I finally finished a new Metamor Keep story. Big
thanks to Chris Okane and Ryx for beta-reading
and making some contributions. :-)
Part 1 of 4
Metamor Keep: Bidding Farewell
by Charles Matthias
May 23, 708 CR
It's been well over a year since I last lived
here at the Keep, Charles admitted as he stared
out across the expanse of Euper from the
battlement wall, but I will still miss this place.
And it shall miss you, Goldmark added with an
affirmative squeak. At least until you return.
There was a chance he might never return, but
Charles said nothing. Instead he stretched his
legs all four of them before settling against
the sun-warmed stone to relax. Goldmark, also
four legged, reclined near him. His friend
reached into a knapsack draped across his lower
back and removed a a comb. As he groomed the
dark, wiry fur of his lower back and haunches, he
noted, You appear to be feeling better.
Charles reached an arm around behind his upper
back and nodded. His fingers traced across the
small bit of vine emerging from the join between
his upper human-shaped and lower rat-shaped
torsos. An ivy tendril crossed the bruise in his
back soothing and mending in its subtle way. I
was fortunate to have good friends and hale warriors with me.
And dragons!
It is always good to have dragons!
Both rats laughed. Their eyes met, dark and
protruding above their snouts, before Goldmark
turned back to brushing his haunches. I almost
envy you traveling across the world like this.
Even before I became a rat I had never left the valley.
If Julian, Elliot, and your enterprise grows you
may yet. Charles slapped his tail against the
rampart wall as he stretched. How is business for you?
Goldmark shrugged. It is off to a promising
start, but almost all of our business is through
friends. Most of the merchant class prefers their
own caravans. I fear we'll need more wagons and
more men before we can celebrate.
You will manage, Charles assured him. A smile
creased his snout. I would not hire anyone else
to help bring my family home when we return.
Goldmark returned the smile. Thank you, Charles.
You know, we can never repay all the goodness you've shown us over the years.
Every morning for almost six years Charles had
spent time with his fellow rats, trying to
convince them not to fear what the Curses had
made of them. For most of those years his efforts
felt vain; but Eli's miracles came in their time
and not his own. In this Charles trusted and
hoped. Show goodness to all the new rats in the
valley then. I've heard we have almost a dozen more now from Bradanes alone.
We do! A few of them are even young ladies. An
excited chitter touched Goldmark's tongue.
Charles smiled wide, whiskers spreading. Young
ladies in need of good rats perhaps?
Julian has not wasted any time! Goldmark
slapped his tail against the stone and grinned,
showing off his incisors. Only two days ago he
escorted a young maid newly made a rat through
the gardens. She's quite fetching too with a dark
hood and white creamy fur and tail...
He laughed and shook his head. Oh, Goldmark! But
two years ago our fur, snouts, whiskers, eyes,
and tails were all reasons to hide where none
could see us! Now we find them fetching! What
Rats we are! It brightens me to hear it; you have
no idea how long I have yearned to hear it.
Goldmark blinked as the thought dawned within
him. His smile faltered for a moment in surprise,
and then stretched further across his snout. His
ears lifted, his frame shifting as if he'd become
lighter than air, as a squeaking laugh echoed
Charles's own. What Rats we are indeed! Hah! Now
I guess it's time for Elliot, Hector and myself
to find good Rat ladies of our own. And Sir
Saulius too. I'm hoping for a young lass who
likes her Rat large. He patted his flanks and
offered a raucous laugh. Charles felt a bit of a
blush touch his ears, but after spending months
in his taur form while journeying through the
Barrier Mountains and Åelfwood, the twinges of modesty had subsided.
And who enjoys walking on four legs?
Aye, I hope!
Charles laughed, shook his head, and turned to
the battlements, resting his arms on the stone
and his snout on his arms. I had hoped Sir
Saulius would be here to see us off, but he won't
return from patrol up north for another week.
I'm sure he will wish it too, but I can hear him
say it is the burden of duty.
Aye, he would, Charles smiled as he thought on
the rat knight armored and astride his pony.
Saulius may be small, but he was proud with a
fierce spirit and deep devotion for his friends.
Charles was proud to be a knight like him.
His gaze swept Euper, the road, the river, and
the forest beyond filled with merchants and
travelers about their business. His family would
not be among them for hours yet. Charles
stretched, scraping the claws on all four of his
legs against the stone, and then stood. Let us
quit the wall. I feel like walking again.
Goldmark nodded and put his comb away. Where shall we go?
Charles gave the wall a gentle tail slap.
Wherever in Metamor our four legs shall take us!
----------
Word came during the last few minutes of combat
between two alarmingly mismatched foes. One stood
tall, wide, and powerfully muscled; a pale hued
Percheron stallion whose ears pricked the seven
foot line etched on a wall. His opponent barely
cleared five feet, a pine marten lithe and lean.
The horse held a heavy practice mace and the
marten a simple duelist's practice blade as
distinctly flimsy against the mace as the marten was against the stallion.
The marten, however, was Malger Sutt, the last
surviving heir of his House and Title, and
sparred like a common guardsman, clad in a simple
leather vest and short pantaloons. Given the
address 'dae ross' which, while spelled and
spoken in many different manners across the
kingdoms, simply meant 'first heir of' his House,
he acted less like the entitled royalty he was
whenever he could possibly get away with it. For
years he had comported himself as a moneyed
socialite and, as expected or royal brats,
sybarite. But always there had been a deeper
agenda, carefully hidden by his rather public
face of debauchery. And then, with the
eradication of his sisters, brothers, the
concubines and wives of his warmongering side,
Malger had been left with it all and put to the
road with assassins at his heel.
There, for years, he hid in the guise of foppish
traveling minstrel which had suited him as finely
as had his earlier years of royal privilege.
Until his Goddess said otherwise.
And now he was the Archduke Malger dae ross Sutt,
holder of Western Pyralia. Though he had placed
the onus on the shoulders of one better capable
of stewarding those lands he kept the Title, and
with it the privilege he had been raised to
without the boorish elitism of his deceased line.
Raising his practice blade before his muzzle he
grinned at his opponent, who stood head and
shoulders over him towered to be truthful and
beckoned him to attempt his attack once more.
The stallion Versyd snorted, having been thwarted
in every attempt for the past hour, took a
staying breath against his understandable
frustration, and stepped into snap a low, brutal
swing with the mace in his off hand. Malger, his
new liege though who looked no more noble than
the horse against which he practiced, deftly
leaned back without moving his feet and deflected
the heavy mace with the heavy arm behind it upward easily.
In actuality it was not his purpose to strike the
target moreso than overcome the parry, or
outmaneuver it, neither of which the untrained young horse had yet perfected.
The Percheron had already proven himself a
capable and dependable mount, with a smooth gait
at any speed, and a proud stride perfect for
bearing royalty. But Malger wanted him for a
guard as well, and so Versyd and the other horses
he'd hired in Glen Avery spent several hours a
day training in close quarters combat with sword
or mace. At present they trained with the Keep
scouts, but Malger intended to hire personal
instructors when he found one to his liking.
And as Versyd was to be his personal guard as
well as mount, Malger insisted his eager
Percheron practice his swordsmanship against the
marten's tasseled blades. Versyd had both
strength and stamina from years of pulling
heavily-laden wagons, but he'd only received the
most perfunctory training with a sword. No matter
how many times Malger 'skewered' him he never
grumbled at his defeat. In a little over a week
he had already learned the danger of putting all
his strength into his swings. It would not be
long before he was a formidable fighter.
But when the message came, Malger had to cut
short their practice. The time for waiting was
over. He had but one errand to run before he set his plans in motion.
His grace, the Archduke emeritus Malger Sutt,
Lord of Sutthaivasse and master of Western
Pyralia, answers your summons, your grace!
Andhun the bull bellowed by way of announcing his
presence to Metamor's Duke. Most of the Duke's
personal guards remembered him from his days as a
court minstrel and seemed a little awkward with
the marten's nobility; then they were servants
together, now he was to be served. At least
Andhun, one of the Duke's favorites, still gave
him the same smoldering glower to assure him if
he did anything untoward to the Duke he would be
reduced to a gelatinous paste beneath the bull's
massive hooves, followed by a familiar wink to
wish him luck on his visit. No matter how much
the rest of the world had gone topsy-turvy, it
was nice to have some things stay the same.
The marten shot Andhun a glance and lift of one
brow, as exasperated by the lengthy lung-emptying
bellow of his entire title as he ever was. To
Thomas, Duke of Metamor, the marten was a friend,
though his title put the stallion a step below
him in the ranks of nobility he took pains never
to abuse his status. Besides, Thomas was a
Midlands noble, not a Pyralian one and Malger was guest in his Keep.
He had been escorted to a small informal audience
hall where he found the Duke standing with a
chalice of wine between two thick hoof-like
fingers peering down at a map his adopted
daughter Malisa was populating with pewter animal
figures. Malger needed only a glance to see
Metamor Valley and its beastly barons; a squirrel
for the Lord of the Glen, a badger for the master
of Iron Mine, a lion for the mage of Hareford,
and so on. He noticed no marten upon the board
and wondered how long it would be before his likeness joined them.
Ah, Malger! Thomas said with an expansive sweep
of his arm. Is there some new wrinkle in matters
supernatural? I have much gratitude still to show
for your help this last week.
Malger shook his head and offered both the equine
Duke and human Prime Minister a fang-filled grin.
Happily my role in those affairs is at an end
for now. A new adventure awaits me and I come to
bring you the news. Thomas's ears lifted but
Malger did not wait to be asked. Two days hence
I shall depart Metamor in the company of Sir
Matthias and his family. We shall journey to
Sondeshara in hopes of finding healing for
Jerome, Charles's Sondeckis friend who has been of great help to Metamor.
Ah, I have heard of this. I have also heard the
dragons Pharcellus and Lindsey will be joining
you. May the gods grant you a safe and uneventful journey.
Malger laughed. Well, not too uneventful! So
many of our beastly appearance treading unmasked
in foreign lands will be sure to cause a stir in every port.
Very true, Thomas offered him a hopeful and
thoughtful gaze. Sir Matthias, you, and the rest
showing yourselves to the rest of the world has
given me new confidence. I will be making a ducal
visit to some of the southern fiefs later this
Summer; my first since the Curses were laid. It
is about time they saw their liege again.
Malger glanced at the map once more. Malisa, a
devious grin creasing her lips, lifted her hands
to reveal a horse-head statue at the southern
edge of the map. We've been working on this for
a year now. Our vassals need to see our strength
and courage; as do our enemies. We've withstood
two sieges in less than ten years. There will not
be a third from either north or south.
No there will not, Malger agreed with a wider
grin. Which brings me to my question for you,
Thomas. The journey to Sondeshara will be long
and we will need to resupply in almost every
port. Is there any errand I can perform for Metamor?
Thomas and Malisa turned to each other, neither
speaking for several seconds. Though Malger
prided himself on the art of reading others he
could guess nothing of their thoughts. Thomas
took a deep breath, swinging his long equine head
back to the marten, and in a low voice replied,
Actually, there is something you can do for Metamor.
----------
Their four legs took them many places throughout
Keeptowne, though after wandering aimlessly for
an hour, Charles grew bored and soon steered them
toward places he knew and had once been
frequently. First on his list were various shops
and stalls in the market where he'd often
purchased a morsel to eat or supplies for his
work. Some he had not returned to since leaving
the Writer's Guild two years before, and some
were not there anymore, victims of the Winter
Assault he had never before mourned.
He spent a few minutes in each place speaking
with those he knew, listening to them describe
their families and their hopes for the prosperous
days of Summer and Autumn ahead. Many had heard
of his investiture and congratulated him on his
title and his family. All offered to keep him in
their prayers, be they Followers or Lothanasi, for the long journey ahead.
Charles sought an excuse to purchase something
anything from each merchant he visited, as if
to relive those days now past. Apart from some
fruits and cheese, most of which the merchants
insisted they take as a parting gift, there was
nothing he could justify; seeing those he'd once
known well again was all he truly needed. There
were a few times when he feared his larger
four-legged body and tail would knock something
from its shelf and he'd be forced to pay for its
repair, but Goldmark, far more used to the
vagaries of the taur shape, always stopped his
tail or hindquarters from wreaking havoc in tight spaces.
Morning slipped past and soon the fullness of the
afternoon was upon them. Charles turned their
course back toward the keep. The mighty edifice
was once his beloved home, and yet somehow there
was a sadness clinging to its towers.
Goldmark was happy to accompany him on his
meandering journey, but even he could sense
something else in his friend. In a quiet voice,
as they approached Gregor's Bakery, he asked,
Charles, are you saying goodbye for a year, or forever?
Charles sighed and thumped his tail against the
hard-packed earth freshly laden with straw. I
wish I knew. But aye, I might not return from this journey.
Then tell me, where else do you wish to say goodbye? We can visit them all.
He pondered the question for a moment and shook
his head. I don't want to just visit these
places. I wish I could live in them again. Only
now when I may never see them again do I realize
how much I appreciated all I had and all I knew
here in Metamor. I am sorry I forgot. I am sorry I am dragging you through it.
You don't need to apologize to me, Charles. I am
sorry I took so long to come up and live in this
world. I am happy to spend one more day with a
dear friend. So where would you like to go?
Charles glanced at the sky and then at his fellow
rat. There's only a few places left I should
see. I didn't see the dragons in the sky so my
family isn't here yet, but they will be soon. It
is best not to keep four little rats and their mother waiting.
Goldmark laughed, patting Charles on the shoulder
as they continued their way into the Bakery. They
chatted with Gregor the capybara Baker who had
finished his cooking for the day and was
overseeing his apprentice, the tabby Brennar,
hard at work before the ovens. Both rodent and
cat insisted the pair could not leave
empty-pawed, and certainly not before sampling
Brennar's latest accomplishment. The soft
cake-like pastry was sweet with a creamy goo in
the center; it took only a few minutes to eat and
another few minutes of licking the goo from their claws.
Nor did they leave without first a firm
hand-shake and back-slapping and many wishes on
the success of his voyage and a speedy return.
But leave they did and made their way through
busy streets into the central bailey about the
Keep. Charles slowed his pace as they neared the
old converted barracks, retracing steps he'd
taken hundreds of times before over many years. Silent, Goldmark matched him.
It was nearly two years now since he had left the
Writer's Guild; there were a few new faces, but
most were familiar and some good friends. Tallis,
his fellow rat, and Nahum the fox, both now
Headmasters for the Guild, were eager to show him around.
The interior had not much changed since his days;
a fresh bit of molding here and there, some new
paint, a few additional tapestries, but otherwise
it was as he remembered it. Charles closed his
eyes and could feel years swim through him as the
many writers and scribes of Metamor worked on
crafting, copying, and critiquing to fashion
stories of life at Metamor, or of life anywhere,
to be sold to the wealthy, noble or merchant it
did not matter, and added to all the great libraries of the world.
The main hall was filled with younger members of
the Guild working on copying manuscripts, so
Tallis and Nahum led the two rats back into the
offices where they could talk and share a bit of
cheese, bread, and wine. The writers asked after
Charles's family and Goldmark's business and
Charles asked after the progress on their latest
compilation and if there were any promising new
members. They told fond memories of the early
days of Metamor when the Curses were new and
tales of survival when their animal side came to
the rescue. They laughed anew at embarrassments.
They cheered for each triumph. They groused at the bitter disappointments.
And when the time came to leave the Writer's
Guild, Nahum and Tallis held Charles tight in a
firm hug and promised to pray for their safe
return. Charles offered a long sigh as they
continued onward, steps dragging, head turning to
glance back. After doing so for a third time,
Goldmark bumped his lower body with his
hindquarters. The Keep's in front of us,
Charles, and in another couple of hours evening
will be too. If there's nowhere else you want to
say goodbye to, we can head to Long House and
meet your family. I'm sure they've arrived by now.
Charles took a deep breath, stood tall on his
four legs, lifted his snout high, and sniffed as
well as peered about. Thank you for accompanying
me, Goldmark. I don't think I could have done this alone.
You did teach us we rats must stick together!
Charles felt a smile touch his snout. So we
must! There is one last place I would like to go,
and then we can retire to Long House.
Goldmark stood beside him and lifted his snout,
sniffing. Apart from the delicate sweetness of
Spring flowers, there was also a hint of roast
mutton. Both rats tried not to drool. Oh? Where is it? Oh!
The scent drew their noses toward one side of the
Keep. Nestled there was a large wooden building
now fortified with stone. Both rats smiled as
nothing more needed to be said. Together they
headed to the Deaf Mule for one last round of
savory meat, frothing ale, and a game or two of pool.
----------
Oh no! Not him!
Misha was delighted to welcome the Matthias
family at Long House one more time as they waited
to begin their journey south. He loved seeing the
four little rat children scampering around and
playing with the other Long Scout children. So
much laughter, so much energy, all of it filled
him with the hope one day he and Caroline would
be blessed with a family of their own. He was
also glad to welcome Garigan and James, men of
quality and courage, friends of Charles and the
Longs. The rat merchants were only going to stay
long enough to deliver all of the supplies Lady
Kimberly had brought for her family on the
voyage, but they too were welcome; they had
already delivered relief supplies for Hareford
and Mycransburg at Misha's request so he knew they could be trusted.
But the red-haired young man was entirely different. He wasn't actually a man.
Pharcellus! Misha exclaimed as the dragon in
human guise followed the last of the rats into
the wide open main hall of Long House. The young
man turned his head at the name, saw the fox, and smiled buoyantly.
Hello Misha! Did you miss me?
The fox could only laugh and shake his head. What
else was one to do with a dragon? Thank you for
all you have done and are doing. Just... please behave inside Long House!
Pharcellus tilted back his head and laughed. Oh,
Sir Brightleaf, you know we dragons are very careful!
And very big! Misha muttered, though
Pharcellus's youthful enthusiasm and genial nature was already winning the fox.
Lady Kimberly reached him and threw her arms
about the fox's chest. Oh, Misha. Thank you.
For what, milady?
For keeping my husband safe again.
Misha's one ear lifted and his snout stretched in
a warm smile. Milady, thank you for letting him
come to my aid. Without him we would not have
succeeded. Or probably survived. Your quarters
are already prepared and we will gladly help you
with your things. Charles is off exploring
Keeptowne but as you've arrived now I'm sure he'll return soon.
A note of uncertainty filled Kimberly's voice.
Anxiety trembled her whiskers. Did he tell you?
He nodded. We will dearly miss him if you must
stay there. I have taken the liberty of inviting
some of our friends, both yours and his, here
tomorrow evening. It's not a party, but... a
chance for everyone to spend a little time
together before... He hated it and couldn't
force himself to say it. Before... you know.
Kimberly smiled to him and lifted her snout,
pecking him on the nose. You are a true friend, Misha. Thank you.
Caroline will be back shortly with some fresh
food for tonight; I'm not sure what she's going
to find, but it will be good! If any of you need
some refreshments after your journey we do have stocks here we keep.
A little something to wet the throat would be
nice, Julian suggested. The white-furred rat
carried one of the Matthias children in his arms.
Elliot, the other rat merchant, stood beside him
with another child. Garigan and James followed
after with the last two. All four children were
groggy as if they'd been sleeping; in a little
while Misha was sure they'd be scampering over
everything. The other three men carrying them all nodded at Julian's request.
Misha glanced over the travelers and frowned.
What of Lindsey and Jerome? I expected to see
them with you. Charles told me he was the reason for this voyage.
Pharcellus stepped forward and lowered the
satchel he carried. Jerome is not comfortable in
such a large city. He and Lindsey are waiting
outside in the forest where he feels safe. I will
be joining them once my friends are settled here.
I did hear, Misha said, a growl slipping into
his throat. Is there nothing we can do for him?
Garigan handed little Bernadette off to Baerle
the opossum and stepped toward dragon and fox.
No, there is nothing. The ferret struck his
chest with an open palm and narrowed his eyes.
What Gmork did to Jerome touched him to the very
core of his being. His Sondeck has been changed.
No magic here at Metamor can help. The guilds
sent representatives to try, but they could not
affect what dark sorcery had been afflicted upon
him. Charles' skunk friend was the only one who
could begin to prize it out, but he claimed it
was enmeshed with his spirit as deep as the Curse
we bear. He could not, and as much dared not,
pluck at its web. Only in Sondeshara does Jerome have any hope of healing.
Misha ground his fangs. Why is it our enemies
only multiply? We destroy one only to have
another take his place. And each new one seems worse than the last!
Man is not meant to know peace, Pharcellus
observed with a shrug of his shoulders. Not in
this life. Such is denied even to we dragons,
mighty and fearsome as we are. Misha's ear
lowered, tail ducking down, somewhat surprised at
the dragon's philosophical bent.
Are you sure you are Pharcellus?
A disconsolate moue crossed the young man's face.
You might not recognize me anymore as a dragon,
Misha. I have a scar A SCAR on my wing!
After words of such depth, the outburst of
draconic vanity made Misha tip back his head and laugh.
----------
Charles was disappointed when Copernicus did not
appear to whip his tail at pool one last time;
but it was his only disappointment. He settled
for trading wins with Goldmark while they downed
ale and gorged on hearty stew. The potatoes were
preserved from last year and the meat was salty,
but it was the same delicious stew he'd come to
expect from the mighty Auruchs who ran the Keep's
favorite tavern. It brought back years of pleasant memories.
He paused at the doorway when they left, one hand
holding the wooden jamb, feeling its contours as
if trying to preserve them. Goldmark waited,
saying nothing, until with a long sigh, eyes turned forward, he let go.
They reached Long House not long after and for a
moment Charles recalled the first time they had
ever set foot or paw in the massive hall. Misha
and he had been playing predator and prey,
running about the Keep in feral form as part of
his Long Scout training. Charles only had to
survive the day, and as he'd raced to escape they
had discovered or the Keep provided Long House.
And there, within the Long House was a chamber
plucked from the depths of his home far to the
south, a shrine with an altar filled with the
Sondeck at which he and his student could partake
of their Calm and find rejuvenation. Within the
chamber he had used an ancient trap to pin the
fox down and win their contest. Before the year
was out he would see again the place from which the shrine sprang.
He averted his eyes from the special door.
Meredith the bear was waiting for them at the
entrance and he lifted Charles, even in his taur
form, from the ground to give him a firm embrace.
Charles, you're back! Everyone is waiting for you.
Meredith! Oof! It's good to see you too! Oof!
The bear offered a rumbling laugh as he put the
rat back down. Goldmark shook his head in silent
mirth. I expected to see my children scampering
off the balconies. Where is everyone?
Oh, most everyone is on duty still. Misha,
Caroline, and your family are in your quarters
here. Julian and Elliot returned home not long
ago, and Garigan went into the shrine a few
minutes past. The dragon went off to do dragonish
things. The bear rumbled, dark eyes looking the
rat up and down. I say it is good to see you
again. Must you always leave us so soon?
Charles sighed. If it were in my power I would
not have left last year. Maybe I'd be out there
in the woods scouting for Metamor right now. But
this is for my friend; after all he's done for
me, I could never abandon him. Did you see what they did to him?
Meredith shook his head and then scratched behind
his neck. Nay, they stayed out in the forest.
But Garigan described it. Is this Gmork really so
powerful as to make a man a beast in heart as well as flesh?
It is what Nasoj wanted for all of us. I
actually like being a beast in flesh and wouldn't
change back if given the chance.
Meredith's smile widened, showing off his
considerable fangs. Hear, hear! My life is better as a bear! And yours a rat!
Will you be joining us? I should go be with my family now.
I have to stand watch here, but I will see you
again this evening and for however long you are
here; I won't go out on patrol again until next week.
Then I will see you again soon; I am eager to
hear of your adventures, my friend.
Charles took a step into Long House and noted his
fellow rat did not follow him. Goldmark?
I am going to my home now. Thank you for sharing
your day with me, Charles. Goldmark stepped to
his side and patted his upper back, flanks and
tails bumping. If nothing else, we will see you
again for your journey to the edge of the valley.
Give Julian and Elliot my thanks and tell them I
look forward to seeing them again soon.
Charles watched his friend leave the Long House
and then he headed deeper within to the quarters
it had provided his family. He had never truly
lived in them, but had he not been exiled to the
Glen he knew they would have been home. There was
a spacious main room with a wide stone floor
covered by animal skins and comfortable chairs
flanked by a staircase and landing leading up to
the bedrooms. Doors on either side led to a small
kitchen and the privy. And scampering around the
floor were his four children while his friends
reclined on the skins or in the chairs.
Kimberly glanced up at him and smiled, noting his
four-legged stance with amusement. Welcome home. Did you enjoy your day out?
Hello, my love. It was good to see many beloved
places again. I smell ham and honey.
Caroline thumped her heavy tail against the floor
where she sat nuzzling her beloved fox. We
finished eating a while ago. We saved some for you.
I just ate at the Deaf Mule, but I will have it a little later.
He was surprised by how long it took, but his
children had been so engrossed in their game they
hadn't noticed him when he first came in. But the
moment was brief and before he could take another
step they mobbed his legs, each of them clinging
to one, all squeaking at once for his attention.
Charles laughed and walked into the room, lifting
each leg and child with great care, before
settling his bulk next to his wife and tickling
his children with his toes. His children and all
of his friends laughed, their warmth greater than a roaring fire.
----------
Night settled across Metamor and with it the
warmth of the day vanished. Spring was in full
blossom but there was still snow in the mountains
which brought a chill wind through the valley.
Charles felt it through his fur not as an alpine
wind but as the emptiness of a desert midnight.
He always smelled the desert when standing in the Sondeckis Shrine.
Garigan, garbed in his green Sondeckis robe,
knelt before the stone altar imbued with the
Sondeck, his paws stretched across its gray
surface, snout relaxed in a repose as still as
death. Charles watched the ferret for a full
minute before he could see the slight swelling of
his nostrils with each breath. He could not
recall how long it had been since he had
experienced such a deep Calm. He ached for it.
Unlike every other chamber within the Keep, the
walls of the Shrine were fashioned from clay
blocks. In six months time, if all went well,
nearly every building he would see would also be
fashioned from dried clay. He stepped back ten
years every time he entered the Shrine. This time
was different; this time he felt his future before him.
I will have my family with me, this time.
Garigan's ears did not move. The ferret probably
did not even know he was there. I will not be afraid.
Charles walked to one of the chests at the rear
of the room, opened it, and lifted his black
Sondeckis robe. He shimmied within its confines
and felt warmth coat him. The new growth of vine
nestled above his tail stirred against his fur
before it and the robe settled into place. He
couldn't take the entire length of vine the Wind
Children had gifted him with last year on the
voyage; it was simply too long now to even wind
about his body when he did have four legs. The
day after the dragons returned with Jerome, he
had visited his vine to give it thanks and
goodbye. One of the purple flowers had turned to
face him and the rat bent forward to sniff the
blossoms. Before he could touch those gentle
petals a seed had fallen from within.
Tears had touched his eyes as he plucked the seed
from the stable floor and pressed it against his
back above his tail. He felt it burrow into his
flesh, all without pain. The next morning the
first sprout of vine poked a green tendril from
the same spot. The Wind Children's gift, his
plant friend, would be with him even in
Sondeshara. Charles felt a smile return to his
snout even as the memory touched his heart.
Attired in his robe, Charles knelt on the
opposite side of the angel from Garigan and
pressed his hands against the altar. Strength
filled him and he felt a rush of heat. His eyes
snapped shut and he found himself standing in the
desert sands looking across a vast city and
oasis. Its towers, its streets, and its lights were all familiar.
I once loved this city.
His paws sunk into the sand even as his eyes
turned the city about, noting every avenue, every
tree, and every rock. Day and night were present
together, gold glimmering with brilliant sunshine
and pools of water silver with the moon. He saw
markets with wide awnings and domed ceilings
where he and his friends traded chores for fresh
figs and dates. His eyes walked through the
practice rooms and commanded his limbs to perform
each drill. His gaze brought him to the Cathedral
and its crypt where one day he'd hoped his bones would rest.
And everywhere his eyes went, there the Sondeck
abode. Its power suffused his flesh and drove his
every deed. In it he found both repose and
exhilaration. He was no more a knight, nor merely
a rat; he wasn't even a man named Charles
Matthias. He was a filled vessel, a cup running
over, and an arrow springing from the bow. His
life was not his own but a part of something
vast. It was gift given to many and shared.
I belong in this city.
He could feel his claws digging against the stone
of the altar and his eyes opened. The desert and
city were gone. It took him several seconds to
breathe. He stared at the gray slab and lifted
his fingers away. Charles wanted to feel
unsettled by everything he'd been shown, but all within him was calm.
What was it?
He turned to the ferret. Garigan had also lifted
his hands from the altar and looked to the rat
with serene curiosity. I saw the desert sands,
the pools of water bubbling up, the trees and
grains, the clay homes, the brick streets, all of
it. Was it Sondeshara? It's never done that before.
No, it hasn't. And aye, it was Sondeshara.
Garigan reached across the angel and gripped the
rat's shoulder. It wants us to know all will be
well when we reach your city, Master.
Perhaps, Charles admitted. But who is it? Has
the altar ever spoken to you before? Has it ever
shown you anything you had not thought of yourself?
No. If this bothered the ferret, he gave no
outward sign. Has it never done so for you?
Charles stood and invited Garigan to do likewise.
Those are more questions than we need for
tonight. We have a very long journey ahead of us.
Come, let us practice together for an hour and
then we both need our sleep. Was it, Charles
pondered, a vision granted by the altar, or a
gift granted by Metamor herself? After a moment he let the worry slip away.
The ferret smiled and joined him. Charles gave
the altar one last stare before stepping to the
middle of the shrine and allowing himself to truly savor the Sondeck within.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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