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The Return

Chapter 76

Etienne couldn't sleep. Crawley hadn't been back in such a long time. He sent Kesuk and Reed to find Crawley, thinking that maybe those mastiffs down at the bar had recognized him and perhaps jumped him out in the alley. Reed and Kesuk left, and Etienne stood at the window, looking out and thinking nervously of what the morrow would bring. They would reach the castle the next day, and then his true mettle as a king -- and as a demigod -- would be tested. He didn't think he could sleep. Even with a full a belly.

Connell, on the other hand, didn't have a problem dozing off on one of the beds. The sound of his soft breathing soon filled the room as Judith sat at the rickety table near the window, pouring over one of her father's journals. Her chin was in her fist and her long black mane draped as usual over her face. Etienne tried to picture her walking about Howlester, bending over with her backside in the air to dust and scrub floors, and Connell would have walked by and seen her and wanted her. He had to admit it: Judith didn't have a bad body. She had a teeny waist and perky breasts always poking sharp behind her apron. Males stared at her wherever they went, and the more Etienne came to like Judith as a friend, the more he wanted to knock those males' heads off.

"What's the matter, your majesty?" Judith said without looking up from her journal.

Etienne snorted. "What isn't the matter? Tomorrow I've got to face Hellene -- who has some kind of . . . super powers. And I'm going to be attacked by a big black fox, who also has some kind of super powers. Meanwhile, I'm just some idiot who was given minor magical abilities and told to face them both . . . and I don't know where Azrian is." He frowned sadly as he peered out the window. "No. Nothing's the matter at all."

"I'm sorry, your majesty. What I meant was: would you like to talk?" Judith said calmly. She still hadn't looked up from the journal.

"Sure, why not?" Etienne said wearily and sat at the table opposite her.

They sat in silence for a while. Judith kept reading. And Etienne watched her read. His eyes felt tired and strained, and he knew he should try to sleep . . . but he just couldn't.

"Has Ti'uu told you anything else?"

"No, your majesty."

"When are you going to stop calling me your majesty?" Etienne laughed.

Judith lifted her face to him for the first time and sat very still, as if she didn't understand. "What should I call you? Is 'your highness' more appropriate?"

"How about Etienne?"

"Alright . . . Etienne." She smiled.

Etienne smiled.

And she went back to reading.

"So your eyes . . . Explain this to me, Judith. You can use them to . . . manipulate?"

"No," Judith said without looking up. "Those who meet my gaze are awe-struck by the gaze of Ti'uu. I see with his eyes and his light. They are too in awe of his light to do anything but listen and comply. It is a blessing."

Etienne laughed softly. "I'll say. So . . . you said Ti'uu hears what you hear and sees what you see . . . Does this mean I can talk to him right now? What if I looked into your eyes? Would I fall under his spell?"

"No. You have been gifted half-life. And by him. Ti'uu's light would not dazzle you. As a demigod, you are not meant to worship but to be worshipped."

"Half-life . . .?"

"You are half-immortal, half-mortal. You will live a bit longer and enjoy abilities others can not. But all demigods eventually age and die. It just takes a long time. And for many, it feels like an eternity. You might sit on the throne of Varimore for ages beyond counting. And the dogs will love and worship you as the Second Coming of King Antony."

". . . ah."

"What are you two on about?" Connell groaned. They saw him ease up from the bed, his mane tousled and his eyes tired. "I've gotta take a leak. I'll be right back."

"Check on Kesuk and the others, would you? They haven't returned," said Etienne with a worried frown.

"Right-o, your majesty," Connell said pleasantly and his boots stomped out the door.

But Connell never returned either, and Etienne was getting worried. He began to pace the room, even as Judith kept reading. Finally, he sat down opposite her and took a breath.

"I have to know what's going on. Judith . . . let me speak to Ti'uu."

Judith slowly lifted her face, and he could feel her hesitating. "Etienne . . . My blessing is not meant for communication. It is meant only that he may look directly upon the world."

"Let me speak to him," Etienne repeated, almost angrily.

Judith slowly closed the journal. "Alright. But I can't hold the Light for long. It will drain me. You must be quick."

"Fine."

Judith slowly rose from her chair, and Etienne was surprised when she came around the table and sat in his lap. She turned her face to him . . . and slowly lifted her mane from her eyes. Her eyes were swirling golden like the fire of the sun, and Etienne stiffened as light blinded him. He resisted the urge to shield his eyes and instead put his arms around Judith. He drew her close and forced himself to peer into the light, past the shimmering, past the pain of that brightness, until he could see Ti'uu's eyes gazing intently at him.

Why do you drain my vessel? the god scolded, speaking into Etienne's mind.

Sorry, Etienne returned derisively, I needed to speak to you. But I promise I'll have her back in one piece. Wouldn't want you to lose your fuck toy.

Ti'uu's golden eyes frowned. If this is about Azrian then say so. Do not waste breath with casual insults. Judith's every heartbeat could be her last.

Fine. It's about Azrian. Where is she? How can I help her?

She doesn't need your help. Nor does she want it.

Etienne gritted his fangs. Then where is my escort? Tell me that!

They have -- Ti'uu's words were swallowed by Judith's cry of pain, the light dissolved, and Judith swooned back. Etienne fumbled to catch her, but the sudden snapping off of the light flashed painfully across his eyes and he reeled in a daze. He and Judith collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor. And stayed that way all night.

The next morning, Etienne awoke with his head throbbing, a steady rhythm of agony that momentarily blinded him. The escort was still no where to be seen, but Judith lay on the floor beside him, her mane back from her face. He gasped to see that her eyes were white, but he was quick to realize they were only rolled back in her head. He felt for a pulse and was relieved to find her heart beating, if not shallowly. He patted her paw, trying to ignore how limply it flopped when he lifted it. She didn't respond.

"Come on, Judith," Etienne whispered miserably and lightly tapped her face. If she died, it was his fault. She had warned him about talking to Ti'uu, had warned him about taking too long. "Judith!" he begged when she remained unmoved.

Etienne held back a miserable sob as he tried to decide what to do. He went to the window and looked out. The bells were tolling at Wychowl, and dogs were gathering in the morning sunlight to make their way toward the castle. A public execution then.

"That whore," Etienne whispered as the realization hit him: Hellene had arrested his escort. And Crawley had wondered why he wanted to sneak in! By killing his escort, the princess was eliminating his allies, which would make maintaining control all the easier. The council, the court, everyone would be on her side, would support her violent methods to protect Varimore from the foxes, and Etienne would have no support of his own. They would think his mind had been muddled by fox magic, that he had been manipulated by the "savages" while living with them. But Hellene hadn't counted on one thing: he was a demigod now too. He gritted his fangs as he glared out the window: Not today, bitch.

Etienne whirled. Judith was moaning and coming awake. He ripped off his cloak, and the shadow of his wings spread over her. Her lashes fluttered and she smiled weakly to see him standing over, wings spread and grim. He must've looked like a god to her. He gathered her in his arms and swept with her out the window, and she moaned happily as she clung to him.

Etienne hated flying. All his life, he'd wondered what it was like to be a bird. Now he knew. And he hated it. Bugs kept slapping his face, foul smells reached him a lot quicker, and there was this inescapable fear of falling to his death that never left him.

Judith clung tight to Etienne's neck, and as her mane whipped back from her eyes, he could see that her eyes were no longer golden. Instead, her eyes were the prettiest hazel, round and almond-shaped, like a child's: she had lost her blessing. It suddenly hit Etienne that he was really on his own now: Ti'uu could not see him to help him.

Judith smiled up at Etienne. "They already love you," she said blissfully.

Etienne glanced down as they soared toward the castle, and he could see the dogs running like ants below, stopping to point and gawk at the "return" of King Antony. Females screamed and fainted, children ran and hopped in circles, elderly dogs pointed their canes, while others dropped their brooms mid-sweep, dropped their newspapers, spilled their tea. Etienne could hear the shout, "KING ANTONY'S RETURNED!" and asked himself why his subjects loved King Antony so greatly. Sure, King Antony had been a great king, had conquered the world for the dogs, and might have been created by Hildrith'el . . . but he was also an abusive bastard who enslaved, raped, and executed the foxes' beloved high queen, who had surrendered to him willingly. None of his great deeds could ever exonerate that.

They swept fast over the town square, and Etienne's heart skipped a beat when he noticed the dead foxes swinging there. Disgusting. Not only did Hellene have to kill them, but she had to put them on display to gloat?

Spurred on by his anger, Etienne flew even faster, the bells of Wychowl ringing in his heart. They sped over the gates as mastiff guards pointed and shouted, over the long drive, over the first battlement wall. Then the stables and the training yard came and went, and they were hovering over the dirt yard where the scaffold stood. A large crowd had amassed there already, and drums were rolling steadily as Kesuk, Crawley, Connell, and Reed all stood with nooses fastened around their necks and their paws bound behind their backs: apparently, they were not important enough to behead.

Hellene was standing calmly on the scaffold beside the executioner, clad in a black gown, her paws folded neatly over her slender belly. Etienne dragged his angry eyes from her and recognized Captain Carnell, who stood farther down the scaffold, reading aloud the crimes of the convicted.

". . . executed this day for having kidnapped his majesty the prince and conspiring with foxes against the throne! Suluk Kesuk, a foreigner and a traitor to the crown, widely known as a savage sympathizer! Floyd Crawley, convicted once as a sexual predator, now a traitor to his queen! Albert Connell, a leader of the conspiracy to overthrow Queen Donica --!"

Etienne saw Connell laugh loudly at the irony of the false charges.

"Get on with it!" the crowds roared.

"DEATH TO THE TRAITORS!"

"Give them what they want," Hellene said with a casual wave at the executioner.

"No!" Etienne shouted. "Release them! I command it!" Several heads turned in a ripple, the crowds pointed and gasped, but Etienne had shouted too late: the executioner pulled the switch. Judith screamed as Connell's body dropped and swung. Etienne held her tightly and swooped low toward the platform, shooting lightning from his paw as he came. The crowds screamed and scrambled as lightning etched the world in black and white, as the ropes were singed, the wooden poles snapped, and the four guards dropped to the scaffold like sacks. Fire licked across the platform from the blast, spreading sudden and fast.

Etienne had barely landed on the scaffold when Judith tore herself from his arms and ran to Connell's limp body. He wasn't moving. And neither were the other guards. She threw herself over him and wept desperately.

As the smoke of Etienne's fire and lightning blackened the air, the crowds continued to scream and scurry. Hellene strutted to Etienne though the smoke, a smirk on her red face, her paws folded over her belly.

Etienne glared at her. "Hellene. You're looking lovely_this evening. There's a murderous glint in your eye that simply _suits you."

Hellene waved a careless paw. "Nothing like an execution to put color in your cheeks," she said wistfully, her ballooning skirts swaying as she came. She stopped before Etienne when they were face to face. "But this isn't the Etienne I know. Actually showing some spine, actually giving commands," she said in derisive amazement and her eyes widened.

Etienne glared.

"Or could it be," Hellene went on, and began to circle him, her heels clicking as she looked him up and down, "that this isn't Etienne at all? Who are you really? Perhaps Azrian? Come back for another_spanking_?"

Etienne's chest heaved, and without warning, he back-smacked Hellene off the scaffold. She never saw it coming. The crowds screamed as the princess went tumbling away, her black dress flapping as she spiraled through the smoke and scattered it. There was a nasty crack when she hit the far wall and flopped motionless to the ground.

"Your majesty!" Captain Carnell wailed. Etienne saw the captain drag himself up from the wood and rubble of the collapsed poles. He staggered over Kesuk's staring face, and snarling, he grabbed Judith by the mane and hauled her to her feet, placing his sword at her throat.

Etienne stiffened. "Let her go!"

"Back away, creature!" Captain Carnell roared at him. "You are no prince of mine!" His mane was tumbling in his face, his eyes were wild. Some of his soldiers had run to Hellene and were looking for her in the smoke.

Etienne lifted his paw, and the captain's sword glowed red. Carnell screamed in agony and dropped the sword when it burned his fingers until the flesh bubbled. He raised his blackened paw to his face and looked at it in horror. Judith reacted instantly: she grabbed a piece of the broken wood and whacked him in the face with it. Blood tossed and he went over in a heap, tumbling off the scaffold altogether and into the crowd. Judith peered down at him, her fangs bare in a grimace.

Etienne suddenly felt foolish for bringing Judith to Wychowl. He had to get her away. He made a move toward her. "Judi --!" The shout was cut off in his throat when Hellene smacked him over the wings with something. Hard. He staggered to his knees and grunted when she grabbed him by the mane and yanked his head back.

"Remember," she hissed in his ear, "when we were little pups and I'd grab you by the mane? Such precious moments we SHARED!" she roared and tossed him away from her.

Etienne growled as the pain tore through his scalp, and he thought he felt a chunk of his mane snatch free. Blood trickled hot down his eyes and he flapped his wings, frantic to avoid colliding with the wall. He had barely righted himself when Hellene was upon him. She pulled her fist back and brought it across his face. His head snapped back, and he felt his teeth shuddering. Her fist came again, but he caught it, and they glared at each other as they strained. Etienne gritted his teeth. It felt like she was trying to punch through his paw.

"You . . . can't win . . ." Hellene panted, her arm shaking violently as she drove her fist against him. Her face was twisted, and her red mane was singed from his lightning and had come loose of its snood. It flapped behind her in the wind, ragged and wild.

"I . . . can win," Etienne panted back. "And I won't . . . . let you hurt anyone else!" He snapped her fist to the side and heard bones crack.

Hellene screamed as her wrist shattered. But she countered with another punch that sent Etienne through the wall. The prince tumbled, the pain spreading over his back and wings as he hit the fallen rubble and skidded to a stop. More bricks were falling and shattering, pushing up clouds of dust that choked him. He rolled away to avoid the shower and crashed into a table, bringing it down. Hellene appeared standing over him, and his mouth fell open: wings of fire were blazing on her back, and the glow lit her glaring face ghoulishly from beneath.

"Did you really think," she hissed, grabbing him by the throat. She lifted him, choking, above her head, "that you could come here and I wouldn't know? I knew you were in Statney Grove. I knew you were with the savages. My spies saw you, fool. And now all the council knows what a savage lover you are." She shook her head. "No one is going to listen to you. Even if you win. Even if you become king. No one is going to care."

Etienne kicked her without warning in the face. She flipped back with a scream, leaving him to drop to the floor as she spiraled into a couch and two chairs. The couch banged over as she crashed into it, and one of the chairs fell on her head.

Etienne dragged himself up, coughing away the pain in his throat as he muttered, "I always wanted to hit you with a chair."

Hellene wasn't moving, but that was just too good to be true. Staggering and spitting blood, Etienne dragged up a large brick and lifted it. He found Hellene lying in the pile of shattered furniture, limp and beautiful, her back snapped across the couch, her red mane spilling across the floor. Her skirt was torn and the wire of the loops was bent and dripping blood: the snapped wire had cut her slender leg. Her breasts were gently rising and falling, and her wings of fire were fluttering weakly -- even as they slowly set fire to the room. Already, the couch was blazing softly.

"I hate to hit a lady but . . . you're no lady." Etienne slowly lifted the brick. It was enormous, one of the bricks from the wall, and he was surprised by just how easily he could lift it. He was about to bring it down when someone grabbed him by the tail and yanked. The brick crashed to the floor and shattered a chair as Etienne was sent flying. He tumbled into the yard again, rolling feet over head, unable to stop as the crowds ran in confusion and horror. His body finally crashed into a wall. He lay on his side, breathing raggedly. One of his wings flopped weakly over his shoulder, and peering through the blood that ran in his eyes, he could see the scaffold blazing away. Guards were scrambling to put the fire out, even as others were trying to arrest Judith. Judith fought back viciously, her efforts knocking Crawley's lifeless body off the scaffold and into the crowd.

Etienne tried to move. His head was spinning, but he had to get up, he had to help Judith. His finger twitched as he willed his arm to move, and he was sluggishly pulling himself into a sitting position when a pair of black legs appeared before him.

"So you're the one," said a deep voice, "who she obsesses over."

Etienne slowly raised his eyes and went still. It was the black fox. The black fox from the mural. And. . . he was blind. His eye sockets were covered in shriveled, bloody eyelids, and dried blood caked his face. He stood over Etienne in a short white skirt with a gold belt, his rippling belly tight with anger, his great black wings a fierce shadow behind him. He was holding a dagger tight in his fist. The dagger appeared to be made of glass, as Etienne could see the blazing scaffold through its blade.

"And you're the one," Etienne said, dragging himself to his feet, "who grabbed me by the tail a minute ago. And . . . aha. You're blind. That's . . . amazing."

The black fox tensed, his long mane beating about him in the wind. "I can see yet," he growled and brought the dagger down. Etienne caught his wrist, and they strained against each other.

"All she ever talked_about," the fox growled, spit flying in Etienne's face, "was _you."

"Oh?" Etienne smiled. "Good to know." He shoved.

The black fox went soaring back, but he flipped through the air and had righted himself before Etienne reached him. They battled in the sky, punching, roaring, as below, the scaffold blazed to the high sun, dogs screamed, guards yelled, and Judith killed Captain Carnell with a brick to his face. Several dogs screamed in horror, more guards were coming, the fire was spreading.

"I'll make sure," the black fox rasped, swinging at Etienne, punching, snarling, "she never thinks of you again."

"Really? I think if you kill me --" Etienne dodged "-- she's gonna be thinking of me all the time."

"Rrrraaa!" The black fox lunged, tackling Etienne around his middle and through a wall. They crashed into a bedchamber, slamming the bed across the room, dragging down shelves, and dissolving the glass of a vanity as they fell. They landed awkwardly over the back of a couch, and the black fox put the dagger in his teeth and closed his big paws around Etienne's throat, slowly strangling him.

The fox opened his bloody eyelids, and Etienne realized he did indeed have eyes, if not injured and weak from some recent battle. He had silver eyes cold as distant stars, and they narrowed on Etienne's straining face as he squeezed.

Etienne sputtered weakly, and a chill went through his fur to see how coldly satisfied the fox was to watch him die. He poked the fox in one of his bloody eyes. The fox roared and the dagger fell from his mouth as he let go. Etienne didn't hesitate: he grabbed the fox by the throat and they slammed to the floor -- so hard, the floor crumbled beneath them. They fell through to the next floor and landed with an earth-shattering bang on the scattered rubble there. More shelves came down, and an entire bookshelf toppled over and crashed through a window. Etienne winced in the sudden spray of glass. He lifted his face and recognized the room where he had left Hellene . . . only she was gone.

"Shit," Etienne whispered. He glanced around and his eyes alighted on the glass dagger, which had come through the ceiling with them and lay only feet away. But the fox saw it too. His face twisted angrily. He backslapped Etienne away and scrambled for it.

Etienne tumbled through the rubble and caught himself. He sat up, spitting blood as the black fox slowly approached with the dagger. The fox back-slapped him again, and his head snapped back, hitting the sharp corner of a table. Red spots danced before his eyes. He crawled feebly and blindly, spitting blood, reaching. The black fox kicked him in the side and he tumbled over. The fox kicked him again. And again. Etienne curled under the blows, as outside, he could hear the screaming intensify.

Light filled the shattered window, blazing so brightly, Etienne had to shield his eyes, and the black fox stopped kicking him to stare. The earth was shaking, dust was rising, little pebbles and shattered bits of wood trembled and leapt near Etienne's face. An oil lamp fell over, shattering near the fox's foot. Dust and debris fell from the hole in the ceiling as the shaking continued. Etienne peered out the window and felt the floor vibrating under him. He blinked: a second sun was rising in the sky.

The black also blinked out the window, mystified by the light. But determined not to let the apparition distract him, he wheeled around, his lip curling to reveal his fang as he grabbed Etienne by the throat and held him down.

Etienne's eyes widened as the fox lifted the glass dagger . . . and plunged it in his chest.