To Court the Fèidh - Chapter Five -
Story by Cederwyn Whitefurr on SoFurry
Alexander returns to the Order, yet he seems - different - when he executes a Therian prisoner before getting any information from it, rumours begin to start. For names have power over those whose name is uttered, and the Feidh doe is summoned by the Elder Council to answer for that which she had done..
To Court the Fèidh
Chapter Five
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
4th October, 2021
All Rights Reserved.
Alexander returned to the Order and resumed his studies and research. His disappearance was speculated about and he told both his compatriots and the Elder's he had been independently hunting down the location of some Therian's. This was met with some disbelief from his superiors. He countered their accusations by saying he did not trust the source and chose to investigate on his own initiative.
As for the newly purchased black kidskin gloves he wore, he told them he had burned his hand by being careless with his campfire. None sought to challenge him on this, but there were rumours and speculation amongst some of the initiates – and even some of his fellow Magi – but never within his hearing.
*
A week past and a young male Therian was captured and brought to the Order's Citadel where it was imprisoned in the dungeons. It was brutally tortured, starved and kept from restful sleep – until it was deemed appropriate for the interrogation.
“Beast, hear me!” Alexander snapped, using his magicks to ensnare the almost mad Therian and hold it helpless.
“I'll never tell any of you anything you wish to know! You're the real monsters here! Our kind have not hunted and killed humans in centuries, yet you and your Order...”
“Silence!” Roared Alexander, as he leapt to his feet and snapped out his hand, his magicks squeezing shut the throat of the Therian, who began choking and wheezing.
His eyes filled with hatred and loathing, Alexander strode over to the Therian who strangled under the merciless grip of the magicks.
“You will speak beast, or I'll cut your heart out and show it to you...”
“I...” Gurgled the Therian.
With a disgusted sigh, Alexander released it from the magickal hold and it it collapsed and drew great choking breaths.
“Get up...” Alexander growled, as he placed his gloved hand on the pommel of his sword.
Exhausted, the Therian staggered to its feet, head hanging and muzzle open, saliva dripping as it panted and gasped.
“You will tell me everything I wish to know, when I wish to know it...”
With a sob, the Therian's will broke and it nodded its head. Suddenly, it trembled and Alexander heard the deep inhalation of its breath.
“Wait...” Gasped the Therian, as it lifted its head up. “You're...”
Almost like the flash of lightning, so quick it was just a blur, Alexander's silver sword swept from the scabbard and there was a thump as the Therian's head struck the filthy straw lined floor and its body fell the other way.
“Filthy, pathetic beast!” Alexander snarled in rage, the kidskin glove creaking as Alexander squeezed down on the hilt.
Two guards stood nearby, faces white, as they stared at Alexander, who snatched up a rag and wiped his sword blade clean, then gestured at the dead Therian.
“Dispose of that...now!”
Pushing past them, Alexander stormed from the cells, heading for the main hall and then the stables.
*
Angry, enraged even, Alexander moved to the stables, then turned away and headed for the training ground. He felt it, the power that dwelt within him, the clarity it brought his mind and above all – the newfound strength of will and physical body.
As he made his way to the training field, he stood before a straw dummy that was used by many of the order for martial practice. Taking a training sword from the rack, Alexander swung it about, testing its heft and balance, before he squared off against the target.
“I am a Magi of the Order - “ He began the refrain as he breathed in and out, then raised his sword. “I exist to serve the Order and...”
With one sideways swipe, the head of the target was cleaved free and tumbled away. His concentration broken, Alexander looked at the pole that had supported the straw head. It had to be as thick as his arm – splintered and pitted from countless strikes of fellow initiates and others. Almost effortlessly, with a blunt training sword, Alexander had sliced through the thick hardwood timber like a hot knife would slice through butter...
Staring down at the sword he held in his gloved hands, he frowned and his mind whirled.
What have I become...
He had no answers...
*
“Milord Arch Magi, we saw it with our own eyes sire, it was quick as lightning, Magi Alexander's hand moved like a blur and he cut the head clean off the Therian's neck like it was nothing...”
Peering at the two white faced guards, who immediately dropped their heads in respect to the Grand Magi of the Order, the wizened old man stroked his ivory beard thoughtfully.
“You say such, mayhaps you imagined it? I myself, in my youth, would cleave a Therian or a Were in half with my great axe! They are beasts, as such, they die like such beneath our magicks and our weaponry! Yet you say his sword was sheathed? Did either of you see him draw it?”
Exchanging quick glances, the two guardsmen shook their heads.
“No, milord, we did not – the...”
Raising an eyebrow, the Arch-Magi seemed to peer into their very souls.
“Speak.”
“Milord... That beast, it said...”
“Yes?”
“It said, or it started to say...something, before Magi Alexander took its life. Milord, it was broken, it would have given us anything he asked of it – even we could tell its will was shattered and it was weakened...”
“So sure of this are you?” Snorted the Arch Magi. “Never trust a Therian or a Were. You think them broken and submissive to us? You think it'd lay at your feet and grovel like some kicked cur?”
Both of them looked at each other, then down at the ground, fearful to answer.
“Nothing to say have either of you? Precisely – they are masters of manipulation and subterfuge. You think you have one beaten, bloodied and bested? One heartbeat it acts submissive and weakened – in less time than you can draw a breath it'll be upon you and your throat will be opened! Never, ever, underestimate one of these beasts! Now, begone, I have much to ponder and I dare say I shall meditate upon that which you have told me.”
“Yes, milord.” They spoke as if by rote, then bowed their heads, stepped back three paces and left the Arch-Magi's chambers.
Giving it a handful of moments thought, the Arch-Magi snorted and shook his head.
“No man can move like that, they obviously embellished their tale, I shall waste no more time on such foolish nonsense...”
*
In her wood, the Fèidh doe wandered in her feral form, browsing on leaves, shoots and here and there, small tufts of grass. A rare treat, was a blackberry bush full of ripened berries. Eagerly, she feasted upon these sweet, delicious treats until she had satisfied her hunger.
I need water, the brook is nearby and...
Taking a half-step, her left front leg held in mid-air, she froze like a statue. Her long ears flicked to and fro, as she cast about with her senses.
“I know you're there - “ Come her voice, sharp and commanding.
Almost from the air itself, six Fèidh materialised, four stags and two does.
One, a large, powerful buck, stepped forwards, then bowed down, one long leg stretched out, his chin resting on his shin and his antlered head lowered. Quietly, the others bowed as well, whilst the Fèidh doe snorted.
“Get up brothers, sisters, there is no need for such formalities. Now, why do you intrude upon my respite and sanctuary? What urgent need brings you here?”
“Lady Fianna of Summerholme - “ Come the voice of the dominant stag.
They use my full name – something terrible has happened. Come her frightened, furtive thoughts.
“Aye? That is me, as you well know.”
“Lady Fianna, you are hereby ordered by the Elder Council, to accompany us back to the Clan Holdings.”
With a snort and a shake of her head, Lady Fianna stamped a cloven hoof and stared at the stag.
“I will not!”
With a sigh, the stag rose and looked at her with a look of compassion and unimaginable sadness in his dark brown eyes.
“Lady Fianna, by the powers of the Elders, granted until me for this one and sorrowful purpose...”
“You can not!” She squealed in fear, ears flattening.
“For your crimes, shall you be brought before the Elder Council, we would ask you come willingly... Or we shall take you bound in chain and shackle, should you refuse. Such is the order of the Elder Council, and by their words, do I utter their decree and so I shall obey to my fullest intent.”
“I...I done nothing wrong...” Lady Fianna began to weep.
“That is not for us to decide Lady,” Come the sorrowful voice of the stag. “It is the will of the Elders, will you come willingly? Or...”
With a defiant shake of her head, she sniffled and adopted a regal pose as she put steel in her spine and in her voice.
“I shall face down these fallacies and stand before the council, to plead my case and cause!”
“So be it, for what it is worth...” Come the stags voice, as he glanced sideways at Lady Fianna. “Thank you for choosing the wiser path...”
Lady Fianna trembled, she knew she had gone too far with what she had done – now she had to face the consequences of her foolish, fawn-like lapse of judgement...
Together, the six feral-like deer nodded their heads and spoke in a ritualistic series of words before their forms vanished like smoke leaving the forest empty and quiet like a graveyard...
To Be Continued...