The King of Foxes by Conall O'Neill

Author:Conall O'Neill [O'Neill, Conall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-02-11T22:00:00+00:00

“Arbalests are in position, sir.”

Lunighan grunted as he examined the light reflecting off his blade. He sat upon the wall above the gate of the manor’s grounds, stationed so as to see any incoming visitors. His pale eyes flicked up. “Bare your fangs, cub.”

The boy showed his teeth in a fearsome smile, straining to show no fear and only ferocity.

“Good! Good, my son. Here, sit on the ground there and keep watch with the Old Fox. My eyes never fail, you know, but it’s good to have a companion just in case.”

The young man fell to the ground, and folded his legs beneath his mail skirt. In his hands he clutched the brass-coloured helmet that gave every Fox his sense of power in dark times, and thrust terror into the heart of his enemy; a metallic fox head, baring its fangs voraciously, as if backed into a corner and ready to strike. Cold eyes peered at the world with inhuman, lifeless expression; still less unsettling than those of the Old Fox himself.

“Tell me,” he said quietly. “Tell me, boy… Do you fear death?”

The young man shook his head indignantly. “No, Old Fox.”

Lunighan smiled. “I have heard that answer more times than you have lived days, my son. It seems no one among us fears death… And nor should he. Death is a good friend of mine; did you know that?”

The boy shook his head.

“Yes, they say he walks with me everywhere I step, Death. Indeed, we are quite close. He feels even closer of late… I have a special love for him, my friend Death, and he for me. I point him towards someone of my choosing, and he goes to meet them. When he turns to me, I turn him away like a stray dog, with blows and strikes; did you know that one could do that? That one could choose not to die?”

Again the young man shook his head.

“Simply take Death as your slave and friend, and you will live every day left in these lands. I have been alive a long time.” The Old Fox rubbed his face slowly. “A terrible long time, I have lived. And many terrible days I have seen, even more than the stories of me tell. But do you know the thing about terrible days? Well, it’s that they come upon you whether you wish them to or not, and that you may not choose to avoid them; all we may do is choose how prepared we can be for those terrible days. Are you listening, son?”

The lad nodded his head obediently.

“Well, let’s welcome this terrible day together, then, shall we? Let’s bid Death welcome to our lives, and let us celebrate his work in all that we do. After all, he works for our benefit.”

The boy watched his mentor carefully, his eyes falling across the folds of discoloured and pallid skin, blotched with lesions and cracks and rips alike to the point that it appeared he may fall asunder as he sat.

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