More forsaken

[thelorax42.livejournal.com]

H short fiction


He had seen his whole choir. The wolf-born. The spirit-changers. Those who claimed Luna as a patron and those who rejected her most holy light. All of the Descants had been present, wolf-of wars, dreaming-wolves, wolves-of-sundered-halves, witch-wolves and darkness-wolves. He had brought with him his court, Lizzie and Max, with Sine staying to protect their home. He had been rejected from his choir.

There had been a threat to both worlds, spirit and flesh. There had been wolves-of-heresy, the ones who reject the most holy mother Luna. There had been many. H did not mind this, they were threat-of-flesh. If they needed solving as a problem, then Max or since or Lizzie would tell him to solve it. But Max-alpha had not asked that, knowing that was not H-omega's strength. He had asked H to solve spirit-threat.

He had called brood of Death wolf to him, some witch-wolves, some wolves-of-sundered-halves so of the other descants. They had sought answers from their brood. Price was paid. Life was spilled. Little death. Ritual. Pain.

He had send some witch-wolves to speak to ithlunim. Beseech wisdom. He had followed Max-Alpha's orders and he had tried to solve threat-of-spirit, on the strangely living ground. He had solved it. That should be enough. It should be. H-omega was a tool. For his pack to use. A tool which would one day be expended. He knew this. They made ritual cries it was not the case. but he knew this to be always true, as he knew sky was above, scalars and vectors could not produce a cross product and sparks hated cogs. But it was not enough. This made dissonance in H's head. He was not what he should be. Maybe this was what it felt to be magath. He hoped not. He would be a broken tool.

He had faced his choir and found it's scorn. This was the thing which made the success not enough. That tempted magath. That broke him down. Witch-wolves had not turned from him. But he had bled, essence and corpus to protect others, as was way of Witch-wolf. but by ancient compact, surely this gave some surcease, or was his chimanage payment to be mockery? Perhaps, a worthy idea, to follow. If so, he was well paid indeed. Perhaps he was magath, and thus outcast already. He would ask. But who to ask? Lizzie who was closest in brood? A witch-wolf for their wisdom?

H looked down on the blood pooling below him, where his thoughts had played out in claw and sigil on his own flesh. Saw the wounds heal. Empherial ants crawled, a black carpet of chitin and pain over him to gnaw at the pain and the blood, and to add their own little gift of agony. H writhed. Then he stood.

He stood with a new look of determination in his eyes. "I have been a fool. " it muttered to itself. " a colossal fool, and I hope the mother can forgive me." as he padded to his computer. He had to make amends....