Part Five and all that jive.
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Metamor Keep: Heading to All Tomorrows
by Charles Matthias
The morning, or at least it seemed to be morning,
that came to him was cloaked in mists and a sweet
but unpleasant smelling fog. Shapes that he could
not describe lurked in that haze as dark shadows
that almost shifted as he walked past. His pace
was measured, slow, almost lugubrious like thick
molasses being threaded through a sluice.
Everything was quiet and still, his boots not
even disturbing the long grasses with their heavy
stalks as he made his passage through the abandoned land.
The road only came to the dead city because it
had been built by his people many centuries past,
and their work did not diminish easily. But there
it stopped and what had once been close fitting
stones now stood ruin. The shadows that did
approach and reveal themselves to him were often
parts of some wall, crumbling and covered in ivy
and moss. There were fountains cracked through
and dry, now suffused with greenery instead of
the once crystal blue waters that had shimmered
with light. The wind circling through the still
standing structures echoed like a song first
evoked hundreds of years ago that had been
trapped within the walls; it could only repeat
itself, and endlessly swirling melody of such
delicacy and such sorrow that Andares felt his
heart ache and his eyes begin to weep.
So it is with all the works of the ancient
ones... a voice whispered in his ears as he
pressed on through the ruins. He turned as he
wiped the tears from his face, but saw nothing
but ruin, shadow, mist, and the ever suffocating
fog. Not even a glimmer of light from the sun brightened that choked landscape.
Andares kept one hand on his sword as he moved
past the caverns of song, the remnants of old
buildings passing by on either side with greater
frequency. He saw what had once been old homes
fashioned from the stone with taught wires
connecting the various pieces together, each
thrumming with a single note like a constant buzz
that pierced the crisp air. There were
amphitheaters where the songs had once been sung,
and even remnants from old metallic instruments,
the magic binding them having failed finally,
leading them all to give in to rust and decay.
All your homes will be this way...
In the midst of the ancient city he saw a small
grove of trees. And though it was Spring and
there was an abundance of moisture in the air, no
leaves sprouted from any of the branches, nor did
any blossoms bloom. In the midst of the copse he
caught sight of an old stone plinth rising up
from the heath. Andares turned toward this
plinth, eyes arrested by its granite, riddled
with faint vertical lines as if it had been
weeping, but what Andares recognized only a
moment later were grooves to suggest bark. There
were scattered remnants of debris at the base of
the plinth, but if that stone sculpture had once
been fashioned into the likeness of a tree to
stand at the center of the barren copse, then it
had long since been cast to ruin.
Cast to ruin... by men.
Andares felt himself turn to look for the source
of the voice, but the mist was too thick and the
timbre unrecognizable. His hand ready and waiting
upon the blade, he steeled himself against the
fresh horrors that would await him in this
strange dream realm of lost Yerebey. He continued
walking past the copse and past more tumbled
buildings and empty homes that had once been
bright with color, perfume, and music. But now
all was leaden gray and miserable grass. He
walked faster, boots striking little stones that
had been chipped off walls, ceilings, or other
plinths one erected to proclaim a season or a hope.
Retreat and you bring this with you... but that is all the ancient ones do.
Andares felt a sullen heat broiling in his chest
as he began to weep bitter tears.
----------
April 22, 708 CR
They rode hard for two days before reaching
Delavia. There they were able to trade for fresh
horses and continue for another three long days
of riding to reach Vineta. And while Anefistar
was sure to mention to everyone they saw in those
cities of the danger coming from the Elderwood,
the most anyone would offer them was fresh horses
and the location of way stations along the main
road to Salinon where they could refresh or trade their mounts.
This lack of concern for their neighbors to the
northwest alarmed Anefistar visibly, and his
normally placid southern face began purpling with
indignation every time his stories elicited no
more than a shrug. Andares found the lack of
unity among the people of Dûn Fennas unsettling,
and also a reason for sadness. His cousins had
ruled this land for many generations of humans,
and had deliberately set about training their
leaders to carry on their traditions before they
retreated into the woods at long last. The
Fennasi spoke many words of Quenardya, but was
that all that remained of their influence, words?
They reached the capital city of Salinon shortly
after noon on the eleventh day out from Nenuin.
Three roads from the west all converged into two
broad lanes that circled a brilliant blue lake to
the white bluffs on the eastern side. One road
came in from the south, another from the north,
and a sixth ventured from the east, the very road
the elvish people had taken when they left
Salinon three centuries before. Atop the bluffs
stood the many alabaster towers of the castle of
the Duke, that fabled eyrie floating as if in a
dream above the land, while the rest of the city
flanked the eastern slope of the bluffs as they
spread out into the heath and scattered farms and
forests beyond. The northern slope of the bluffs
were shallower and allowed easier passage to the
castle the southern face was almost as much a
cliff as the lakeward view and required a series
of locks and ladders to ascend and so Andares
and Anefistar followed the northern branch of the
elvish road with as much haste as they dared with their exhausted horses.
The lake was surrounded by clusters of homes and
businesses for fishermen as well as tradesmen too
poor to live in the city itself and numerous
farmers. None of them paid the two travelers any
attention as they rushed past. The road moved
away from the lake as they neared the bluffs that
glimmered as a white as a tombstone in moonlight,
before leading to a large gate complex. The gate
stood atop a small rise of at least six cubits,
offering defenders ample opportunity to slay any
besieging armies. The gatehouse was open,
although they were bid to slow down by the
sentries dressed in the black livery of the falcon.
Beyond the gate the road branches through several
districts, but the one that would lead them up to
the castle was almost always the steepest.
Despite the grade, they never needed to fear
slipping as the elvish roads kept a firm grip
when needed. The pair were allowed to pass
through two higher gates that brought them to
where they could gaze out in wonder across the
broad plain of farms, irrigation, pastureland,
and cultivated forests that stretched for miles
in every direction like a vista from a heavenly
dream before they were finally prevented from
going any closer to the castle. A pentecount of
soldiers dressed in breastplate with swords and
maces waited for them at the next of the gates
into the castle grounds, and they barred the way.
I must see Duke Otakar Salinon on the matter of
gravest urgency, Andares announced as he stepped
off of his horse. He kept his cloak firmly around
his shoulders and the cowl over his face as he
walked toward them. Anefistar, dwelling on the
Åelf's strength, dismounted and followed after him.
The head of the pentecount, a tall man with a
black cape bearing the falcon heraldry in the
middle, declared, The Duke is not in audience
today. If you are a messenger, then produce the
seal of your sovereign and your message will be delivered.
I must speak to him myself, Andares insisted as
he drew within a few feet of the soldiers. The
leader hefted his mace, while the others each
drew their swords and took a step forward. I do
not bear any messenger's seal. For I myself am
the seal of my kind, and it is my kind that makes
this request; nay demand for an immediate
audience. And with that, he reached up and drew
back the cowl from his face, revealing his
pointed ears, high cheek bones, and all the rest
of his visage that marked him as one of the ancient race.
All five soldiers gasped in surprise, falling
back a pace or two as they lowered their weapons.
The leader stared in awe as his lips. Yára Cáno!
You have come back to lead us at last! I am
Captain Raff. I will take you and your Ishtyar to
him myself. Please follow me. Men, see to their horses.
Captain Raff led them through the inner gate and
into the bailey just outside the castle itself.
The wall running the length of the castle
prevented them from seeing anything beyond the
mighty towers and the bulking edifice at their
base. To this Raff led them with a noted
swiftness in his step. The falcon heraldry was
everywhere visible both outside and inside the
castle. They climbed two sets of narrow stairs
before reaching a wide dining hall. Most of the
tables toward the rear of the room were empty,
but those nearest them were lavishly decorated
with flowers and bouquets of feather. Seated at
the table were several men feasting on mutton and wine.
Captain Raff, a man of swarthy complexion,
bearing a crown of gold laurel framing a bald
spot in a head of otherwise straight black hair
that rested atop his shoulders and reached down
his back, what is the meaning of this
interruption? Who are our guests? And then his
eyes alighted on Andares and he gasped. An elf!
By all the gods, we have not seen your kind here
in several generations! Captain, seat him here
with me. Take his grace back to his place in the tower.
The man at his left side, strong and with bright
red hair, rose, tipping the chair back so that it
fell over as he stood. Oh, my apologies for my clumsiness.
None needed, Jaime. None needed, Otakar said
with a laugh as he beckoned Andares closer. While
Jaime stepped out of the way, Raff picked up the
chair and gestured for Andares to sit within it.
Raff then gestured for Jaime to follow him, and
the red-haired man left the room with the
soldier, his plate only half empty. Anefistar sat
down at the end of the table and folded his hands
in his lap as he waited with an anxious expression.
I am, as you have undoubtedly guessed, Duke
Kristov Otakar XII of Salinon. These are my
sons. He gestured to the four others at the
table with him ranging in age from an older boy
on the cusp of his first manly growth to a fully
grown man that looked the same age as Jaime. They
all had the same dark hair and complexion as
their father. Whom am I welcoming at my table?
I am Andares-es-sebashou, and I come not on
behalf of my own people, but of your own.
What do you mean?
Monsters have been seen emerging from Elderwood.
I and my companion Anefistar have killed several
of them in our long journey. But we have been
fortunate. The villages along the roads near the
Elderwood have not been so fortunate as the
monsters grow bolder and more numerous with each
passing day. I saw their need and came here
myself to beg you to send your armies north at
once to counter this threat. Your very land
depends on swift action, for there is no knowing
how great this threat will build if you do nothing.
Otakar nodded sagely as his thick lips pressed
tightly together. A ring-studded hand grasped a
goblet of wine and he took a long swallow before
speaking. You bring grave news,
Andares-es-sebashou. I will send my armies north
to Nenuin and the Elderwood to crush these monsters.
Anefistar almost gasped in relief, but Otakar
lifted that ring-studded hand to quell him to
silence. In return for my actions I do require
your aid as well, Andares-es-sebashou. I bid you
join me at the head of my armies. Once this
threat from the Elderwood has been crushed, we
will turn to the west and bring that dog in
Kelewair to heel. And with him, all of the
Midlands. Help me, Andares-es-sebashou, to bring
all of that land beneath the Fennasi.
He said it so simply and with such ease that
Andares felt himself repelled in horror. He
shifted in his chair as far from the Duke as he
could, and hissed through his teeth his reply. I
could never aid you in conquering other lands. I
did not come here to bargain with you, Duke
Otakar. I came here to compel you to action to
save your own lands. Not to conquer others.
I am Duke, Otakar replied to the amusement of
his children. They smiled with knowing confidence
in their father. You are not. Elf you may be,
but I am not going to order my army on your word.
Your people are dying!
Then agree to my terms. I will not order my army
to leave until you have done so.
You would let your people die? You would let the
evil of Elderwood run amock in your lands?
Indefinitely no. But if letting them run amock
for a little time convinces you to aid me in
conquering the west, then I consider it Fennasi lives well spent.
Andares stood from the table and took a step
backward. I will not help you. It was a mistake
to come here and to hope in you.
And you make a mistake if you think that you
will leave here so easily. Guards! A full dozen
soldiers poured into the room, even as Otakar's
sons all took weapons from beneath the table and
trained them on Andares and Anefistar. Otakar
grinned winsomely. Please see our guests to the
donjon. They may share quarters with Jaime
Verdane for now. They need time to think and
discuss where they won't be disturbed.
You would take me prisoner? Andares asked in a
surprise that was more sorrowful than angry.
Anyone who threatens my plans is an enemy of Dûn
Fennas. You have accomplished this yourself.
Otakar then sat back down at his table and
resumed eating his mutton. The guards grabbed
Andares and Anefistar by the arms and pushed them
toward the far door. Anefistar struggled for a
moment and was rewarded with a mailed fist
tapping him on the head; not so hard as to render
him unconscious, but hard enough that he could do
nothing but hold his head and walk. Andares
didn't bother to struggle; he walked where the guards pointed him.
They were led to a walled courtyard of pine and
oak on either side of a small garden, and in a
soft voice, the man next to Andares whispered,
Forgive us, Yára Cáno, but we cannot disobey his
grace. You should never be held prisoner in this or any other tower.
Do your duty, Andares replied in an equally soft whisper.
The man sucked on his lips, and then he and the
other guards led them both through the garden and
into a tall tower and up a long set of curving
stairs. The stairs continued for at least a
minute before they reached a landing with another
door and a room beyond. Into this they were
escorted. The door was locked behind them.
The room had a single bed, a writing desk, a set
of chests for clothes and other belongings, a
hearth and chimney, and a pair of barred windows
that could be closed from the inside. The
red-haired man known as Jaime Verdane was sitting
at the writing table reading over a letter and
turned to them with a look of genuine surprise.
Our host's hospitality is growing less and less
pleasant by the day it seems. Are you here to entertain me or to spy on me?
Anefistar crawled over to the bed and sat down,
cradling his head in his hands but made no
answer. Andares stood, brushed himself off, and
then stepped over to one of the windows and
peered out across the countryside. Neither. We
have been detained because we would not do as the
Duke wished. You are the heir to the Duchy of Kelewair are you not?
I am. I have been a prisoner here some months. I
expect to be a prisoner for many years yet.
Jaime set the letter aside and then rested his
hands in his lap. I suppose I should be grateful
for the company, although I do not think we can all share the same bed.
I will sleep on the floor; I have no need of the bed.
Jaime studied him, his eyes transfixed by the
Åelf's strange features. My wife told me of your
kind; she'd never seen any of the ancient folk,
but she knew the history of her land and the
stewardship of your people over her own. You
realize that every duke and every noble in the
land of Dûn Fennas harkens back to those days and
yearns for their renewal? Each duke, this one
especially, thinks themselves the equal of your
kind in wisdom and grace. I think you have seen
how foolish that is. Jaime lowered his eyes and
hit his knee with one fist. My kind can never be the same.
Andares turned from the window and stepped toward
the human. No, we are not the same. We do not
hold each other prisoner for land or wealth, or even power.
Do you not have powers that will break the walls
of this prison? I see they left you your sword.
But the Åelf could only frown. Something was
wrong here, more than just the rapacious greed of
the Duke. It nagged at him like an inch in the
small of his back where he couldn't reach. The
walls are shielded in this tower against magical
interference. And you know that the drop from
these windows will kill any man who attempts it,
including me. No, the only way out is through the
door we came in, and the only way we shall leave
it is if Duke Otakar decides to let us free.
But your sword! Jaime insisted.
Is not for human blood; not in offense. Andares
turned from the Midlander and sat next to Anefistar. How is your head?
Bruised bad, but I'll be fine after a night's
rest. Anefistar lowered his hands and then
allowed the Åelf to lay him down on the bed. The
only pillow was soft and draped in a very smooth
wool, and this he positioned beneath the
scholar's head. Thank you, Yára Cáno.
In surprise, Andares narrowed his eyes, lips
pulling taut to hide any emotion from his face. Even you would call me that?
You have earned it more than that Duke. From
henceforth I will follow no one but you, Yára Cáno.
Andares felt his hands tighten momentarily into
fists, and then he stood up and walked back to
the window. He tried to stare to the east, but
there was nothing more to see except farms and
fields. While Jaime returned to his letter and
Anefistar took his rest, he stared, lost in the vista surrounding Salinon.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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