[Mkguild] Keeper's Return (5/13)

[C. Matthias]

Part 5

Metamor Keep: Keeper's Return
By Charles Matthias

        “Well, there is it,” the soldier, the same that had spoken to him with uncommon boldness during their walk to the Keep, assured him as they stood in front of a narrow two story house overlooking the street.  A pair of crossed antlers decorated the lintel but the house was otherwise unremarkable from the many others that stretched down the street on either side.  This was one of the residential districts for the many merchant and soldiering families living in Metamor, one of the few that had escaped unscathed from the assault they suffered the previous winter.  Other than the strange animal people wandering around, it looked like any other row of homes in northern cities. “Should I wait?”
        Darius Egland shook his head and thanked the man as he stood gazing at the tall, wide doorway.  The soldier looked at him quizzically for a moment before shrugging and stuffing his hands into the front of his tabard and swaggering away.  Darius spared him not another thought and quickly straightened his attire — one of the few surviving uniforms from the battle between the forces of Whales and Marzac, mended and made regal once again by Sutt’s tailors — and knocked firmly three times.  A moment later the heavy tread of hooves approached the other side and the door opened.
        A horned creature that stood taller than Darius looked out the high door and down at him.  His dark eyes were set amidst a mask of white and black fur, white on the nose, black on his cheeks and on the bridge of his head and at its top, and white above the eyes and down in a sliver on either cheek.  Wide ears emerged just behind his eyes, and long brown horns rose another two feet from the top of his head and came to wicked points.  He bore a heavy green tabard with some sort of deer’s head and Ecclesia yew on the chest over a tunic of warm brown that came to his wrists and breeches that came to his ankles.  Cloven hooves trod the wooden entry, and behind him stretched a hall into a warmly lit sitting room with hearth.
        Darius had seen creatures similar to this Keeper while at port in the northern cities of Kitchlande.  Oryx they were called, dwellers of the vast, dry Steppes that stretched for leagues across that ancient land.  Runners beyond compare, eaters of grass and scrub, and killers of lions with their horns, they were prized by the people of Boreaux as both food, ornament, and symbol.  Darius felt slightly intimidated standing on his doorstep.
        The oryx studied him with a quick glance, eyes focussing on his Pyralian uniform, ears turning furtively this way and that as befitting a fleet-hoofed creature.  His muzzle curled in what must have been a polite smile, “May I help you?” There was no recognition in his gaze.  Clearly this was not his younger brother.
        Darius nodded. “I am looking for Yacoub Egland.  Is this his house?”
        The oryx nodded lightly, his horns waving ominously above. “Aye, this is his house.  And who are you?”
        Darius tilted his head slightly as his gaze took in the broad framed, muscular creature appraisingly.  He was only lightly clad in a loose tabard draped over those broad shoulder and belted at his waist by an intricately tooled leather belt.  Loose woollen leggings were held in place under the tabard by a second, more narrow, belt and came down to the tall beast-Keeper’s knees.  One of the captain’s brows twitched and the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly but he composed himself as old suspicions, long pushed into the back of his mind, reared from those distant shadows. “Is he home now?”
        Again, the oryx nodded and rested one hand on the frame of the doorway. “Aye, but he must leave soon to attend to his duties as a knight.  He cannot, as such, entertain guests at this hour.  If you have a message for him I can deliver it.”  Though the towering oryx’s voice was gentle and polite his gaze, and stance, was implacable.  He was not going to surrender this doorway to a stranger even when that stranger wore the dress uniform of a naval Captain.
        Darius forced himself to be adamant.  He was not easily intimidated, but after weeks of travelling with Keepers such as Charles, Kayla and Jessica who were all smaller than he, he’d become accustomed to the idea that all Keepers were so proportioned.  Ever since arriving at Metamor he’d been woefully disabused of this mistake.  But now was not the time to admit it.  With gritted teeth, he said, “I must speak with him now.”
        A third voice from behind a corner asked, “Who is it, Intoran?”  A deep voice; resonant and mellow like that of the Oryx.  Darius was reminded of his father’s voice though the inflection of the unseen speaker was different; the power was there, the unconscious projection of command.  That, he realized, would be his brother.  The Patriarch’s service had done him a good stead in that voice alone; gone was the timorous hesitance of his childhood tenor.
        “Some Pyralian,” the oryx, Intoran, replied with a slight turn of his head. “He won’t tell me his name.”
        Another hoofed figure came around the corner of the room.  This one was also tall and broad, with a thick mane of brown fur around his neck and shoulders, while a deer-like head with only the beginning’s growth of antlers graced the top of his chestnut brow.  He was dressed in a green doublet and hose with blue diamonds interspersed in the design.  In one hand he carried a viola that seemed diminutive in contrast with the powerful creature’s body.  In his other hand was the instrument’s bow.  The music Darius had heard, and discounted, as he walked along the street had come from that instrument and he found himself surprised.  The oryx turned slightly but did not move from the door though Darius made no move to enter uninvited.
        The deer-man took several tentative steps forward, hooves clattering on the woodwork.  He blinked wide dark eyes, his muzzle agape with astonishment.  His baritone voice rose in pitch, breaking, unable to form words for a moment.  Intoran flicked one ear back and half turned his head curiously. “Eli’s grace.” Yacoub’s deep voice faltered, but still carried the accent of a noble-born Pyralian, he stammered, “Da... Darius?”
        “It is I, Yacoub,” he replied. “We thought you were dead.  Friends of yours from this land came to my aid almost two months past, and when they learned of my identity, told me of yours.  May I come in?”
        His younger brother nodded, and then gripped Intoran on the shoulder. “Intoran, this... this is my elder brother Darius.  Let him pass.”
        Intoran’s demeanor softened immediately. “Forgive me, Sir,” Intoran said as he sketched a quick but careful bow. “I had never seen your brother before he changed, so did not recognize you.”
        “It is quite all right,” Darius replied as he stepped beneath the doorway.  The lintel was three feet above his head, and the door was at least a foot wider than he was used to seeing.  Obviously to accompany a beastly pair of horns and a full grown rack of antlers. “I don’t recognize my brother this way either.”
        Yacoub grunted obsequiously.  And then, dark brown eyes meeting his brother, reached out and pulled him into a firm embrace. “I never thought I’d see you, or any of my family again, Darius.  Thank you for coming!” Darius could feel a frightening degree of strength in his strangely changed brother’s thick arms and broad chest, all of it shuddering with barely suppressed emotion. “No one informed me of your coming to Metamor.  Was it the crown that sent you, or father?”
        Darius returned the hug, face pressed into the thick mane of fur rich with the scent of horse and a fainter musk of their own.  Earthy, crisp, and pleasant, like walking through an orchard after all the leaves had fallen.  The viola and bow bounced against his back, still gripped in his brother’s malformed hands.  “I came of my own choice, brother, when I learned you still lived.  We all thought you were dead, Yacoub, killed when the Patriarch and his retinue were so cruelly slain.”
        His brother sighed heavily, eyes passing into painful memory. “I almost did die, brother.  Come, sit.  Intoran can fetch us something to drink.”
        “What of your knightly duties?” Darius asked pointedly, giving the oryx a sidelong glance.  Intoran stood quietly watching, having done nothing more than shut the door behind them after letting him pass.  His ears did not even lift at the suggested barb.
        “There is time yet before I should have to leave.  How long are you staying at Metamor?”
        Yacoub led him into a pleasant room warmed by a well-fed hearth with a trio of stout upholstered chairs facing the fire.  A pair of armour trees stood in one corner reeking with fresh oil and mail, while a pair of broadswords hung from iron rungs fixed to the nearby wall.  Well-used practice staves lay on the other side.  A small tapestry hung from remaining wall, one of obvious Metamorian design featuring animal-people as well as men, women, and children.  Lanterns were fixed into the wooden supports and glowed a solemn gold.
        Darius took the seat offered him and said, “I arrived today with a caravan of merchants from Ellcaran with several Keepers who you may know.  I will be returning with the caravan tomorrow and taking a ship back to Sutthaivasse.  From there I will make my own way back east to bring news to our family.”
        Yacoub sat opposite him, his legs moving oddly, but he seemed deft enough on hooves. “Then we’ll have to make do with what little time we have now.  How is everyone?”
        “It has been almost seven months since I last had word from them or they from me.  We all grieved for you when word came to us.  Mother put a small stone marker in the gardens for you.”
        Yacoub’s head lowered, obvious sadness filling his cervine countenance. “Oh.”
        “You should have written to us,” Darius said sternly.
        “I should have,” Yacoub agreed.  He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring like a cornered beast, and then turned in his seat. “Intoran, could you take a message to Jack and let him know I’ll be a little late?”
        The oryx’s eyes widened and he took a step toward the deer-man.  There was something protective in his gaze, but it relented to duty. “Of course, Sir Egland.  It is a great pleasure to meet you, Captain Egland.” With that he swiftly passed through the door into the cool winter day and was gone.
        When he was gone, Yacoub lowered his head again, eyes unable to meet Darius.  His voice was agonized but firm. “I’m sorry I did not send any letters.  I was... for a long time... ashamed of what happened.  Almost everyone else who came with the Patriarch gave their lives for his.  It took me a long time to forgive myself for surviving that night.”
        “So instead you put your family through the agony of thinking you dead.” Darius replied, the steel still in his voice. “Do you think seeing you as some deer-man would keep away your mother’s love or your father’s pride?  And what of your sister?  And of me?  What of us, Yacoub?  Are you so ashamed to tell us?”
        Yacoub’s nostrils flared in anger this time. “Do not lecture me, Darius!  I know my sins, and I am sorry for them.  I have meant many times to write... I have.  But it has been a very difficult time since I’ve come here to Metamor.  Everything in my life has changed, all of my friends are dead or altered in such a way that they aren’t the person I once loved.  My charge was slain and I couldn’t stop it!  Don’t lecture me!”  He stormed with ears flattened back and dark brown eyes white rimmed. “And no, though it no longer shames me, I fear that they will not love this,” he thumped his chest with one hand solidly. “While the heart and soul within is that of their son, the body is no longer familiar to them.” He shook his head and stroked his chest with his fingers for a moment before dropping his hand to the arm of his chair. “No, Darius, I fear they would not.”
        “Yes, I understand that.  But you have a duty to your family, to the house of Egland, and you cannot ignore that, no matter what else befalls you.  Deer-man or not.”
        “I know that!” Yacoub took a deep breath, two fingered hands tightly gripping the arms of his chair. “I know it, Darius.  But I am a Keeper now by dint of the Curse.  An elk by species; they are a northern deer common in these lands.  I cannot leave this valley for fear of taking harm.  Though I could put quill to parchment and offer some explanation of what has become of me, of what brought me to this pass, I can offer nothing more.  They may accept the idea of what I am, now, from scratch of ink, but the idea is a distant whisper of the truth.  That is what has stayed my hand, my brother.  Better that they not know than understand that I live, but can never return home.”
        “I journeyed with several Keepers who looked beastly.  Charles Matthias, James, Kayla, and Jessica.  And Lindsey, although I don’t quite understand what happened to her... him... they did not talk about it with me.  They travelled a very long distance from your valley and survived.  And many who had no cause to, praised them and treated them as men and not beasts..”
        Yacoub’s frown faded a little more. “Charles is Sir Saulius’s squire.  A good rat.  Last month we built a stables at his home for his pony.  You know he lost his youngest child?”
        “I heard,” Darius replied. “But there is no reason you cannot travel and see your family with proper care and preparation.  And there is certainly no reason you cannot send a letter.”
        “That I will do,” Yacoub replied with a sigh and a frown. “As you are leaving tomorrow, I will be sure to have a letter written for you to take back with you.  How are they?”
        “As I said, well enough when last I heard of them.  I have... suffered my own disappearance.  I sent a letter from Sutthaivasse a month ago.”
        Yacoub’s face lost some of the defensive edge and leaned forward. “What happened to you?”
        “I chased pirates into the Marzac straits and then all became very unclear for a few months.  I was... possessed by evil magic.  When the Keepers defeated the powers of Marzac, the haze left and I was myself again.  I and my crew were captives on board our own ship; captives of Whales.”
        Yacoub’s eyes widened at the brief description, and his ears flicked as if beset by flies. “Do you remember anything?”
        Darius frowned, eyes lowered, and then ever so reluctantly, nodded. “But what I remember, I wish I didn’t.” He took a deep breath, and then met his brother’s concerned gaze. “The Prince of Whales was a Keeper, and one of his allies proved to be the lost Sutt heir, a man named Malger.” Yacoub’s ears lifted, eyes widened in surprise. “He told me he knew you.  He seemed a rather,” he waved a hand as he searched for the right words, “A dandy, a foppish sort; the kind that father would have pitched out the window of his highest tower in disgust.”
        “Well, yes,” Yacoub said uncertainly with a look down at his thick hands. “He is that, but Darius, know this... he saved me from an abyss I could never have escaped on my own.” He looked up to meet his brother’s dubious stare. “After this happened, after the Patriarch’s murder, the death of all that has been dear to me since I left our family, and then this that I became, I was shattered.  That fop, that dandy as you call him, helped me piece myself back together again.  Were it not for him you would be conversing with a name graven upon a crypt stone.”
        Throughout Yacoub’s explanation Darius sat quietly, hands upon his knees, and watched his brother’s dark brown eyes.  He watched the motion of those animalistic ears and thick lips, how the muscles of his chest twitched in consternation as he explain himself.  Darious looked for his brother in the brown furred frame of muscle and heraldic colours.  Much to his surprise, and to his own surprised relief, he did see his younger brother within.  He saw the same slightly quiet but earnest young boy who had wanted to bear the Egland colours into battle before he took up the banner of the Ecclesia.  He saw also the other side of his brother, the side that he had sensed when talking with the foppish archduke about his fate.
        Darius _expression_ turned hard. “And your squire,” he said flatly as he considered what he sensed of Malger, an oddity that ran deeper than just a choice in raiment. “Is that all he is, brother?”
        “He is my squire,” Yacoub said firmly with a slight backing of his ears and narrowing of his eyes, that hint of defensiveness returning to his voice.  Though he was now a deer-man – an elk – and his voice had changed, the demeanour was still the same from all their years growing up together. “I am a knight and I am training him to be so as well.  I am trying to found a capitular order in service of the Ecclesia here at Metamor.”
        “Very good of you.  But I know what sort of bed you have fancied for yourself,” he said without compromise, almost harshly.  Yacoub had concealed it well when they were younger, but Darius had sensed it, his backwardness, and even once challenged him upon it.  That exchange had lead to an embitterment that lasted months between them.  Yacoub’s eyes widened and his ears backed fully. “And the shame you threaten to bring to your family name.”
        At this, the elk stood up, hooves stamping on the wooden floor. “That’s enough!  That is none of your concern!” he bellowed with such a stentorian yell that the cuirass upon its armour tree hummed in resonance.
        Darius kept his seat. “If it shames my family it is my concern, brother.” He responded levelly, quiet in the face of his younger brother’s deafening retort.
        Yacoub’s nostrils flared and his head lowered like a buck readying to charge a predator with his antlers. “If it shamed you, then why did all of you keep silent while I readied to leave for Yesulam?  Or is that the reason father sent me to serve there?”
        He did his best not to fume at his obstinate little – younger rather – brother.  Though he did not always know the mind of their father, in fact, he knew it less than he thought as a child, it would not surprise him in the least if shame was part of the reason that Yacoub was sent to Yesulam, the holiest city and centre of their faith, to become a knight.  And, he suspected, father had hoped that there his wayward son would move past his adolescent backwardness and bring honour in all his deeds to the Egland family.
        “We kept silent so as not to bring shame on you,” Darius replied in as level a voice as he could. “If any spoke out, it would ruin you.”
        “I have not been indiscreet in any of my dealings,” Yacoub snapped, still brimming with indignation.  His posture was undeniably masculine in a way Darius had never seen in him before.  Perhaps it was the towering presence of the northern deer in him.  Elk were very imposing and powerful creatures.  How much of the beast had transformed the soul?
        “Yet I could see it in a moment’s glance,” Darius said as flatly as possible. “Do you deny it?”
        “I do not deny it.  We understand that what is between us must be kept unspoken, even if others deduce as you have.  Even in a place such as this such is not openly spoken of.  He is my squire as well, and I will lead him justly and honourably, both for our family and the honour he deserves.  Please, do not sully what he wishes to become with blind misconception, Darius.  The pain it has caused me can never be explained.” Yacoub took a long deep breath, his eyes softening ever so slightly. “We have both suffered great pain, brother.  And we have both healed each other of that pain.  And we would not be the first here at Metamor to have such a love.”
        “It is forbidden to Followers,” Darius said, also with some measure of compassion in his voice.  He very well knew what forbidden love could be like, and how much one had to strive against it.  His joining the navy of Pyralis had started as an escape from an adulterous infatuation.  And it had cleansed him in a way he’d never expected.  A much finer and more mysterious mistress than the sea was not to be found anywhere else.
        Yacoub shook his head. “There are many here married who are both men and both women.  The Curses made them so.”
        Darius frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Truly?  Has this place fallen so far then?”
        “They were married before the Curses were cast,” Yacoub explained as he slowly lowered himself back into his seat. “Either husband became woman or wife became man, but the other became either child or beast like myself.  And the Ecclesia has never said anything to diminish their love or their marriages.” He leaned forward in his seat slightly, resting his elbows upon his knees and meeting his brother’s gaze. “Even while he was here the Patriarch Akabaieth said nothing of them!” he said with quiet earnestness. “If anything, he lauded their continuing sacrifice and the sanctity of unions that were not broken by the twisted corruption of those curses!  Nothing he could ever condone openly as Pontiff, but accepted and not damned.  So what then could be wrong with my love?”
        He sighed.  Was there really anything he could say to his brother to get him to see what he’d seen?  Probably not.  Only one thing left remained. “I’m sorry I haven’t always been a better brother to you, Yacoub.  But what I am saying I do not say out of disgust for your squire or any other you have loved.  I speak from the love I have for you as my brother.”
        Yacoub nodded slowly, his transformed hands gripping the arms of his chair as if to hold him in place. “I know you do, brother.  It is why I have been willing to speak of it at all.  If you were any other I would have cast you out from this house at the merest suggestion of what you say.”
        “I am grateful that you haven’t done that,” Darius replied, trying to conjure forth a laugh but failing. “But you must know that if your secret should be revealed, all your work, all your efforts to build a capitular order here at Metamor, all your sacrifice for the Patriarch, will be brought down with you.  Please, contemplate that.”
        The elk’s nostrils flared as he took several deep breaths. “Is that all, brother?”
        “That is all.”
        The words were strained, but they came. “Thank you.  I will, as you suggest, contemplate it.  But I will never hurt Intoran.  He has been hurt too many times in the past for me to do the same.”
        He wanted to say something more but bit it back.  His eyes slid toward the fire and he set his elbow on the arm of the chair, and his chin on his fist. “Do you like it here at Metamor?”
        The elk let out a tightly held breath and appeared to relax in both posture and voice.  There was conviviality to his deep bleating tones. “Aye!  It is a beautiful land, with wonders I’d never imagined either in Pyralis or in Yesulam.  It is a strange land with all of its magic, but after a time, even that becomes a fanciful delight.  I wish all of our family could have come to see it.”
        “Perhaps one day,” Darius said as he stared into the fire.  It was beginning to dwindle and in need of fresh logs. “I do not wish to keep you from your duties, so I will leave you to tend to them.”
        Yacoub nodded, nostrils tightening and his muzzle softening. “I am going to be on patrol until late this evening.  But I would very much like it if you would return then and share a late dinner with me.  Perhaps we can drink and talk of old times.”
        A faint smile curled the edge of his lips. “I would like that.  Until then, I think I shall find this Deaf Mule tavern I have heard about.”
        Yacoub laughed, a bleating noise that seemed odd but natural at the same time. “That is a very good place to unwind.  I’ll meet you there when I return.” He rose and Darius rose with him.  He extended a thick two fingered hand, each finger topped with hard black nails that looked sharp as hooves. “Thank you for coming, Darius.  Until this evening then.  Perhaps I’ll even play some music for you too.”
        Darius shook his brother’s hand, feeling the rough texture and wondering for a moment what it must be like to have fur, hooves, and antlers.  He smiled, the pain still present but for the moment set aside. “I would like that very much.  Until then, my brother.” He pulled him close, and they hugged again.  Without another word, Darius and Yacoub stepped apart, the elk to his knightly gear, and Darius to the door and the snowy streets of Metamor.
        When the door shut behind him, Darius shoved his hands into his coat, hunched his shoulders forward, grunted a frustrated sigh, and trudged through a gentle snowfall toward the towers of Metamor.

----------

        It took several hours, but Kayla, Jessica, and Abafouq were able to sufficiently explain the events at the Chateau Marzac to Duke Thomas’s satisfaction.  Lindsey remained quiet during the entire proceeding, still and solemn, his heavy brows furrowed, a finger twirling one of his beard braids.  James spoke little, though he did admit to dropping a nonet of bells on top of Zagrosek, but quickly assured them that it was a desperate act and then lapsed into self-conscious silence.  Andares said nothing except when directly asked, and then he only corroborated what the others had said.  If he knew more he kept it to himself.
        “I want to thank all of you,” Thomas said after finished the last of his tea, “for giving us your time.  I’m sure that there will be more questions in the coming days and weeks, but they can wait for now.  Your duties to Metamor are waiting for you, but they can wait a little longer while you rest and recover from your journey.  I confess to being jealous of you all.  I have never travelled so far and into such varied lands as have you.  You must tell me the full tale of your adventure someday.  But not today.  You have loved ones who miss you that I’m sure you’re very eager to see again.”
        Jessica cawed immediately, “Where is Weyden?  I’m told he’s been assigned somewhere to the north.”
        Thomas glanced to Copernicus and Misha who sat nearby.  The great lizard slid his tail back and forth, the wood of his chair groaning beneath him. “Weyden and his friends are serving at Lake Barnhardt.  They patrol the woods between the Lake and Glen Avery.  They’ll be there for another month before rotating back to Metamor.”
        Jessica turned to her friends, already stepping back from the Duke’s table, and with an apology in her eyes said, “I must go to him now.  I need to see him.”
        Kayla hugged her close and nodded. “Of course.  Go to him.  We’ll see you when you come back.”
        The fox Misha nodded where he sat. “We have a party at the Long House to welcome you back, but I guess you do have to go see Weyden first.  Both of you are invited if you can make it back to Metamor tonight.”
        Jessica’s beak cracked in joy. “Can he come?”
         Copernicus’s blue tongue licked the dry end of his snout. “For tonight I don’t see why not.  But he’ll need to be back on duty the next day.”
        The black hawk puffed out her feathers. “I will see that he is.” Her eyes turned to Kayla with a warm smile. “And I will stay with him until he comes back to Metamor.”
        “And we’ll still be here when you get back,” Kayla assured her with a sisterly hug.  The skunk then turned to Misha, “And where is Rickkter?”
        “Waiting impatiently outside the door I think,” Andwyn said with his usual dry amusement.  The bat scratched the back of one of his large ears with a wing claw.
        Kayla waited not a moment longer, amidst the mild chuckles of Thomas and her friends.  She rushed to the door, pulled it open, and sprang past the guards toward a very familiar raccoon.
        An ornate chair had been placed a dozen paces down the hall from the doorway, and in it, chin leaning upon a paw locked in dark contemplation, was the man she loved, Rickkter.  The last time she had seen him he’d been battered, broken, and completely comatose.  Now as she raced to him, and he turned, eyes brightening and body straightening as it rose from the seat, she could see how much the privation had cost him.  Gone was much of his bulk, and all of his clothes fit him loosely and crumpled around his frame as if caving inward.  Even his face seemed gaunt and fur greyer than before.
        But when their eyes locked, a fresh vivacity returned, and he took three faltering steps toward her before she wrapped her arms around his back, paws agonizingly empty, and kissed him on the cheek.  He stumbled back and nearly fell into the seat so overwhelming was her enthusiasm. “Oh, Rick!” She gasped and nuzzled her snout against his, grinding fur to fur and whisker to whisker. “Oh I’ve missed you so!”
        “And I you, Kayla.  And these blaggarts wouldn’t let me in!” He shot a withering glance at the bull Andhun who regarded him with bovine placidity.
        “Those were the Duke’s orders,” the heavy voice of Copernicus said as he and the others walked past. “If you were there, we wouldn’t have gotten one word out of Kayla.” He laughed, slapped his tail on the floor as he passed.  Kayla laughed with him and shook her head.  Rick glared at the lizard for a moment, then returned to kissing and holding his skunk.
        “Oh, Rick,” she said after a minute’s snuggle.  The raccoon felt so weak beneath her touch, she wanted to make him sit down so he wouldn’t over exert himself.  But she was too excited to consider sitting down so let the sensation slide past.  One arm slid down his side and settled on the hilt of the larger of the two dragon blades. “I killed him.  I stabbed him through the back with Trystathalis.”
        Rickkter blinked in surprise. “Trystathalis.  How did you know his name?” He glanced down and saw the dragon blades at her side.  There was a churr of irritation in his voice, but his joy at seeing her overshadowed anything more.
        “They told me.  They wanted to save you as much as I did.  Now they are friends to me too.” Kayla pet the male dragon’s hilt with one paw, and then smiled at the surprised raccoon.  She licked his nose and he spluttered in surprise. “I want to tell you all about it, Rick.  I’m so happy to see you again!”
        “Thank you for keeping them safe, Kayla.  I couldn’t believe it when Misha told me that they’d gone with you, but now I see that they love you too.  But I would like them back now.  I have missed having them at my side.”
        Kayla hesitated, but with fumbling fingers undid the sword belt.  She’d carried them so long, it felt wrong not to have them so close.  She felt distinctly naked and somewhat vulnerable.
        Rickkter, though, had eyes for only the swords at the moment. Holding them both in one paw, he drew the smaller of the blades and held it before him. The smile on his face was almost as wide as when he'd first laid eyes on her. “Hello there, old friends. We’ve been apart far too long,” he murmured, taking a few moments to admire the glinting of light falling on the blade. He returned it to its scabbard and gave Kayla a one-armed hug as he put the swords under the other. “Thank you, Kayla, for bringing them back to me.”
        “I also have this to give to you.” She reached into her coat and pulled out the metal cylinder Matthias had given her. “Charles wanted you to have this back.”
        At the mere mention of his name, Rickkter scowled with true venom, but he did snatch the Sondeshike from Kayla’s paws and slip it into his tunic. “Well, that idiot rat can give things back.  Wonders will never cease.”
        Kayla actually growled at him. “Charles is a friend, Rick!  In the last eight months he’s saved my life and I his several times.  I will not tolerate you saying anything bad about him again.”
        “He’s Sondeckis, Kayla.  They’re insufferable interlopers who the world would be better off without.”
        Kayla glared and drew back slightly.  While the months asleep had taken their toll on Rickkter’s strength and stamina, his reflexes were still as good as always. What should have been a stinging slap from Kayla was caught by her wrist inches from his face. He was opening his mouth to ask what the meaning of that was when her eyes narrowed, ears flicked backwards, and a short arc of magic sprang from her palm to the side of his head with a crackling sting.
        The sudden and very unexpected pain snapped his head back and drew his lips back in an angry, hissing snarl. In his weakened condition it also overbalanced him, and Kayla’s other hand grabbed his upper arm — not gently — and steadied him while he clenched harder at her wrist. That she could strike out with her talent in such a sudden and controlled manner, that was very different from what he remembered of her when she left! He scrambled and eventually found his voice. “Damn it! What did you do that for!”
        “I told you not to do that!” she hissed angrily. With a simple twist of her wrist she pulled loose from his grasp. “Charles is my friend and I’m tired of your feud.” She met his gaze without wavering, her ears still backed and tail bushed thickly behind her.  She loosened the grip on his arm slightly. “And I’ll do the same to Charles if he says anything bad about you.”
         “Fine!  Fine!” Rickkter waved her back, straightening very slowly, the lines of pain clear in his face.  Exhaustion seemed to be there too.  He was so tired he didn’t even try to fight her at all. He patted his tunic into which he’d slipped the Sondeshike and grunted. “He did give it back.  I’ll grant him that.  I guess there’s a lot I have to hear about your adventures.” He rubbed at the side of his head and grunted, “That stung.”
        Kayla’s glower faded until she was smiling.  His muscles were indeed quite a bit smaller than she remembered.  She hoped he wasn’t overtaxing himself. “Yes, there’s quite a bit.  Eight months worth of stories to tell.  His grace only heard a fraction of it.” She raised her paw to touch the side of his head so recently bitten by a bit of her magic. “Be thankful, my love, I have it in me to do more.”
        “I’m sure,” Rick nodded.  He then straightened himself out, and smiled warmly. “I want to hear it all.” He glanced in irritation up and down the hall. “Misha has his little party at the Long House planned, but that’s for this evening.  Until then, I could use a little help cleaning my quarters.  I’m expecting a very beautiful lady there soon.”
        She playfully pushed on his shoulder and laughed brightly, all trace of her anger gone. “You tease!  Very well, I’ll come with you to your quarters.  You are far too much a rogue, Rick.”
        “Guilty as charged!” He smiled back, feeling the last of his momentary anger drift away.
        “And maybe that’s why I love you so much.” Together, they linked arms and headed through the varied and mysterious halls of Metamor toward his quarters, wherever the Keep decided they were to be today.  And as they walked, Kayla kept one paw on where Clymaethera had once sat and proved Copernicus wrong.  She spoke of even more of their adventures to this man than she did to the Duke.  He listened with awe and relief. 

----------

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4b9987c1138681804284693!

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