Sorry I forgot to post yesterday. It was a crazy day.
Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx
Pars VI: Acceptio
(h)
Saturday, May 12, 708 CR
Charles opened his eyes to a vista of branches
flush with broad green leaves and weighed down by
plump, purple figs. His nostrils were filled with
a panorama of fruits, flowers, and the subtle
hints of people beyond counting. A warm light
bathed him and he felt a gentle breeze rushing
across his fur and whiskers. Blades of grass
provided soft cushion and they tickled the edge
of his scalloped ears and along the length of his
tail as they bent in the wind.
A familiar voice speaking in the southern tongue
reached his ears. Rise, my dear friend and
brother. You are not yet finished here.
It had been nearly ten years since he had last
hard that Eaven accent. Yet he knew it better
than he knew his tail. La... Ladero? He climbed
to his feet, toes splaying in the grass, and saw
before him a black-robed man with olive-skinned
complexion, short, dark hair, wide nose and
cheeks and large brown eyes. His hands were
crossed at the waist, but on his chest was a
shield with a white palm in which was inscribed a
red sword. No stubble touched his chin even
though he was clearly in his late twenties.
The man smiled, and there was a assured beauty
there. A glow encased him as if he himself were
the source of the light that brightened the
garden. It is I, Charles. Do not be afraid.
Ladero... Charles stared at the man in
dumfounded awe. When he was only seven years old,
on the final journey crossing the Darkündlicht
mountains on his way to Sondeshara for the first
time, he had met three other boys: Krenek
Zagrosek, Jerome Krabbe, and Ladero Alenez. They
had lived together, trained together, learned
together, ate together, prayed together, and
schemed together. Inseparable friends from the
very first, their skills progressed at the same
rate, each of them raised from Yellow to Green,
Green to Blue, Blue to Red, Red to Purple, and
Purple to Black always at the same time. Such
synchronized advancement was rare in any of the
mage clans of the Southlands, and it further
united them in ways that no other friend amongst the Sondecki could hope.
Of all of them, it had been Ladero who had taught
them of Eli and Yahshua and what it meant to be a
prayerful and faithful Follower. It had been
Ladero who had once considered a vocation to the
priesthood amongst the Sondeckis. And it had been
this Ladero for whom he had named his youngest
son born with the power of the Sondeck.
His snout broke into a smile and he stumbled
toward his friend, arms extended. Ladero! I... I
never thought I would see you again!
Ladero lifted one hand and slowly shook his head.
You cannot touch me yet, Charles.
The rat stopped, bewildered and blinking. Why not?
You are still in the shadow.
That one word woke in his mind a chain of
memories stretching backward through nightmare.
He felt anew the fire and pain that scoured him
of his identity. He remembered the anguish that
each deeper pit of the Daedra's realm had
inflicted. He felt the terror of Lilith's
midnight forest and plain. He quivered from the
suffering endured by the prisoners of Tallakath.
His stomach turned from the insanity of Klepnos.
His flesh trembled at the memory of Oblineth's
ice. His Sondeck tensed at the merest taste of
the rage of Revonos. His body threatened betrayal
at the recollection of the temptation of Suspira.
He yearned to weep at what Agemnos forced him to
do to Baldwin. And he was overwhelmed by horror at the very presence of Ba'al.
But all of it was there merest whisper of emotion
compared to the total recollection of all that he
had done and had done to him beneath the guidance
of 'his Master', the ancient Åelf Yajakali.
Charles collapsed on the grass, heaving as he
stared down his snout at his black arms. The
stain he'd received from Baldwin's spirit
remained there. His eyes burned as he sobbed.
Nothing coherent came from his tongue though he desperately tried to speak.
A little voice called to him. Dada. It will be okay.
His heart tightened at that sound and he turned
on his hands and knees. Standing in the patch of
clover in the midst of brilliant rays of light
descending from a small cleft in the clouds above
was his youngest son. The black cape of fur that
draped his head and shoulders shimmered in the
gentle breeze, while the white fur of his chest
and legs glimmered a white so full and
resplendent that his eyes hurt just gazing at
him. My son... Oh, my son... I have done terrible things...
Why not embrace him?
He knew the voice. It startled him to hear it
after witnessing the two Laderos, one of his
closest friends and the son he'd lost, but it was
present just the same. He turned his head even
further, and saw a smear of black crossing the
grass toward a tall figure. The alabaster robe
was now tattered and threadbare as if it had been
used as a funerary cloak for centuries. The
silvery-black hair was disheveled and full of
tangles. Little scars marred the once pristine
flesh as if he'd been raked across a field of
rock. The majesty and power that had once
belonged to that figure and that had led Charles
through the hells and up the mountain was gone.
But the voice remained. Compelling and
reasonable, he felt a deep urge to listen. His
legs shifted and he turned once more toward his son.
He is false!
Charles stopped, straightened himself and shook
his head. My friend bids me not to touch. You
bid me do so, Yajakali. That is reason enough. I will obey you no more.
Charles, the battered Åelf said with an
imploring sweep of his bruised and bloodied arms.
We want the same thing, you and I. We want our
families, our very people whole. This child was
stolen from you. My entire people were stolen
from me. I have sought these many years to bring
them back. I have sought it with all my being.
Everything we have experienced together... was to
bring you here. Have I not done what I said I would do?
He nearly fell to his knees again at the mere
suggestion of what he'd endured. You brought me
here, aye. But in what condition? Look at me! He
lifted his arms and felt a fury build within
them. His fingers curled and his claws raked the
air as if rending flesh. You are a liar! You did
not bring me here for my sake! You brought me
here for your own! Go back to hell where you belong!
Dada!
Charles!
Both Laderos shouted as one, their voices
stricken as if Charles had condemned them. He
shrank back, pressing his black hands to his face
and feeling his claws dig against his soft flesh.
He wanted to rip the black from his fur, but all
he could do, his rage struck dumb, was to continue to weep.
Please, Charles, Yajakali pressed when neither
Ladero spoke. You must take your son. You must!
I am Yajakali! I am the purpose for our being! I
am the reason we are here at all! You must take
him or all that is will be undone and the very
creation itself will be thwarted! I must have
them back! I must have them, Charles! You must do
as I command you! Now! There is no more time!
Charles tightened his grip until he felt pain in his face. No!
He felt the presence touch the edge of his mind
but where he once could slip inside and reshape
the rat's thoughts, now there was no opening.
That door had truly been shut and in that moment
Charles was grateful for it. Instead he saw deep
within the face of his wife gazing back at him.
Could he ever stand again if she did not hold him up?
Rebuffed, Yajakali bent down to grab him by the
shoulders. He felt the Åelf's touch but there was
no supernatural strength to his grip. Misha had a
stronger hand that this dethroned prince. Still
he shook the rat , trying to pull his hands from
his face and to pull his knees from the grass.
You must come claim your son! You must! You
must! I need you to do this! I cannot go on if
you do not! Do it! Do it! Do it!
Charles shrugged his shoulders and with one elbow
pushed him aside. There was nothing more Yajakali
could do. Impotent, he tilted back his head and
screamed toward the clouds above. I was Prince
of Jagoduun! I was promised everything! I was
promised! Why will you not give it to me! Why!
Ladero, Sondecki of the Black, killed five years
ago by a Shrieker's dread touch, stepped forward
and placed a hand upon Yajakali's shoulder. Oh
Prince of Jagoduun, your time is finished. A
grace beyond measure has been given you to
persist as long as you have. But it is finished.
All have rejected you. None more remain through whom you can act.
Yajakali would not look at the Sondecki, but kept
his blue eyes, harried and bloodshot, focused on
the black rat. Charles, you can give me everything back. You can.
Ladero pressed lightly upon the Åelf's shoulder
and he stumbled backward toward the child who had
not moved from the patch of clover at the edge of
the garden. Charles is no longer yours. He has
rejected you several times already. Nothing you
say or do now will change his mind. Look at
yourself, Prince, see what is left. You have
nothing to offer him or anyone else. Nothing.
No! Yajakali tried to squirm from Ladero's grip
but the Sondecki could not be shaken. you... you
humans destroyed everything! You invaded my home
and slaughtered my people! You! You should all be
animals like him! You should all serve me!
Prince Yajakali, the little voice of Charles'
son stilled the torrent of hate erupting from the
frail Åelf more surely than the Sondecki's grip
stilled his body. In that moment even the wind
seemed to keep still. Not a leaf, branch, or
blade of grass stirred as they waited for that
voice to continue. I am so sorry to hear what
happened to your people. It was terrible. But
please, Prince Yajakali, take heart. Your family faced their death bravely.
His boy smiled and for a moment Charles could see
a strange, jagged red line that ran from the top
of his head down his chest and abdomen. The
rupture disappeared as soon as the boy spoke
again. But my Dada and everyone else now had
nothing to do with it. They are innocent. Please
do not hate them, Prince Yajakali. Please forgive.
Forgive? Yajakali coughed the word, but nothing
else came forth. He spluttered incoherently for a
moment and then cast his gaze toward the prone
rat. Charles turned his head aside to gaze at his son.
Little Ladero had not even been two months old
when Charles had been forced to leave for Marzac.
He, like his litter-mates, had begun to crawl
about but nothing more. Kimberly had told him
that they had begun to speak by late Summer and
had a mastery of words that would be the envy of
a two-year old at only five months. His little
Sondecki child had asked for him even as he lay dying in his crib.
Yet now he looked to be as old as the rest of his
children, though with a wisdom and comprehension
beyond even their advanced abilities. This child
whom he had boasted of on the terrible journey to
Marzac, of whom he spoke with such love and hope,
had been snatched by death and yet now stood
before him speaking with such gentleness to the
very creature who was responsible for atrocities
committed across the span of eleven thousand years.
Charles would have strangled Yajakali and torn
him to pieces were he able. His dead son sought
to console him. Charles lowered his head to the
vibrant grass and felt nothing but shame. In a
whisper he made his tongue work. Listen to him, Yajakali... listen to him.
The elder Ladero twisted Yajakali's shoulder,
forcing him to turn toward the boy standing in
the clover patch. The clouds billowed downward
from above, circling that side of the garden so
closely that the little rat's tail danced in its
mist. The light was brilliant as if the sun
itself were veiled inches behind the soft mass.
Both Charles and Yajakali averted their eyes as
the child was wreathed by that light, a light
that burnished within his fur as well. But the
dead Sondecki smiled and gazed into it without pain.
The extraordinary grace given you is almost
spent, Prince Yajakali. Ladero's voice thundered
and each tree in the garden and every vine laden
with grapes seemed to thrum with it. The time
for your choosing is at hand. The little saint,
beloved Ladero, will guide you. Go with him now
and you may yet avoid the damnation you sought for the world of men.
Charles's son stepped from the clover patch and
held out a paw, his nose quivering and whiskers
twitching with a rat's smile. Please come, your
highness. I have so much to show you. Come. Take my hand.
His heart held still in that moment. He could
only watch Ladero his son stretching forth a
glowing arm covered in fur and a hand tipped with
little claws toward the creature that had caused
Charles and his friends such misery and loss. In
turn he saw Yajakali's aged and beaten blue eyes
stare at that hand with an incomprehensible
expression. No more did the Åelf look back at the
rat who he'd nearly conquered. He only stared at
the child and the clouds of light behind him.
And then, impossibly, Yajakali lifted one arm.
His fingers, bruised and swollen with calluses,
rested upon his son's outstretched paw. Little
fingers curled upward and the smile on his son's
face stretched with beauty. Charles felt his
heart swell so that his ribs groaned. The
Sondecki released his grip and the Prince of
Jagoduun stood, slow and unsteady. Ladero guided
him toward the patch of clover and the clouds.
The light splintered in a million scintillating
rays, parting the clouds before them. Only radiance shone within.
The little rat called toward them in a sweet
voice that knew only joy. I love you, Dada!
I love you, my son! he cried out, his voice
barely a whisper in the chorus of light that
thronged them. His son's eyes sparkled even as he
stepped into the clouds. Yajakali's face was
lost, shadowed by so much light, but he too
stepped from clover to firmament. The clouds
closed behind them and they were gone.
As he took one breath after another, the clouds
dispersed from the edge of the garden and
returned to their place far above. Charles lifted
a black arm before finally crumpling against the
ground, overwhelmed and unable to speak. He wept, the only thing he could do.
The grass bent near him and a black cloak swept
over it. Ladero sat cross-legged beside him and
offered him a smile. Your son, Charles, has been
tasked with something you will spend the rest of
your life in vain trying to comprehend. He is
offering redemption. A single tear of contrition
is all it will take; Yahshua died even for that
one. Bear him no ill will for his fate is no
longer the concern of any living creature below.
Charles managed to still the racking in his
chest. He brushed the tears from his eyes and
forced himself to a kneeling position a few feet
from his friend. Lifting his arms he stared at
them, confused. Why am I still covered in soul
tar? Am I to be like Jessica, stained black as shadow all my days?
The black is not upon your flesh; about this
Yajakali did not lie. When you wake from the
dream you will be as you were before. But the
shadow is no longer beneath you. Look.
Charles glanced down at his knees and saw that he
crouched upon bright green grass and even the
root of a fig tree. He climbed to his feet,
lifted one paw after another, and marveled in a
relief too great for anything but an exhalation.
It's gone. The shadow is gone!
His hold over you has been completely broken.
When he took your son's hand he relinquished his
claim on all mortal flesh. Now all that remains
to see is if he will repent of any of the sins he
has perpetrated in all the ages of his being. I
cannot describe to you the contest that is taking
place for his soul. Your son will offer him every
love for more ages than man can recount.
Charles lifted his head and nearly bumped his
nose into a heavy fig. He stretched out one hand,
felt the rough bark of the tree, and then leaned
against it. Despite its pits and irregular shape,
he felt no discomfort. I feel as if I have been
in this dream for countless ages of men already!
How long, Ladero. How long has it been since I
last looked upon my wife? How long has it been
since I made that dread bargain with Nocturna?
The bargain! Oh no! Charles! My little Charles!
He fell back to the ground and beat at the grass
with his fists. Oh, Ladero I have been a fool. I
have been worse than a fool! I traded my boy, my
precious boy, to nearly be Yajakali's shadow! My
boy, my boy! He wept anew, seeing clearly the
stone tor, the frightful raven, and his little
child stretched out on the cold table with her
talons draped over his chest. His heart, a moment
before swollen with love, now shattered with that memory.
Ladero's voice was soft and gentle. There was no
doubt in his words. He is safe, Charles. Your
son is safe. Nocturna cannot lay any claim on his
soul by your hand. He has already been Immersed
and that is a touch that cannot be erased. Love
him dearly. You have not sold him.
But... he murmured, even as he tried to gather
his composure. It took all his strength to force
himself to lean against the tree. But, what if Nocturna tries to claim him?
She will not. But, your son will know her
regardless. This much you must know, Charles, for
your son's sake. Understand first that this was
not the doing of Nocturna. Her power, frightful
as it can be, and soothing as it can be, is
limited nevertheless. But this she knew as now so
will you. Your eldest son can Dream.
Charles blinked. I do not understand.
He can enter the dreams of others, touch them,
reshape them, and speak in them. He has already been in yours.
He swallowed and knew it to be true. Only a few
days earlier he'd been woken by his eldest from a
nightmare. Little Charles had not been scared by
a dream of his own, but had been frightened by
the dream of his father. He slumped against the tree. What shall I do?
You and I were born with the Sondeck. You will
know what to do for his sake. Ladero lifted his
eyes to the clouds and a small smile played at
the edges of his lips. He said nothing and yet an
entire conversation seemed to take place in that
moment. The smile broadened to cross his entire
face until an expression of profound and complete
gratitude filled it. And whatever happens, do
not be afraid for him. He will be protected.
Ladero, why is this so? Two of my children given
such gifts. The one taken by death, and the other
a gift I do not understand? What gifts do the
other three possess? Will other children my
Kimberly bears for me also be gifted?
But his Sondecki friend only shook his head.
That is not something I can tell you. Only four
things remain for me to say to you. First, you
asked how long you have been on this journey.
When you wake from the dream it will be only a
short time since you laid down and slept beneath
the minstrel's flute. Time is one more creation
of Eli's and it passes here as He wills it to
pass. You are on the cusp of eternity here,
Charles. You should not expect it to be like a journey by foot, horse, or sea!
Then I haven't truly abandoned my family at
least, Charles said with a sigh. What else must
I know, Ladero? I know so much now that I wish I did not.
These last things will be a comfort, my friend.
You did not ask, but I know it is in your heart.
This solace I can give; you did not destroy any
of the souls you sought to harm on your journey.
Our old friend the seller of ancient books did
not suffer from your touch; even now he enjoys
the beautiful vision denied him in life and the
company of family long lost. Lay no blame on yourself on their account.
But very soon you will have the chance to aid
two who suffer greatly. One of those you have
already met on your journey. The other is a dear
friend we both know. When he comes to you, the
time will have arrived for you to set aright the
wound that broke us all. You will know it, never fear.
Charles grimaced but nodded. I trust you,
Ladero. I do not understand but I trust you. He
lifted his eyes to the trees, the fruits, and the
bountiful clouds above that gleamed with a golden
light. Will... will I see this place again?
Ladero stood and offered him an enigmatic smile.
That is for you to decide, Charles. He turned
his head to one side and a distant cast came to
his eyes. It is done. The choice is made. It is
now time for you to return. But first, a grace is
granted you, one of infinite worth. Look to the
heavens, my friend. Behold it is she!
Charles lifted his gaze and beheld love itself.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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