Angel Island.
Flash!
A place that didn't always live up to its name.
Flash!
It was a crime scene becoming all too familiar over the last few months. Looking about the homey little farmhouse, Constable Remington sipped his coffee with a certain measure of resignation. The crime scene was still 'hot,' technically, but the Head of the Echidnapolis Security Agency knew that the perps weren't likely to be found. The house alarm had gone off four hours ago. In a fast enough hovercar, the scumbags who broke in could be anywhere on the island by now.
At least he could know these days whether they were off-island, too. A quick call to E-SDF Headquarters in Echidnapolis had confirmed no suspicious off-island transportation in the vicinity. The Self- defense Forces were a young group, but thorough and dedicated. No: the ones that were responsible were almost certainly still on Angel Island somewhere.
Taking another sip of coffee – a dark, sweet local brand, not the bitter or sour stuff from Mobius Major or Mobius Minor respectively – the Constable started walking. Keeping moving often helped him think; a problem when one spends so much time behind a desk, but he had always done his best work while on his feet. Sometimes, while running from one crisis to another. But that was another thing altogether.
He took in the details, looking past the echidna deputies and detectives scouring the house for other clues, and the growing lines of police tape and chalk. The door had been broken down, and entry forced in through that, and only that, entrance. The windows were still locked and seemingly untouched. Burn and powder analysis of the door had revealed that a point-blank shot by a heavy caliber round (a "slug" the Dingo called them) had destroyed the primary locking mechanism. Two blows had then taken the door off its hinges – one low and to the side, knocking loose the lower hinge, and the other high and to the center of the door itself. Kneeling next to the fallen piece of wood, Remington again saw that the door was fairly thick and sturdily made. It remained intact, even after it had been knocked over.
That sort of thing required considerable physical force to accomplish; much more than most echidna males, much less females. A large dingo would, of course, have little problem replicating the feat… and there were a LOT of large dingo on Angel Island, but a cyborg or robot chould just have easily done the deed. Looking closely at the dent in the wood where the second blow had registered, Remington tried imagining himself busting the door down. It was too high for most echidna. Even if one was strong enough ('like Knuckles,' Remington thought, but only as a point of comparison), he likely wouldn't be tall enough.
A robot, cyborg or dingo, then. Or one of the rarer breeds of Mobian on Angel Island. Most resident crocodilians were large and strong enough, and fairly ill tempered to boot. A robot, on the other hand, was rather unlikely. The Dark Legion had a few, yes, but would never have used them for so trivial a purpose, and the Legions of robots that served the Eggman were now, by and large, rusting in a field outside Knothole.
Getting up, Remington almost bumped into one of his deputies. They weren't used to working with him this far a field. The house was far from Echidnapolis, in the middle of an isolated vineyard. Normally, it wouldn't have been enough to rouse him from his office in the city, but this was not the first set of murders out in the countryside. Trying to better imagine the mind of the killer, or killers (to be more precise), Remington tried to follow their steps of several hours ago.
After entering the house via the front door, they fanned out, at least three of them. They had two hair samples, but Remington suspected a third, too. The man of the house had likely been in the living room – had he had time to call out a warning to his family? By all accounts, he'd put up something of a struggle. There were bloodstains on the floor, and the pattern was familiar to anyone who had ever broken up a street fight. The husband, by the name of (Remington took a moment to check that) 'Lars,' had taken a blow to the stomach, and coughed up blood. His hand had then smeared it, leaving a recognizable imprint on the hardwood floor, indicating he had fell to his knees soon afterward.
While taking out Mr. Lars, and waiting for his two companions to find the man's wife and daughter, the first assailant then took the time to rearrange the furniture and redecorate the walls. All over the main room, there was damage: shelves were knocked over, the family room monitor was smashed, the coffee table upended, pictures torn from the walls, frames lying in splintered ruin… It was a sort of single-minded aggression confined only to the living room, not upstairs, where the wife had been taken, or in the downstairs bathroom, where the daughter had been. The fact that both females would likely need to have been taken at the same time (the bathroom window had been opened from the inside, indicating the daughter was trying to make a hasty escape), and it hadn't been accomplished with the level of violence used against Mr. Lars, strongly implies it was a three mobian job.
After knocking out Mr. Lars, and wrecking the living room, the first (and likely leader) of the group had the two females brought to him (or her, but likely him). They were lined up along the south wall, and executed. Forensics told him that the female had taken two heavy slugs to the torso and upper body, the daughter one, to the side of her pretty little head (the poor girl had only been fourteen), and the father three – one to his left leg, the other to his torso (breaking his lower back), and another to the right shoulder. He had likely been the last to die of the three, the daughter being the first. When the authorities arrived, all three were sprawled against the wall in a heap, so they had all likely been killed on the spot, and around the same time.
The blueprint for the weapon used was easy enough to deduce, even without having to ask the Lab boys for a Type, Registration, and Serial Number. The dingo were the only ones on Angel Island to use projectile weapons, and the only group on Mobius to employ shotguns, much less of the semi-automatic variety (though he had received a SDF memo that the humans and overlanders were interested in purchasing dingo made automatic shotguns). No doubt about it: the offending weapon had been a Volker-Ruth Type 20 Combat Shotgun.
The gaping bloody holes that particular weapon left in a body was something the Constable would never forget. After the return of Echidnapolis, the Dingo had been ordered to hand over all the heavy weapons that they had managed to bring with them after the dimensional collapse of Dingo City (the Second Dingo City, actually, but 'Echidnapolis' was the Second Echidnapolis, too). To an extent, they had complied – hundred of pieces of military hardware had been surrendered under duress: tanks, planes, artillery, stockpiles of weapons and ammunition. Of course, the dingo managed to smuggle out and hide tons more that never saw the light of day (the presence of so much heavy hardware in the Battle of Knothole was a stark testament to the sheer amount of weaponry that the dingo had managed to horde for themselves). The Volker-Ruth Twenty was one of the better-known Dingo weapons that had managed to worm its way into criminal hands. It was a large weapon with a strong kick, useable only by large mobians: dingo, lupines, crocodilians, etc…
Still, the dingo had most of them. And they'd made use of them from time to time. More than one deputy had been 'emptied out' by a Type 20 patrolling the dingo slums at night, whenever the population there was in a state of near revolt. Body armor did little good. It could keep a flechette round from turning a deputy into ground beef, but did little to stop a heavy tungsten penetrator round, like the kind that had been used here. Sipping his coffee, which was quickly turning cold in its Styrofoam cup, Remington grimaced.
And, if that wasn't damning enough, there were the two fur samples they'd managed to get hold of. One had been in Mr. Lars' left hand, which Remington found odd. Lars was right handed, not just by the way his right hand had broken his fall and smeared his blood from before, but also by the fact that he still had a wrist watch on. If any hand would have gotten a hold of his attacker's fur, it would have been the other one. The other bit of hair had been on the corner of the daughter's mouth. Has she managed to take a bite of one of her dingo attackers? There was no blood except her own, so if she had, her teeth had never broken her assailant's skin.
Finishing his coffee, Constible Remington sighed.
"What a bloody waste…" He tucked his right thumb into his belt and shook his head sadly. "A real waste."
The Interior (and by that, he meant the Echidnapolis Security Agency) had only incomplete DNA records of the local dingo population. Their files on the echidna residents of Angel Island were quite good, but the dingo… if he wanted to ID the perps by their hair, and he DID, then he'd have to go through the so called dingo 'authorities.' Which meant General Viktor von Stryker and his boys. They still had their computer database from Dingo City, but had refused to hand it over. Remington had wanted the city to push harder on getting access to it, but the Dingo had (again) risen up in revolt, and no one was particularly eager to give them cause for more trouble. Now it was even worse, in a way. The Battle of Knothole gave the dingo cause international recognition, and emboldened the dingo leadership.
He'd send the DNA stuff over to Stryker's Lab Boys in his "Army Commissariat for the Interior." Dingo Military Police were notoriously efficient (and brutal), but also notoriously dedicated to their orders and their superiors. Much more so than to the truth, or to justice in general, at least in his opinion. They'd likely feed him the same line they had before: that the hair samples belonged to two dingo vagabonds, reported missing X months or weeks ago. He'd do more extensive background checks on Mr. Lars.
Maybe there was some connection between this killing, and the ones from before. Or… maybe, there was no connection. Maybe there was just a cult or gang of lunatics out there murdering echidna at random. One thing was for sure: when news of this got out, and Remington knew he had no reason to try and cover up the story, it wouldn't do anything to improve echidna-dingo relations on the Island. Not at all.
Adjusting his hat, Remington left the house to get a breath of fresh air.
Outside, the vineyard flowers were in full bloom.
"Who the hell is doing this?" Looking up at the clear blue sky, the echidna security chief felt older than his twenty-nine years. "And why?"
-----
Tempest hissed softly, as the comb went through another knot in one of his tails. It felt like years since he had been properly groomed. Most male kitsune were (sad as it was) rather incompetent when he came to proper grooming; they could straighten out a coat well enough, but that was usually all. Which was why, even if he had been a female guest to the Amma-Arah camp, his male Auxiliary would have allowed another female to step in to take over in the Traditional grooming and cleansing rituals.
He shivered slightly – a feeling almost alien to Kitsune. But his fur was wet as well as knotted, and the water had been melted ice. His people were extremely hardy when it came to the cold, but not immune. What remained of his actual clothing had been removed and patched already, from what damage it had taken here and there. Most was extremely minor, but his footwear – a pair of simple moccasins, with tough leather for soles, and well-insulated hide for the ankles and lower leg – had been in worse shape. They were in a corner now, looking as well as the day he made them. Smiling a bit, he remembered the footwear Sonic the Hedgehog had used. Those things made his 'shoes' look like the warmed leavings of a male cow. But they suited the unchallenged leader of Clan Vidar just fine.
Another knot found and terminated.
Bearing his teeth, in pleasure not in a warning display, Tempest felt Kae'Arah lean more heavily against his back as she worked. Despite his doubt about how happy she was to be ordered around (a southern equivalent for a kitsune who didn't like following orders would be 'quirky,' or even 'anti-social,' given that all of kitsune society was predicated on orders and Tradition), she had done her duty not only competently, but also honorably. She was honestly trying to do her best to accommodate a guest to the camp. That was more admirable and important than the actual quality of the work she did, at least in Tempest's opinion.
On numerous occasions, he had ordered Chara, his younger sister, to perform as Auxiliary for high-ranking guests. His camp, the headcamp of Clan Vidar, was far larger than this one, and as a consequence more often hosted guests and travelers. Chara was assigned to deal with the most important ones that dropped by, though she didn't always enjoy doing it. And Tempest knew when his little sister didn't enjoy doing something she purposefully did it poorly. Despite reaching what the kitsune think of as near middle age (she would be twenty in two years), she remained rather juvenile in some respects. Tempest was glad to see Kae'Arah, despite having a fiery disposition, didn't let her feelings towards an assignment compromise her execution of it.
"Honorable Ephor…" she asked, from behind his head. His ears swiveled partly to hear her better. He was on his stomach, and Kae'Arah was straddling his lower back while she worked her way through his two tails.
"Yes, Kae'a?" He felt no discomfort in shortening her name. It was common between high ranked kitsune and low, particularly with those they favored.
"Do you remember what fighting my mother was like?"
He hadn't expected that question. Shrugging his shoulders a little, he shifted his arms up and under his chin before answering. "Yes. I remember the fights I had trying to Claim her quite well. Would you like to hear of them?"
He almost felt Kae'Arah nod. "If you would, Honorable Ephor."
"Very well." He took a deep breath, causing her to move a little from her position while she combed his second tail. "I first caught her scent some time before that, you see. It was before my Turan'Ha… two years before. Your mother, back then her name was just 'Kae,' underwent her Turan'Ha a year after most of her litermates, as you know. She was thirteen, and quite a ferocious little thing. I had been in many scraps before, but I had never seen a female truly fight before. Hers made every male-male fight I had seen in the past pale in comparison."
"I don't remember exactly who it was she had been fighting. She had arrived the year before, both to receive special training from one of the old masters and to eventually find a mate within the Vidar Clan. She was one of the few females to rut that year, much less that season, and so she was quite popular. So when I first saw her, she was exhausted, angry, and disheveled. Her opponent was a male larger than I am now, even as an adult. As a child before his time, he seemed like a mountain or a force of nature. As was Traditional, he used only his claws and teeth for the Claiming, but they seemed large enough to stand in for battle knives and spears!"
Tempest chuckled at the memory. "Your mother fought like the most bloodthirsty Kalahen harpy… but, when she finally finished with the male who had Claimed her, and left him bleeding on the floor, she straightened up, and instantly returned to her dignified self. I suppose even then I should have known she'd end up in a Clan like Jel'Arah by the too-proud way she carried herself… a-ah!"
"My apologies, Honorable Ephor." Kae'Arah quickly said. Tempest was about to grumble, when he remembered she had his tails in her hands. He was in no position to complain about the sharp tug he'd suffered, especially after that last comment of his, no matter how endearing he'd meant it to sound.
"Ahem." He coughed, clearing his throat. "Well, she fascinated me, and two years later, she was still unmated. I had thought one of the higher ranked males of the headcamp would step up to Claim her, but none did. Some spoke with her and made arrangements, but none of them ever amounted to anything. I, for one, cannot say why. Your mother was of noble, if not truly high borne, blood… but for many of the higher ranked males, convenience has become all important. Most of my fellow Ephor Anthals have rather weak females for mates, chosen not for their strength, but for their bloodlines and political connections."
He sighed, and continued, "But I digress. I was halfway through my Turan'Ha when I felt confident enough to challenge her for the first time. I was already larger than her, and had a fair reach advantage. I had seen her fight before, and decided that grappling would be the best approach, instead of trying to wear her down at distance. I still think this was the key to beating her, but realizing an avenue of attack and following through with it are two very different things. She accepted my Claim with forbearance, and went rather easy on me, now that I think about it. I had managed to get her into an arm lock on her weak side, when she reversed, flipped me onto the ground, and pinned my free arm with the heel of her foot."
"The next time, it had been raining, and I thought the muddy ground would work to my advantage by keeping her from using her footwork. Thinks were going better, and I managed to pin her twice, though doing so had cost me several solid blows to my ribs. I was hurting on my left, and she realized it. After taking another painful blow, I got angry (and sloppy) and charged her. Next thing I knew I had mud in my eyes! I hadn't been paying enough attention to her feet, and she'd kicked a glob of the stuff with perfect precision. Blinded for a few seconds, she laid into my injured left side, and threw me into the branches of a tree. I ended up hanging there, limp as wet cloth, for half the day."
The younger Kae laughed politely. "Did she make you angry, Honorable Ephor?"
"A little," Tempest admitted. "But she also made me want her even more. She was a strong female, and didn't shy away from demonstrating that. Even after the beatings I took, I wasn't quite ready to admit defeat…"
He described the last two fights in more vivid detail, remembering them more clearly than the previous two. She was an attentive and avid listener, occasionally asking questions as to his technique and the lessons he drew from the effort. Afterwards, he asked what her own experiences had been, and learned that she had beaten all the unmated males in her camp. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but secretly was. He offered to test her skills for himself with whatever weapons she preferred before he left, knowing that a positive word from an Ephor could help draw additional males to attempt a Claim on her.
She seemed reluctant to accept. Tempest would have associated it with what Sally had called 'shyness' except that Tempest doubted female kitsune thought that way. After giving it a few seconds' thought, he dropped the inquiry entirely. If she wanted a spar, he would give her one. If not, then just as well.
After the grooming was complete, she asked about her own Ephor: the leader of Clan Jel'Arah, Tae-Uh Se' Dommu Na' Jel'Arah, and his young heir El'Arah. Tae was Tempest's age, and in some ways reminded the kitsune of himself. The largest difference arose from the fact that Tae smoothly inherited his position from his father, and El was just as likely to have a smooth transition of power. Jel'Arah had not had a problem with succession in eleven generations. For that, if no other reason, Tae had grown up to be extremely conservative in his policymaking. One of the positions, which aptly demonstrated this, was his undying dislike towards the Turo Clan.
It amused Tempest to see his Auxiliary bristle at the mention of the Turo Clan.
Though she had never met a Turo, she knew well her Clan's grievances towards them. Jel'Arah was an ancient Clan, and would have dominated the Assembly if not for Turo, which was reckoned as more ancient and powerful simply by virtue of its size. Jel'Arah was wedged between Clans Turo and Kalahen, with only a small sliver of land bordering Vidar. As such, the Turo had long used the Kalahen against the Jel'Arah. The Tukaido, always eager for a boost in prestige and always ready to curry favor, also tended to support Turo and Kalahen. Tempest's own Clan, Vidar, was Traditionally a staunch supporter of Jel'Arah, with the distant but powerful Dae'th'ai and Fa'Rah being less vocal allies (understandable, in that Clan Dae'th'ai had ambitions of its own to dominate the Assembly).
After listening to him speak of Assembly politics, Kae'Arah asked to be excused to assist in the preparation of the night's feast. He let her go and thanked her for being patient enough to listen to him (most kitsune had no interest in politics, even their people's own). The earlier promise of strong drink had not been forgotten, either, and he knew that that part of the feast was Traditionally handled by the guest's Auxiliary. Alone, Tempest checked the job she'd done on his coat and mane, and found it to his satisfaction and more. He was clean, groomed, and back among kitsune, much to his relief.
Still…
Laying sideways on the futon, Tempest relaxed allowed his mind to wander. In the morning he would leave, and go to speak with the Council of Elders. He was not looking forward to it. Not only had he failed to bring Miles back to Kistune territory, but also the brat had gone and gotten himself killed. Or at least it certainly seemed like he had. How much, Tempest wondered, did the Elders already know? How much did they need to know? Not all of his experiences in the south had centered around the training of the boy.
Unbidden, the face of Sarah 'Sally' Acorn appeared. He could remember her body pressed against his own, and the mixed feelings that resulted from the contact. That, above all else, was something he would have to keep from the Elders when he spoke with them. He was strong enough that he didn't have to worry about a Condemnation of Corruption from the old men. If he was declared corrupted, and his Clan in need of a Ephor Anthal Zanzir, or Foreign Clan Leader, he would fight whatever ambitious Ephors dared to try and make good on the opportunity. Most wouldn't dare, knowing his reputation. Kalahen, perhaps… but Bloodsmythe was a fool, and libel not to care that he was overmatched against the lord of Clan Vidar.
What to do?
How to do it?
These questions plagued him, even as comfortable as he became in familiar surroundings. Only that night, when the Head Male and female revealed the great stag that was to be the night's feast, and the casks of mead, made of honey and water, were broken open did he forget the problems he would have to face the next day, and perhaps in the weeks and months to follow. Males and females took turns trading stories of battle and adventure, and with each drink they grew taller and taller in stature, and more and more grandiose in scope. Tempest did a little to exaggerate his own stories as well, though he put much more work into editing them to make them more appealing to kitsune listeners.
"The iron beast must have stood as tall as five Fa'Rah kitsune warriors!" Tempest eagerly gestured with his hands, even as one held a half empty mug of honeyed ale. His muzzle was still bloody from the feasting, and his tails waved eagerly. "Its hands… Its four hands… bristled with southern weapons! Bladed scythes, meant to cut a warrior to shreds, a grand cannon, a bolt from which could turn an oak… an old oak like this!" He pointed to one of the larger nearby trees. "Into kindling! There I stood, the bodies of broken half-machines all around me...!"
Of course, they had been all machine, but such was the wonders of editing.
"HO! Great Ephor, what did you do?!" A male cheered, and raised his mug.
"I had only my trusted polearm with which to do battle, good Jel'Arah! My polearm depleted of power! So as tempting as it was to use my ranged mobility to my advantage, I could not." Tempest held out his hand dramatically. "I did what any kitsune with blood in his veins would do. The great iron monster roared a challenge, belching smoke and flame, and so, teeth bared, I answered with one of my own! And attacked!"
"HO! HO!!" They cheered, male and female. "Lord of Vidar! Who fears no weapon of the south!"
"Its skin, my brothers and sisters, was as hard as mountain stone! Into his guard I charged, having dodged not two, but three blows from its mighty arms! I stabbed at it between its iron joints, and heard some damage done, but saw no slowness to its movements! Pulling back, I tried to sever a hand, but found its armor too thick! My attacks were not availing me, but in its haste to extinguish my life, my fellow kitsune, I saw its weakness!"
As he spoke, and gestured, Tempest saw Kae'Arah. For most of the night, she had stayed close to her parents, but now she was by herself. Her hair, a lighter more vivid red than that of her coat, almost let her blend into the flames dancing around the campfire pit. Her eyes, a sharp and exotic shade of cyan that he hadn't seemed to notice before, twinkled as she listened to him speak. Continuing his story, he saw other kistune, but the image of Kae'Arah stayed at the forefront of his mind. He knew how things were handled well enough. If she was interested, she would come to him outside of her season. He had little say in the matter otherwise.
He actually saw little of her until later in the night. The fog of the mead had left the listless drinkers to stumble back to their dwellings, leaving only the sour and sober sentries keeping watch behind. He had watched, with a measure of jealousy, as Kae-Uhl and her mate (a rather likable fellow, actually) passed familiar looks each other's way. They had retired on their own, after promising to see their honored guest again in the morning before he left. Soon, what was left was a small troupe of females, of varying ages, who were still interested to hear of his stories. Having moved beyond tales of battle, now, he had taken to talking about the Assembly and the powerful noble lords and ladies of its court, along with the enigmatic and mysterious Kitsune Council of Elders.
None made any attempt to impress themselves on him.
He didn't realize why, until sometime afterward, when two strong hands pulled him to his feet and into a fierce locking of lips. How much Kae'Arah had to drink, he didn't know, but he did see the faces of some of the other females over her shoulder. Like all males, Tempest knew somewhat abstractly how aggressive female kitsune vixens could be, but that was tempered by the fact that all vixens maintained a certain decorum around their male counterparts. Locked into the passionate embrace, Tempest felt Kae'Arah's tongue move over his muzzle, licking the traces of blood from his fur.
An angry hiss from one of the other females precluded their hasty dispersal.
In her season, Tempest may have found himself acting more aggressively, but this was not the case. So, the War Leader of Clan Vidar allowed the younger female to drag him off like a kill in a cougar's jaws. Only inside the confines of the guest hut did he allow himself a degree more adventurism. She was a beautiful specimen: strong and eager. Her soft mews and throaty hisses drove him for hours until the point of exhaustion, and by the end of the night all of her hard work cleaning and grooming had been undone. It was a pity, yes, but a small price to pay. By the contented sounds she made before he fell asleep, he felt comfortable assuming she would think similarly.
He awoke at an undignified hour; long after the sun had risen. As before, Kae'Arah slept even later. He took the time to admire her. To his annoyance and dismay, he found himself comparing her to that damnable Princess Acorn he'd become acquainted with in the southlands. Kae'Arah was kitsune, of course, which was an automatic plus in her favor. Her hair was remarkably similar in shade as well as texture, though much longer; reaching all the way to her tailbone, once it had been unbraided. ("Your mother's hair was the same," a distant voice, that of Torrent, Tempest's father, interjected much to his son's annoyance). Kae'Arah was larger, taller, than Sally as well, which suited Tempest just fine. To him, Sally had always seemed somewhat fragile, though Miles had proven that fragility was not necessarily as much a problem as Tempest had thought when it came to southern females.
Kae'Arah had also been much stronger than the Princess, as well as being gifted with other little surprises. Having sparred with Sally before, he had a good gauge of her physical strength. Kae'Arah was easily two or three times as strong, though her lithe frame belied this fact. Sally also lacked inch and a half long claws that instinctively tensed up along with the rest of her body. Tempest knew he'd be nursing scratches for the next two days at least. Slowly extraditing himself from her, Tempest left to retrieve frozen water to wash himself. There was no open body of water handy near the camp, so kitsune washed themselves by splashing cold water onto legs and arms and torsos. It took longer, but it got the job done.
When he returned, Kae'Arah was awake. He helped wash her off, as well – the kitsune had no public taboos about such things as did the southerners – and then she took an hour to go over his coat and mane and tails for a second time. By noon, he was once more in perfect condition, save for a few nicks and cuts here and there, and ready to take his leave. Inclining his head to the two heads of the camp, he thanked them for their hospitality, and for the feast in his honor. As he was leaving, however, Kae-Uhl did something unexpected, and ran to approach him as he walked from the camp.
"Is there a problem, Kae?" He asked, politely. Inside, however, he was very curious as to what the female could want. Had he forgotten something? It seemed unlikely.
Kae-Uhl shook her head at his apparent clueless ness. "My daughter is smitten with you, Honorable Ephor."
"Oh?" Tempest didn't commit to an actual answer to that, but opened the door for a more detailed explanation.
Kae-Uhl nodded. "You were the only Ephor I ever met, so of course I told her stories about you. You should have seen her face when I told her you had passed by our camp without stopping by. And you should have seen her eyes light up when I told her you were likely to pass by on your way back home to Vidaran."
He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he grunted non-committaly.
The elder Kae took that at face value, understanding his position. She said, after a moment, "I hope you'll visit us again soon, Ephor Anthal Vidar. I suspect Kae'Arah will be practicing her skills in anticipation of when you do. And I expect I shall not be here to speak with you far into next year."
"Kae'a's brother is returning then?"
"He is. When he does, he will most certainly challenge my mate and fulfill the Kul'dah. My own retirement will follow soon after at Kae'Arah's hands."
"I see." Tempest did see, and sighed inwardly. When would he receive a Kul'dah at the hands of a worthy heir? No time soon, certainly. "Kae, you must understand that I cannot…"
But he paused, halfway through that sentence.
A sudden surge of confidence replaced the pessimism of the last few days. "Kae. I shall return within the year. Come what may, you have my word on that."
"As you say, Honorable Ephor." The slightly older female bowed her head respectfully. "Safe travels… and safe appointments."
Tempest smiled at the insightful little addition Kae have given to the farewell. Inclining his head once more, he took his leave from the Amma-Arah. Walking through the woods in good time, he felt his confidence grow. He was the strongest of Ephor Anthals. Nothing the Elders could do would ruin him! Nothing they could do would destroy him! If he had to fight, tooth and claw, to serve Clan Vidar, he would. But in the end, he would prevail, because he was strong! Like all predators, kitsune respected strength. Even in light of his failure in the south, he had that going for him. He was no child – he would not quail before the Council, and they would respect him for it, even if his pride was more hubris than anything else.
Three days later, he arrived at the border of lands belonging to Clan Vidar. He stopped only briefly at a camp that paid homage to him as leader, not as guest, before resuming his trek. A week later, he finally saw one of the Four Great Trees of Vidar, planted by the Clan Founder so many ages ago. By this time, his approach was well known, as kitsune in other Vidar camps psionically contacted their relatives in Vidaran. As he neared the large camp, Vidar kitsune in full armor lined up to welcome him by displaying their battle readiness. Tempest nodded to them as he walked past.
Halfway to the center of the camp, two kitsune females stood in his way. The first was obviously older; well into her forties. Her long red hair, somewhat paler than Sally or Kae'Arah's, flowed freely. Only younger females typically braided their hair. She stood at attention, but still managed a look of slight disdain as her son approached. Next to her, Tempest's younger sister, Chara, also stood at attention. Her coat was the unremarkable tan of their family, and her hair was an even darker midnight black. It matched the less common black chest fur and tail tips that both children had inherited from their mother.
"How fares the defense of my realm?" Tempest asked the two females, imbuing his voice with the harsh and authoritarian tone he had inherited from his father.
"No foes of Vidar sleep on our lands, Great Ephor," Tempest's mother, Urania Se' Kedennish Na' Vidar, answered first. Until Chara sire-slayed her mother, she would always be of lower rank, and thus not entitled to speak first. "However, my son and Noble Ephor, I must report yet another intrusion of automatons in service to the southern 'Tah."
Tempest smirked, catching his mother by surprise. "Good Mother, I would not worry so much over another intrusion by them for some time."
As if to cut short his good news, his mother then added, "I have also heard rumors of overlanders in kitsune lands…"
"Eh?" That did catch Tempest by surprise, and he hid it poorly. "Humans on our lands?"
"Not our lands, but the lands of Clan Jel'Arah." Urania have him a sly look. "Otherwise, all is as you left it. A Tukaido guest wishes an audience with you, as well, and has for several days now. I expect he will have much to complain about, given your fair sister's poor treatment of him."
"Chara…" Tempest growled.
"Our honorable guest is a drunkard, a pervert, and a weakling." Chara growled in response. "In other words, a typical Tukaido sneak thief. He thought his charms would work on an Ephor's sister." She scoffed. "They didn't."
Tempest shook his head at his sister's antics.
"I will deal with these matters after meeting with the Council." He pointed to the two females, and motioned for them to step aside. They did so without a word. Taking a few steps past them, he paused and added. "It is good to see you both once more. Wish me fortune in the coming hours."
Without waiting for a response, he headed towards the standing stones in the middle of the camp. Leaving his weapons behind, he felt his footfalls leave soft grassy earth to tread on ancient marble. He had done this before, and would likely do so many times again, but the experience never got any more comfortable. His body tingled as he entered the circle of stones – great twenty-foot monoliths of the most ancient architecture. Standing in the center, he heard voice, whispered and wizened. The world grew darker and darker, and the voices clear and clearer, until…
He found himself in limbo.
"Welcome, Tempest Se' Taima Na' Vidar," said a chorus of voices. "Ephor Anthal Na' Vidar. He who has seen and spoken to the Lords of the Ice. We, the Grand Council of the Kitsune Elders, will now speak with you. Hide Nothing From Us, For Here We See All."
Tempest looked up into the endless night that surrounded him.
"I acknowledge the Authority and Power of the Council, and offer myself for your judgment…" He took a deep breath. "For I have failed in the task you asked of me."
"Of that, Honorable Ephor Anthal," The Council said as one. "We shall be the Judge."
-----
-----
Fingers pinched the leaf and picked it from the forest floor. Those same fingers quickly brought it up to a sensitive nose that twitched, twice, taking in sharp breaths of air. Slowly, the fingers lowered, and a lone figure stood up.
He looked to the west.
"Finally..."
-----
"W… What? Wait! Just who are you, and what are you doing here?" Sally backed up, but bumped into Tails. Strangely, the young fox was just standing there, staring at the new comer's torso - and tails.
"He hides behind you like a frightened whelp." The fox tilted his head slightly. "Tempest is my name. Tempest Na'Vidar. Of the Family Taima. Of the Clan Vidar. And that not so young pup there is Miles Na'Turo. I am to bring him home."
-----
"I don't know what you're talking about…" Tails voice was resolute. "But these are my friends. They are not Prey!"
-----
"The Hedgehog!?" Tempest suddenly blurted out. "You lie! He was raised by a low born 'Tah?! How could even you allow this to come to pass?"
"It was too late when I was finding them." Antoine didn't flinch at the insult. "And… I did not think myself fit to try…"
"He is a Prey," Tempest hissed, "I will NOT acknowledge his claim. Not in a thousand cycles! Not when the poles bleed red and the skies snow fire and ash!"
-----
Tempest growled at the insult to his honor and his clan. "Your plots are as obvious as they are fruitless, Keionah. I accept, in the name of my Clan. What is this contest to be that I will be bested by a little hedgehog in it?"
"A race," Antoine quickly answered, before Sonic could speak up.
-----
-----
The Darkness broke, leaving Tempest swaying on his feet. He heard murmured voices, but knew they were actually thoughts transmitted through the ether. Stepping into the Circled Stoned had allowed the far off Council a stronger link to his mind. A moment's lowering of his natural Kitsune mental defenses had drawn him into their world, more than they into his mind. The actual Council had no physical location, but existed in the minds of all the Elders of which it was a part.
"Ephor Anthal," came a distinct voice. "Are we to believe that you, the greatest warrior of Clan Vidar, lost a footrace to a mere mobian hedgehog?"
-----
-----
And then, to Tempest's surprise, the hedgehog accelerated AGAIN, up and over a hill, spinning as he did to avoid wind resistance and bash through a log in his path.
"I… Incredible…" The hunter thought to himself, watching Sonic rapidly catch up to him. "Looks like the little rutter was right after all…"
-----
"The name is Sonic!!" The hedgehog in question yelled. "Remember it!"
-----
-----
"What is true, simply is, Elder." Tempest bowed his metaphorical head. "I was not able to match the speed of the southerner called Sonic the Hedgehog. Had the race occurred in a flat plain, you would have seen his true speed, which, I hear, is considerable. No: No Kitsune, I think, could have beaten Sonic in a race. No living Kitsune."
"What you say sounds almost too fanciful to believe, Ephor Anthal." A few more murmurings, and then: "An Adept. The hedgehog is a Chaos Adept."
"A Powerful One," Tempest added.
"This does not, then, reflect so poorly on your performance, Ephor Anthal. However…" Tempest didn't like the sound of that particular word and tone. "However: a vein of thought had arisen among the Elders. Can you conjecture as to what it is?""
There was no need. Tempest knew.
"You wish to be certain that a race was necessary."
"This is truth, Ephor Anthal. We have seen the memories. There are those…" The Elder was canny enough not to mention how many, and whether they were a majority or minority opinion. "Who question your decision to play along with these southern mobians. You were sent south to retrieve the son of Eblis and Aurora, not to fraternize with mobian … 'Freedom Fighters.'"
'Fraternize?' Tempest wondered, and knew the Elders would hear his loud thoughts, but hoped they wouldn't grasp the full depth of why he had zeroed in on that one word.
"Elders of the Kitsune," Tempest thought/spoke; projecting his voice into non-space. "As you must know, the thought of taking the boy by force was one of many avenues I contemplated using. The city of Knothole was not too large, and I have no doubt that I could have killed any of the 'Freedom Fighters' who would oppose my actions, however I ruled it out as unlikely to succeed in the long run."
"I saw," he continued. "Right away, that the boy was taken in with the southerners. I had to make him leave of his own volition, and I gauged that, in a matter of weeks, he would want to travel north anyway. I was willing to wait for that time, rather than act hastily and try and take him north by force. Had I done so, I am convinced that he would have fled south at the first opportunity."
Tempest knew how hard that would be for the Elders to grasp.
It would have seemed equally as insane to himself of a few years ago. Now… now he was different. He had a broader and more accepting view of the southern mentality. Still, superimposing that mentality on a fellow Kitsune felt… wrong. Fundamentally wrong.
"What you say," An Elder spoke up. "You earnestly believe. How strange, if truth."
"Shall we continue?" Another asked. "I feel from his memories that we are missing something important within this timeframe."
-----
-----
"Were they good people? Why were they killed, and not everyone else?"
"You misunderstand," Tempest said softly. "They left the village and did not wish to part with you. They went south as a raiding party with the blessings of the Turo War Leader to take the head of some mobian commander. The exact circumstances around their deaths remain a mystery."
Tails was aghast. "They were Raiders?!"
"They were warriors … Tails. Your people are warriors. We do not make secretaries and factory workers, my boy. The blood of a thousand generations of proud fighting males and females, the fiercest and greatest ever to live, flows in your veins. You feel it. Now, more than ever."
-----
"He won, didn't he?" Tails stated, as if reading Tempest's face.
"He did at that, young Turo." Tempest walked past him, to the Ring Pool. "He was faster than I. …And I will not let such a worthy Prey die in a ditch dug by his own feet. He has bested me, but there is yet one other who I know could be faster than he."
"Who?" Tails asked, before looking over to Sonic's unconscious body. "Faster than Sonic?"
"You, of course. In the fullness of time, I am confident you will outpace him." Tempest relaxed against a tree. "And I'm not leaving 'till I see that day come to pass."
-----
"A Chaos Emerald?"
"Yes… that is the echidna name for them, but an 'Emerald' implies that it is green, and most Gems of Chaos are not..."
Tails made a frown. "You've never mentioned them before."
"Why should it matter?" Tempest asked. "Why this big interest in the Gems of Chaos?"
"Because…" Tails licked his lips, remembering the feeling of power he'd once had. "I've worked with them. I've held them. And more!"
-----
-----
"Interesting." One of the Elders paused the flashes of memory. "And you believe this to be truth, Ephor Anthal?"
"I do, Elder." To Tempest, it didn't matter whether the Elder was of Clan Vidar or not. They were all of equal status and standing. "The boy was not one for idle exaggeration. Furthermore, from what I later saw, I am left with no doubt that he has not just seen and held the Chaos Gems before… but used them."
"Used them?" A different Elder sounded insulted by the thought. "Already?"
Tempest was about to answer, when the last word the Elder had spoken repeated in his mind. 'Already?'
"Elders?" He prompted.
"We continue," The Elder from before answered, tone harsh. And it was so.
-----
-----
"Tails! Finish this NOW!" Tempest demanded. Tails looked over his shoulder, and his eyes met Tempest's. For a second, he was defiant; then, without pause, Tails' wrapped his arm around the lion's neck, and snapped the head around 180 degrees.
"Happy?" the boy asked, innocently.
Walking over Tails' kill, Tempest let himself tower over the still shorter pupil he had been training. Tails' met his mentor's gaze for only an instant, before a backhand to his face sent the young hunter flying, to the ground. For a second, Tails' eyes glazed over, then, suddenly, tears welled up, and he looked back over to the warrior standing over his kill.
"There is no honor in torture, boy." Tempest pointed down at the cougar's body. "This kill… has disgraced you."
"I'm… I'm sorry… I…" Tails felt more tears come to the surface and hid his face. "I… I… I don't know what… I'm so sorry..."
"Strength without honor… is only tyranny." Tempest, kept his gaze cold, hard. "Why do we Hunt?"
"For food…" Tails answered. "And for honor."
"Honor," Tempest stressed, "Honor!"
Tails saw his hands, white gloves stained crimson. "This… this isn't me… I'm not a killer!"
Tempest sighed, and walked over to the young warrior. "Tails…"
"I'm sorry!" Tails looked up, and, without warning, wrapped his arms around Tempest's neck. "I'm sorry! Don't leave! I won't do it again!"
"It's ok, boy…it's ok… I'm not leaving…" Tempest suddenly remembered this boy, just moments before, had broken the neck of a mountain lion like a twig, but put aside the thought. "I know you're sorry…."
"I wanna go home…" Tails cried into his shoulder.
"Ok, little warrior. Ok…"
-----
"I am." Tails paused. "Ready to Train. Though… I would prefer, today, if we stayed here."
"In Knothole?" Tempest asked. "Isn't this the day you normally go out on patrol for her Highness?"
"Be both know the answer to that," Tails spoke frankly. "You're taking my place, aren't you?"
"Yes," Tempest said after a second's delay. "How do you feel, Tails?"
"Well…" Tails cracked his neck to the side to flex it. "Well enough. Just…"
"What?"
"Hungry…" Tails said it almost guiltily.
-----
"Someone's headed our way, boy," Tempest kept his eyes closed, and thought. "Smells like rabbit. Southwestern Softtail"
"It's Amanda" Tails thought back.
"Odd… I've never smelt her around before"
"She just came here. I met her yesterday"
"Oh? Was she the one who…"
"Yes"
"Ah" Tempest smiled mentally. "Hope you don't get too attached to her"
"Why's that" Tails thought/asked.
"Your family already has a slew of potential mates waiting for you back home. Females of your own breed and kind"
"Well… that's certainly sounds nice and all, but it doesn't explain why I can't get attached to Amanda"
"She's a 'Tah"
"Don't call her that" Tails thought with force behind it. "'Tah is a derogatory term"
"But it's true. A Wolf, or even a One-Tail I could understand… but you cannot form a pair bond with a female who is not of the Second Race"
"And what would you say if I love her"
"I'd say that love is irrelevant. It is impossible to bond outside of the Second Race. It cannot be done, and making an attempt is forbidden"
-----
-----
"What is this?" One of the Elders practically roared. "This is unforgivable, Tempest!"
Tempest's mane and tail bristled at the tone and the threat. "The boy was already…"
"It occurred in your absence, while you were out on this 'Patrol' freeing up time for the boy to train, is this not truth?" The elder queried, tersely.
"It is truth, yes…"
"And it was your decision to leave him to his own devices, is this not also correct? To leave him without supervision?"
"Ah… yes. That is also truth, however…"
"Then the fault lies with you, Ephor Anthal! To allow the child of Eblis to develop an emotional attachment to some low born Prey animal…!"
"With all due respect, Elder," Tempest interrupted. "The boy already had emotional attachments to low born prey animals long before you and yours tasked me to retrieve him."
The Elder practically hissed in anger.
However, another voice spoke, cutting the confrontation short. "Let us take some moments to rest and contemplate what we have learned. The Council will meet with you in three hours time, is this acceptable, Honorable Ephor?"
Tempest inclined his head in respectful thanks. "It is, Elder."
And, like that, it was over.
Standing up, alone, amid the Circled Stones, Tempest shook his head to clear it of any lingering voices. With his barriers back up, everything returned to normal. There was only himself, and the traces of his father and grandfather, who were content at the moment to remain silent. This was good. Tempest knew his (lower nobility) grandfather had a dislike for the Council in general, after having gotten in numerous doctrinal arguments with one of its members. Still…
Some of what the Elders had said bothered him.
As he walked towards his hearth, he thought about that. They knew Miles' name – why not use it? Why repeatedly call him the son or child of Eblis? Was there something regarding Tails' father that Tempest had not been privy to? It would be something to ponder, while he waited.
At least they hadn't suspected anything unusual involving Princess Sally.
Emboldened by that, Tempest almost didn't notice the wizened figure approaching him. When he did, however, the Ephor Anthal Na' Vidar recognized the kitsune perfectly. His was not a Clan that produced a great many Elders of note, but Mercer Na' Vidar was one of those exceptional few. Mercer wore the cloak of an Elder, but also adorned it with a long pair of blue prayer beads around his throat and over his left shoulder. His dark fur had paled slightly with age, but he still stood dignified and straight, even after over (at least) seventy years of life.
"I greet you, Good Elder." Tempest raised a hand in salute. "I did not hear you speak when I met with the Council, and was unsure whether you wished to see me or not."
Mercer approached slowly, and fell in step alongside Tempest. It was something very few kitsune would have felt bold enough to do. Tempest slowed his own walking, so the Elder could keep pace more easily. He still hadn't spoken.
"Elder?" Tempest prompted again. "Is something the matter?"
"Honorable Ephor Anthal…" Mercer looked at Tempest with piercing black eyes. "I wish to discuss with you a matter of no small importance."
"Oh?" Tempest asked. "And that is…?"
Mercer wasn't smiling. "Princess Sarah Acorn. 'Sally' as you seem to call her."
Tempest blinked, hard, and faced forward.
"Yes. There is that," was all he said.
At least at first.
Flash!
A place that didn't always live up to its name.
Flash!
It was a crime scene becoming all too familiar over the last few months. Looking about the homey little farmhouse, Constable Remington sipped his coffee with a certain measure of resignation. The crime scene was still 'hot,' technically, but the Head of the Echidnapolis Security Agency knew that the perps weren't likely to be found. The house alarm had gone off four hours ago. In a fast enough hovercar, the scumbags who broke in could be anywhere on the island by now.
At least he could know these days whether they were off-island, too. A quick call to E-SDF Headquarters in Echidnapolis had confirmed no suspicious off-island transportation in the vicinity. The Self- defense Forces were a young group, but thorough and dedicated. No: the ones that were responsible were almost certainly still on Angel Island somewhere.
Taking another sip of coffee – a dark, sweet local brand, not the bitter or sour stuff from Mobius Major or Mobius Minor respectively – the Constable started walking. Keeping moving often helped him think; a problem when one spends so much time behind a desk, but he had always done his best work while on his feet. Sometimes, while running from one crisis to another. But that was another thing altogether.
He took in the details, looking past the echidna deputies and detectives scouring the house for other clues, and the growing lines of police tape and chalk. The door had been broken down, and entry forced in through that, and only that, entrance. The windows were still locked and seemingly untouched. Burn and powder analysis of the door had revealed that a point-blank shot by a heavy caliber round (a "slug" the Dingo called them) had destroyed the primary locking mechanism. Two blows had then taken the door off its hinges – one low and to the side, knocking loose the lower hinge, and the other high and to the center of the door itself. Kneeling next to the fallen piece of wood, Remington again saw that the door was fairly thick and sturdily made. It remained intact, even after it had been knocked over.
That sort of thing required considerable physical force to accomplish; much more than most echidna males, much less females. A large dingo would, of course, have little problem replicating the feat… and there were a LOT of large dingo on Angel Island, but a cyborg or robot chould just have easily done the deed. Looking closely at the dent in the wood where the second blow had registered, Remington tried imagining himself busting the door down. It was too high for most echidna. Even if one was strong enough ('like Knuckles,' Remington thought, but only as a point of comparison), he likely wouldn't be tall enough.
A robot, cyborg or dingo, then. Or one of the rarer breeds of Mobian on Angel Island. Most resident crocodilians were large and strong enough, and fairly ill tempered to boot. A robot, on the other hand, was rather unlikely. The Dark Legion had a few, yes, but would never have used them for so trivial a purpose, and the Legions of robots that served the Eggman were now, by and large, rusting in a field outside Knothole.
Getting up, Remington almost bumped into one of his deputies. They weren't used to working with him this far a field. The house was far from Echidnapolis, in the middle of an isolated vineyard. Normally, it wouldn't have been enough to rouse him from his office in the city, but this was not the first set of murders out in the countryside. Trying to better imagine the mind of the killer, or killers (to be more precise), Remington tried to follow their steps of several hours ago.
After entering the house via the front door, they fanned out, at least three of them. They had two hair samples, but Remington suspected a third, too. The man of the house had likely been in the living room – had he had time to call out a warning to his family? By all accounts, he'd put up something of a struggle. There were bloodstains on the floor, and the pattern was familiar to anyone who had ever broken up a street fight. The husband, by the name of (Remington took a moment to check that) 'Lars,' had taken a blow to the stomach, and coughed up blood. His hand had then smeared it, leaving a recognizable imprint on the hardwood floor, indicating he had fell to his knees soon afterward.
While taking out Mr. Lars, and waiting for his two companions to find the man's wife and daughter, the first assailant then took the time to rearrange the furniture and redecorate the walls. All over the main room, there was damage: shelves were knocked over, the family room monitor was smashed, the coffee table upended, pictures torn from the walls, frames lying in splintered ruin… It was a sort of single-minded aggression confined only to the living room, not upstairs, where the wife had been taken, or in the downstairs bathroom, where the daughter had been. The fact that both females would likely need to have been taken at the same time (the bathroom window had been opened from the inside, indicating the daughter was trying to make a hasty escape), and it hadn't been accomplished with the level of violence used against Mr. Lars, strongly implies it was a three mobian job.
After knocking out Mr. Lars, and wrecking the living room, the first (and likely leader) of the group had the two females brought to him (or her, but likely him). They were lined up along the south wall, and executed. Forensics told him that the female had taken two heavy slugs to the torso and upper body, the daughter one, to the side of her pretty little head (the poor girl had only been fourteen), and the father three – one to his left leg, the other to his torso (breaking his lower back), and another to the right shoulder. He had likely been the last to die of the three, the daughter being the first. When the authorities arrived, all three were sprawled against the wall in a heap, so they had all likely been killed on the spot, and around the same time.
The blueprint for the weapon used was easy enough to deduce, even without having to ask the Lab boys for a Type, Registration, and Serial Number. The dingo were the only ones on Angel Island to use projectile weapons, and the only group on Mobius to employ shotguns, much less of the semi-automatic variety (though he had received a SDF memo that the humans and overlanders were interested in purchasing dingo made automatic shotguns). No doubt about it: the offending weapon had been a Volker-Ruth Type 20 Combat Shotgun.
The gaping bloody holes that particular weapon left in a body was something the Constable would never forget. After the return of Echidnapolis, the Dingo had been ordered to hand over all the heavy weapons that they had managed to bring with them after the dimensional collapse of Dingo City (the Second Dingo City, actually, but 'Echidnapolis' was the Second Echidnapolis, too). To an extent, they had complied – hundred of pieces of military hardware had been surrendered under duress: tanks, planes, artillery, stockpiles of weapons and ammunition. Of course, the dingo managed to smuggle out and hide tons more that never saw the light of day (the presence of so much heavy hardware in the Battle of Knothole was a stark testament to the sheer amount of weaponry that the dingo had managed to horde for themselves). The Volker-Ruth Twenty was one of the better-known Dingo weapons that had managed to worm its way into criminal hands. It was a large weapon with a strong kick, useable only by large mobians: dingo, lupines, crocodilians, etc…
Still, the dingo had most of them. And they'd made use of them from time to time. More than one deputy had been 'emptied out' by a Type 20 patrolling the dingo slums at night, whenever the population there was in a state of near revolt. Body armor did little good. It could keep a flechette round from turning a deputy into ground beef, but did little to stop a heavy tungsten penetrator round, like the kind that had been used here. Sipping his coffee, which was quickly turning cold in its Styrofoam cup, Remington grimaced.
And, if that wasn't damning enough, there were the two fur samples they'd managed to get hold of. One had been in Mr. Lars' left hand, which Remington found odd. Lars was right handed, not just by the way his right hand had broken his fall and smeared his blood from before, but also by the fact that he still had a wrist watch on. If any hand would have gotten a hold of his attacker's fur, it would have been the other one. The other bit of hair had been on the corner of the daughter's mouth. Has she managed to take a bite of one of her dingo attackers? There was no blood except her own, so if she had, her teeth had never broken her assailant's skin.
Finishing his coffee, Constible Remington sighed.
"What a bloody waste…" He tucked his right thumb into his belt and shook his head sadly. "A real waste."
The Interior (and by that, he meant the Echidnapolis Security Agency) had only incomplete DNA records of the local dingo population. Their files on the echidna residents of Angel Island were quite good, but the dingo… if he wanted to ID the perps by their hair, and he DID, then he'd have to go through the so called dingo 'authorities.' Which meant General Viktor von Stryker and his boys. They still had their computer database from Dingo City, but had refused to hand it over. Remington had wanted the city to push harder on getting access to it, but the Dingo had (again) risen up in revolt, and no one was particularly eager to give them cause for more trouble. Now it was even worse, in a way. The Battle of Knothole gave the dingo cause international recognition, and emboldened the dingo leadership.
He'd send the DNA stuff over to Stryker's Lab Boys in his "Army Commissariat for the Interior." Dingo Military Police were notoriously efficient (and brutal), but also notoriously dedicated to their orders and their superiors. Much more so than to the truth, or to justice in general, at least in his opinion. They'd likely feed him the same line they had before: that the hair samples belonged to two dingo vagabonds, reported missing X months or weeks ago. He'd do more extensive background checks on Mr. Lars.
Maybe there was some connection between this killing, and the ones from before. Or… maybe, there was no connection. Maybe there was just a cult or gang of lunatics out there murdering echidna at random. One thing was for sure: when news of this got out, and Remington knew he had no reason to try and cover up the story, it wouldn't do anything to improve echidna-dingo relations on the Island. Not at all.
Adjusting his hat, Remington left the house to get a breath of fresh air.
Outside, the vineyard flowers were in full bloom.
"Who the hell is doing this?" Looking up at the clear blue sky, the echidna security chief felt older than his twenty-nine years. "And why?"
-----
Tempest hissed softly, as the comb went through another knot in one of his tails. It felt like years since he had been properly groomed. Most male kitsune were (sad as it was) rather incompetent when he came to proper grooming; they could straighten out a coat well enough, but that was usually all. Which was why, even if he had been a female guest to the Amma-Arah camp, his male Auxiliary would have allowed another female to step in to take over in the Traditional grooming and cleansing rituals.
He shivered slightly – a feeling almost alien to Kitsune. But his fur was wet as well as knotted, and the water had been melted ice. His people were extremely hardy when it came to the cold, but not immune. What remained of his actual clothing had been removed and patched already, from what damage it had taken here and there. Most was extremely minor, but his footwear – a pair of simple moccasins, with tough leather for soles, and well-insulated hide for the ankles and lower leg – had been in worse shape. They were in a corner now, looking as well as the day he made them. Smiling a bit, he remembered the footwear Sonic the Hedgehog had used. Those things made his 'shoes' look like the warmed leavings of a male cow. But they suited the unchallenged leader of Clan Vidar just fine.
Another knot found and terminated.
Bearing his teeth, in pleasure not in a warning display, Tempest felt Kae'Arah lean more heavily against his back as she worked. Despite his doubt about how happy she was to be ordered around (a southern equivalent for a kitsune who didn't like following orders would be 'quirky,' or even 'anti-social,' given that all of kitsune society was predicated on orders and Tradition), she had done her duty not only competently, but also honorably. She was honestly trying to do her best to accommodate a guest to the camp. That was more admirable and important than the actual quality of the work she did, at least in Tempest's opinion.
On numerous occasions, he had ordered Chara, his younger sister, to perform as Auxiliary for high-ranking guests. His camp, the headcamp of Clan Vidar, was far larger than this one, and as a consequence more often hosted guests and travelers. Chara was assigned to deal with the most important ones that dropped by, though she didn't always enjoy doing it. And Tempest knew when his little sister didn't enjoy doing something she purposefully did it poorly. Despite reaching what the kitsune think of as near middle age (she would be twenty in two years), she remained rather juvenile in some respects. Tempest was glad to see Kae'Arah, despite having a fiery disposition, didn't let her feelings towards an assignment compromise her execution of it.
"Honorable Ephor…" she asked, from behind his head. His ears swiveled partly to hear her better. He was on his stomach, and Kae'Arah was straddling his lower back while she worked her way through his two tails.
"Yes, Kae'a?" He felt no discomfort in shortening her name. It was common between high ranked kitsune and low, particularly with those they favored.
"Do you remember what fighting my mother was like?"
He hadn't expected that question. Shrugging his shoulders a little, he shifted his arms up and under his chin before answering. "Yes. I remember the fights I had trying to Claim her quite well. Would you like to hear of them?"
He almost felt Kae'Arah nod. "If you would, Honorable Ephor."
"Very well." He took a deep breath, causing her to move a little from her position while she combed his second tail. "I first caught her scent some time before that, you see. It was before my Turan'Ha… two years before. Your mother, back then her name was just 'Kae,' underwent her Turan'Ha a year after most of her litermates, as you know. She was thirteen, and quite a ferocious little thing. I had been in many scraps before, but I had never seen a female truly fight before. Hers made every male-male fight I had seen in the past pale in comparison."
"I don't remember exactly who it was she had been fighting. She had arrived the year before, both to receive special training from one of the old masters and to eventually find a mate within the Vidar Clan. She was one of the few females to rut that year, much less that season, and so she was quite popular. So when I first saw her, she was exhausted, angry, and disheveled. Her opponent was a male larger than I am now, even as an adult. As a child before his time, he seemed like a mountain or a force of nature. As was Traditional, he used only his claws and teeth for the Claiming, but they seemed large enough to stand in for battle knives and spears!"
Tempest chuckled at the memory. "Your mother fought like the most bloodthirsty Kalahen harpy… but, when she finally finished with the male who had Claimed her, and left him bleeding on the floor, she straightened up, and instantly returned to her dignified self. I suppose even then I should have known she'd end up in a Clan like Jel'Arah by the too-proud way she carried herself… a-ah!"
"My apologies, Honorable Ephor." Kae'Arah quickly said. Tempest was about to grumble, when he remembered she had his tails in her hands. He was in no position to complain about the sharp tug he'd suffered, especially after that last comment of his, no matter how endearing he'd meant it to sound.
"Ahem." He coughed, clearing his throat. "Well, she fascinated me, and two years later, she was still unmated. I had thought one of the higher ranked males of the headcamp would step up to Claim her, but none did. Some spoke with her and made arrangements, but none of them ever amounted to anything. I, for one, cannot say why. Your mother was of noble, if not truly high borne, blood… but for many of the higher ranked males, convenience has become all important. Most of my fellow Ephor Anthals have rather weak females for mates, chosen not for their strength, but for their bloodlines and political connections."
He sighed, and continued, "But I digress. I was halfway through my Turan'Ha when I felt confident enough to challenge her for the first time. I was already larger than her, and had a fair reach advantage. I had seen her fight before, and decided that grappling would be the best approach, instead of trying to wear her down at distance. I still think this was the key to beating her, but realizing an avenue of attack and following through with it are two very different things. She accepted my Claim with forbearance, and went rather easy on me, now that I think about it. I had managed to get her into an arm lock on her weak side, when she reversed, flipped me onto the ground, and pinned my free arm with the heel of her foot."
"The next time, it had been raining, and I thought the muddy ground would work to my advantage by keeping her from using her footwork. Thinks were going better, and I managed to pin her twice, though doing so had cost me several solid blows to my ribs. I was hurting on my left, and she realized it. After taking another painful blow, I got angry (and sloppy) and charged her. Next thing I knew I had mud in my eyes! I hadn't been paying enough attention to her feet, and she'd kicked a glob of the stuff with perfect precision. Blinded for a few seconds, she laid into my injured left side, and threw me into the branches of a tree. I ended up hanging there, limp as wet cloth, for half the day."
The younger Kae laughed politely. "Did she make you angry, Honorable Ephor?"
"A little," Tempest admitted. "But she also made me want her even more. She was a strong female, and didn't shy away from demonstrating that. Even after the beatings I took, I wasn't quite ready to admit defeat…"
He described the last two fights in more vivid detail, remembering them more clearly than the previous two. She was an attentive and avid listener, occasionally asking questions as to his technique and the lessons he drew from the effort. Afterwards, he asked what her own experiences had been, and learned that she had beaten all the unmated males in her camp. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but secretly was. He offered to test her skills for himself with whatever weapons she preferred before he left, knowing that a positive word from an Ephor could help draw additional males to attempt a Claim on her.
She seemed reluctant to accept. Tempest would have associated it with what Sally had called 'shyness' except that Tempest doubted female kitsune thought that way. After giving it a few seconds' thought, he dropped the inquiry entirely. If she wanted a spar, he would give her one. If not, then just as well.
After the grooming was complete, she asked about her own Ephor: the leader of Clan Jel'Arah, Tae-Uh Se' Dommu Na' Jel'Arah, and his young heir El'Arah. Tae was Tempest's age, and in some ways reminded the kitsune of himself. The largest difference arose from the fact that Tae smoothly inherited his position from his father, and El was just as likely to have a smooth transition of power. Jel'Arah had not had a problem with succession in eleven generations. For that, if no other reason, Tae had grown up to be extremely conservative in his policymaking. One of the positions, which aptly demonstrated this, was his undying dislike towards the Turo Clan.
It amused Tempest to see his Auxiliary bristle at the mention of the Turo Clan.
Though she had never met a Turo, she knew well her Clan's grievances towards them. Jel'Arah was an ancient Clan, and would have dominated the Assembly if not for Turo, which was reckoned as more ancient and powerful simply by virtue of its size. Jel'Arah was wedged between Clans Turo and Kalahen, with only a small sliver of land bordering Vidar. As such, the Turo had long used the Kalahen against the Jel'Arah. The Tukaido, always eager for a boost in prestige and always ready to curry favor, also tended to support Turo and Kalahen. Tempest's own Clan, Vidar, was Traditionally a staunch supporter of Jel'Arah, with the distant but powerful Dae'th'ai and Fa'Rah being less vocal allies (understandable, in that Clan Dae'th'ai had ambitions of its own to dominate the Assembly).
After listening to him speak of Assembly politics, Kae'Arah asked to be excused to assist in the preparation of the night's feast. He let her go and thanked her for being patient enough to listen to him (most kitsune had no interest in politics, even their people's own). The earlier promise of strong drink had not been forgotten, either, and he knew that that part of the feast was Traditionally handled by the guest's Auxiliary. Alone, Tempest checked the job she'd done on his coat and mane, and found it to his satisfaction and more. He was clean, groomed, and back among kitsune, much to his relief.
Still…
Laying sideways on the futon, Tempest relaxed allowed his mind to wander. In the morning he would leave, and go to speak with the Council of Elders. He was not looking forward to it. Not only had he failed to bring Miles back to Kistune territory, but also the brat had gone and gotten himself killed. Or at least it certainly seemed like he had. How much, Tempest wondered, did the Elders already know? How much did they need to know? Not all of his experiences in the south had centered around the training of the boy.
Unbidden, the face of Sarah 'Sally' Acorn appeared. He could remember her body pressed against his own, and the mixed feelings that resulted from the contact. That, above all else, was something he would have to keep from the Elders when he spoke with them. He was strong enough that he didn't have to worry about a Condemnation of Corruption from the old men. If he was declared corrupted, and his Clan in need of a Ephor Anthal Zanzir, or Foreign Clan Leader, he would fight whatever ambitious Ephors dared to try and make good on the opportunity. Most wouldn't dare, knowing his reputation. Kalahen, perhaps… but Bloodsmythe was a fool, and libel not to care that he was overmatched against the lord of Clan Vidar.
What to do?
How to do it?
These questions plagued him, even as comfortable as he became in familiar surroundings. Only that night, when the Head Male and female revealed the great stag that was to be the night's feast, and the casks of mead, made of honey and water, were broken open did he forget the problems he would have to face the next day, and perhaps in the weeks and months to follow. Males and females took turns trading stories of battle and adventure, and with each drink they grew taller and taller in stature, and more and more grandiose in scope. Tempest did a little to exaggerate his own stories as well, though he put much more work into editing them to make them more appealing to kitsune listeners.
"The iron beast must have stood as tall as five Fa'Rah kitsune warriors!" Tempest eagerly gestured with his hands, even as one held a half empty mug of honeyed ale. His muzzle was still bloody from the feasting, and his tails waved eagerly. "Its hands… Its four hands… bristled with southern weapons! Bladed scythes, meant to cut a warrior to shreds, a grand cannon, a bolt from which could turn an oak… an old oak like this!" He pointed to one of the larger nearby trees. "Into kindling! There I stood, the bodies of broken half-machines all around me...!"
Of course, they had been all machine, but such was the wonders of editing.
"HO! Great Ephor, what did you do?!" A male cheered, and raised his mug.
"I had only my trusted polearm with which to do battle, good Jel'Arah! My polearm depleted of power! So as tempting as it was to use my ranged mobility to my advantage, I could not." Tempest held out his hand dramatically. "I did what any kitsune with blood in his veins would do. The great iron monster roared a challenge, belching smoke and flame, and so, teeth bared, I answered with one of my own! And attacked!"
"HO! HO!!" They cheered, male and female. "Lord of Vidar! Who fears no weapon of the south!"
"Its skin, my brothers and sisters, was as hard as mountain stone! Into his guard I charged, having dodged not two, but three blows from its mighty arms! I stabbed at it between its iron joints, and heard some damage done, but saw no slowness to its movements! Pulling back, I tried to sever a hand, but found its armor too thick! My attacks were not availing me, but in its haste to extinguish my life, my fellow kitsune, I saw its weakness!"
As he spoke, and gestured, Tempest saw Kae'Arah. For most of the night, she had stayed close to her parents, but now she was by herself. Her hair, a lighter more vivid red than that of her coat, almost let her blend into the flames dancing around the campfire pit. Her eyes, a sharp and exotic shade of cyan that he hadn't seemed to notice before, twinkled as she listened to him speak. Continuing his story, he saw other kistune, but the image of Kae'Arah stayed at the forefront of his mind. He knew how things were handled well enough. If she was interested, she would come to him outside of her season. He had little say in the matter otherwise.
He actually saw little of her until later in the night. The fog of the mead had left the listless drinkers to stumble back to their dwellings, leaving only the sour and sober sentries keeping watch behind. He had watched, with a measure of jealousy, as Kae-Uhl and her mate (a rather likable fellow, actually) passed familiar looks each other's way. They had retired on their own, after promising to see their honored guest again in the morning before he left. Soon, what was left was a small troupe of females, of varying ages, who were still interested to hear of his stories. Having moved beyond tales of battle, now, he had taken to talking about the Assembly and the powerful noble lords and ladies of its court, along with the enigmatic and mysterious Kitsune Council of Elders.
None made any attempt to impress themselves on him.
He didn't realize why, until sometime afterward, when two strong hands pulled him to his feet and into a fierce locking of lips. How much Kae'Arah had to drink, he didn't know, but he did see the faces of some of the other females over her shoulder. Like all males, Tempest knew somewhat abstractly how aggressive female kitsune vixens could be, but that was tempered by the fact that all vixens maintained a certain decorum around their male counterparts. Locked into the passionate embrace, Tempest felt Kae'Arah's tongue move over his muzzle, licking the traces of blood from his fur.
An angry hiss from one of the other females precluded their hasty dispersal.
In her season, Tempest may have found himself acting more aggressively, but this was not the case. So, the War Leader of Clan Vidar allowed the younger female to drag him off like a kill in a cougar's jaws. Only inside the confines of the guest hut did he allow himself a degree more adventurism. She was a beautiful specimen: strong and eager. Her soft mews and throaty hisses drove him for hours until the point of exhaustion, and by the end of the night all of her hard work cleaning and grooming had been undone. It was a pity, yes, but a small price to pay. By the contented sounds she made before he fell asleep, he felt comfortable assuming she would think similarly.
He awoke at an undignified hour; long after the sun had risen. As before, Kae'Arah slept even later. He took the time to admire her. To his annoyance and dismay, he found himself comparing her to that damnable Princess Acorn he'd become acquainted with in the southlands. Kae'Arah was kitsune, of course, which was an automatic plus in her favor. Her hair was remarkably similar in shade as well as texture, though much longer; reaching all the way to her tailbone, once it had been unbraided. ("Your mother's hair was the same," a distant voice, that of Torrent, Tempest's father, interjected much to his son's annoyance). Kae'Arah was larger, taller, than Sally as well, which suited Tempest just fine. To him, Sally had always seemed somewhat fragile, though Miles had proven that fragility was not necessarily as much a problem as Tempest had thought when it came to southern females.
Kae'Arah had also been much stronger than the Princess, as well as being gifted with other little surprises. Having sparred with Sally before, he had a good gauge of her physical strength. Kae'Arah was easily two or three times as strong, though her lithe frame belied this fact. Sally also lacked inch and a half long claws that instinctively tensed up along with the rest of her body. Tempest knew he'd be nursing scratches for the next two days at least. Slowly extraditing himself from her, Tempest left to retrieve frozen water to wash himself. There was no open body of water handy near the camp, so kitsune washed themselves by splashing cold water onto legs and arms and torsos. It took longer, but it got the job done.
When he returned, Kae'Arah was awake. He helped wash her off, as well – the kitsune had no public taboos about such things as did the southerners – and then she took an hour to go over his coat and mane and tails for a second time. By noon, he was once more in perfect condition, save for a few nicks and cuts here and there, and ready to take his leave. Inclining his head to the two heads of the camp, he thanked them for their hospitality, and for the feast in his honor. As he was leaving, however, Kae-Uhl did something unexpected, and ran to approach him as he walked from the camp.
"Is there a problem, Kae?" He asked, politely. Inside, however, he was very curious as to what the female could want. Had he forgotten something? It seemed unlikely.
Kae-Uhl shook her head at his apparent clueless ness. "My daughter is smitten with you, Honorable Ephor."
"Oh?" Tempest didn't commit to an actual answer to that, but opened the door for a more detailed explanation.
Kae-Uhl nodded. "You were the only Ephor I ever met, so of course I told her stories about you. You should have seen her face when I told her you had passed by our camp without stopping by. And you should have seen her eyes light up when I told her you were likely to pass by on your way back home to Vidaran."
He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he grunted non-committaly.
The elder Kae took that at face value, understanding his position. She said, after a moment, "I hope you'll visit us again soon, Ephor Anthal Vidar. I suspect Kae'Arah will be practicing her skills in anticipation of when you do. And I expect I shall not be here to speak with you far into next year."
"Kae'a's brother is returning then?"
"He is. When he does, he will most certainly challenge my mate and fulfill the Kul'dah. My own retirement will follow soon after at Kae'Arah's hands."
"I see." Tempest did see, and sighed inwardly. When would he receive a Kul'dah at the hands of a worthy heir? No time soon, certainly. "Kae, you must understand that I cannot…"
But he paused, halfway through that sentence.
A sudden surge of confidence replaced the pessimism of the last few days. "Kae. I shall return within the year. Come what may, you have my word on that."
"As you say, Honorable Ephor." The slightly older female bowed her head respectfully. "Safe travels… and safe appointments."
Tempest smiled at the insightful little addition Kae have given to the farewell. Inclining his head once more, he took his leave from the Amma-Arah. Walking through the woods in good time, he felt his confidence grow. He was the strongest of Ephor Anthals. Nothing the Elders could do would ruin him! Nothing they could do would destroy him! If he had to fight, tooth and claw, to serve Clan Vidar, he would. But in the end, he would prevail, because he was strong! Like all predators, kitsune respected strength. Even in light of his failure in the south, he had that going for him. He was no child – he would not quail before the Council, and they would respect him for it, even if his pride was more hubris than anything else.
Three days later, he arrived at the border of lands belonging to Clan Vidar. He stopped only briefly at a camp that paid homage to him as leader, not as guest, before resuming his trek. A week later, he finally saw one of the Four Great Trees of Vidar, planted by the Clan Founder so many ages ago. By this time, his approach was well known, as kitsune in other Vidar camps psionically contacted their relatives in Vidaran. As he neared the large camp, Vidar kitsune in full armor lined up to welcome him by displaying their battle readiness. Tempest nodded to them as he walked past.
Halfway to the center of the camp, two kitsune females stood in his way. The first was obviously older; well into her forties. Her long red hair, somewhat paler than Sally or Kae'Arah's, flowed freely. Only younger females typically braided their hair. She stood at attention, but still managed a look of slight disdain as her son approached. Next to her, Tempest's younger sister, Chara, also stood at attention. Her coat was the unremarkable tan of their family, and her hair was an even darker midnight black. It matched the less common black chest fur and tail tips that both children had inherited from their mother.
"How fares the defense of my realm?" Tempest asked the two females, imbuing his voice with the harsh and authoritarian tone he had inherited from his father.
"No foes of Vidar sleep on our lands, Great Ephor," Tempest's mother, Urania Se' Kedennish Na' Vidar, answered first. Until Chara sire-slayed her mother, she would always be of lower rank, and thus not entitled to speak first. "However, my son and Noble Ephor, I must report yet another intrusion of automatons in service to the southern 'Tah."
Tempest smirked, catching his mother by surprise. "Good Mother, I would not worry so much over another intrusion by them for some time."
As if to cut short his good news, his mother then added, "I have also heard rumors of overlanders in kitsune lands…"
"Eh?" That did catch Tempest by surprise, and he hid it poorly. "Humans on our lands?"
"Not our lands, but the lands of Clan Jel'Arah." Urania have him a sly look. "Otherwise, all is as you left it. A Tukaido guest wishes an audience with you, as well, and has for several days now. I expect he will have much to complain about, given your fair sister's poor treatment of him."
"Chara…" Tempest growled.
"Our honorable guest is a drunkard, a pervert, and a weakling." Chara growled in response. "In other words, a typical Tukaido sneak thief. He thought his charms would work on an Ephor's sister." She scoffed. "They didn't."
Tempest shook his head at his sister's antics.
"I will deal with these matters after meeting with the Council." He pointed to the two females, and motioned for them to step aside. They did so without a word. Taking a few steps past them, he paused and added. "It is good to see you both once more. Wish me fortune in the coming hours."
Without waiting for a response, he headed towards the standing stones in the middle of the camp. Leaving his weapons behind, he felt his footfalls leave soft grassy earth to tread on ancient marble. He had done this before, and would likely do so many times again, but the experience never got any more comfortable. His body tingled as he entered the circle of stones – great twenty-foot monoliths of the most ancient architecture. Standing in the center, he heard voice, whispered and wizened. The world grew darker and darker, and the voices clear and clearer, until…
He found himself in limbo.
"Welcome, Tempest Se' Taima Na' Vidar," said a chorus of voices. "Ephor Anthal Na' Vidar. He who has seen and spoken to the Lords of the Ice. We, the Grand Council of the Kitsune Elders, will now speak with you. Hide Nothing From Us, For Here We See All."
Tempest looked up into the endless night that surrounded him.
"I acknowledge the Authority and Power of the Council, and offer myself for your judgment…" He took a deep breath. "For I have failed in the task you asked of me."
"Of that, Honorable Ephor Anthal," The Council said as one. "We shall be the Judge."
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Fingers pinched the leaf and picked it from the forest floor. Those same fingers quickly brought it up to a sensitive nose that twitched, twice, taking in sharp breaths of air. Slowly, the fingers lowered, and a lone figure stood up.
He looked to the west.
"Finally..."
-----
"W… What? Wait! Just who are you, and what are you doing here?" Sally backed up, but bumped into Tails. Strangely, the young fox was just standing there, staring at the new comer's torso - and tails.
"He hides behind you like a frightened whelp." The fox tilted his head slightly. "Tempest is my name. Tempest Na'Vidar. Of the Family Taima. Of the Clan Vidar. And that not so young pup there is Miles Na'Turo. I am to bring him home."
-----
"I don't know what you're talking about…" Tails voice was resolute. "But these are my friends. They are not Prey!"
-----
"The Hedgehog!?" Tempest suddenly blurted out. "You lie! He was raised by a low born 'Tah?! How could even you allow this to come to pass?"
"It was too late when I was finding them." Antoine didn't flinch at the insult. "And… I did not think myself fit to try…"
"He is a Prey," Tempest hissed, "I will NOT acknowledge his claim. Not in a thousand cycles! Not when the poles bleed red and the skies snow fire and ash!"
-----
Tempest growled at the insult to his honor and his clan. "Your plots are as obvious as they are fruitless, Keionah. I accept, in the name of my Clan. What is this contest to be that I will be bested by a little hedgehog in it?"
"A race," Antoine quickly answered, before Sonic could speak up.
-----
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The Darkness broke, leaving Tempest swaying on his feet. He heard murmured voices, but knew they were actually thoughts transmitted through the ether. Stepping into the Circled Stoned had allowed the far off Council a stronger link to his mind. A moment's lowering of his natural Kitsune mental defenses had drawn him into their world, more than they into his mind. The actual Council had no physical location, but existed in the minds of all the Elders of which it was a part.
"Ephor Anthal," came a distinct voice. "Are we to believe that you, the greatest warrior of Clan Vidar, lost a footrace to a mere mobian hedgehog?"
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And then, to Tempest's surprise, the hedgehog accelerated AGAIN, up and over a hill, spinning as he did to avoid wind resistance and bash through a log in his path.
"I… Incredible…" The hunter thought to himself, watching Sonic rapidly catch up to him. "Looks like the little rutter was right after all…"
-----
"The name is Sonic!!" The hedgehog in question yelled. "Remember it!"
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"What is true, simply is, Elder." Tempest bowed his metaphorical head. "I was not able to match the speed of the southerner called Sonic the Hedgehog. Had the race occurred in a flat plain, you would have seen his true speed, which, I hear, is considerable. No: No Kitsune, I think, could have beaten Sonic in a race. No living Kitsune."
"What you say sounds almost too fanciful to believe, Ephor Anthal." A few more murmurings, and then: "An Adept. The hedgehog is a Chaos Adept."
"A Powerful One," Tempest added.
"This does not, then, reflect so poorly on your performance, Ephor Anthal. However…" Tempest didn't like the sound of that particular word and tone. "However: a vein of thought had arisen among the Elders. Can you conjecture as to what it is?""
There was no need. Tempest knew.
"You wish to be certain that a race was necessary."
"This is truth, Ephor Anthal. We have seen the memories. There are those…" The Elder was canny enough not to mention how many, and whether they were a majority or minority opinion. "Who question your decision to play along with these southern mobians. You were sent south to retrieve the son of Eblis and Aurora, not to fraternize with mobian … 'Freedom Fighters.'"
'Fraternize?' Tempest wondered, and knew the Elders would hear his loud thoughts, but hoped they wouldn't grasp the full depth of why he had zeroed in on that one word.
"Elders of the Kitsune," Tempest thought/spoke; projecting his voice into non-space. "As you must know, the thought of taking the boy by force was one of many avenues I contemplated using. The city of Knothole was not too large, and I have no doubt that I could have killed any of the 'Freedom Fighters' who would oppose my actions, however I ruled it out as unlikely to succeed in the long run."
"I saw," he continued. "Right away, that the boy was taken in with the southerners. I had to make him leave of his own volition, and I gauged that, in a matter of weeks, he would want to travel north anyway. I was willing to wait for that time, rather than act hastily and try and take him north by force. Had I done so, I am convinced that he would have fled south at the first opportunity."
Tempest knew how hard that would be for the Elders to grasp.
It would have seemed equally as insane to himself of a few years ago. Now… now he was different. He had a broader and more accepting view of the southern mentality. Still, superimposing that mentality on a fellow Kitsune felt… wrong. Fundamentally wrong.
"What you say," An Elder spoke up. "You earnestly believe. How strange, if truth."
"Shall we continue?" Another asked. "I feel from his memories that we are missing something important within this timeframe."
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"Were they good people? Why were they killed, and not everyone else?"
"You misunderstand," Tempest said softly. "They left the village and did not wish to part with you. They went south as a raiding party with the blessings of the Turo War Leader to take the head of some mobian commander. The exact circumstances around their deaths remain a mystery."
Tails was aghast. "They were Raiders?!"
"They were warriors … Tails. Your people are warriors. We do not make secretaries and factory workers, my boy. The blood of a thousand generations of proud fighting males and females, the fiercest and greatest ever to live, flows in your veins. You feel it. Now, more than ever."
-----
"He won, didn't he?" Tails stated, as if reading Tempest's face.
"He did at that, young Turo." Tempest walked past him, to the Ring Pool. "He was faster than I. …And I will not let such a worthy Prey die in a ditch dug by his own feet. He has bested me, but there is yet one other who I know could be faster than he."
"Who?" Tails asked, before looking over to Sonic's unconscious body. "Faster than Sonic?"
"You, of course. In the fullness of time, I am confident you will outpace him." Tempest relaxed against a tree. "And I'm not leaving 'till I see that day come to pass."
-----
"A Chaos Emerald?"
"Yes… that is the echidna name for them, but an 'Emerald' implies that it is green, and most Gems of Chaos are not..."
Tails made a frown. "You've never mentioned them before."
"Why should it matter?" Tempest asked. "Why this big interest in the Gems of Chaos?"
"Because…" Tails licked his lips, remembering the feeling of power he'd once had. "I've worked with them. I've held them. And more!"
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"Interesting." One of the Elders paused the flashes of memory. "And you believe this to be truth, Ephor Anthal?"
"I do, Elder." To Tempest, it didn't matter whether the Elder was of Clan Vidar or not. They were all of equal status and standing. "The boy was not one for idle exaggeration. Furthermore, from what I later saw, I am left with no doubt that he has not just seen and held the Chaos Gems before… but used them."
"Used them?" A different Elder sounded insulted by the thought. "Already?"
Tempest was about to answer, when the last word the Elder had spoken repeated in his mind. 'Already?'
"Elders?" He prompted.
"We continue," The Elder from before answered, tone harsh. And it was so.
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"Tails! Finish this NOW!" Tempest demanded. Tails looked over his shoulder, and his eyes met Tempest's. For a second, he was defiant; then, without pause, Tails' wrapped his arm around the lion's neck, and snapped the head around 180 degrees.
"Happy?" the boy asked, innocently.
Walking over Tails' kill, Tempest let himself tower over the still shorter pupil he had been training. Tails' met his mentor's gaze for only an instant, before a backhand to his face sent the young hunter flying, to the ground. For a second, Tails' eyes glazed over, then, suddenly, tears welled up, and he looked back over to the warrior standing over his kill.
"There is no honor in torture, boy." Tempest pointed down at the cougar's body. "This kill… has disgraced you."
"I'm… I'm sorry… I…" Tails felt more tears come to the surface and hid his face. "I… I… I don't know what… I'm so sorry..."
"Strength without honor… is only tyranny." Tempest, kept his gaze cold, hard. "Why do we Hunt?"
"For food…" Tails answered. "And for honor."
"Honor," Tempest stressed, "Honor!"
Tails saw his hands, white gloves stained crimson. "This… this isn't me… I'm not a killer!"
Tempest sighed, and walked over to the young warrior. "Tails…"
"I'm sorry!" Tails looked up, and, without warning, wrapped his arms around Tempest's neck. "I'm sorry! Don't leave! I won't do it again!"
"It's ok, boy…it's ok… I'm not leaving…" Tempest suddenly remembered this boy, just moments before, had broken the neck of a mountain lion like a twig, but put aside the thought. "I know you're sorry…."
"I wanna go home…" Tails cried into his shoulder.
"Ok, little warrior. Ok…"
-----
"I am." Tails paused. "Ready to Train. Though… I would prefer, today, if we stayed here."
"In Knothole?" Tempest asked. "Isn't this the day you normally go out on patrol for her Highness?"
"Be both know the answer to that," Tails spoke frankly. "You're taking my place, aren't you?"
"Yes," Tempest said after a second's delay. "How do you feel, Tails?"
"Well…" Tails cracked his neck to the side to flex it. "Well enough. Just…"
"What?"
"Hungry…" Tails said it almost guiltily.
-----
"Someone's headed our way, boy," Tempest kept his eyes closed, and thought. "Smells like rabbit. Southwestern Softtail"
"It's Amanda" Tails thought back.
"Odd… I've never smelt her around before"
"She just came here. I met her yesterday"
"Oh? Was she the one who…"
"Yes"
"Ah" Tempest smiled mentally. "Hope you don't get too attached to her"
"Why's that" Tails thought/asked.
"Your family already has a slew of potential mates waiting for you back home. Females of your own breed and kind"
"Well… that's certainly sounds nice and all, but it doesn't explain why I can't get attached to Amanda"
"She's a 'Tah"
"Don't call her that" Tails thought with force behind it. "'Tah is a derogatory term"
"But it's true. A Wolf, or even a One-Tail I could understand… but you cannot form a pair bond with a female who is not of the Second Race"
"And what would you say if I love her"
"I'd say that love is irrelevant. It is impossible to bond outside of the Second Race. It cannot be done, and making an attempt is forbidden"
-----
-----
"What is this?" One of the Elders practically roared. "This is unforgivable, Tempest!"
Tempest's mane and tail bristled at the tone and the threat. "The boy was already…"
"It occurred in your absence, while you were out on this 'Patrol' freeing up time for the boy to train, is this not truth?" The elder queried, tersely.
"It is truth, yes…"
"And it was your decision to leave him to his own devices, is this not also correct? To leave him without supervision?"
"Ah… yes. That is also truth, however…"
"Then the fault lies with you, Ephor Anthal! To allow the child of Eblis to develop an emotional attachment to some low born Prey animal…!"
"With all due respect, Elder," Tempest interrupted. "The boy already had emotional attachments to low born prey animals long before you and yours tasked me to retrieve him."
The Elder practically hissed in anger.
However, another voice spoke, cutting the confrontation short. "Let us take some moments to rest and contemplate what we have learned. The Council will meet with you in three hours time, is this acceptable, Honorable Ephor?"
Tempest inclined his head in respectful thanks. "It is, Elder."
And, like that, it was over.
Standing up, alone, amid the Circled Stones, Tempest shook his head to clear it of any lingering voices. With his barriers back up, everything returned to normal. There was only himself, and the traces of his father and grandfather, who were content at the moment to remain silent. This was good. Tempest knew his (lower nobility) grandfather had a dislike for the Council in general, after having gotten in numerous doctrinal arguments with one of its members. Still…
Some of what the Elders had said bothered him.
As he walked towards his hearth, he thought about that. They knew Miles' name – why not use it? Why repeatedly call him the son or child of Eblis? Was there something regarding Tails' father that Tempest had not been privy to? It would be something to ponder, while he waited.
At least they hadn't suspected anything unusual involving Princess Sally.
Emboldened by that, Tempest almost didn't notice the wizened figure approaching him. When he did, however, the Ephor Anthal Na' Vidar recognized the kitsune perfectly. His was not a Clan that produced a great many Elders of note, but Mercer Na' Vidar was one of those exceptional few. Mercer wore the cloak of an Elder, but also adorned it with a long pair of blue prayer beads around his throat and over his left shoulder. His dark fur had paled slightly with age, but he still stood dignified and straight, even after over (at least) seventy years of life.
"I greet you, Good Elder." Tempest raised a hand in salute. "I did not hear you speak when I met with the Council, and was unsure whether you wished to see me or not."
Mercer approached slowly, and fell in step alongside Tempest. It was something very few kitsune would have felt bold enough to do. Tempest slowed his own walking, so the Elder could keep pace more easily. He still hadn't spoken.
"Elder?" Tempest prompted again. "Is something the matter?"
"Honorable Ephor Anthal…" Mercer looked at Tempest with piercing black eyes. "I wish to discuss with you a matter of no small importance."
"Oh?" Tempest asked. "And that is…?"
Mercer wasn't smiling. "Princess Sarah Acorn. 'Sally' as you seem to call her."
Tempest blinked, hard, and faced forward.
"Yes. There is that," was all he said.
At least at first.
