Part 7
Metamor Keep: Faithful Battles
By Charles Matthias
Felsah had hoped for a little time to peruse
Patriarch Akabaieth's journals, but all he
managed before Richard arrived was a brief prayer
for Elvmere's soul. Felsah let the open journal
cover drop when he heard the soft scuffling of
Richard's paws outside his door. Come in, Richard.
The mouse opened the door and gingerly shut it.
He then got down on all fours and stared at the
bottom of the door. What are you doing?
I'm checking to see if there's enough space for
us to squeeze under your door, Father. Looks like
there is. We can leave it shut. He stood back up
and rubbed his hands over his jowls,
straightening his whiskers. You'll probably want
to disrobe first, Father. I'm going to do so
too. So saying, Richard turned away from Felsah
and began to shimmy out of his brown robe. Felsah
chittered to himself, hopped once and turned in
mid-air, then began to pull his black Questioner
robe over his head. Underneath he had white
linens; the shirt he also removed, but the
trousers, hooked over his tail with a button, he
left on. He folded the white shirt and set it on
his pallet, and then tenderly folded his robe
until the red cross filled the top. He lifted it
to the end of his snout and pressed his jowls and
incisors against it in what remained to him of a kiss.
Are you ready? Richard asked.
Aye. What do I need to do?
It's really quite easy, Father. Just imagine
yourself as a normal jerboa. Will yourself to be
a jerboa and the Curses will respond to make you
so. And when you are ready to become a man again,
just imagine the shape and will yourself to become it again.
Felsah took a deep breath and set his robe on his
pallet. Eyes filled with the beautiful red cross
of his order, Felsah remembered the nights of his
boyhood, resting upon the roof tiles still warm
from the day, and watching the desert mice
hopping around the scrub outside their village.
He thought on their shape and size, large feet,
tail and ears, with small head and body to carry
them. He had shared part of their size for the
last three months and would the remainder of his
life. With a still plea, a quiet aspiration, he
asked to share it even more. The request was
directed only within, to his depths and to the boundaries of his flesh.
He squeaked in surprise when his flesh responded.
The red cross and the cell about him swelled in
size. His hands tingled and he saw his thumbs
shrink within the changing form until they were
indistinguishable from the nubs on his palms. His
breeches were impossibly too large for his hips
and tail and stayed on a moment longer only
because they were buttoned. Within seconds the
world loomed over him and his tail and hips were
small enough the linens fell to the floor a
moment sooner than he shrank into them.
Felsah blinked a few times, forepaws on the floor
before him to steady himself. His neck and head
stuck straight out and he could see a panorama of
his crumpled linens around him, the writing desk
and his chest of clothes and the small bookshelf
with the journals and prayerbooks towering above
him. Richard was a giant mouse whose dizzying
height briefly terrified his heart. He scuttled
against one corner of his trousers and almost
started burrowing underneath when he caught
himself. Felsah took a deep breath and marshaled his thoughts.
I may be in the body of a jerboa; but it is my
will whether I act as the jerboa instincts guide
or my own thoughts command. This is just one more
thing I must understand. A Questioner keeps his
fear behind his mask and leaves it for Eli to tend.
Composed, Felsah hopped out from under his
trousers and then onto the top of them. The
fabric barely dented from his weight, and he
found the sensation of balancing on flimsy fabric
otherworldly. He leaned back on his haunches and
tried to wave his paws before him, but they only
wanted to go up and down, not side to side.
Richard chittered a laugh as he set his bundled
robe down against the wall, Pretty easy, isn't
it? Now my turn. Felsah watched as the
three-foot tall mouse dwindled in size, his tunic
and trousers crumpling around him, until a
three-inch long mouse emerged from the remains.
The mouse ran along the lines of mortar in the
stone floor, turning with each, until he reached
the edge of Felsah's trousers. Richard leaned
back on his haunches and brushed his paws over
his face, tail stiff and straight behind him.
Felsah hopped down from his trousers and together
they made their way to the door. What would have
been a single hop or step now took a few seconds
of scurrying. The door loomed overhead like
everything else, Felsah's own cell seemed to be
the largest most cavernous cathedral ever
constructed. Between the door and the stones was
a small gap shorter even than they. Into this
Richard turned his head and plunged within. His
skull bulged for a moment and then it was his
chest which bent. A few seconds of scratching and
pushing and the little mouse was through.
Felsah flicked out his ears and peered into the
gap. Warm candle light illumined the hall beyond;
Richard was still on the other side of the door
straightening his fur. The gap seemed too small,
but their bones were flexible. Felsah chittered,
closed his eyes, and shoved himself into the gap.
The wood and stone squeezed him tight and he felt
his eye balls nearly explode from his head. The
rough wood scraped at his fur and his ears, the
air was pressed tight in his lungs. He clawed at
wood and stone, kicking with his legs at the
stone and air behind him. Little by little his
body wedged through the gap. His eyes popped open
when he felt the pressure squishing his head from
ear to ear together and he saw he'd started to
emerge into an even more spacious hallway. A
moment later he pried his haunches from the gap
and his tail tuft flicked upward in victory.
Richard ran his paws across his jowls and then
lifted his head, sniffing at the air. Felsah
leaned back on his haunches and sniffed. The
sweet scent of apples from Hough's last batch
lingered in the air, as well as the heady scent
of Rakka, the dry aroma of Patric's scales, and
the familiar bouquet of the other seminarians
each of who had all walked this hall but a day or
week ago. The strongest odor was melted candle
wax and it would have been about the only thing
the human Felsah would have noted. As a
half-jerboa he could pick out the others no
matter how strong the wax. But now as a true
jerboa each scent seemed to arrive as a distinct
and separate sensation as well as part of a
whole. He did not picture each of the people or
objects as he smelled them but recalled the scent
in his mind on its own. In fact, to his shock, he
found trying to picture any of the seminarians
difficult; their scent came first and to go beyond required concentrating.
Even as Richard crept away from the door, Felsah
stood, staring down either passage. To his
surprise he realized he could not see where the
hall ended. Even the ceiling, which was just tall
enough for Zachary to walk without bending over,
disappeared into a bronze haze. The other side of
the hall was fuzzy, the individual stones
blending into their neighbors to form a solid
edifice. Where Hough or the Keep had arranged
religious banners he could see them, but the
colors were muted or missing, and it took a
minute to recall what each depicted, even though
he had admired each many times in his three months service.
Yet he could hear the scratching of Richard's
claws against the stone, the sputtering of the
candles, and the rasp of scale against scale as
Patric readied himself for sleep in the cell to
his right. While everything close to him was
clear and crisp to his eyes and brighter than
he expected beyond the next door down
everything faded to an indistinguishable blur and
only the scents and sounds made any impression.
Little wonder then the jerboa brain he now used
recalled all things by their scent first and only with great effort an image.
Felsah hopped after Richard alongside the wall
lined with oaken doors. The candles were arrayed
on the opposite wall and their shadows were
hidden beneath them. When they reached the end of
the hall, they crept along the wall toward the
more decorative door on the other side leading
into the sanctuary. They squeezed under this as well.
The sanctuary rose upward beyond imagining. He
could not even see the arched ceiling; beyond the
clerestory windows everything faded into a
darkness his eyes could not penetrate. But he
knew where the thurifer had swayed casting clouds
of bitter incense, and the panoply of animal
scents of all who had visited in the last few
days were there. He smelled men, dogs, cats,
deer, cows, swine, rats, mice, weasels, foxes,
and owls these last three put a tenebrous chill
in his heart. There were more and more he could
identify and to his delight there were many he
could name not just by species but by their human names.
Richard sat on his haunches and gestured with his
head toward the exit neither of them could see.
Felsah waved his paws to signal his assent.
Together then ran along the wall and then behind
a tapestry. To the jerboa's surprise, Richard
jumped onto the back of the tapestry and began
scurrying up the fabric. Felsah grabbed at the
fabric and found his little claws gave him a good
hold. He tensed his hind legs beneath him and
hopped upward. He spread all of his legs and his
claws caught the fabric. The tapestry was so
heavy it did not even stir from his weight.
Felsah chittered to himself and glanced up after
Richard. The mouse was gone from his sight but
not his scent. He climbed upward and marveled as
his claws held his weight and his nose showed him
the path to follow. The tapestry brought him up
to a narrow ledge of stone where his friend waited.
Richard sniffed at him and then immediately
scampered along the ridge. Felsah followed,
finding it easier than he expected to hop along
so narrow a path. The ridge ran toward the front
of the sanctuary and along alcoves where murals
of saints and apostles were arranged in scenes
form their lives and from the Canticles. They
passed toes and sandals larger than them; Felsah
could not even make out their faces as he passed,
though a subtle radiance still filled his gaze as he looked at each.
The ridge turned to the right when they reached
the side altars. The walls opened up and the
narrow ridge became a broad path no longer stone
but decorated with cedar paneling and art carved
into the stone above and wood below. They
threaded their bodies through curling granite
vines and grapes, and brass stalks of wheat,
before scampering across fish with scales
smelling of sweet forests and tender boughs. Dust
clung to each despite the best efforts of the
Followers who came to help clean.
When they reached the back of the side altar they
found themselves behind a statue of St. Kephas
overlooking the tabernacle. Richard stopped next
to the painted feet and sat on his haunches.
Felsah hopped to his side and made the sign of
the yew with his paw. He gazed downward at the
golden copula atop the tabernacle; the altar
itself was adorned with candles and a bright
green cloth. Where the cloth did not cover the
stone it seemed a smear of pink and gray. The
individual steps leading up to the altar were
indistinguishable. The scent of wax and incense
was very strong and he could hear memories of
chant and a hundred other scents of the prayers
offered in the two years the altar had seen use.
Felsah leaned his paws on the side of the nearest
of St. Kephas's feet and tilted his head back. He
sniffed the air, blinking once as he peered
upward along his robes to the vastness of his
height. From his position the face was lost amid
the beard, and the key held out in his right hand
was partly obscured by the Canticles carried in
his left. A giant of the Ecclesia across whose feet scampered two mice.
The brown-furred mouse scooted to the other side
of the feet before turning to gaze as Felsah did.
He rubbed his paws across his whiskers before
folding them one over another as if trying to
clasp them in prayer. Felsah did the same and
offered the sweet smell of praise and the bitter
scent of contrition toward the saint to carry to Eli.
Little claws scratched on the wooden inlay as the
other mouse scampered along the side altar toward
the far wall. Felsah laid his paws on St.
Kephas's toes for a moment more before following.
Together they slipped between the twisting wooden
figures and then squeezed into a crack in the
design into a shadowed and dusty alcove where
only the scent of his friend touched. The other
mouse disappeared down into a hole in the mortar
between the stones and Felsah paused only a
moment before pushing himself inside. The hole
was small enough his ears were squished against
the sides of his head, but not so small as to deform his whole body.
The hole widened somewhat a few steps within, but
other than the light coming in behind them
limning their shapes, he had to rely on the brush
of stone against his whiskers and the
occasional bump of his snout against a mouse tail
and the familiar scent of his fellow mouse
ahead of him to find his way. The passage turned
around a few blocks of stone and descended in a
long slope, before suddenly emerging onto a
shadowed shelf between a wall of stone and of
wood. Beneath them was darkness, while faint
light stretched around the edge of the wood on
the left and right. The scent of bread, nuts,
vegetables, meat, and cheese filled the air and made his belly tighten.
The two mice climbed down a slat of wood jutting
out of the wall and into a small hole gnawed into
the oaken wall. Both mice gnawed at the hole as
they climbed through, widening it just a little
bit more on their way. The hole was dark but for
a sliver of light at the far end, and smelled
strongly of bread and potatoes. Their whiskers
guided them to the bread wrapped in a rough,
bristly sack. Felsah sat back on his haunches
while the other mouse rummaged around the sack.
Were they trying to scavenge their own larder?
Something tumbled across the floor toward him and
Felsah returned to all fours sniffing and turning
his snout back and forth to feel with his
whiskers. Both nose and whiskers found a hard
crust of bread, some missed crumb, nudged to his
side. He flicked out his ears and could hear the
other mouse gnawing on something. He crept closer
and back on his haunches, reaching down with his
paws to pick up the morsel. It slipped from his
hands the first few times before he tried cupping
it and pushing it together. He bit into the crust
with his incisors and pulled in each piece with
his tongue as he turned it over and over in his paws.
The bread was hard and old but satisfied the
twitch in his belly. And gnawing felt good,
comforting the dull ache always in his mouth. He
listened in the darkness, the little light coming
through the front of the cupboard drawer faintly
illuminating the edges of the sack of bread and
potatoes as well as his friend who also sat on
his haunches gnawing. He could smell his friend's
pawprints across the chamber almost as strong as
the food; how often had he come here for a midnight rodent repast?
He tried to think while eating and found scents
and sounds distracting him from words at every
turn. There were so many delectable odors of
different sorts of good tasting foods throughout
the larder and his belly drew him in the
direction of those most pleasing. To his dismay,
he found he could not even recite a Pater Noster
before the scent of food or the memory of incense
intruded. Was scent and particular sounds how
mice thought? He seemed to retain his reason and
will, but the former was balked by all things
particular to the needs and senses of the jerboa.
Before he quite realized it, the morsel of bread
was gone and he was brushing the tiny crumbs from
his jowls and paws. He scampered around the
cupboard, sniffing for any other morsels, and for
the delectable scents in the air. The other mouse
was still gnawing, and so he turned to the hole
and climbed back out and down the slat of wood.
His claws gave him good purchase and he crawled
downward until he reached the stone floor. He
then hopped between the two walls and out into the light.
A single candle had been left lit in the middle
of the massive table, but it was enough for his
eyes. His nose was better and he followed it up
the table leg, his claws digging into the wood
where it was too high to jump. Before he quite
realized it he was crawling across the top of the
table darting from one crumb to the next wedged
into the wood, digging at them with his paws, and
then gnawing each in turn to find the tasty ones.
He was surprised by how many crumbs he could
find; he thought they had cleaned the table after
they'd eaten their evening meal. But a mouse,
even a jerboa, needed very little. Eli watches
over all His creatures, even the smallest.
He finished what he could and then hopped from
the table to the bench and then the bench to the
floor. He felt a terrible anxiety being out in
the middle of such a huge space with nowhere to
hide. He scurried back to the cupboard and
followed the scent of his pawprints back up to
the hole where the other mouse waited.
His friend was still there and just finishing a
small hunk of potato. They nosed each other and
he felt his friend's paws brush across his
whiskers. He flicked out his ears but held back
the squeak of surprise. The other mouse lowered
his paws and then squirmed past him and out the
hole toward the gap in the stone. The jerboa, his belly full, followed.
The two mice scampered into a few other rooms
through little tunnels through the stone walls
before finally returned to the sanctuary and
making their way back into the hall with their
cells. One by one they squeezed under the door
which had their paw-print scent and made their
way back to the piles of clothes which smelled
like them but not quite. The jerboa nosed the
rumpled pile of linens for a moment before he
heard an odd scraping of claw to his side.
Turning, he saw the other mouse growing impossibly large.
The large mouse picked up some of the clothing
and held it across his haunches. Words erupted
from his snout. Father Felsah, you can change
back now. Just imagine yourself large again.
He blinked and rubbed his paws over his snout,
ears standing wide, before the words managed to
take shape inside him. It was only a moment's
delay, before he imagined the world around him
shrinking and scents fading with them. A sudden
vertigo struck him as he swelled and he grew to
see the other mouse eye to eye again.
Father?
He blinked, half-turned so his side faced the
other mouse Richard he recalled and picked up
his crumpled linens. He opened his jaws and
worked his tongue around until the words came
out. I am here. Is it always so? I was... more
beastly in mind than I anticipated.
He could see Richard shimmy into his robes and he
did the same with his linens. His eyes spied a
black robe folded on his pallet with a red cross
emblazoned on the front. The Questioner robes.
His robes. He picked them up and hugged them to his chest.
Everyone is different, Father, when it comes to
our beast forms. You seemed yourself to me.
Adventurous and unafraid. I would never climb
onto the table to search for crumbs like you did!
How much... like a beast did you feel?
I don't quite know. He rubbed his forehead with
one paw and folded his ears back. I don't think
I did at first. At some point I started having
trouble keeping words straight. And I wasn't
thinking much at all when I left the cupboard to
find more food. I was hungry and something
smelled delicious out there. I followed my nose.
At least I had enough presence of mind to find my
way back to you. He grimaced and added, Richard.
He gave his head a quick shake. He Felsah
rubbed his ears with the same paw hand and
the flexed his thumb back and forth. I think it
is taking me a moment to regain myself. How long were we mice?
Four or five candlemarks, I think. Richard
straightened his robe and then looked at the
jerboa with worry in his dark eyes. Are you all right, Father?
I will be, Felsah replied and turned back, one
hand pressing his robe tight to his chest, the
other rubbing the edge of one ear between thumb
and fingers. He lowered his arm and grabbed his
tail, flicking it back around behind him.
Perhaps it struck me so hard as it was my first
time. We should do this again, Richard. But let
us not spend quite so much time in animal form
until I am used to it and can control it better.
I'm already thinking in words and not scents
again. Thank you for this; it is one more thing Eli has for us to understand.
It is, Richard admitted with a touch of
resignation. Well, I suppose if we are to have
any sleep tonight I should return to my cell.
Good Night, Father Felsah. Eli be with you.
And with your spirit, Richard. Good Night.
----------
After Richard left Felsah spent a short time on
his haunches in prayer. Exhaustion was beginning
to set in as the midnight hour neared. Felsah
blinked several times to keep himself awake long
enough for the one last task he intended for
himself. Already the neighboring cells were quiet
and in the distance he could hear Rakka
whimpering in his sleep. He could hear Patric's
measured breath and the scuffling of Richard as
he settled in to sleep. Only the flickering of
candles remained and the occasional distant
footfall in the sanctuary as a penitent came to
pray and keep watch in the dark, still hours.
Felsah had spent a good amount of time studying
Akabaieth's journals for himself. He'd checked
for dog-eared or smudged pages to see what parts
Elvmere had read many times, but the raccoon had
been fastidious even in his anguish and left the
books in nearly pristine shape. He'd even smelled
them before to try and find where the scent of
the excommunicated bishop was strongest. But they
had so long been in his company the books stank
of both sea and raccoon, and now his own sandy,
desert scent lingered on the pages. His nose as
it was could not distinguish enough to be sure he was reading the right pages.
He arrayed the journals in a semi-circle on the
floor and opened the covers of each. The first
few pages lifted with them. Once satisfied,
Felsah removed his linens and willed himself to
shrink back down into his beastly form. He felt
his flesh and bones shift as the room swelled
around him. Scents filled his nose and mind
again. Felsah took a moment to offer a Pater
Noster and felt comforted when he reached the end without distraction.
The little jerboa hopped to the first book and
sniffed the two corners where Elvmere would have
gripped the pages between the thick pads on his
fingers to turn. There were little places where
the scent of raccoon was stronger. He climbed
onto the book and pushed the pages over and over
with the top of his head, running from one end to
the middle and then back again to snare the next
page. He did this for a dozen pages before
stopping and sniffing again. The journals were
thick enough his scurrying barely brought him any
closer to passages Elvmere must have read time and time again.
Felsah lowered himself to all fours and crawled
along the side of the book; the pages were taller
than his back but not his ears. Perhaps there was
some way he could measure the height where the
raccoon scent was strongest? Then he could retake
his half-way human shape and open the book closer
to the right place first before he attempted to
find the right pages in the beast shape.
He could not think of anything in his cell to use
just then, so settled for sniffing each book in
turn to find the ones with the strongest scents.
Seven of the books stood out more than the rest
and on the covers of each he rubbed his paws
several times so it would be easier to find them
later. Once he was finished he imagined the room
shrinking again and words returning to his mind.
Felsah donned his linens again and then collected
the journals, stacking them on his small
bookshelf for the night. The battle for Elvmere's
soul was not going to be won in a single night.
If nothing else, Eli had given him a shape
well-suited to one part of the battle.
He extinguished the flame in his lamp and with
the last dying embers, slipped beneath the quilts
on his pallet. In a soft whisper, one last prayer
came to his tongue. O Yahshua, thank you for
changing me into a jerboa. Help me not be afraid
of what you can help me do. Help Richard not be
afraid and help him see what he can do too. And
help Elvmere; keep him safe as he goes on patrol.
Help me understand him. Help Patric and all those
covered in feathers and scales know your love and
help us understand the Covenant Stone. Help Troud
be a good example for those you have placed in
his care. And help the knight know your will and
follow it so he may truly repent. Help Father
Hough come to the aid of the people of Bradanes
and Iron Mine. And help Father Akaleth on his
journeys, and all my friends in Yesulam. On You
we depend and trust. I love You, Yahshua. Amen.
His hand traced the sign of the yew and closed his eyes to welcome sleep.
As his thoughts and all sensation of the world
drifted away in the warmth of his bed, he
wondered what might happen in the jerboa village next.
----------
THE END
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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