Part 7

Metamor Keep: Keeper's Return
By Charles Matthias

        Charles talked for many hours of his long travels through Galendor to the utter delight of his children, the keen interest of Garigan, the fretful looks of concern and admiration from Baerle, and the worry of his wife.  The rat tried to describe the most fascinating marvels he’d seen, which of course included the fabulous sky-ship Nak-Tegehki guided by the Nauh-kaee, the underground city of Qorfuu with its rivers of quicksilver and its flocks of eyeless sheep, the intricate ridges and coombs of Åelfwood filled with trees that made the Glen seem a yearling child, the pearlescent city of Ava-shavåis that was both living forest and woodland cathedral, the golden Rheh Talaran who thundered across the sky, and the vast empty Steppe where once could see for miles in every direction, a sea of grass undulating beneath the wind.
        What he did not do was relate the numerous terrors and privations they’d endured in those long six months toward Marzac, and he dare not even dwell on what Lindsey had pulled from her pouch in her last moments as a female kangaroo.  His four, not five, children were too enthralled with the magical enchantment he painted for them to notice that he was leaving things out.  Kimberly noticed.  He could see her noticing it with every twitch of her whiskers and quivering flutter of her eyes.  Someday e would have to tell her some of it, but there were many things he knew he could never say, for fear that he would never be able to leave her sight again without her falling into paroxysms of fear.  Risks were often easier to take if she didn’t know how close they came to all dying.
        But eventually, his four little children all started yawning and sprawling on his lap.  He gently pet them, fingers savouring the touch of their little ears, their soft fur, and their warm bodies.  Their eyes were too heavy to stay up any more.  He sighed and then let his gaze settle on his wife.  Kimberly’s eyes were for their children, and their was an adoration in them that warmed Charles’s weary heart.
        “I think it’s time for all of us to get some sleep,” Charles announced.
        “Aye,” Kimberly stifled a yawn as she stretched. “Baerle and I can put the children to bed.”
        “Let me,” Charles said as he scooped all four of them into his arms.  They curled paws and tail about his arms as he lifted them gently but securely.  They were so much bigger than last he saw them.  He actually had to use his Sondeck to keep from stumbling.  Kimberly and Baerle both followed him closely, snouts anxious, as he ascended the stairs, the way bright from one of his wife’s witchlights. 
        When last he’d come to the children’s room, there had been five cribs occupying the large wall with window overlooking the roots that framed their front door.  Now, those five cribs had been converted into four makeshift beds complete with wooden rails along the sides, all of them thoroughly gnawed upon.  Kimberly took the children from Charles’s arms one by one and snuggled them up beneath warm, colourful quilts.  Their little arms wrapped about animals made from fabric — bears, dogs, frogs, and dragons.  When each of them were curled up with eyes heavy and whiskers still twitching, Charles brushed down the fur behind their ears one by one and kissed them in the same spot.
        He knelt down as he’d once done when they were first born at the foot of their beds, folded his paws in prayer, and intoned softly toward the heavens, “Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, secundum verbum tuum in pace...” The words of that ancient prayer of his faith rolled across his tongue and danced in the air, before rising upward like incense toward the throne of Eli.  Kimberly knelt beside him and joined him in the prayer, thanking Eli and seeking His protection for their little ones.  Charles nearly cried when he came to that section, but a gentle embrace from his vine kept his composure firm.
        He made the sign of the yew at least, as did Kimberly, and then the two of them rose.  He smiled at his four children, and whispered, “Good night, my children.”
        “Good night, Dada!  Night Mama,” they repeated in their high-pitched voices, all filled with slumber.
        Baerle smiled to them both, and then stepped to the middle door in the opposite wall, her bedroom since she’d come to live with them ten months ago. “I will have something ready for you both to eat in the morning.  Good Night, Charles, Kimberly.” She smiled ever so winsomely at the rats and then slipped into her room and shut the door.  Only the faintest glimmer of light remained around the jamb.
        Kimberly smiled to Charles, kissed him on the snout, and then turned down the stairs with her witchlight weaving back and forth over her head.  Charles followed her with one paw on her shoulder, his thumb tracing little circles in her neck fur.  They found Garigan closing the hearth for the night.  He nodded at their approach, dark eyes reflecting bright green from the witchlight.
        “Is there anything more you’d like of me this night, master?” he asked of Charles.
        “No,” Charles replied with a swell of fondness for his Sondecki pupil.  He put one paw on the ferret’s shoulder, and felt a warmth spread between them, the touch of their Sondecks. “Good night, my friend.”
        Garigan nodded, bowed to Kimberly, and then walked to the exterior door.  He paused and turned just before reaching it. “What of your gryphon friend, Guernef?”
        Charles glanced at Kimberly who just smiled to him, and then back to the ferret. “I’ll find out.  Do not worry about him.”
        Garigan nodded and then quickly slipped out the door, closing it fast behind him lest the cold winter air enter.  Kimberly said softly, I’ll ready the bed.  Come in once you’re finished with your friend.  I’ll be waiting.”
        Charles’s heart beat a little faster, and then after his wife slipped beneath the tapestry cloaking their bedroom door, he followed Garigan outside.  The ferret was nowhere to be seen, but the white gryphon remained a sentinel between his door at the Glen.  His large avian head turned at Charles’s exit. “How are you, Guernef?” Charles asked.  The Nauh-kaee did not seem in the least bit chilled by the freezing night air.
        “I am well,” he replied in his screeching voice. “Are you?”
        “I will be,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Thank you for staying here.”
        “I will keep watch all night long.”
        “You don’t have to.”
        “But I will.  When do you intend to return to Metamor?”
        “I will need to report to Duke Thomas,” Charles said softly, “but I can’t do it just yet.  I’ll need a few days.  I can’t leave Kimberly and my children so soon, even if only for another day.  You can go back there if you wish.”
        “I will return with you, Charles.” The Nauh-kaee lifted his head, golden eyes focussed on the pine boughs and the starlight sky with bright full moon known more for the radiance it lent the forest than for its silvery disk in the heavens.  “Now go be with your love.  You are flesh again.”
        The rat could not help but recall their first true conversation.  While aboard the ancient Åelf sky-ship, Guernef had warned him against being stone in both body and desire.  And he’d cautioned the rat that he could not be a husband to his wife if he were stone and thinking stony thoughts.  He sighed and gazed at the sky with his much larger friend.  Branches laden with fresh white glimmering in moonlight cast an almost mystical charm over the Glen while the shadow of a night watch member moved along a concealed bridge suspended in the heights. “You’re right.  Good Night, Guernef.  I will see you in the morning.”
        The gryphon said no more and so Charles headed back inside.  He savoured the sudden warmth.  A single witchlight danced in front of the wooded tapestry.  Charles admired his wife’s budding talent with magic, something he’d have to thank Murikeer for when he finally saw the skunk.  But for the moment he put all other thoughts from his mind, slipped beneath the tapestry with the witchlight following, and entered his bedroom.
        Kimberly was cuddled beneath the quilts waiting for him.  The witchlight left him and hovered over the bed.  The room was cozy and unchanged from when he’d last seen it.  His heart ached with the many long months of sleeping on the ground, or while stone, not sleeping at all. “I’ve missed you, my sweet,” he said as he gazed at his wife.
        She gently patted the empty side of the bed. “Come to bed, my love.  I want to hold you.  I want you to hold me.”
        Charles nodded, quickly disrobed, and then wrapped his paws around his vine. “Just one moment.” He glanced around for some place that his vine might do well through the night, and then walked to the hearth at the foot of their bed.  He let his backside turn to stone, and while the vine curled around his arms, he gingerly slid it free.  Then with paws of stone, he shoved them and the vine’s root into the stonework of the hearth.  It uncoiled from his chest as he left it there, and he felt strangely naked, even more so than his lack of clothes would suggest.  For months now the vine had always been pressed close to his chest.  The stone gave way to flesh once more, and he ran his paws over his chest, feeling the fur and strong muscles, but there was no vine, soft and tender.
        He turned, saucer-shaped ears folding back.  She was so beautiful.  His wife.  Charles climbed into bed next to her, slipping one paw under the covers and through the fur on her side.  One of hers slid up across his chest and then over his back.  Warm with short, sharp claws.  Charles nuzzled her snout, his flews brushing over hers, whiskers to whiskers. “I love you,” he breathed, his legs and chest blending with her own.
        “I love you too, my husband,” she said, her voice welling with emotion.
        They held each other close, two rats in love, while the witchlight above them dwindled and went out.

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        “You need to get your rest,” Kayla assured him.
        The raccoon grunted but didn’t attempt to argue just yet.  He sat down on his bed and breathed heavily.  For the first time since he’d risen from his six month slumber, he’d spent nearly his entire day outside his quarters.  Misha’s little party was still going strong, but every one of his bones from his feet to his head and his paws to his tail was weary from exhaustion.  He knew he would sleep well past dawn tomorrow; perhaps he’d sleep even till noon.
        “I’m fine,” he assured her after catching his breath. “If I don’t push myself a little bit more every day...” he took a long slow breath of air, lung aching and sore, “I’m never going to recover my strength.”
        “Well, I’m here now,” Kayla assured him.  She lifted up the free corner of his quilt and rubbed her paw over the soft linens beneath.  A spell kept the feather mattress beneath soft but firm. “I’m going to make sure you exert yourself right.  Misha told me that both the Lothanasa and Healer Coe have left instructions for you to follow if you are to return to your old strength.”
        Rickkter snorted. “In at least a year.  I’m not going to be kept cooped up at the Keep that long.  I want to be out and about in a few months.  I’ll set my own pace.”
        Kayla scowled and put her paw on his shoulder.  Rickkter gasped and felt the little defiance drain from him like wine from an upturned bottle. “Please don’t let me linger in the Keep so long,” he begged her, eyes meeting her own and finding a cache of sympathy and love.
        “Oh, Rick.  I could never do that.  I just don’t want to see you hurt yourself.  It tore my heart out to see what both Zagrosek and the Marquis did to you.  Most days it was just Artela’s promise of your recovery that kept me going.”
        She eased his shirt over his arms, and Rickkter winced at a sudden pain in his shoulders.  Perhaps he had exerted himself more than he should in a single day.  He growled again. “What I hate is that you and the rest come back strong, hearty, and hale, and I’m practically an invalid!  Some swordsman of no account kills Zagrosek.  You all ride horses that can fly, not to mention visit two cities forbidden to our kind and fly in a ship on the air.  Jessica actually travels into the Pillars of Ahdyojiak, something I’ve only ever heard whispers about!  And all of you witness a magical conflux the likes of which I can’t even dream about!  If I am exhausted, it is because I’m drained from jealousy!  I want all those experiences for myself.  I wanted and still want to be at your side as we face them together.  I want...” his voice trailed off and he heaved with a long sigh. “I want to journey and see all these places, Kayla.  I haven’t truly left the valley since I arrived two years ago.  My one real chance, and it’s gone.”
        Kayla nodded as she listened.  She could hear the pain in his voice and it stabbed her heart.  In a quiet voice she said, “If you hadn’t been struck down, I would not have been at your side.  The only reason I went is because I needed to go for your sake.” With a gentle touch, she eased the raccoon’s head onto the pillow, and then began unlacing his breeches. “If it is possible, one day we will see all those places together.  I know it.”
        Rickkter would normally object to anyone undressing him like a child, but this was Kayla and he savoured the touch of her paws on his flesh.  If only he didn’t feel so weak!  The stirring of passion in his loins was felled most cruelly by muscles too weakened and sore to respond. “It won’t be the same.”
        “No,” she agreed.  She smiled and slipped his pants off. “It will be better.”
        The raccoon found it impossible to say anything more.  The allure of sleep was too great a surcease for his pain for him to ignore much longer.  Kayla quietly slipped his legs beneath the quilt and drew it up to his chin.  She folded his clothes and set them on his clothes chest.
        Rickkter opened his mouth to ask why she did not appear to be joining him, but was met with Kayla’s blunt snout pressing in close for a kiss. “Sleep well, my Rick,” she said in soft dulcet tones.  The raccoon blinked to forestall sleep, but it crept over him as inexorable and as callous as the waters over a drowning man.
        She then picked up the dragon swords from the table where they lay awaiting the raccoon’s attention, cradled them possessively under her arms and let through the door to his bedroom, closing it softly behind her.

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

Charles Matthias
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