The Vixen Trials

Transformation

"Then I'll just have to be exceptional"

Malek

After another tense visit to Lord Rustavan, Melek snuck into the waiting room of the House priestess. Malek loathed the Fox with full fervor but there was no denying those priestesses had knowledge, knowledge he needed if he was to actually help Keilah. Not that he cared about her, but he'd promised the Hattavah he would help with the hope he'd learn how to fix his own transformation problems.

A hagged old slave with tufts of grey hair and the insignia of the Fox came hobbling towards him. Her foul odor attacked his nose so that he wanted to pinch the airways shut but he restrained his hand. He knew that the handmaiden of the Priestess were only allowed to wash once a year and then only by following a series of complicated rituals that involved very little real cleaning. The sickening stench made him want to run.

"Lady Keilah wants to transform," he said quietly. "What should she do?"

"Follow the ways of the Fox," the crone intoned, "And the transformation will come. First within then without."

He suppressed an urge to intimidate her into giving a more practical answer and adopted the tone of the supplicant as he asked again but it was the coin that brought words to her withered lips. Her bony fingers squeezed his arm. "Does she know the teachings? Drink the blood? Has she surrendered all? Has she killed?"

His heart sank. "Must she kill?"

"It's the only sure way. Some have without, it's true, but they were exceptional. Death paves the way to the Fox."

A shudder rippled through him. He roughly turned away ignoring the old woman's derisive cackle. Was it possible that his own attempts transformation had failed so far because he hadn't killed? Was that the secret information a father was supposed to share? If only he knew. He composed himself and received a cup of blood from the handmaiden. Keilah would need it.

He had asked the Hattavah to stay away from his practice with Keilah saying they would need to focus. The easy way the Hattavah had agreed had disarmed him. When they were alone the Hattavah acted like he believed all that guff Keilah spouted about brothers. Malek found he had to keep slapping his mind with the facts: Dakkoul was the loved and wanted son, he was the rival. They were blood-enemies and the veneer of friendliness the Hattavah put on was part of some elaborate game he was playing. Malek pretended along when it seemed to be required but for this training of Keilah he wanted to forget his unpredictable master and the weird way he tried to protect Keilah.

It felt strangely intimate to be meeting her alone in her room. She was dressed casually in a simple dark brown tunic with pants beneath, her hair in a ponytail. Any other girl and he'd have pulled out his charm.

Instead he silently handed her the cup.

"Thank you Malek," she said with such warmth and friendliness he almost felt guilty for his thoughts.

"I'm sure that the key to your success lies partly in how much of this you've had, my lady. The other girls will have had years on you, so you'll have to drink it as often as you can bear."

"Dakkoul would not approve," Keilah stated with a giggle. The dim light softened the sharp lines of her face.

Malek sighed. "I know."

Keilah tossed it down, looking for more when she finished that he could not provide.

"It's hard for me to get it. You'll have to see the house-priestess herself, demand your own daily supply."

"But where will she get it from?"

"Who knows?" he said with a dismissive shrug. "It's what you have to do. Do you want to be Queen or not?"

"I do." The softened look was gone and something fierce took over her face. She pulled out her ponytail and let her hair loose. "I hunger to be one with the Fox."

Malek nodded even though inside he felt a pulling back. Was it really wise for him to encourage her to do this? He swallowed. "I think that's what you have to do. Open yourself up to her, beseech her to take over you, surrender to her control. And when she visits you, you will...change."

"Is that how it works for you?" she demanded.

He felt his cheeks heat even as he chose honesty. "It doesn't work that well for me. But I don't follow the Fox, I follow a different god. We don't drink blood, but the principle is the same."

Keilah's eyes radiated her confusion. "Can I see you transform?"

He shook his head. "I can only change in times of great stress. And then only my hands." His father's fault. If he'd stuck around and trained Malek as he should, Malek would be an accepted warrior able to transform at will.

"I'll experience great stress in the Trials, at least," her voice was strained. "If that's the trigger, there's hope." She settled down to a concentrated effort, calling on the Fox for some time but to no avail.

"She doesn't listen," she complained. "Jagur's god used to speak to him. Why is she silent?"

He would have to tell her. "The priestess said the way is marked in blood, that you have to kill someone first. But she said some exceptional people transform anyway."

"Then I'll just have to be exceptional," Keilah replied, jutting out her jaw. "Because I won't kill anyone."

He'd been almost sure those were the words she'd say. He knew the esteem the Hattavah held her in couldn't be based on nothing but still he felt himself relaxing a notch. She was nothing like her uncle.

Keilah called out for Alyssia. She came out of her alcove, saw the splashes of blood around Keilah's mouth and blanched. "What are you doing, my lady?" Her eyes rested accusingly on Malek. He stared back determined not to appear guilty.

"I must do this," Keilah said matter-of-factly. "I need to prepare for the third round, just in case. And it is the way of the Fox. I must be all in."

"But you are drinking the blood of slaves," Alyssia wailed. "Why do you want to be a human fox? They just kill and hurt."

"Every religion transforms you," Malek said defensively. "Else what is the point of them?

"Transform into something good and kind then." Alyssia was shaking. "Not this." Malek turned his shoulder so he couldn't see her. He didn't need her distress fanning the small flame of doubt he felt, that maybe helping his powerful mistress to embrace the cruelty of the Fox wasn't wise.

Keilah's face hardened, "Get me some blood. I'm of the Fox now and I'll hear no more word against her."

Alyssia fled and not long after brought back another cup full. "This is Jessel's," she announced. Her words seemed to echo in the room. Jessel. He didn't like the ugly old slave woman but he felt sorry for her.

Keilah stretched our her hand for it and Malek found himself holding his breath. Alyssia seemed to be mumbling something, probably a prayer. Keilah's fingers brushed the cup then dropped away from it.

"Someone else's," she barked, looking at the ground. "Someone who deserved it or chose to sell it. Pay for it if you have to." Alyssia scurried off.

Keilah tried hard, doing everything he suggested, but she did not change. When midnight came, he called a halt. She left, her shoulders drooping and he made his way back to the Hattavah's room bracing himself for an interrogation. Instead the Hattavah was sleeping. Malek looked down at his face in the flickering candlelight and wished they could just be honest with each other. He was used to unabashed hostility. Having to act as if he believed all the caring brother talk hurt more somehow.

Malek made his way to the pallet in the adjoining room and pulled the hard-won heavy wool blanket over him. At the least all the fakeness had won him that. He almost dropped off to sleep when a thought roused him. Did killing a Fox count? He'd dug his clawed hands into its flesh, no doubt seriously injuring it. Had it died? If it had died, could he now transform? Did he dare try here in his enemy's house? He wrestled with the fear that spiked in him for what seemed like hours before drifting into a dream laced with menace.

An icy draught woke Malek up. A grim-faced Hattavah loomed over him, holding his blanket and prodding him awake with his foot.

"He comes today," the Hattavah said and seemed to gulp. "Our father."