[Mkguild] Keeper's Return (6/13)

[C. Matthias]

Part 6

Metamor Keep: Keeper's Return
By Charles Matthias

        After leaving the Duke’s chambers, Jessica walked for a few minutes through the halls of Metamor looking for a window.  She never found one large enough for her to squeeze through, but she did find a battlement from which to leap off.  She shrank to her normal hawk size in midair and took flight to the northwest.  It was snowing gently in the afternoon, grey light suffusing everything around, but at least it was still light.
        She found a thermal that carried her over the town and city walls within a minute and let herself glide upward in the cool winter air.  She had never been to Barnhardt’s Lake, but she’d seen enough maps of the Valley to know it was to the northwest about three hours by carriage, and unmistakable because of the large lake that provided it with its name.
        Beneath her passed trees and fields, but mostly trees.  The Dragon mountains rose like a slumbering serpent, tall peaks the spines of its back, thrumming in the cloudy sky with each stony exhalation.  Cross-currents buffeted her from time to time, but otherwise it was an easy if unpleasant flight.
        And as the many minutes trickled past, she caught sight of a white expanse in the midst of trees, with a solitary grey tower rising from its midst.  A town clustered one side, walls set through the clearing and surrounding the simple buildings of stone and wood.  Docks lined the edge of the lake, but no boats were to be seen.  The city was divided into an inner and outer bailey, and there even appeared to be defences ringing the lake, watchtowers and various machines hidden from the ground whose purpose escaped her.
        All this she saw a good ten minutes before she arrived.  She circled toward the inner bailey where she suspected the barracks would be.  The ground was cleared of snow, but all the roofs were carpeted in a thick blanket.  Several Lakelanders pointed at her as she came down, undoubtedly wondering if she were a true beast or merely cursed.  A few guards disappeared inside the fortifications, and then she was among them.  Her talons clattered against slippery stone work, and she tumbled onto her chest.
        A few people shouted around her, and all kept clear while she pushed herself back up, shifting into her most human form.  She could feel a bruise coming on her left side, but nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own in a few days.  She shook her feathers from head to tail, errant snow scattering around her.
        Her gaze settled on a human woman in a woolen cloak, buskins, and hood. “My name is Jessica.  I am looking for Weyden the hawk.  Can you tell me where he is?”
        The woman smiled to her, revealing a few missing teeth. “Weyden, yes, he would be resting in the barracks.  He’s talked about you, you know.  He didn’t say you were a black-feathered hawk though...”
        “That’s a long story,” Jessica said as her wings settled back into place along her sides and back. “I’ve never been to Barnhardt’s Lake before.  Where are the barracks?”
        “That building on your left.  The one fronting the lakeward wall.” She pointed and Jessica thanked her. 
        Before she’d taken five steps, a familiar voice shouted. “Jessica!” Ducking his head and coming out of the nearest entrance to the barracks was a giraffe bundled with several scarfs around his tall neck.
        “Larssen!” Jessica cawed in delight, and hopped over the rutted stonework toward him.  He rested a heavy arm on her shoulder and smiled down, his yellow fur dotted with snowflakes. “Where’s Weyden?”
        “Van’s getting him.  He’s resting up from flying patrols all morning over the mountains.” The giraffe put a heavy hand on her shoulder and steadied her on the icy courtyard. “You’re looking very dangerous like this.  What happened?”
        “It’s a long story, but I will tell you.  I’m so happy to see you out of the dungeons.  How long were you there?”
        Larssen frowned and then shrugged. “About four months, then we were released and sent here.  It seems like a lifetime ago, but... at least I’m not cramped anymore.  I had a sore in my neck that wouldn’t go away for weeks after we got out!” He laughed and firmly tapped the middle of his neck with one hand. “At least here we don’t have to worry about anyone connecting us with Yonson...”
        Jessica frowned, a momentary pang for the lemur who’d befriended her too. “Is Maud here too?”
        The giraffe seemed to stand another foot taller, his heavy hooves grinding the stones beneath him. “Oh yes.  She’s here too.  Even our gaoler decided to join us up here.  I think we’re all happier this way, but seeing you makes it even better.  And unless my ears mistake me, here comes Weyden now.”
        Jessica gazed past Larssen and saw a very handsome hawk hop out of the aperture into the late afternoon grey.  His golden eyes found her immediately, his wings stretched, and he screeched a delighted avian cry.  The two ran and glided across the courtyard until they met, wings wrapped about each other, beaks nuzzling and cawing laughter deep in their throats.
        “My Jessica!” Weyden cried with warm delight, his chest breathing heavily into hers. “Oh my Jessica I have dreamt of this day!”
        “And I too,” she replied. “My Weyden!  My handsome hawk!  My man!”
        “I am that,” he replied with a laugh and another screech.  His golden eyes devoured her face, eyes, and feathers. “But what happened to your feathers?”
        Jessica stood a little taller, her hooked beak meeting his and kept it there. “Do not fear it, my love!  I killed the Runecaster who murdered my master Wessex.  What happened in that battle has left my feathers black.  Oh please, don’t shrink from me!  I am still your beautiful hawk.”
        Weyden blinked, leaning back on his talons, the hold of his wing claws on hers faltering for a moment.  And then he tipped back his head and laughed. “Shrink from you?  You are more beautiful than ever before!  A feast for my eyes and heart to adore, dark with raven flax and gilded with golden eye!  I am in awe of you my love!”
        Jessica’s beak cracked in an avian smile, and she pulled her wings in tight, leaning into his chest, savouring the feel of his wings wrapping around her back and tail. “Oh, Weyden!” She trembled against his feathers, warm now despite the cold flight. “Oh I love you!”
        “And I you, my Jessica.  Welcome home.”
        Jessica nuzzled his chest and shoulders with her beak and head, allowing all the months of travel, all the sleepless nights worrying over her hawk, he who had promised to wed her on her return, he who had been imprisoned for merely serving Ambassador Yonson, and he who she’d had to leave to defeat the very evil that had been the cause of his imprisonment, all of those worries and fears she allowed to be washed away in his strong and tender embrace.
        “It is so good to be home,” Jessica said when she finally drew back a pace. “Misha has invited us both to a welcome home party.  I feel like I should go, as he’s been a dear friend to me too.  Are you up to flying to Metamor?”
        Weyden’s eyes dimmed slightly and he said, “I have duties here.”
         “Copernicus told me they were waived for one night.  Tomorrow I’ll return with you here and stay until your tour is over.” Jessica nuzzled his chest feathers again. “Please, my love.”
        Weyden sighed and smiled.  He glanced at Larssen who had been joined by Maud and the child Van. “All right.  But there’s something we’d hoped to ask you.  Now it’ll have to wait until we get back.”
        Larssen guffawed, Van laughed, and even Maud managed a chuckle between giving Weyden vicious stares.  Jessica nudged his chest with her wing claws. “Oh, don’t do that to me!  Not after all this time!”
        But it was Maud whose pleasant soprano cut through the mystery. “Weyden, you are enjoying yourself far too much.” She slipped an arm around one of Larrsen’s massive hands and then lay her cheek against the tough spotted yellow hide covering its back. “Larssen and I are to be married this Spring.”
        Jessica’s heart leaped inside her chest.  She gave her hawk fiancé a firm shove and he squawked as he stumbled backward.  She danced over to the two completely mismatched figures, the nine-foot tall giraffe Larssen and the human woman who was just over five feet in height.  Her head came up to the bottom of his ribs and his hooves were larger than her feet.  He could easily carry her in one arm if he so chose.  And what is more, they’d been friends before coming to Metamor — Maud had once been a man.
        But in all the time Jessica had known her, she’d known a sister and not a woman struggling with forgotten memories of masculinity.  If only all could accept the Curses as well as she.  Jessica could not help but marvel as she looked at them, delight in her heart for their happiness, at how the touch of those triple Curses expressed themselves differently.  Even at the edge of mage sight, she could discern subtle nuances to the manner of the curse, vague dissimilarities that were almost recognizable as animal, child, or that most intimate of qualities to identity, the nearly insurmountable wall between man and woman.
        But all of these wonders were an academic riddle she would tease out later.  For now, she rushed to her friends and did her best to wrap them in her wings. “Oh, I’m so happy for you both!  You two are so right for each other!”
        “I agree,” Maud said, rubbing her cheek against the back of Larssen’s hand.
        Larssen lowered his neck, bending it so adroitly it looked as if it should snap, and brushed his lips across Maud’s dark hair. “I’m the lucky one.”
        Maud and Jessica laughed, and then Maud put her other had on Jessica’s wing. “And I have something I wanted to ask you before you left with your husband-to-be.  Will you serve as my Bride’s Maid?  I can think of no one I’d rather ask!”
        Jessica hugged her closer, beak pressing into her hair. “Oh thank you, Maud!  I will!  I will!  And you must be one of mine!”
        The woman soldier smiled firmly, eyes wide with joy. “Let me know when and where, and I’ll be there for you both.  Now go.  We’ll be here when you get back.” She leaned into the giraffe who still nuzzled her gently.
        Jessica turned back to her hawk and shot him a reproving look.  Weyden shrugged his wings, but accepted the reproach with good humour.  Together, they jumped into the sky, wings outstretched, and shrank into their beastly forms as they gained the evening sky.

----------      

        Misha Brightleaf trembled and beamed like his namesake.  He jumped onto a table, clasped his paws tightly, and gazed at the assembled Longs, the many other scouts he’d invited, and the many friends of those brave souls who’d been sent to Marzac so many months ago.  For the vast expanse of the Long House it was a modest gathering, and not a one of the heroes was a Long.  But Misha wished for them this honour and more than he could give.
        At the very least, they could celebrate the returned heroes.  But first, all the invited guests were expecting at least something of a speech from him.  He licked his nose, gazed quickly at Caroline who smiled back, and then clapped his paws again.
        “Today is a very blessed day!  Today our brave friends who have trod in places none of us are likely ever to see ourselves, and have faced dangers none of us are likely to face, have returned triumphant!” He lifted his arms, tail wagging, and everyone cheered. “Let us welcome them home properly now.  First, we have Kayla who killed the evil wizard who balked Whisper by stabbing him in the back!”
        They were all sharing the makeshift stage with Misha, and not a one of them appeared to like the attention.  Kayla, when her feat was named, curled her tail tighter as if she could hide in it.  Her paws wished to grasp the dragon blades again, but they were safely back in Rickkter’s quarters for now.  Still, she did manage a smile and a nod to the fox as many cheered and a few gasped.  She could see Rickkter at the front of the crowd, with her friend Murikeer surreptitiously lending him support.  She smiled to the raccoon, and he smiled back.
        Misha gestured to the next on the table. “And then there is James, a donkey from Glen Avery and good friend to our own rat Charles, who not only has killed a Shrieker, but also defeated the Patriarch’s murderer in battle!”
        The donkey shook his head, ears upright and said, “I didn’t defeat him in battle!  I just dropped some bells on him.  I was lucky!”
        Misha patted him on the shoulder. “Nonsense!  You used the weapons you had around you.  You defeated Zagrosek!  Accept it!”
        James wasn’t the only one who looked unsettled at the notion.  Rickkter’s eyes were wide with disbelief, and also, an exploding treasure trove of jealousy.  He’d wanted to kill that insufferable dark Sondecki!
        But the fox moved on to introduce the others standing with him. “Next to our heroic donkey is Lindsey the timbersman!  Only person I’ve ever known who can make rafts out of tree bark and have the courage to ride them down icy rapids through the mountains!” Lindsey said nothing, but did manage a suggestion of a smile.
        Misha wasted no time in continuing. “Two of our fellow Keepers are not here right now.  Jessica should return soon.  You all know Jessica the hawk, student of the late Wessex ard’Kapler, who was able to avenge her master’s death against one of the wizards who controlled Loriod and murdered the Patriarch and his retinue.  And I know you know Charles Matthias, who was once living stone but has now become flesh again!  Jessica went to fetch her husband-to-be Weyden from up north, and our dear brother Long Charles went to be with his wife and family.”
        All of the Longs lowered their eyes at that, knowing just what it was that the rat found at the Glen.  But Misha had a few more to introduce. “And now three you don’t know.  The first is Abafouq of the Binoq.  He’s the one who gave Charles the ability to move and speak while stone.  And he helped in so many others ways on their journey I cannot begin to recount them.” Abafouq waved one hand, clearly unused to such scrutiny or to being made the centre of attention.
        “The second is Jerome Krabbe, a Sondeckis like Charles, he joined their fight in the Steppe and helped them find safe passage across that vast land.  And I’m told he has faster fisticuffs than a lightning bolt.  I haven’t asked for a demonstration, but maybe he can show us on a practice dummy later!”
        “As long as you don’t mind there not being a practice dummy later,” Jerome said in a tone almost devoid of humour.  The twitch at the corner of his broad lips revealed a different story.  Misha laughed, as did many of the Longs, most hoping he was just kidding.
        “And this is Andares-es-sebashou,” Misha said as he gestured to the last figure, tall and alien in appearance.  Neither Keeper nor Man, he bore a regal countenance and a distant _expression_ as if he stood before them yet his thoughts were in the heavens. “He comes from the depths of the Åelfwood, and now you know just as much about him as do I!” There were a few laughs at that.  Andares’s eyes narrowed in mirth.
        “And there is a one more who is missing; one who did not return with the rest.  Zhypar Habakkuk, writer, prophet, and mean pool player, lost his life in the battle against Marzac.  I’ll miss that confusing word bender, but his death was an honourable death.  He died saving the world.  Let us all take a moment now to offer our prayers for his soul and for those he left behind.” All of them lowered their heads and shut their eyes quietly for several long seconds.  Lindsey alone kept his open, staring up into the roof with a hollow face.
        After fifteen seconds of complete silence in the Long House, perhaps the first time such a feat had been achieved in over a year, Misha lifted up his arms and shouted, “Now let’s celebrate their triumph!” With that he jumped off the table with a whoop.  The assembled crowd cheered, while the travelling companions climbed down as quickly as they could.
        Kayla slid into Rickkter’s waiting arms, and after a quick kiss, she nearly dragged him from his feet to meet her friends.  Beside him, Murikeer his onetime pupil and Kozaithy the white skunk chuckled at both her exuberance and at the oddity of Rickkter being taxed in order to keep up.
        “Rick, Muri, I’d like you to meet my friends.” But others amongst the Longs also wanted to meet with them, so she dragged them to the first one they could reach, and that happened to be the little Binoq.  Abafouq, was dwarfed by everyone around him, but as he stood only three feet in height, he was long used to this.  The raccoon and pair of skunks gazed down at the little leathery brown-skinned man who appeared neither midget nor child.  His dark eyes met them with curiosity.
        “Abafouq, you know Rickkter my fiancé.  And this is Murikeer, a good friend, and his friend...”
         “Kozaithy,” the white-furred skunk supplied as she nestled closer to Murikeer’s flank.
        The Binoq nodded to each in turn, his smile faint but visible. “It is a pleasure meeting you.  Kayla has spoken often of you while we journeyed.” He turned his eyes on Rickkter. “I am relieved to see you are well.”
        “Thank you,” Rickkter grimaced, his legs feeling a bit shaky. “I did a little reading about your race after I woke up.  You’re a very secretive people.  But I did not learn much of your magic.  How long do you intend to stay at Metamor?”
        Abafouq shrugged. “I do not know.  I have no fear of your curse touching me.  Perhaps two months.  We cannot return until the passes have cleared in the mountains.  If you wish to exchange magical lore, there will be plenty of time.”
        “I’d like to learn more as well,” Murikeer said, his one good eye fixing the Binoq with an eager stare. “I have spent a great deal of time learning the element of earth and stone.  But never have I made stone live as you did for Charles.”
        “That,” Abafouq said with exasperation, “was a very special circumstance.  But I will be happy to discuss what I know.”
        The graceful figure of the Åelf came up behind them and gently put a hand on Kayla’s shoulder.  All of them turned to him, but he gestured to another corner of the Long House.  Finbar in all his sinuous glory was facing down Jerome who had taken a wrestler’s wide-legged posture.  Kayla gaped, “Is he nuts?”
        “He wished to see what Jerome could do,” Andares replied with an amused lilt to his voice, as if he found the very notion of challenging another to a fight he would surely lose a very honourable if foolish thing.
        All eyes in the Long House turned on the fight which had not yet begun.  Murikeer wrapped one arm about Kozaithy’s middle as he watched.  Abafouq climbed back on the table so he could see.  Kayla reached for the swords at her side, but found only empty air and grunted as she remembered they were in Rickkter’s room now.  Rickkter chuckled softly and shook his head. Of all the Keepers in the room, he had a very clear idea of what a Sondecki of the black could do. If Finbar wanted to open himself up to that kind of punishment, so be it.
        Finbar circled Jerome slowly.  The Sondecki moved only to keep facing him.  Finbar, as a ferret, was long in body, covered in grey fur that changed hues as he slunk through the diffuse lighting from the braziers above and along the walls, with short arms and legs ending in sharp little claws.  Lithe and quick, he was a natural contortionist and was next to impossible for anyone else to pin.
        Jerome hulked like a miniature ogre, with broad arms and legs thicker than a bear’s.  Hunched over he almost appeared a bear readying to push over a tree.  His fingers flexed freely, and even if he weren’t a Sondecki, none of the Longs present would ever want to find themselves at the mercy of those large hands.
        Finbar continued circling Jerome for several long seconds.  At first the Longs cheered him on, but their voices quickly subsided into an excited murmur.  And once all were completely silent, Finbar leapt forward, ducking low to avoid Jerome’s hands.  But the Sondecki was just as fast as he’d claimed, and he grabbed Finbar by the back of the neck with one hand and just above the base of his tail with the other and pulled them nearly together like he were trying rope.
        But from the look of sudden surprise on Jerome’s face, the ferret was faster than he’d expected.  Taking advantage of his natural sinuous body, Finbar curled his legs around and kicked his claws in Jerome’s chest.  Jerome staggered backward to avoid those claws, and while they tore through his tunic, they just missed gouging his flesh.
        Jerome still had a grip on Finbar’s scruff, and he drove him down, wrapping the ferret’s legs between his own and squeezing tight to keep them immobile.  Finbar responded by twisting his arms around to claw at the Sondecki’s midsection.  And it would have worked too if Jerome hadn’t begun shaking the ferret’s head back and forth so fast that it made him vomit.  A moment later, Jerome had both his legs locked and his neck wrapped between both arms.
        Finbar spat out bile and laughed. “I yield!”
        After gaping in surprise Misha began to laugh. “Well I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words from you before, Finbar!”
        Jerome slid the ferret down to the floor while using his sleeve to wipe some of the slime from Finbar’s muzzle.  A warm laugh echoed from his throat. “You almost got first blood on me there.  I’m very impressed.  You’re quite the fighter, Finbar.”
        Finbar coughed up a little more spit and rubbed at his neck with one paw. “I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as you.  Charles never could.”
        “He wasn’t trained to,” Jerome replied and stretched. “And it isn’t easy to do even for Sondeckis of the black.”
        Danielle was at Finbar’s side a second later helping to wipe up his vomit. “Don’t you ever do something like that again!” she chided him. “If Misha says he’s that fast, he’s that fast!”
        Rickkter shook his head and turned aside back to Kayla and the others nearby. “Lightning fist, or so it is called in the common tongue of Galendor.  What Jerome did.  I’ve heard of it but never seen it myself.  It’s not a common skill among the Sondeckis.  It has a rather potent weakness which I would’ve exploited if ever I had the opportunity.”
        “What is that?” Murikeer asked, his posture still one of awe at the very brief combat.
        “He can’t do it for long. It will drain him very quickly.  Once spent, it would be easy to finish him off.” Rickkter smiled as if he’d accomplished in deed what he described.  He then gestured to the ivory handled blade at Andares’s side. “That sword you bear, it looks remarkably exquisite.  Might I have a closer look?”
        Andares drew the sword and lowered the tip to his other hand, revealing the full length of the blade for inspection.  It was bright and silvery, etched with flowing symbols along its entire length.  Rickkter rubbed his finger tips across the flat of the blade and smiled in delight. “Very impressive.  What is his name?”
        Andares returned the smile, though his was more subtle than the raccoon’s which could not fail to reveal pointed teeth beneath black jowls. “His name is Anna-ithil-årda — He That Brings Moon to Earth.”
        Rickkter nodded in approval. “Very impressive.  You are a remarkable craftsman, Andares-es-sebashou.”
        At this, the Åelf’s smile became tinged by a veneer of good humour. “But it was not I who forged him.  He has been handed down amongst my kind for many generations.”
        Everyone stared more closely at the blade.  Rickkter’s tail lashed in renewed concentration. “How old is he?”
        “Not as old as the enemy we felled,” Andares admitted. “But old.  A more venerable companion than he it would be hard to ask for.”
        Rickkter whistled in delight and shouted, “Hey Misha!  I think this sword here is older than Whisper!”
        The fox stopped laughing at some joke made at Finbar’s expense and came over to see.  He looked at the sword in Andares’s hands, at the Åelf, and then shrugged. “Probably.  Kkart was ancient, but nobody is older than the fair folk.  Except maybe the dragons.”
        “If it is not too much to ask,” Rickkter said with real interest, “I would like to see what Anna-ithil-årda can do in your hands.  I’m not up to a bout, but I would like to see you move with him.”
        Andares smiled and nodded.  Misha, Murikeer, Kayla, and the others all backed away until Andares had a broad circle in which to move.  He stayed where he was for several long seconds, Anna-ithil-årda resting flat in his hands.  Jerome and the others turned to watch.  Even Danielle paused her lecturing of the still disoriented ferret.  Without moving a muscle, Andares already radiated a presence of restrained energy that crackled like lightning in a stormy sky.
        And then he moved, lifting the blade in one hand and twirling in quick circles, a dance of artistry as well as deadly focus.  He moved his feet only to spin one around the other, and extended his arms only to bend them.  The ancient blade caught the light of the chamber and reflected not the brilliant orange glow of torches but the silvery essence of moonbeams upon a still lake.  The tip shone with a brightness that hurt their sensitive eyes.  It flashed in arcs of such deliberateness that they almost could see a picture of a woodland vista spread before them.
        When Andares finally stopped and ended in the same posture in which he began, all of them who watched felt a deep sadness, as if they were glimpsing something buried long beneath the ashes of time.  There were a few gasps in the crowd, Murikeer one of them.  Rickkter’s smile grew broad. “You truly do him justice.  Might I be allowed to handle him?”
        “One as accomplished as you?” Andares asked, his smile still that enigmatic curl to his lips. “He would be most honoured.”
        With that, Andares handed the blade over to Rickkter who gripped him with the sort of delight a boy reserves for his first blade of steel that his father allows him after years of dashing the wooden practice staves to splinters.  The raccoon gave it a few experimental swipes before leaping into an old practice routine from his days as a Kankoran.  While not as artistic nor nearly as precise as what Andares performed, it nevertheless intimidated by its implied violence.
        That is, until Rickkter missed a step and faltered, bumping against a table to steady himself.  He gasped, winded, and it took all of his suddenly sapped strength to keep a hold of the blade.  Kayla rushed to his side and helped him to his paws, but by then he’d recovered enough to return to Andares’s side.
        He handed Anna-ithil-årda back, a delighted grin on his snout. “Thank you for letting me hold him.  It seems I’m still not quite up to my old strength.” He gasped again and bowed his head respectfully.
        Andares reclaimed his blade with far greater solemnity. “It was a pleasure to watch you perform.”
        Kayla grabbed the raccoon by the upper arm and pulled him back.  Rickkter stumbled over his own legs and almost collapsed but for a quick whiff of magic. “You should be more careful,” she said tenderly but with a hint of sternness. “I just got you back!  I’m not going to have you kill yourself just to show off!”
        “I wasn’t,” he objected after steadying himself.  Her green eyes narrowed meaningfully. “All right, I was showing off a little.  I just thought I was in better shape than that.  I guess the muscles aren’t quite back to their old strength yet.”
        Murikeer put one paw on his shoulder and frowned. “Will you be okay?”
        Rickkter nodded. “Absolutely.  Now, Abafouq,” he looked around until his eyes found the Binoq who had kept a discreet distance during the exchange, “you were about to tell us more about stone magic.  I’d be very interested to learn more about that too.”
        Abafouq nodded to the trio of skunks and single raccoon and folded his hands before them. “When one is living in the mountains, there are two forms of magic one is finding it wise to learn: the art of snow or stone.  I choose stone.” And as the little mage began his discourse, Murikeer’s keen attention kept slipping inexorably back to his master who seemed to lean far too much on Kayla for support.  But each time, he’d sigh, and listen anew to the Binoq as the party continued into the night about them.

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

Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4b9987d1138781804284693!

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