Fable - Ask The Jaws of Judgement

[Midir]

There was a myth amongst the humans of a round, jolly fat man who had a list of all the children who had been good and bad that year. On the darkest days of winter this old man with his rosy cheeks would leave presents under trees or in stockings hanging by the fireplace for all those who were good, and for those who had been naughty the sadness of having nothing to open in the morning or receiving a lump of coal was meant to remind them of the consequences of being bad. A young human had once told him the story as she lay in his arms and he played with her gold-spun hair or perked nipples. She had laughed at the similarities between this Saint and he, the Erlking, who was said to have his own list of those who had been good and those who had been bad.

She hadn't laughed when she had discovered what it was Midir did to those who had been wicked.

The King of the Autumn Court always thought of that story and that woman as he ran his eyes over the list. Delun's neat handwriting condemned each name upon the page to a gruesome death, but it was a death that needed to occur in order to keep the balance. Whilst the other courts busied themselves with the trifling issues of courtiers tricks, Midir was the one ensuring order was kept across the faerie realms. They might have all seen him as cold - his own son thought him a monster - but he had seen first hand what happened to Gods when they no longer thought themselves accountable.

He had been there when they had fallen.

"You took your time," he remarked coldly without looking up from his list as the beast behind him snarled at the smell of the approaching Hound. Unlike the other Hunts this time it was just him and one another and their list only contained one, dangerous name.

* * *

Vaer Nhimei​

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

It was a rare privilege to be titled among the Erlking’s Sluagh -- to be distinguished with the honor of his King’s favor. Like his mother before him, he was proud of his distinction as Vaer, the Penance of the Wild Hunt.

It was an even rarer privilege to be summoned to their King’s office for a private Hunt. Titled for six out of his seven centuries, he had had this honor only a handful of times. Today he added another notch in that measure, another merit that defined his place in the nebulous power structure that was the Sluagh.

The merit wouldn’t be much if he was late, however. Midir had asked for him specifically, but that favor would no doubt trickle down to another if he did not deliver the excellence the King expected from titled Hounds. Stepping into the Erlking’s office, Vaer didn’t need to look at the mantle clock to know that he was precisely on time. Which, for Vaer, meant he was actually quite late. The black shuck smoothed a nonexistent crease in his outer coat before he bowed deeply.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” No reason for his delayed arrival was offered. He didn’t grovel or make excuses; such behavior was not in his nature and quite beneath him. Today, especially, he did not wish to divulge. Vaer was a private person by nature, closely guarded against rumor and hearsay with a stiff, unrelenting stoicism. Matters inside of his household remained there, and he vetted any members of his staff whose tongues wagged too loosely outside of the estate’s high stone walls. Midir was, however, one of the very few people he was likely to confess his private affairs to if pressed. He lived by his moral set, and honesty with the King and Queen he served was high in that order of tenets.

Straightening, he stood at attention with his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes fixed on Midir. Instead of sitting and making unnecessary pleasantries, he got right to the business that brough him here.

“Have you details on our quarry?”

 

[Midir]

Dark brows slowly pulled together and darkened chipped sapphire eyes which still intently studied the information in his hands. The only sound in the room was that of the clock marking the seconds which ticked by without an answer to Vaer's question. It was not a good sign of the Erlkings mood as probably already indicated by the acidity in his tone about the time. Of course it wasn't the black shuck that was the real reason for his ire.

"Annoyingly little," he reluctantly admitted and finally looked up at one of his most trusted dogs. It was one of the rare occasions the king actually looked troubled but instead of expanding on it himself he pushed himself off the desk he had been leaning against and held the single sheet of paper out towards Vaer instead. Whilst he read, Midir began to pace the width of the room.

Cairbre was a fae as old as the Erlking himself and had been his main competition for the title of King. At least, he would have been. In the months where Midir and Cairbre's power was growing to the point the rest of the court became aware a new change of power was on the cards, Cairbre had lost his mate. The male had been inconsolable and had vanished from the Court when whispers began that it was Cairbre himself who had killed her. For centuries there had been not a whisper of him.

Until recently.

"I do not like to chase stories, Vaer," the heels of his boots clicked on the tiled floor as he walked back and forth. "But the signs all suggest it is Cairbre who has been committing these murders."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

There were few who could weather the storms of strong personalities like those that became fae royalty. They were volatile, powerful, and frightening. They commanded respect, inspired awe and fear… and generally held few people in their closest confidence.

None of those things bothered the shuck. Vaer waited patiently, his gaze fixed on the King. He was well acquainted with Midir and knew the cadence of his tempers. There was anger in the King's posture, yes, but the exasperation in his voice and eyes were the assurance Vaer needed to remain steadfast. His clipped tone was not a result of the shuck's actions, but of the situation he presumed was on the paperwork he surveyed. He was still on his guard, but not afraid.

He calmly accepted the paper and scanned its contents. A frown tugged down at the corners of his mouth in a frown that creased his dark brow.

Everyone knew about Cairbre. These days he was relegated to infamy as a cautionary tale -- a story folks told when they wanted to gossip about old scandals or sound in-the-know where it involved Midir's rise to power. The whole affair swirled with rumors about who was at fault, who was responsible. Vaer had heard it all but wasn't one to spread rumors or engage in libel.

This wasn't libel and hearsay. This was a trail of evidence that pointed toward Cairbre. Vaer gently replaced the page on the desk.

"Are you requesting further investigation?" he asked evenly, his ebony face betraying none of his concern. Midir could only have a few motivations at summoning him here. Vaer would not presume to know how far the King intended to pursue the evidence today.

As a Hound driven by justice and balance rather than violence and death, he wanted to be as certain as one could be of the quarry's guilt before he took on a bounty, and was more thorough in his investigations than others. Titled Hounds had more say in what names they took from the Lists, and Vaer always selected his mindfully. If, however, Midir sent him to collect this name in particular, he would remain loyal and execute his King's will -- and trust that Midir respected his morals in asking him to do so.

 

[Midir]

Midir was not the sort of fae who often admitted his shortcomings.

Such a characteristic was not one a leader could afford to have. It encouraged dissidence, rumours and challenges against the throne the like of which he might one day struggle to overcome. In a place like the Autumn Court where they kept the balance across the courts and ensured fae even at the height of the roguish Dawn Court kept to their unspoken rules, it was not only a characteristic he couldn't afford to have but one his court couldn't afford for him to have. The Fae had required a bogeyman and the Erlking had stepped into the role like he had been born for it. And yet...

"No."

He had admitted this shortcoming the very moment he had requested Vaer attend him. He needed a shuck who could ensure he wasn't blinded by remnants of the fae he had been before he had been the Erlking.

"I will be investigating this personally, Vaer. What I require..." Midir finally ceased his pacing and turned to face the High Lord before him, icy eyes trying to pierce into his very soul as if searching for any reason to not admit he was anything less than what the stories made of him. Today, for the first time in an age it wasn't service he required. If he had perhaps he would have gone to another shuck, one who didn't hold such a tight moral compass as Vaer. What he needed was something more. Something he struggled to spit out even now.

"Is your help."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

No. The word hung in the air and struck from the list most of the possible reasons for summons. His eyes had tracked the king’s movements, and he was already looking up when Midir’s gaze turned his way. They were as opposite as people could be in physical terms, but there was a likeness in the black shuck’s eyes. With power came responsibility, and his small taste of the King’s burden was priceless insight.

He did not falter at the admission, did not let it linger. Vaer nodded his head and immediately carried the conversation forward. He was no stranger to pride and was not the gloating type. Perhaps that was part of why he had been chosen for this assignment.

“I am in your service, Your Majesty. I am prepared to assist you however necessary.” Carefully worded, keeping it professional for the Erlking’s sake. The relationship between King and Hound was a strange one: not quite friends yet more than work associates. There was little overlap in their personal and professional lives and yet Vaer got the sense that they were treading into that gray area.

 

[Midir]

The Erlking held his Hound with his cold hard gaze for a moment that stretched on towards forever. Then finally, slowly, he nodded.

"From what I can piece together from the reports directly and indirectly about these occurrences," he begun as he turned back to the large, carefully plotted map on his desk. It was quite clear whatever murky grey area that involved showing parts of him that lay beyond the icy shore of his crown was now firmly over for the moment. "The path he is taking isn't random and it is steadily moving South, towards the City," with one long finger that would be better suited to a pianist than a killer, he traced the way from one dot to another and another. Sure enough the pattern started on the fringe of the Autumn Court lands which bordered the shard of land the Night Court claimed and snaked downwards. It wasn't a straight line but swayed like a snake in the long grass, lazily taking its time getting to its prey. Midir's brows pulled together into a frown of annoyance as he noticed it. Playing. Cairbre was playing with him.

"His next hit will be in this area," he drew his fingers around a large swathe of the Wilds. "We need to narrow it down."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

Midir watched him, and Vaer stared patiently back. After a while the Erlking left the personal business and began the professional part. Vaer stood beside the desk, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes scanning the map. Midir traced a winding line of Caibre’s progress before finally indicating the very broad area of his next potential strike.

It was such a deliberate path, easily predicted. The fae who had once been Midir’s only competition to the throne of Autumn could hardly be as foolish as this. To suspect he was making an attempt to draw the King out and challenge him for his crown was low-hanging fruit, but did not seem too far out of the realm of possibility.

The shuck’s head tipped to the side as he studied the wilds he’d indicated. Finally, Vaer’s soot-black fingers circled a point within that swathe.

“There are no villages and no enterprises that I am aware of in this area. We can easily eliminate this quarter,” he suggested. That still left the other three quarters and a wide range of possibilities. "Normally I might suggest Sluagh presence in the other villages as a deterrent to funnel an attack to an area that we have prepared for, but that risks alerting Caibre to our hunt. The pattern might change and we’d lose our best lead on stopping him here."

A challenge. How fortunate that he relished challenges.

“Has there been any notable change in the frequency of the murders? Or has there been any correlation in the victims or timing?” Vaer looked up, his gaze inquisitive but his stoic features otherwise professionally blank.

 

[Midir]

A lock of hair the colour of freshly fallen snow fell forward as he leaned over the map to reach for another stack of papers.

"No changes," his old friend was nothing if not regimental about the way he had done things. Not deviating from his taste in victim once he had selected it was in keeping with the man he had once known, even cared for. He carefully fanned out five reports. They were short but detailed and each came with a sketch of the victim in question. It was quite clear from first glance the attributes they all had in common.

"They look like his mate," Midir said with a grimace of distaste. The unspoken laws of mating that bound the fae might have gone against his own nature but they were an intrinsic thread that kept the balance of this world. A perfect, untainted form of Good. Caibre's attacks on those who bore the same flaxen yellow hair and wide blue eyes and were all sidhe's with gossamer wings, were a defilement of that Good. It upset the balance. "He is careful with how he takes them; nobody has noticed their vanishing until their bodies have turned up. There's always been a reason for them to not come home already in place so that people don't notice they're gone. He has them for three days, and then the bodies are placed," he brought out another sheet of paper with a gruesome sketch of a body nailed to a tree, wings outstretched and pinned in place like a butterfly in a collectors house.

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

Vaer filed away every detail. He looked over the reports with the neutrality of a man who had stared down monsters unflinching. The reports were brief but lacked no detail. He immediately saw the shared likeness of the victims. All fair sidhe. All resembling Caibre’s late mate. Learning that, Vaer’s brow finally furrowed and his lips set in a somber line.

The fae, for all their power and strength, could be delicate things. They walked a fine line between civility and their feral nature. Some did not weather the scope of time well, and those cases often ended in tragedy. In the end, however, the weak were culled and the strong prevailed, forwarding the fae’s neverending march toward eternity.

He hadn’t considered Midir’s rival to be among those who could break. His reputation did not carry him as weak or infirm. His methods reinforced that opinion. Careful, premeditated. If these were the machinations of a broken man, there was still a dangerous part of him left intact. If he wasn’t broken, then these reports were even more alarming and their target that much more dangerous.

Vaer took the sketch of a body with a growing frown. So many questions. These reports offered few answers. He gently replaced the drawing.

"I can perform a preliminary search of the villages. A quiet, subtle investigation for any sidhe matching the description,” he offered. As a black shuck, he had access to a very specific set of skills that made covert operations his specialty. Surveillance was easy when you could become shadows. “Sidhe are, fortunately, quite rare among fae. Perhaps that will be to our advantage.” Caibre had obviously been using it to his advantage.

The Hound pondered his next question carefully before speaking. He wasn’t looking forward to asking, but Midir’s insight was invaluable. He kept his tone clinical, respectful. He was still very plainly walking on eggshells.

“Forgive my forwardness, Your Majesty, but I know you and Caibre were once very close. Do you have any idea what might have spurred these attacks? Why now, after all these years?”

 

[Midir]

For a while, Midir gave no signs he had even heard his hounds question. There was no look, dark or otherwise, no sound, no feathered twitch of a muscle. The Erlking simply continued to stare at the drawn faces spread out on his desk as if he were committing each one to memory, which he very probably was. He had a reputation for being cruel - evil, even - but Midir felt the deaths of his citizens perhaps more keenly than many other rulers did. If the Fae could not live without fear in the Autumn Court then where could they live? This was meant to be the centre of the fae's law and order and Caibre was destroying that reputation with every meaningless death.

Suddenly he pushed himself away from the table and strode to a drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. He took his time in perusing the various liquids on offer before plucking a squat blue decanter from the shelf and carrying it back to his desk with two glasses. He poured a double measure into both as he begun to speak.

"It is the tenth century since Aoife's death," many people only guessed at Midir's age but that slip of knowledge was a tiny indicator of the Kings true age. "The first death was the anniversary of when she begun to get sick," he put the stopper back into the decanter and picked up one of the glasses to take a delicate sip. The liquid was as startlingly blue as the decanter in which it had come from.

"Perhaps he is being sentimental but I find that... unlikely. If you can believe it, out of the pair of us, it was I who was the affectionate one," his dry tone suggested he more than knew about the tales about his cold heart. "I believe he is searching for who she has been reborn as. Calibre was a deeply religious man."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

He was looking for the reincarnation of his mate. Now there was a matter thoroughly discussed by fae for millennia. Faith and tradition told them that ceremony could bind souls together forevermore, weaving their fates together and uniting them in every lifetime. There was never any definitive answers if it was fact or conjecture and Vaer was among the dubious.

Still, it made the matter of Caibre sober, bittersweet. It also underlined the fear that the fae might have lost touch with reality. Sidhe were highly rare. That the person he seemed destined to love enough to be united in marriage had been born sidhe in the first place was a marvel of the universe and its perfect timing. Believing it could happen a second time only a millennia later? Delusion.

Thoughts that Vaer wisely kept to himself. On remarks of Midir’s heart, well... He did not argue that matter either. He nodded in understanding, picked up the glass, and mulled on his thoughts while he took a long sip. When he lowered it, his gaze shifted from the papers to the Erlking.

“I am at your disposal, your Majesty.” A certainty amidst speculation. A truth among unanswered questions. The Hound’s features were tactfully neutral, the same blank expression he wore everywhere and with everyone. But his gold eyes were fixed on the King, steady and sure. There was a latent energy in the way he stood with his weight on the balls of his feet-- as if he were ready to spring forward that instant. And he was; a shuck was always ready to run, and Vaer (for all his attempts to reconcile his conscience) lived for the hunt.

 

[Midir]

Vaer had been chosen for a reason.

Midir studied the man closely whilst he fed him the little information he was willing to reveal about his old life. There was not a flicker, not a hint, of what it was he truly thought beneath it all even when Midir offered a revealing tidbit about his own past. Other shucks would have dived on that with all the ferocity of a dog spying a bone with a good chunk of meat still attached. Not Vaer though, no, not loyal Vaer. Midir wondered just how high he could make the dog jump before he showed a flicker of his true thoughts. The idea almost made him laugh and he covered the smile with his goblet, finishing the rest of his drink.

"We leave now, then," he punctuated the edict by thumping his glass down upon the desk. He cast a final look over the sketches sent to him by informants and other loyal citizens before snatching up the map and turning his back on them. There was little else he could get out of information he had read twenty times over. "We start in the East, the villages nearest his last attack and work West," there was no question of Vaer doing this alone though. This was not a typical case and whilst Midir had faith in his hounds, and this one in particular, he did not intend for anyone to meet Calibre alone. Who only knew how much stronger had grown in years even twisted as he was.

"Do you need to retrieve anything?"

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

Vaer nodded succinctly. He finished his drink as well, though he set his glass down more gently than Midir before folding his hands behind his back and standing at attention. He nodded again.

“I need only leave a message to my household, your Majesty.” He always carried his weapons with him and needed only to inform his family of his absence. The rest would take care of itself. Vaer turned to allow the King to pass first, a signal he was ready to follow.

 

[Midir]

Midir's smile was a small thing but perhaps more genuine than a grin from many other fae. He swept past his hound, casually plucking his blade from what appeared to be an umbrella stand and tying it about his waist as he went. It was not usually necessary to use steal but with his friend... and if his powers had only grown as Midir's had... the confrontation could come down to a good sharp sword and his belief Calibre had been holed up somewhere alone all these centuries, twisting his own mind to the breaking point of insanity.

Vaer left him at one point to go and leave his message. When he hunted down his master, he would find the Erlking in the courtyard.

Stories always got the bit about his horse wrong. They wrote of a black stallion with bright red eyes and nostrils from which billowed smoke. The truth couldn't be more different. The draft horse was a monstrous animal that was true, and towered over most horses people chose to ride, but she was a brilliant white with a small spattering of grey dapple on her bum. Great feathers adorned each hoof and her mane was long. It looked like it should belong to a princess or a hero of some great tale.

Instead, the Erlking swung himself onto her back and gave the creature an affectionate pat.

"Lead the way, Vaer," for what did Hounds do best?

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

His errand did not take long. Vaer’s mother, as usual, fretted too much. His sister held their mother’s arm, staring unseeing at him with pursed lips and focusing hard on whatever she was seeing. She said nothing, even when Vaer kissed her cheek to depart. Which was strange, because she always had some wise foresight for him before these things.

Leaving with an unsettled feeling, he returned to the palace courtyard where his Erlking was ready. He greeted Midir and the king mounted his horse. Vaer had no horse to ride; most were naturally afraid of shucks. Knowing that the king’s was not, however, he was free to shift and trot up beside the gray dappled steed. They were very nearly the same height.

Vaer lifted his long black nose. His pale gold eyes watched Midir and he waited silently awaited instruction. And, ever obedient, Vaer trotted ahead of Midir to lead him through the courtyard and onto the road, ignoring the curious gazes of Court and Sluagh as they passed.

 

[Midir]

Midir paid the Court no mind.

The Erlking's mind was on the Hunt now. Calibre's name might not have been on the written lists that Delun but it sung to him in the same way those names did. Maybe the rumours were not all just rumour, maybe he had become the essence of the Hunt and all it took now was for his word to sentence them. Despite his desire for power that was a thought that made him cold. It had been that type of power that had send Kings of the Autumn Court insane before and turned them from their true path. Not for the first time in his life he felt as though he walked an invisible knife edge and one little tilt could send him down a similar path to the man he now hunted.

He was content to let Vaer lead the way to their first port of call which was one of the three towns their quarry might possibly target. The Hound would find the best route and Midir was not arrogant enough to believe himself superior in that regard. Even so he found himself agitated and eager to press quicker. He almost let out a sigh when the dewdrop like homes built amongst the treetops came in to view.

"What can you sense?"

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

It was a long ride, but Vaer didn’t mind. He liked running. All black shucks did. Their casual trot was nothing compared to the bounding hunts he thrilled and delighted in, the drumming of feet and paws and hooves on the earth like war drums. At the end of this trail he was likely to find that, but not yet. Not for certain.

Vaer didn’t talk, didn’t engage in any sort of conversation as he gladly led the way. Neither men were the talkative sort. The black shuck occasionally glanced back at the Erlking, but he never overtook him and Vaer continued his task.

The quiet was finally broken, and Vaer slowed to walk beside Midir’s horse.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Your Majesty.” A black shuck’s nose was never wrong, but he tipped his nose into the air to give a cautious secondary sniff all the same. “The villagers and their animals. Several are cooking. Someone has been crying.” An odd thing to say from smelling the air, and Vaer did not elaborate before moving on. His gold eyes peered out of his dark fur toward one of the houses.

“There was an altercation nearby where someone shed blood, but it smells older than a day.”

And with that very specific briefing, he looked back up at Midir.

 

[Midir]

Three days...

Midir quickly did the mental maths to work back to the last attack. Even if Calibre had moved quickly he couldn't possible have made it here from the last site of his crime and spent three days with his victim which he seemed to enjoy unless... The possibilities of that ominous unless made him uncomfortable and he resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder. He would have- No, he couldn't afford to pander to his own arrogance. There was a high possibility he could have walked past his old friend without knowing if his powers were as great as he suspected. That was certainly an unsettling thought.

"Let's visit the source of the crying first," it seemed logical it might be in relation to the shedding of blood and if not, the reason for tears might still be linked to their mission. Perhaps they had gotten lucky and actually arrived in the town Calibre had decided to target with enough time to stop it. "Lead on."

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

Vaer nodded, a curt bob of his long snout and turning to lead the way forward. He trotted ahead of Midir toward the hanging homes. Though he didn’t pause to do so, he lifted his snout in the air and his nose wiggled as he sniffed for anything new on the way.

The path to the crying led him past several other homes, and he caught the normal scents of daily life: baking, cleaning, fucking, working. Someone had fowl and he could hear their clucking -- a tempting distraction that he summarily ignored. He kept his nose to the task of following the scents of grief.

The house with the crying hung overhead and Vaer gave it a very thorough sniff before turning to look silently at Midir. A single wag of his long curly tail indicated that this was the one. He didn’t shift out of this form, however; among fae, there was no need for pretense.

 

[Midir]

Midir swung elegantly off his mounts back and landed with barely a noise on the autumn leaf strewn floor. The great white horse nickered softly and brushed its head against his shoulder. Absentmindedly the king ran a hand through its white mane and then stepped away and towards the house that hung up in the treetops. From here he could hear the faint noises of quiet, muffled sobs, as though the fae crying didn't realise they were doing it. He pursed his lips and glanced back to Vaer for any information his nose could give him but that seemed to be where the Shuck had finished his job.

"Come," he said softly and begun to wind his way up the steps carved into the trunk of the tree to the platform at the top. After a pause he knocked. The sobbing stopped for a minute and then there were footsteps inside and the door opened. Behind it was a small sidhe with grey at his temples - a sign of just how old he was. With round glasses perched on his nose his eyes looked magnified and he blinked them several times as he took in the pair on his doorstep.

"Your eminence," he squeaked suddenly and prostrated himself immediately. Midir held out a hand and helped him to his feet with a shake of his head.

"Why do you weep?"

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

Vaer didn’t bother with the stairs. He waited for Midir to go first, polite and proper, then trotted over to the tree and leapt. His transition of shuck to shadow was a smooth one, as graceful and precise as a kingfisher diving into water. He swam through them like a cool, peaceful lake, weaving his way through pockets of darkness that shifted in the dappling light. He waited patiently at the landing for Midir. When he crossed Vaer's path, a liquid curl of shadow snaked over the King’s boot as lazily as the rub of a cat.

The door opened and an elderly sidhe answered. Unlike many other monsters, a black shuck needed no permission to enter a home. Vaer slunk unseen from Midir’s boot to the shadows around the jamb and into the house.

He was still aware in this form, but some of his senses were less keen. As Midir addressed the bowing man, Vaer set about a very nosy, very thorough exploration of his home.

 

[Midir]

"It's my daughter, Sir..."

The old sidhe ushered him into his humble sitting room and quickly babbled about tea. Midir nodded absentmindedly as he gazed around the modest room and then perched himself on one of the chairs that might fit a fae of his size. It still creaked and the Erlking made sure to sit unnaturally still to ensure the wood didn't break beneath him. The fae almost half his size returned soon with a cup and saucer in shaky hands and Midir accepted the hospitality with a grateful smile before nodding for the sidhe to continue.

The man didn't need much prompting. He launched into a story of how his daughter had not returned from her painting in the surrounding wilds yesterday and that whilst nobody else worried, there was something niggling at him. A fathers intuition he called it but nobody would help him search. Fae liked to wander and of course it wouldn't seem peculiar to anyone else but parents did know their children best. Or, they were meant to he had been told.

"I would like to help," Midir said and set the cup down tenderly on the coffee table. "Where does your daughter like to paint?"