Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx
Pars VI: Acceptio
(e)
Saturday, May 12, 708 CR
The beast-man spoke toward his Master; because he
too stood in the shadow, the words were
comprehensible even if their import was beyond
his ability to understand. That his Master
understood was sufficient for him. Still, curious
and hoping that the images he felt drawn forth by
the long-tailed beast-man would coalesce, he listened as they spoke.
I have passed the terraces of purgation and
stand in wait of the glory prepared for me. You
will not pass without my leave, the beast
uttered levelly, not moving from their path.
Will I not? Neither Nocturna nor Lilith even
knew I walked in their realms! Tallakath thought
me a mere mortal to experiment upon and was left
standing like a fool in the wake of my passage.
Klepnos sought to deceive us with his madness and
yet it was he who deceived himself; unable to
even speak my name. Oblineth learned of my coming
too late to even hinder me. Revonos tested my
strength in all of his rage within his arena of
blood and was whipped like a dog for his
arrogance. Suspira sought to stretch time itself
to delay my coming and still I came and stole her
quarry from her coils. Agemnos boasted he could
defeat me and yet was too craven to even appear
before me in his substance. Ba'al used every
temptation he could muster to thwart my advance and yet still I reached Beyond.
Against such foes you would have been trampled
under foot. Yet you now stand to bar my way?
The beast-man appeared undaunted by the
recitation. I spent and gave my life to bar your
way. Why should I in the dawn of glory do any less?
You gave all of that to bar my way and yet here
I am. Can you truly count yourself amongst the
most august of my foes? I can brush you aside as
effortlessly as I might pluck a fallen leaf from my robes.
And yet, the beast-man noted with a bemused
tilt to his snout and ears, you have not done
so. He braced his long feet against either side
of the narrow fissure and spread his fingers.
You are not as powerful as you believe yourself to be.
His Master folded his hands before him and shook
his head ever so slightly. You mistake my lack
of action for evidence that I cannot carry
through on what I intend. Rather, I have not
swept you aside because you abide in my shadow.
You are mine. You belong to me.
I belong only to - - now. Your shadow has no
hold over me. The beast had uttered a name and,
with it, Núrodur Nuruhuinë felt dread in the
countenance of the bearer of that name, but it
slid past his hearing as nothing more than a
sibilance of tongue and lips. The music, muted
but ever-present in the depths of his heart, soared in exaltation at the name.
It always does. The stewards of this place, your
Master's servants, have done nothing to hinder me
despite their power. They understand that I am
not their concern. So too is it that all those
who abide in my shadow are my concern. That alone
has allowed you to stretch forth your paw as if
you mean to thwart me. But you are mine. You
will, when I have come into my kingdom, be loyal
and true. And you will be a part of my kingdom.
The only choice that is left to you is what
degree of glory you will share in it.
I want nothing to do with your glory.
It is the only glory you can receive. You will
leave this place in my company or you will be
scattered. Neither Heaven nor Oblivion will
reclaim you. I have given you every opportunity
to follow me and yet you have refused. This is
the final opportunity you have to make this choice again and make it wisely.
The beast-man bent forward slightly, large ears
lifting over his head and turned toward them as
if trying to capture some small voice well out of
sight. His snout opened and a long sigh drifted
forth, his body seeming to shrink with it and
gain an even greater resemblance to a mere
animal. The moment was brief and with his next
inhalation he stood straighter again and regained
a semblance of human stature. There was a
distance to his voice and a subtle weight that
left Núrodur Nuruhuinë uneasy. There are only
two choices that remain to be made. Neither of
them belongs to me. I have made my choices. I
have died. I cannot change them nor can I make
any that are new. You cannot tempt me to follow
you. You do not have that power anymore.
You abide in my shadow; therefore you abide in
my power. In that you are completely mistaken.
But you are correct in one regard; two choices
await us. The first choice belongs to you. Will
you abandon your foolish contumacy and follow me
as is your purpose in being? The second choice
abides in me; it is this: how much time will I
offer you to make this decision before I utterly destroy you for your refusal?
The unease he felt at the beast-man's words only
multiplied with each declaration against his
Master. He tried to take solace in what his
Master said, but for a reason he could not name
it also left him in that bewildering unease. He
turned within trying not to hear any of the words
bandied back and forth, cryptic and threatening,
and discovered that there was something that he
could listen to without discomfort. It was a
delicate line of melody that at first seemed
discordant but the more he listened the more he
realized that had only been an illusion. The song
unfolded as he listened, and the overlapping
notes were spread apart so that each one sounded
on its own. Together, the song gave him a sense
of calm and stilled the unease. It drew him
deeper within and further from the confrontation
between his Master and the beast-man.
A warm light that did not hurt opened like a
flower and he saw the woman in lace again. Her
blue eyes glimmered as they held him, her long
whiskers glistened, and her soft ears were turned
to hear whatever reply he had to offer. She was a
rat in guise and human in stature. She was beautiful.
The song came from her throat. He listened and
gazed for one moment forgetting all else that
was. She stood garbed in white lace that tumbled
from her like cascading waterfalls. Her hands,
delicate with short, neatly-trimmed claws, were
extended toward him. In the hollow of her throat
a glistening light shone with a vibrant purple
hue. A light that did not sear but offered
surcease from the agony, if but stepped from the
shadow and into those outstretched arms. There
was an invitation in that gesture, one both
simple and eternal. It was an offering of self.
She was offering herself to him.
Who was she to make such an offer? He felt an
ache inside; a part of him knew that he should
know her face and know her voice. But there was
no name to come to him. There was no name for
anything left inside him. The question of 'who'
was a question he could no longer answer; that
had already been purified from him by his Master.
But could he ask the question 'what'?
In appearance she was both rat and lady, garbed
for a great celebration, and bearing forth in
song and light that was pleasing to experience.
She was physically mortal bound together with an
immortal soul. But that was her in isolation.
There was so much more there to understand; she
was intertwined with other immortal souls and
this too defined her. In her glamor he could see
little creatures so like her but each distinct.
There were five of them holding close to her, and
hints of many others not yet brought into being.
And her offered hand, a rat's paw with thumb like
a man, showed her bound together with him as
well. He stood as she did, and extended hands of
a similar guise to claim hers, something vast and
fantastic beyond his ability to comprehend
welling within him at the nearness of their
touch. No other state of being was as exalted as that.
Her voice, indistinct beneath the song, became
clear when their flesh was a breath apart. Charles, beware! He is false!
Attend to me, Núrodur Nuruhuinë.
His Master's summons dew him out of that well of
song and light and back to the top of the terrace
reaching into the sky filled with golden clouds.
The beast-man stood with arms outstretched and
tail pressed against the ground, barring entry
into the final cleft. Both he and the beast-man
abode within his Master's shadow. Neither face
showed defiance in their contest of wills. There
was only opposition and nothing more.
His Master's voice was assured and he felt its
resonance cool the simmering pain that coated his
substance. You cannot remain against the purpose
of your being. Whether willingly or not you will
complete your purpose. But, even with his focus
once more upon his Master and warder, Núrodur
Nuruhuinë felt the touch of that steady purple
light, the reach of those paws so close.
So close, he felt he turn and grasp her fingers,
but he could not bring himself to.
And I willingly do so. But my purpose is not as
you imagine. I am Felikaush, the very last of my
kind to walk the face of our world.
The final prophet of your line, his Master said
with an ever so slight nod of his head. In this
we concur. But you have badly misused your
talents. You fought to preserve the broken world.
I invite you now to do as you should have done at
the beginning; cooperate with me to build and
guide the world as it was meant to be. All your
former transgressions will be forgiven. You can
be a Steward to the world as it should be,
guiding and foreseeing all that must be as the
Felikaush who persists. Your founder was shackled
in chains all his days because he refused me. Is
that what you truly wish of yourself?
I am already free. You offer me, and can offer me, nothing.
On the contrary, you abide in my shadow. I am
the ultimate arbiter of your fate.
The beast-man shook his head, long ears falling
to the side to flop there. You have no power
over me and you never did. He lowered one hand
to touch the black shadow scar that touched his
side. This is all you ever had on me; injury. In
life with my guidance and actions, and even after
death with my letters I have thwarted you.
Letters.
A kangaroo reached into a satchel and yanked out
a fist full of letters and thrust them into a
cast-iron stove where they caught flame. Tears
streamed from the kangaroo's eyes and a mournful
wail echoed from her tongue. A lady skunk leaped
toward her with hands gripping the hilts of
swords at her sides, but only bumped off the
kangaroo's back. She was rewarded for her efforts
with a firm kick that sent the skunk across the
tilting bedchamber where she crashed against the wall.
He rushed forward with a human at his side. The
human grabbed the kangaroo about the back and
hoisted her into the air. The kangaroo shrieked
and kicked its legs at the ceiling, tail flailing
up and down. He thrust granite arms into the
flames and yanked the burning parchment from the
stove. He tossed them to the side and then dashed
handfuls of sand across them to douse the flames.
Words were visible there in that moment that
would with the gasp of a breath be charred beyond all recognition.
Charles, when you return to Metamor... greeted
by... I know you will suffer terrible pain from
this most unspeakable loss. It pains me to have
to tell you this after all the years we have
known each other. But there is hope... will learn
anyway... was once court musician will aid you if
you ask but this is the first time you should
turn... if you do not refuse her, there is but one other...
When you have finished... belonging to... find
your final opportunity to... all reckoning. If
you fail to take... unleash... once infested...
called forth in the cataclysm wrought by... will
be the very last that this power seeks to... its last remaining vessel...
...listen to the words of your wife and the
mother... You must not let her go... listen to
her song and hold to her no matter... do not
touch your son... will abandon everything to
become... will doom him... the very monster that
seared your eye... will become the first new... made manifest here.
Listen to me now as you have never listened
before, Charles. Love your wife and never...
Charles.
It was a name he knew.
His Master's voice cut through his thoughts and
the strange image that seemed memory. You have
been very astute in the use of your talents, but
you have put them to poor use. There is now no
more time offered you. Your last chance is before
you. Núrodur Nuruhuinë, rise.
He lifted himself up from the pool of shadow at
his Master's feet. His body was lanky and long
arms descended from his shoulders. The mass of
shadow split into legs that pressed him further
upward from his safety against the exterior
light. His attention was riveted upon the
beast-man who let dark eyes shift from his Master to settle on him.
Oh, Charles! What have you...
Destroy him!
The order was obeyed.
He thrust forward at the beast-man, ever in the
shadow, and within six paces reached the pitiful
creature. Searing heat encased his substance and
the shadow-flesh it not exhibited. His mouth
agape, he wrapped his arms about the beast-man
who had not moved from his place before the
fissure. His fur was soft and would have been
comforting to run fingers through had it not
scorched the moment he touched it. The flesh
beneath sizzled, blistered, and cooked within the
first second of his grip. The beast-man could
only stare with eyes filled with a profound sadness.
He tightened his grip and stamped his feet atop
the beast-man's. The fire burned through the
sinews and shattered the bone. Another twist and
he pulled the beast-man from its place and sent
both of them toppling into the pool of shadow at
his Master's feet. All of the fur was incinerated
and the flesh burst into bright orange flame for
a moment as the body curled inward. The skin
stretched and gave way, pulling apart and
scattering as ash. The bones cracked from the
heat he poured forth, while the internal organs
sizzled, sending up beacons of smoke blinding as incense.
Through it all the beast-man never screamed. He
did. His mouth opened wide and from within, with
all the protest of metal aflame, he screamed. He
screamed so loud that the crackle of bones and
the whistling of super-heated air escaping the
carcass could not be heard. His scream bent the
grasses he had not burned. His scream made his Master smile.
His scream. His shriek.
Of the beast-man there was nothing but a
blackened husk around the few bones that had not
cracked open. All of the flesh was baked into
those remaining pieces. The skull was no more,
shattered along with both arms, most of the legs,
and the tail. Unsatisfied by this, his fire
swelled even more, burning everything beyond and
touching even that which was deep inside. As more
and more of the body was reduced to clumps of
ash, he could see within the letter held in a
rat's paws charring, words disappearing forever
into black dust. All of it began to fade as if
slipping beyond the edge of a great tunnel.
And then there was no more beast-man. His scream
ended, and he settled back in the shadow, the
extreme of heat passing and settling to a sizzle
in his flesh. The path through the fissure was clear.
Very good, Núrodur Nuruhuinë. Your Son awaits us
ahead. Come. Nothing remains between us.
He followed at his Master's heels.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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