I don't know what happened to set everything wrong, but I lament it, and will for the rest of my hated days. I've wanted to die for years, but Shopil sees fit to grant me further life. Perhaps it is to allow me to meet my grandchildren before I go, and to offer them a better life." Thunder pealed in the sky above, and Adrian fought to calm himself.
"Leave the child with me" Samuith continued, "I will insure that he has the life you wished for yourself."
"No" Adrian hissed, "I'm taking my son back to my people. He is going to live like a Beduin Born is meant to. He'll be a warrior, and survive on honor, blood, and glory. That is the way that I turned my back on once, and Clovis has punished me a hundredfold for my inconstant heart. I'll not lose my son to the same fate."
"You won't take this boy!" the old man shouted, "You'll not give him that fate! He deserves better! He's my blood, Beduin, and you'll not take him from here! This..." he said, breaking into tears, "Is all that I have left of my most beautiful child...I'll not let you take him to a life of death and heartache."
Adrian stomped over to the old man, and easily took his son out of his weak arms in spite of his father's fighting and protests.
"You can't have my son" he said, "He's all I have left, period. You have no right to him; his mother is dead, and his father is of age to keep his own. His die is cast, and Clovis calls him to arms with his people." He turned and began to walk out, but stopped at the door as the old man continued to protest.
"Please!" Samuith shouted, rising weakly from his rocking chair, "Please, Adrian, Please don't do this to him! Leave him with me! Save your son, and spare him the life of a shiftless wanderer, and killer! Let me give him the life he deserves, not a perilous existence in the pursuit of mirthful death! It's irreligious, it's impious! Let me raise him to live simply, and happily like you never had!"
Adrian turn in a fury, and stomped his foot hard on the floor causing plaster to fall from the ceiling.
"No!" he bellowed in a near scream, and the old man fell silent. The warriors teeth ground audibly as he clenched them and his lips curled back and quivered in as tears squeezed from his eyes and trailed down his cheeks.
"I've seen the life you give a man!" he screamed, his voice broken with emotion, "And I don't want that for my boy! He'll have a life of glory, and of honor! He'll live among good Beduin men, and marry a good Beduin woman! He'll ride beside his proud father to lay steel in our enemies as is the will of the gods! Chide me no further, you anachronism! Your way has failed me, and will fail him because we are not of your kind, and not fit for your life! You forget that Shopil is not the only god one has to worry about, and I won't let my child be punished for my foolishness! I've nothing else to say to you, or your son, so leave me in peace!" He turned and strode angrily down the stairs. Everyone in the house recoiled from the ferocity of his countenance, even his son. Derrick however was more disturbed by his manifest sorrow than his rage. By now he was used to the outbursts of anger, but this emotion was new, and terrifying.
Within moments they were unhitching their mount, and Adrian wrapped his son in the travel blanket as they walked their mount towards the door. Suddenly, it was blocked by Elwick, and Adrian's eyes narrowed under his hat.
"Wait" he said, and walked to their side, "Before you go, I want to say to you that I am sorry. It was our mother set us on you, and I think it is what killed her. It was wrong, and we are at fault for your trouble. My brother's have already paid with their lives, and I have paid with the prosperity of my home. Will you forgive what I did in the foolishness of my wretched youth...brother?"
Adrian stared hatefully at the younger fox man, and ground his teeth inside his mouth for a moment. Finally he sighed deeply, and laid his hand on Elwick's shoulder.
"All is forgiven, if still lamented brother. Live your days in peace, as I will hold you to no fault. Our mothers (those who are lucky enough to have them) can make us do powerfully mad things, especially when we are young. No ill blood is between us now, perhaps one day we'll meet as friends, and break bread, but for now, I must go. I have a calling, and a son to bring up to manhood. Farewell brother, and may happier days find fill your life."
Adrian kicked at his mount, and waked out through the doors as a cool wind blew past them. His younger brother in law followed him out, and watched him as he rode north. The wind was cool, but not harsh, and the rain had stopped. Over head, the clouds were parting, and the sun showed through over the forest. Elwick watched until the pair of travelers turned into a tiny dot on the far hill, and disappeared into the trees. He sighed hung his head as a vixen approached him, and put her hand on his shoulder.
"Elwick" she said, "who was that man? Aliel said he was a murderer come to kill your father. She's scared half to death."
"He's not murderer" he said quietly, and placed his hand on hers, "He is my brother, whom I wronged terribly, and only just now had the chance to apologize. The next time we meet will be a much happier circumstance, as he has lifted the curse on our property. Our lives can return to normal for the first time in nine years."
"Well" she replied, "please come back inside. You're soaked to the bone, and it is freezing. You'll catch your death out here."
"No dear," he said quietly, looking out over the trail the Beduin had taken, "I already caught him, and he left me to live. I can't say I need fear him again."