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Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx
Pars IV: Infernus
(c)
Saturday, May 12, 708 CR
The forest delved into a broad valley with the
trickling of a brook through a culvert on the
other side of a line of short hills. The wind
pushed down the valley at first, but was soon
blocked by thick shields of rock so that they
were for a moment protected. The ground, once dry
but for the soft carpet of moss, was now squishy
with tracks of mud and puddles of rancid water.
Their steps avoided these, but Charles still felt
the mire pressing into his toes and wedged
beneath his claws. The further they descended the
tighter the branches interlocked above them,
blocking out even the suggestions of shifting
light from the clouds. The colors on his guide's
garments were muted to gray, and only the
luminous green glow from lichen and mushrooms brought any light to their eyes.
The valley came to an abrupt end after a short
rise when the ground dropped away in a series of
steep cliffs. The trees grasped for every scrap
of earth, their roots dangling off the edge in
empty air, branches stretching out perilously as
if the entire tree could be pushed with a hand
across the precipice. Charles gaped at the
dizzying height for he could not penetrate the
gloom far enough to see if there was even a
bottom. He felt as if he stood on the edge of the
very world and only the emptiness of nothing was
open to him with a single foolish step.
His guide turned to the left, following a track
along the promontory that slowly descended amidst
a shelter of rock. As the rock stretched upward
on their left, the cliff yawning on their right,
the trees dwindled and then disappeared
altogether leaving the rat anxious and exposed. A
bitter wind grasped at his cloak and from
somewhere up above he felt certain he saw
broad-winged shapes circling and swooping in the scarred blackness.
For several long minutes they traveled on the
narrow track of rock with an endless pit at his
right and a steep wall of stone he did not dare
commune with on his left. The glimmer of lichen,
pale and sickly green, cast an eerie pall on
their path and the walls enclosing about them
like a fist. Charles crept as close behind the
gray-skinned figure as he dared, eager to quit
this place where even his breath felt too loud.
Eventually the cliffs veered to their right and
the passage dove through a cleft in the rocks.
Down this passage his guide walked with unnatural
serenity and Charles followed. He felt panic
filling him at the tight corridor that twisted
back and forth. He wanted to shrink away from the
enclosing walls, slick with fungi whose
incongruous yellow and blue glow made portions of
his guide's cloak glimmer while dimming others to invisibility.
After several twists and turns so that Charles
lost all sense of direction, the passage opened
out onto a sloping hillside covered once more in
forest. To his right the ground continued to fall
away at a measured pace, while on his left it
climbed up against a promontory towering behind
them. The trees here still had some of their
leaves, but they were all sickly brown and
crumpled to the point that Charles could not
identify what sort of tree they might be. Beech,
alder, oak, maple, walnut, it was impossible to
tell. Not even the bark seemed wholly familiar,
though with the profusion of mushrooms and other
slimes clinging to their trunks he had no
intention of touching them to be sure.
The stone still sheltered them on two sides in a
quasi-alcove and it was there that the figure
half turned and with one hand bid him wait.
Charles felt relieved to be out of the passage
and took a few more steps to put a little
distance between him and the black hole behind
him before obeying the command. His benefactor
lifted his other arm high above his head,
spreading his fingers as if he were strumming
gossamer threads, while he cast his eyes in every direction.
Half-a-minute later the tall figure turned toward
Charles and with kindly eyes and long-fingered
hands bent down and ever so gently grasped the
soft fur on his cheeks. He applied a slight
pressure to the rat's cheekbones, forcing him to
tilt his head downward. Charles blinked but
allowed his guide move him, too frightened to do
anything but obey. The pearl gray-skinned figure
bent so that his tall forehead rested against the
broad dome of Charles' head between his
saucer-shaped ears. And then a glimmer as of a
tiny pinprick pushed between his thoughts as he
heard a comforting voice without his ears.
It is not safe to speak aloud in this place. For
a moment we may speak with our minds. How came
you to this place, Charles Matthias, for you are
not dead of flesh, nor is your soul bound to this wood for consumption?
Charles blinked for a moment, but then closed his
eyes and concentrated on thinking clear words.
I have crossed over from Nocturna's realm in
search of my son who was stolen from me. How have
you come to be here, Qan-af-årael?
He could feel the corner's of his benefactor's lips lift in amusement.
My presence here should not be a surprise. I died
and my being has come to rest in the Dreamlands.
It is the place of repose for all virtuous souls
both of my kind and of yours except for those
who, as you do, follow the ways of Eli. They are
taken beyond these demesnes and not even the
Daedra lords know where they have gone.
Qan-af-årael's thoughts were silent, and the
needle-like presence in his mind withdrew for a
moment as if he were considering something. And
then he felt the surge of power gently intrude again.
What happened to your son?
A cruel malady killed him in my absence. I go to
reclaim him if possible and to say goodbye if not.
To reclaim a soul is very difficult indeed. Be
careful in what you wish, especially in this
place. You are not safe here, but if you seek a
soul that has gone beyond, you have little choice.
The presence withdrew and Qan-af-årael lifted his
head from the rat's own, casting a furtive glance
at the surrounding trees. His eyes glimmered with
a spectral radiance in the febrile illumination.
Even in the heart of Marzac in the Chamber of
Unearthly Light Charles had never seen the
ancient Åelf appear frightened. He had faced the
Marquis and his deck of cards with equanimity
even though it had bled him of his very life. A
serene peace always surrounded him. But for one
brief moment in that gaze, something disturbed
that peace, some awareness of a danger greater
than that which they'd contended against in the bowels of Jagoduun.
For a moment, Charles regretted his request of
Malger. But then he steeled himself and favored the Åelf with a curious gaze.
When Qan-af-årael returned his stare he bore the
mask that cloaked his thoughts and feelings yet
exuded a simple confidence in the order of all
things. He motioned for Charles to follow him
once more and together they left the sheltering
alcove behind, driving straight across the
sloping ground, working their way beneath the
canopy of trees. The rustle of dead leaves
rubbing together as a wind drifted through the
upper branches covered what little sound their
steps made, but still the rat feared that the
pounding of his heart would draw every beast in a
mile to them. The rock wall and promontory behind
them quickly disappeared in the gloom and one
again all he could see about him was the endless and seemingly dead forest.
After they had walked for several minutes he
heard a soft crunching behind them. It was some
distance yet, but it was clearly not of the same
character as the rustling leaves or rattling
branches. The footfalls sounded heavy and
deliberate, the strides large, but it did not
seem to bring with it a crashing of wood as the
four-armed monstrosity he witnessed by the towers
and cairn had caused. Charles glanced behind him
but the wood gave no sign other than that sound
which came every few seconds. The wind stopped
and all else became still around them yet the
soft crunching continued to follow.
Qan-af-årael guided them down the slope a short
distance until they could hear the babbling of a
shallow brook cutting through the hillside. Frame
on one side by a line of low rocks, the stream
wound a jagged course downhill. Strange little
flowers with drooping petals lined the other
bank. Qan-af-årael put a gentle hand on his
shoulder and gestured to the flowers with his
other hand. His expression was grave and full of
warning. Charles nodded in understanding,
glancing down at his legs to beware his step.
They followed the brook for a few minutes before
the line of flowers with their tear-drop shaped
petals which glistened in the watery spray with a
faintly luminous purple glow broke for a stretch
of slick rock. Across this his benefactor
stepped, his gait so light that his soft boot did
not even break the surface of the water. Charles
followed him and winced as he felt a burning
sensation on the bottom of his toes.
Once they were across and nestled against a
series of upthrust stones where were being
crushed within the grip of tree roots,
Qan-af-årael bid him recline. Charles, his toes
curled in pain, ground his incisors together and
tightened his claws into his sleeves to keep from
crying out. He felt as if hot coals were being
dragged across his toes. Tears pressed at the sides of his eyes.
But the Åelf moved his lips without speaking, and
gently touched each of his toes in turn. With
that touch the pain went away and he felt whole
again. Charles took a deep breath and let the
tension ease from his hands and legs, smiling in
thanks to the Åelf before pushing himself off the rocks to follow behind again.
A heavy whump sounded from behind them, and then
a faint cascade of water like a rock plunged in a
lake. The Åelf glanced back once, and then
beckoned for the rat to move faster. Charles did
not bother to look, but slipped one hand into his
tunic to grab his Sondeshike as he chased after
the slender man as they fought to slink through
the wood, ever descending through the folds of
the land. The slope grew steeper as they went,
and the sound of the creek turned from babbling
to splashing as the creek ran through a series of
falls and pools, swelling with each passing foot.
Still whatever followed them gained, until
Charles felt it was right behind him. Little
gusts of warm air shot across the tops of his ears.
And then the ground fell away from them and they
were striding into the open air. Charles flailed
his arms as their cloaks spread wide, the feet
tumbling past invisibly. Something screamed above
them, a deep throaty roar filled with fury. And
then he gasped as they crashed into the trunk of
a tree, the landing smashing the wind from his
chest while his arms scrambled to grab onto
something, anything. He felt as if he was going
to fall backward into an abyss, his eyes seeing
nothing while his ears reverberated with that
ravenous growling roar. His tail wrapped about
the limb beneath him, his toes claws scrambled to
dig into the bark, and his eyes searched for some
sign of the Åelf, all the while his heart and
lungs ached beneath the bruised cage of his ribs.
I am here.
To his surprise he felt the comforting presence
of the Åelf intrude on his thoughts with the
subtlety of a cat slipping beneath a tapestry.
His panicked breathing slowed and he realized
that not only were they secure on a large branch,
but that Qan-af-årael was covering him with his
cloak, hiding them from whatever beast they
narrowly escaped. He could feel the tall forehead
pressed into the fur of his brow, and he relaxed.
Only the bruising of his chest where he landed still ached.
Are we safe?
We are never safe here, came the reply. But the
creature will not follow us down.
Where are we?
Lilith's demesnes. What the race of man deems the second Hell.
Charles pondered that for a moment. When faced
with Nocturna herself all he could do was buy
time while a bridge was established. He had never
considered where the bridge would take him except
closer to his son. And that had led him now to
Lilith's realm? He had heard dreadful tales of
the Daedra queen of vampires and all dark places
and foul creatures of the deepest wild. Were the
horrors he'd already seen and felt her creatures?
But how had his friend and fellow Long Scout
Craig Latoner come to be in this place?
The Keeper we saw, Craig, he was a friend. Why is he in this place?
Good souls who have done some ill will struggle
here for as long as they remain.
Good souls must face this?
And some worse. Qan-af-årael shifted above him
but the connection remained. An immortal soul can
face dangers mortal flesh cannot.
Is that why you are here?
I am here because I saw a great bridge plunging
into a deep and bottomless chasm through the
Dreamlands. I saw my friend, my companion, and
the dear one who had announced my departure from
Ava-shavåis crossing that bridge into the
darkness. I followed because I knew you were not
dead, curious, and concerned. You should not be here, Charles.
The rat frowned and took a deep breath, the pain
in his chest less. I cannot leave until I have found my son.
He will be beyond all of the hells. Your faith in
Eli tells you that he is in a greater paradise
than can be imagined. Perhaps it is better to
abandon your search before some other terror
comes to destroy you. There will be no rest for
your soul if you die here, Charles.
The thought of one of those four-armed freaks
slowly squeezing its fangs through his flesh send
shudders up his spine and down his tail. But with
a shuddering sigh he gave his head the slightest
of shakes. I must at least try to find him. Please.
His benefactor was quiet for a long time, the
presence withdrawn. Charles felt barren and
exposed despite their concealment. He felt
something brushing against his tail but it was
only his own cloak. He quivered but steeled
himself, forcing his breath to come slowly, his heart to beat without racing.
Charles, you are in great danger here. I will
help protect you and help you find your way. But
we have lingered here too long. Come.
Qan-af-årael slipped from over top of him and
with the cloak what little light existed in
Lilith's domain returned to the rat's eyes. Above
him he could see the edge of a cliff above from
whence they must have leaped, and the wide
branches of large trees stretching ever upward
and on all sides. The stone wall continued
downward beyond where his eyes could penetrate.
He could not even see the main trunk of the tree
on which they rested, so large and wide were the
branches. And down that branch the Åelf walked as
if it were no more than any other track through
the forest. Charles climbed to his paws and
followed after him, grateful for his Sondecki training in balance.
The branch stayed mostly even as it twisted its
way through the tangle of smaller branches and
creepers strewn throughout. Charles could not see
the ground below, nor the sky above, nor anything
but more branches in any direction he looked. All
that he could see was the pale shadow of
Qan-af-årael's back which he followed without
murmur or complaint. His guide followed their
branch for several minutes before stopping,
kneeling, and sliding down to another wide branch
a few feet below that cut across at a right
angle. He waited there until the rat dangled
himself off the first branch. His feet hung in
the empty air as his claws dug into the bark,
kicking around to find the ground before Åelven
hands grasped him about the waist and eased him down.
Four times more they scrambled to a lower branch
and each time the distance between branches was
just high enough that the rat had to be helped
down. His focus remained on everything around
him, eyes straining to pierce the darkness, ears
turned to hear the slightest catch of breath in
the air, nostrils stretching to test each odor,
whiskers alert for the slightest twitch. But
until they climbed down their fifth branch there had been nothing.
It started as a subtle tickling in his nose. He
rubbed his snout with one hand, blinking as he
followed down the branch which was slightly
lop-sided. In a few places he had to crouch to
keep his balance, as did the Åelf, and this left
them vulnerable. In one such spot he realized
what it was he had begun to smell, and with a
start he scrambled along the branch until he
could swing his tail around and strike his guide
in the side. Qan-af-årael turned his head in
surprise, and then his deep eyes narrowed and
fixed on some point in the gloom the rat couldn't see.
The same sickly sweetness he'd noted along the
stream had returned. Charles turned his nose to
follow the scent, and while the Åelf glanced
upward, his whiskers pulled his snout downward.
From out of the deep black below them lunged a
toothsome maw, long and narrow, that lunged and
snapped at the branch beneath their feet. Charles
jumped toward his guide, pushing him out of the
way as the jaws snapped and tore jagged gouges
out of the wood. A second eyeless maw balked them
both when it hove from the shadows below to tear
at the branch a few paces ahead.
Run! Charles hissed between his incisors,
pushing the Åelf along the branch, even as thick
teeth sawed back and forth, splintering the wood
and making the branch wobble. He felt his tail
tip bump the end of the thing's snout as he ran
past, and felt a sickening heat there as if he'd
dabbed it with a fuller's lye. The first jaw
disengaged and shifted as they could hear the
heavy tread of feet now incautiously rushed
somewhere below them. Even through the
impenetrable gloom, the ground could not be too
far below them, but with that thing down there it
was the last place they wanted to be.
The branch angled upward after twenty paces, for
a moment putting them out of reach of the
snarling beast below. A third and fourth set of
jaws snapped at them, moving to cut them off
where the branch dipped back down. Qan-af-årael
pointed at another branch ten feet above them and
then lowered his hands. Charles understood his
meaning and stepped on the Åelf's hands, his own
holding his shoulders for a moment as he steadied
himself. Despite his frail and ancient
appearance, the Åelf had no difficulty hoisting
the rat over his head so that he was almost within reach of the branch above.
Charles stretched his claws toward the wood but
could not get a grip. He nearly buckled when the
branch beneath them jarred. The monster was
tearing at the branch in a freakish rage, chewing
gouges loose and spitting them out. In another
minute the branch would break completely and they
would quickly follow the splinters into the
cavernous maws. Charles lifted his paws as much
as he could, standing on the very tips of his
toes, short, sharp claws, digging into the flesh
beneath them, as he strained to grasp the branch above.
After several tense seconds in which he could
scrape the bark his claws found purchase in a
crevice. He poured his Sondeck into his arm and
pulled himself upward. He dangled in the air for
several seconds, grunting as he searched the bark
above him for any other purchase. He scratched
and scratched, chest aching, and then found
another crevice. Paw over paw he pulled himself
up, even as his benefactor waited below on the cracking limb.
He crested the top of the branch and turned,
bracing his legs with the Sondeck at the other
side, he bent his front half down an extended his
Sondeshike. He lowered the weapon as far as he
could, waving the tip in little circles above
Qan-af-årael's head. The Åelf wrapped his hands
about it and Charles pulled him up. The branch
cracked and groaned before disappearing with a
thunderous crash. The sound, after so much
silence, felt like an earthquake in his ears. It
took all his self-control to keep lifting the Sondeshike.
But the moment passed and he helped the Åelf
climb atop the branch. Charles started to stand
when the Åelf grabbed his shoulder and pulled him
back down. Something brushed over his back as it
hurtled past. And then a second something jabbed
at him as it followed the first something. Six
others followed, each of them clawing at his or
the Åelf's back on their way down. Charles winced
at each touch, but none of them felt deep enough
to pierce his clothes let alone his hide. He tentatively looked up and sniffed.
The sickeningly sweet aroma saturated the air,
but with it now was something sharper and
altogether unpleasant. He felt nauseated by the
combination, but there was no further sign of
what passed overhead. Only the furious raging of
the beast below as it snapped with its jaws at
the branches within reach. Charles tentatively
rouse to a crouch. His benefactor nodded and did
the same. The two of them moved as quietly and as
quickly as possible along the new branch.
They made it not more than thirty paces before
that melliferous odor returned with such strength
that the rat nearly gagged. A huge maw, long with
a hundred fangs per side, thrust up from the
obnubilated depths. It was attached to a snaking
neck whose rubbery flesh shimmered with a slimy
sheen. The maw had no eyes, only the mouth with
fangs, and a gaping maw with no tongue so that it
was impossible to tell which was the top and
bottom side. It curled itself around the branch,
and snapped at them as it held fast. The branch
shook, knocking them from their feet even as a
second head and tentacle-neck secured the other end.
Charles grabbed the Åelf by the ankle to keep him
from tumbling over the side, and then swung his
Sondeshike at the nearer of the two heads. The
jaws snapped shut inches from him, and then
cracked when the full force of his Sondeck caved
in the side of the maw. A vile white mucus
splattered everywhere and stung his left eye.
Charles took a step back, claws grasping the
branch beneath him for support as he tried to rub the ichor from his face.
And then he heard the beast roar from every
direction as he felt other figures join them on
the branch. He blinked with his good eye and
marveled as the pelt-wearing humans from before
beat back the monster with careful jabs and
furious swings of their stone weapons. Amongst
them he saw attacking from a lower branch his
friend and fellow Long Scout Craig Latoner. The
prairie dog was especially vicious as he drove
his axe deep into one of the creature's necks.
The white mucus fountained but did not seem to touch him.
Charles felt another hand press a small cloth to
his face. He trembled but stilled when he
realized that they were clearing his left cheek
and eye of the horrible slime. He blinked his
left eye but everything seemed blurred and so he
closed it again. The figure that he could not
make out pushed him further along the branch, and
soon all of them were running down the wooden
path faster than he would have dared with only one clear eye.
They only dropped branches twice before they were
finally on the ground rushing through massive
roots and towering sentinels that dwarfed the
mighty redwoods of Glen Avery. Charles felt
immeasurably small next to those titans. Amongst
those running he could see Qan-af-årael as a
shaft of white light in front of him, while the
humans were various shades popping in and out of
the surrounding darkness. To his right he noticed
Craig grinning to him with a devious glint in his incisors.
Charles wasn't sure when exactly it happened, but
as they navigated their way between the maze of
roots standing twice their heights they vanished
underground into halls of earth and stone. Roots
now framed the ceiling of narrow passages. Within
he could only smell humans and few beastly scents
more like those he knew from Metamor. Craig fell
a few steps behind him but still they ran. His
legs felt sore and he could not help but wonder how far they still had to go.
The answer came suddenly and after a dizzying set
of twists and turns in the passage that nearly
had him run into the wall on three occasions. The
passage opened up into a warren of little holes
amidst bridges and ladders with blue flaming
lights hanging from the roof of the cavern.
Charles blinked both eyes and held up an arm to
shield them at the sudden comparable brilliance.
He felt Craig's paw on his shoulder and he let
himself be led along one of those paths hugging
the exterior of the cavern. Both he and
Qan-af-årael found themselves in a small hole
with a few pallets of crushed leaves and
feathers, with rough-hewn blankets and small blue
lights that did not seem to either burn or give off heat.
Craig motioned for them both to sit down, and
then he offered a chittering laugh. What are you
doing here, Charles? Not only are you a Follower
but you aren't even dead! We can all see it. And
aye, it is safe to speak here.
Craig!, Charles gasped, wincing at the sullen
pain in the left side of his face. What are you doing here?
Well, I died! The prairie dog laughed again.
Don't worry about the slime on your face.
Somebody is bringing something to clean that off.
The pain will go away and you'll see clearly in a
moment. In a quieter voice, one that did not
hurt their sensitive ears as much, he added, You are lucky we found you.
What was that thing? Charles asked, his throat raw from keeping silent.
Who knows. Some experiment of the night
mistress. We don't say her name here as we do not
want her attention. You should not say it either.
He nodded. I won't.
Another pair of humans came into the small wood
and stone framed room carrying a ewer and bowl.
Craig said nothing as they dipped a little bit of
cloth in the bowl and gently cleaned the rat's
face. Charles felt the sting of the mucus lessen
with each swipe. It took them a few minutes to
finish, but when they did he blinked his left eye
and found the blurriness gone. He glanced at
Qan-af-årael who reclined on one of the pallets
with the same reserved and distant grace he had
always possessed, and then returned his regard to
Craig his fellow Long Scout. There was a subtle
luminous quality to his appearance, as if he weren't wholly solid.
Thank you, Charles said with a smile. The two
humans smiled at him, then to Craig, and quickly
departed, leaving the three of them alone.
What happened to your face? Craig asked, pointing to the rat's right side.
Charles lifted one paw and traced along the edge
of the ruined, black scar and the fur that
stopped just beneath it. He could not feel
anything through that charred skin, but the fur
trembled at his touch. I was struck by a
Shrieker. A single brief touch was all it took to
melt my flesh; only magic saved my eye. But the
Shierkers were destroyed and I survived.
Craig crossed his arms. I can see that. You
aren't dead, Charles, and you, he turned toward
Qan-af-årael and stared at him as if trying to
pierce the deeps of a clouded lake. You don't
belong here either, but I cannot see why.
He was in the Dreamlands and followed me here,
Charles noted. His name is Qan-af-årael and he
is a dear friend. He's promised to help protect me on my way.
Craig favored him a skeptical glance, one he knew
from his days testing for the Long Scouts. And
what are you doing here, Charles? No living soul
comes here of its own choice without dire need.
And certainly I have heard of none in the memories of any here in this place.
I am here trying to find my son who was stolen
from me. I am not going to give up just because of strange monsters here.
Stolen? Craig's brow furrowed. What do you mean?
He died while I was fighting a terrible evil far
away and the aedra would not help him. I have to... see him one last time.
Craig shook his head. I am dead, Charles. I hope
never to see any of the living again until their
years have run out and they come to this place,
or we all meet again in the place Beyond. I am
sorry for what happened to your son but you
should wait until your time has come. He blinked
and then smiled a little. When did you have a
family? You weren't even married when I left,
he finished after a weighted pause.
It was the year after you died. I am going to
seek him out, Craig. Please don't try to stop me.
But, he is not here and would not be in any place the daedra hold sway.
He is Beyond, Qan-af-årael said in a quiet
voice, one full of mystery. Craig's fur appeared
to shudder at the sound, the first uttered by the
Åelf in the nightmare darkness. We must go beyond to find him.
There are only two ways I know to go beyond. You
either let yourself be torn limb from limb by one
of those monsters out there, or you let your
blood be drained on one of the night mistress's
altars. Either one is horrible and we do our best
to make sure we do not end that way.
The altars?
Craig favored the rat with a grin so wide both
sets of incisors were visible. You were there. I
smelled you hiding behind one of the towers.
Where her pups tried to cut Beth's throat and
drain all her blood. Anything taken there feeds
the mistress directly. We'd all rather be eaten
by one of those monsters than end up a sacrifice like that.
He unfolded his arms but clasped one wrist in his
hand at his waist. His large rounded snout
frowned, dark eyes lowering. Beth is going to be
all right. If you aren't torn to pieces or eaten
you always heal here. Martin... well, he is gone
now from this plane. Either Beyond, or elsewhere
still. I assume you do not wish to follow him
like that. One corner of his muzzle drew up in a
rueful, mirthless half-grin. To be bled for Her
sustenance destroys the spirit; there is no
Beyond. To pass as poor Martin did we do not
know the fate of such passing, but even if he did
pass Beyond it cannot be to the bright paradise
of absolution we all hope for in the final end.
It's a fate best avoided, especially for a Living soul, like you.
There is another way, Qan-af-årael said with slow, careful tones.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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