Despite the weariness in his heart, Charles had to admit that it felt good to be in the saddle and doing something. He would have surely lost what composure he still had and destroyed his furnishings as he used to do when the anger of the Sondeck grew too powerful had he been left to his own devices. As Saulius's squire, it was simple enough to slip into the subservient role and allow another to direct his actions.
Only a few days ago the routine grated on him because he wanted to hurry back to his wife and children. Now they were out of reach and the equestrian life was a welcome escape from the fear that he might never see them again. And to his immense relief, Saulius informed him that morning that they would be riding north along the road toward the border with Hareford to patrol there. So far from Metamor as that, any temptation he might suffer to sneak off and find some way to breach the Keep's defenses could be easily kept at bay.
It also amused him that his friend and knight, Sir Erick Saulius, had seen fit to decide their patrol route with Angus and Lord Avery before consulting with Charles. In fact, the Sondecki turned squire had not been consulted at all. It made Charles realize that for however many days it took before the woodpecker had completed his preparations, Saulius would be taking charge of all of his affairs. There was solace in that.
So after rising and eating a brief meal of eggs and biscuits, Charles attired himself in his mail and tabard, then tended both his steed Malicon and Saulius's mount Armivest. He cleaned their hooves, combed their hides and manes as he had been taught, then secured their saddles and reins. He brought both out to the knight rat who studied them with a critical eye before nodding his approval.
And a few minutes after that, they were in the saddle and heading north at a slow trot along the road. They rode side by side, tails dangling over the hindquarters of their steeds and occasionally being tickled by the long, coarse hairs of their pony's tails. Their ears and eyes were alert as they listened to the rhythmic clopping of hooves on the hard-packed earth, and the weight of their swords rested against their thighs. And yet for all that, they relaxed as they rode, allowing the peaceful serenity of the cool winter woods around them to sooth their nerves.
The road took a northeasterly course for roughly half an hour before turning northward along a slight ridge that sloped down sharply to the east. From there they could look out over the tops of the trees and see the Valley through a faint morning mist. Folds and folds of hills, tree tops mostly barren but some still cluttered with white, and little sign of habitation. To the northeast they could glimpse the squat towers of Hareford, but only if they stood up in the saddle in just the right place.
They slowed their pace at that point and what should have taken only a half hour ended up taking a full hour. The air was crisp but a slight wind coming from the south suggested the warmth they'd felt a few days earlier in Jetta. A few birds were already beginning to claim territory and their bright songs echoed on either side. Some of the larger woodland creatures darted across the road only to disappear within the underbrush; Charles spotted a fox, a badger, and two groundhogs amongst them; there were several others that moved too quickly for him to recognize.
The eastern bank of the road leveled out ten minutes before they reached the bridge. Charles smiled as he saw it. The stone bridge crossing the cleft through the earth was new, built only a year ago after the former wooden structure had been toppled to the ground by the rat and his fellow Sondeckis as part of their plan to keep Baron Calephas from reinforcing Nasoj's army assaulting Metamor. And it had worked, even if falling timbers had wounded him seriously enough that he'd had to spend the rest of the fighting laying in bed. He even rubbed his cheek where Baerle had slapped him a few days later when she found out about Kimberly.
And in a few days time, he would be in her company again while separated from his wife, wandering through cold mountains on a perilous mission to protect Metamor. At least she wouldn't be pining for him this time.
A short distance past the ravine and bridge the road intersected an East-West road cutting along another ridge overlooking a shallow defile. The Dragon mountains jutted in a narrow finger eastward half-a-mile ahead blocking all passage north. The eastern road headed past Hareford and toward the Giant's Dike.
"And the western," Sir Saulius mused as he gazed down the winding track that disappeared through the forest of white, brown and green, "dost lead into the mountains where thou shalt venture a few days hence. Shouldst we explore a little ere thou goest that way thyself?"
Charles flicked his tail from one side of Malicon's rump to the other as he gazed down the western track shadowed by overhanging elms. "It seems as good as any other. I haven't been that way yet myself."
Saulius spread his jowls wide, revealing his long incisors as he grinned. "The let us..." but both their ears twitched and their heads turned to the eastern road as one.
"Horsemen," Charles muttered as he quickly and silently drew his sword. "At least six."
"Aye," Saulius agreed. They gingerly backed their steeds down the southern road toward the Glen and then into the forest until they were well out of sight. Both Armivest and Malicon were well trained, neither grunted in protest, nor did they stomp their hooves for the strangers to hear.
They waited in silence for a little over a minute before they glimpsed the six horses and their riders come down the road from Hareford. They were Metamorians, led by a black and orange-furred stocky dog, followed by a black-haired woman wearing Captain's regalia, a black-faced, white-furred ram with knightly blue tabard, two youths, while a tall raven-haired woman with bow slung over her shoulders took up the rear.
They slowed to a stop as they reached the intersection. The dog's flopped ears lifted and his nostrils flared and he spun his head around. His eyes fell to the hard earth, and then slowly raised until they were staring into the woods directly at the two rats. Beside him, the ram crossed his arms and bleated, "You two can come out now."
Saulius chuckled as he led Armivest out of the concealing brush. Charles followed after with a curious moue crossing his snout. "Thy nose is masterful indeed to scent us on a day like this, good sir!"
The dog scratched behind his left ear with one paw. "I smelled your ponies," he admitted with a confidant bark. "But I can smell you both now."
"And if I'm not mistaken," the ram said, still with arms crossed, "then you, my good sir, are Steppeborn. One of the western horse tribes that range from the Herstel forest to the river too to judge by your accent."
Sir Saulius's dark eyes widened in genuine surprise as they trotted onto the road only a few paces from the six horsemen. "Thy ears art most astute! I hath ere met none in Metamor that hath recognized my lineage. From thy heraldry and thy own accent, as well as thy new shape, I judge thee to be Sir William Dupré."
The ram's thick lips broke into a faint smile. "The same. You are Sir Erick Saulius, knight errant of Metamor, and winner of the golden lance these last two Summers. And your squire Charles Matthias I believe. Your reputations precede you; it is an honor to meet such exalted warriors as yourselves."
Charles and Erick glanced at each other before allowing their snouts to break into genuine smiles. "And an honor to meet thee," Saulius said at last with a warmth that pierced the cold air. "Thou art on a similar mission, to patrol the roads in this dark time?"
Dupré nodded and uncrossed his arms, resting them on his thighs, hooves stretching the stirrups for a moment as he relaxed. "Indeed. Allow me to introduce my companions. Captain Isabelle Sobol," he gestured to the black-haired woman. She was dressed in a riding uniform of a dark red feathered by a blend of gray and white with an insignia of a horseshoe and human foot.
"Ah, Captain Sobol," Saulius showed his incisors with his grin, "thou wert a delight to watch in last year's joust. How unfortunate that we ne'er had the pleasure of a tilt."
"Perhaps this year," she said with a lop-sided smirk. "I've been watching you too."
"For the rest," Dupré intoned, gesturing first to the dog, "this is Alexander," and then two the two youths, "Martin and Anthony," and then to the raven-haired woman, "and Samantha, one of Hareford's chief scouts and tower commanders."
The woman almost blushed as she bowed her head, braided hair falling across one shoulder. "Not nearly so much as that, but thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you both."
Captain Sobol studied the rats critically. "Are you patrolling for the Glen? I didn't think they had horsemen."
"They do not," Saulius admitted. "But 'tis the home of my squire, and for now 'tis where we serve. We did not expect to see any riders of Hareford come south."
"It is good that we have," Dupré interjected before Sobol could speak. "It gives us one more opportunity to confer with our brothers in the Glen. How are the people there taking the news from Metamor?"
"Frightened and determined both. They hath a strong spirit and wilt do whate'er is necessary to keep the Valley safe."
"So it is at Hareford. We've fifty men patrolling the pass where it is safe. I'll be out there myself for the next two weeks. But first, I wanted to cover the southwestern road; there may yet be other passes to guard."
"These lands art the Glen's responsibility, Sir William."
"And yet they send only two where we could spare six." Dupré lifted a two fingered hand to ward off the rat's objection. "I do not doubt the Glen's commitment, far from it. And certainly I would never question the bravery of her people. I merely wonder if she has enough men to see to all the lands she protects."
Charles put a paw on his knight's arm and said softly, "May I?" Saulius nodded without hesitation.
"Sir William, two years ago Nasoj sent one of his generals, Baron Calephas, to set up a staging ground in the Dragon mountains just northwest of the Glen. Calephas, as disgusting and loathsome as he is, is no fool. His encampments were well guarded and well disguised. Misha Brightleaf and I were assigned the task of coordinating with the Glen scouts, finding him, and driving him out. And that we did with almost no loss of life. They've never come back that way again.
"That is what the Glen can do," Charles's whiskers quivered as if an exclamation point.
The ram crossed his arms again and nodded several times, his ears laying back against the inside of his curling horns. He snorted when the rat had finished his explanation and his eyes brightened. "I like to know these things firsthand myself, but your reputation has reached even my ears, and I have lived here in Metamor not even three months. Perhaps you would join us as we ride. I want to see the land west of here, and your company would be most welcome."
He uncrossed his arms, cast Captain Sobol a brief glance, before returning his gaze to the two rats. "So what say you, Sir Saulius. Shall we ride together for a time?"
His knight accepted without delay. "We art honored to accompany thee and thy valiant companions."
Dupré waved his shaggy arm and laughed. "Then come join us. We can speak more when we pause in a couple hours. Or reach the mountains, whichever comes first." The two youths grinned knowingly, and the dog wagged his tail. The two women glanced at each other and shared an unreadable moment before turning to the rats with welcoming smiles.
Saulius and Charles nudged their ponies into line just behind the ram. Together, the eight of them continued down the western road, the white-peaked mountains rising above the tops of the long swaths of elm and pine before them.
The forests just to Glen Avery's south were lined with hills and sharp, shallow valleys cutting through their midst. The beginning of Metamor river flowed through a cleft in the rock that varied from twenty to thirty feet deep, lined on either side by tall pines and alder that were replaced by the giant redwoods as one neared the Glen. Ice covered the river, and snow covered everything else.
Through this winter white trekked the Glen scouts. They moved in groups of four in a wide circle around the Glen, snouts grim and beastly eyes dour. Gone was the usual verve with which they welcomed the task of guarding their woodland home. There was no pleasure in this work. Even the sky was thick with dark clouds that cast deep shadows through the snow-packed dells. Every tree, every hillock, and every stone seemed to brood with the shadow of Metamor's plague.
For James the donkey, the plague was a hideous thought that frightened him; Kayla was still at Metamor, as were Kimberly and the children. He prayed fervently for their safety each night and each morning. And there was the fear that despite everything they did, the plague would still ravage the Glen.
But most of all, James's mind continued to revolve around a certain opossum and a certain rat. In a few days time they would be traveling together through the mountains and every glance, every word that she said to Charles would be one more word, one more glance, one more hope that would not be given to him. James ground his teeth in frustration as he dwelt on it. He may as well have been invisible for all that he tried to offer to her. It was just one more instance of what had come upon him in Metamor; a donkey was nothing. A donkey was good for nothing but work; no donkey would ever receive recognition. Ignored at Metamor, and now ignored at the Glen. And ignored by the one person he wanted to notice him in favor of somebody already married.
James wouldn't stand for it, but he was at a loss as to what he could do about it.
Tolling.
Berchem, the skunk leading their little squad, was irate at him for bringing the cracked iron bell, but he was not going to leave it behind now. As they stalked between the trees, keeping beneath their lowest boughs, skunk, Ralph the vole with a missing tooth, Anson the arctic fox, and finally James, they each kept their hands and paws near their weapons, ready to draw them at the slightest sound. Even as late in the season as it was, the snow blanketing the forest made every noise crisp as crackling ice.
At the impulse, the veritable sonorous suggestion that echoed through his mind like the distant summons to Liturgy, James lowered his gaze and stroked one hoof-like nail across the surface of the bell. The hard edge of his finger rubbed along the smoothed edge of the crack, and felt a frightening thrill like a man laying with a prostitute. The clapper rested against the bottom edge, both puzzle and challenge. His breath fogged the glistening surface, revealing his face anew every few seconds, curved and distorted so that his snout swelled beyond even the ridiculous proportion of his ears.
As he tilted the bell resting against his thigh, ropey tail swatting the surface of the snow behind him, he discovered that he could see everything about him. From the steep incline at his right overlooking one of the many culverts infesting this portion of the woods, to the towering trees overhead topped by the black and gray cloud-choked sky, to the path ahead of him replete with uncovered ground where his friends had already passed. James marveled at how much his bell could reveal to him through its reflections. His rapturous gaze continued for several seconds before the import of what he saw actually penetrated his wonder.
He snapped his long head up and cursed under his breath. The vole was already a good two dozen paces ahead of him and waving for him to catch up. James let the bell fall back to his side and strode after him, taking only two steps before his hoof slipped on a rock and he tumbled awkwardly to his right. Ralph darted back to catch him but it was too late. James's legs splayed beneath him and he slipped head over hooves down the steep incline.
His mountain climbing experience saved him. James grabbed a tree as he spun past and was able to swing his legs beneath him, righting his posture and keeping himself from crashing into the ice-slick rocks below. His grip on the tree was tenuous though, and after straightening himself out, he slipped the rest of the way down into the darkened culvert, and thumped into a thicker than expected cushion of snow.
A small white hare darted out of a burrow in surprise, looking at him with alarm. The sudden movement made James's heart beat faster, and his right hand yanked the bell from its place at his side and he struck the clapper against the iron bore. The wave of sound echoed against him like a fist driving into his chest. The hare's ears lifted, and then the body jerked backward into the snow, smearing it red.
Tolling.
James blinked and gasped as he pressed the edge of the bell into his thigh, the throbbing lip biting into his hide as the peal died. Cautiously, he leaned forward to stare at the new hole in the snow, trembling in fear at what he might see.
"James, are you all right?" Ralph called down to him from the top of the slope.
He ignored the vole just long enough to peer into the hole ringed with a crimson spray. Most of the hare's body was still intact, but the sides of its head were punctured as if a knife had plunged from its brain out through its ears. Even so brief a glimpse as a heartbeat was enough to make him fall back into the snow drift and cover his snout in horror. He yanked his right hand back away from the bell, but it quickly returned, trying to understand how it could have burst the rabbit's brain with the sound of a single note.
"I'm down here," he called back up to the vole. Anson and Berchem were at Ralph's side; the fox lowered a rope while the skunk tied it off. "Nothing's broken. On me."
Even so, his eyes returned to the gaping hole from which a single foot poked up and remained still. He brushed a few tears from his eyes with his left arm before the rope was finally in reach.
The road rose steeply as it took a direct route along the slope of the mountains. Through the trees on their left, Charles could see Mt. Nuln with its small plateau peak still covered in snow. Beyond the first line of mountains the true peaks were visible, these sporting snow all year round. In another month, the grasses and heath would emerge even on Nuln's upper slopes. How well Charles remembered the battle to drive Calephas from his hidden perch two years ago.
But it was not to that memorable mount that the road took them. Rather, once the trees started to dwindle in stature until they were nearly completely replaced by scrub, the air growing cold and bitter, the ground layered with flows of ice frozen and thawed over and over again with each new day the sun shined, the road turned sharply to the north through a high ravine between the mountains. The walls of rock on either side were widely spaced at first, but grew narrower the further into the formation they ventured.
The raven-haired woman smiled, even as her breath turned to mist before her, scintillating in the bright sun. "Welcome to the Gateway," she said with sweep of one arm.
Dupré looked at the cliff-walls suspiciously and gestured to one of the many rock formations well away from the cliffs. "We should take a rest here. The air is too thin to risk exhausting ourselves."
"We don't seem that high up," Alexander offered with a mild bark.
"We are," Captain Sobol replied, pointing back along the south. "You can see the Glen clearly from here." Although the forests were thick and their height rose and fell with the hills, the redwoods of the Glen were unmistakeable. Charles and Saulius gasped as they looked back at the Valley from their new vantage. The land fell away before them in a series of rolling and crumpled hills, coated as if a cake with a thick layer of conifers of all varieties, each sporting a frosting of ice and snow that glimmered with the sunlight. One swath nestled in the crook of the mountains was blasted clear where the rock from the sky had struck four years earlier, yet even there the grasses and little pines were sprouting. As the land sloped away from them the height of the trees only diminished for a short distance before rising up like a thousand towers of emerald and chalcedony. It was impossible to see past the Glen, and with its mighty spires reaching up to brush the foot of Mt. Nuln the equally impressive Mt. Kalegris was hidden from them.
"Are we level with them?" Sir Dupré asked as he brought his steed about. "The tops of those trees I mean."
"If not slightly above," Samantha said with a broad smile. "You can almost see Metamor Keep from here. I wager if we built another tower here that we could."
Sir Dupré glanced at the two women and bleated a dry chuckle. "I suppose you want me to convince Nestorius to invest in another tower then?"
"Eventually," Sobol said with a shrug. "It would be a good idea."
"You'll need more than a tower," Charles said with a shake of his head. "Where does the Gateway lead? Are there any secret paths to the Giantdowns I've not been told of?" And given that he was a Long Scout, he would know if there were any. Misha had never mentioned anything, and he'd certainly never referred to this crevice as a gateway before.
Samantha shook her head, watching as the two youths dismounted and began scouting the rock formation. "The Gateway doesn't lead you into the Giantdowns. It leads to a small clearing much like this; nobody lives there but for wild animals. There used to be a signal tower there, but it hasn't been used for generations."
"Why not rebuild it?" Sir Saulius suggested.
"It's secluded and earth tremors have made the ground there unsuitable for it. Besides, Hareford is too far down the slopes to see it. We can see it from Eagle Tower, but very few others can. And there's no need. There used to be a path to the Giantdowns from the north of the Gateway, but again, the earth tremors closed that off many years ago. To get into the mountains from the north you'd need to row to the far edge of the Sea of Souls. I can't imagine trying to cross through the Dragon mountains from there."
"Neither can I," Charles replied. "But Calephas did it two years ago. Which is why we are going to be coming back this way in a few days."
The ram watched him quietly for a moment as Sir Saulius proceeded to explain their plan as best he understood it. The talismans were familiar to Samantha and to Sobol, but the other three had never heard of them. When the rat knight finished speaking, Dupré rode closer to them and said, "Since you are going to be coming back this way, care to join me as we venture a little further in. I'd like to see this for myself before heading back to Hareford." He glanced over at Captain Sobol. "We'll only be gone a short time. I can trust that you will keep watch here."
Sobol frowned, quite unhappy that the ram would be leaving them, but she could only nod her head and sigh. "Very well. If you are gone too long, we'll have to come in after you."
"We shan't tarry long," he assured her, then dismounted and handed his reins to the dog. "Just a quick look is all."
Charles and Saulius dismounted as well and followed the ram back toward the narrow cleft between the tall mountains. Charles contemplated turning his arm to stone and visiting the mountains and the many stones around him, but each time he readied himself for the change, a flash of Guernef descending from the sky to beat him with words that pounded like a pickaxe on granite would overwhelm him and change his mind.
While the other five tended the horses and broke out some vittles to replenish themselves, the ram and two rats walked further along the road, admiring the mountains rising up on either side. The path wound between alternating walls of rock and broad slopes up to the snow-topped peaks on either side. Most of the road was covered in snow disturbed only by wild animals, so they had to lift their legs to make their way through the mush. With the sun shining as brightly as it was, despite the frigid nature of the air, the snow was melting at last.
The road bent to the northwest and quickly put a ridge between them and the other five riders. The ram, who'd been quietly observing the mountains, moving horizontal pupils from side to side, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, let out a long sigh once they could no longer hear their companions.
"I am sorry to drag you away like that," he admitted in a low voice. "But things have been very tense for me in Hareford these last few days. I needed someone I could talk to who I could trust."
"Thou hast ne'er met either of us," Saulius said with equal solicitude. "Why art we more trustworthy than they?"
Dupré cast a quick glance backward, then rubbed the tip of his curling horn with one finger as he thought. After several paces he spoke again. "You aren't of Hareford. And, what I have heard of you endears me to you. You are both honorable and warriors of distinction. And, like me, you are foreign to this land. The Curses keep us here, aye, but this is not where we grew up."
"Nay," Charles admitted with a faint sigh. "This is very far from where I grew up."
"I didn't want to come here," Dupré admitted. "But there is much to love here and I hope in time I will love it as I should. I asked you both here," he gestured with a wave of a two-fingered hand at the mountains leaning in on either side as if they were trying to listen, "for selfish reasons. Charles, what I have heard of your exploits is astonishing. I cannot believe that you have not been made a knight yet."
Saulius frowned but said nothing.
"One thing I have heard is that you saw a certain man die, the very man who is responsible for stealing my family away."
Charles blinked, one hand lifting to touch the scar over his right eye. The flesh there was burnt and leathery to the touch. The name of the man rose up like a bad air from a mine. "Marquis Camille du Tournemire."
Dupré spat on an exposed rock as he kicked his hooves through the snow. "The bastard died, did he not?"
"He did," Charles replied in a soft voice. "Horribly. But it is not such a joyful memory for me."
The ram glowered. "I want to savor it."
Charles narrowed his eyes and frowned. "He was a victim too. He didn't want to do Marzac's bidding."
Dupré gestured at his woolen hide and his curled horns. "That man used his cards to make me turn into a monster. I tried to kill my wife because of his manipulation! Now she hates me and is seeking to annul our marriage. My father-in-law is trying to turn my eldest son and my two other children against me. I can never see them again. And it's because of that Marquis! Tell me, please, how did he die?"
Charles shuddered at the ram's sudden vehemence. The anger had come as if summoned from a great depth, like a wine being aged to perfection. At first, he felt it better not to feed that anger, but something in the ram's words caught his heart. This man was one who could understand what the plague was doing to him, and may yet still do. This man, the ram who'd been exiled to Metamor, could never see his beloved family again. How could he deny him this?
"I too know what it is like to be separated from family. My own is trapped in the walls of Metamor and I have no idea if I will ever see them again before my soul goes to Eli. The Marquis had us trapped inside an ancient chamber known as the Hall of Unearthly Light. It was built by the Åelf Prince Yajakali almost eleven thousand years ago."
Saulius listened with a thoughtful moue crossing his snout, while Dupré rubbed the lobe of one ear between hoof-like fingers. "I cannot even imagine a time so long ago. Where is this Hall of Unearthly Light?"
"Where was you mean," Charles added with a malicious grin. "That place no longer exists. What came to pass after the Marquis's death has obliterated it. We barely escaped with our lives. But, the Marquis. He was using his cards to defeat our strongest magic user, an Åelf named Qan-af-årael, perhaps the oldest living being in the world. At least he had been. He was mortally wounded in the fight.
"But one of our own, Kayla, a skunk with some magical talent, managed to escape her bonds, and while the Marquis was occupied, crept up behind him. Before she could strike, a hand reached out of the Marquis's cards, a hand and arm covered in flame, and grabbed him by the throat. The flame consumed him, and then Kayla drove an eastern dagger through his back. When she took it out, and when the flaming arm disappeared, there was nothing left of his body but a smoldering pile of ash and bone."
Dupré rolled his tongue behind his lips as he kicked another pile of snow aside. He took several deep breaths as they continued along the Gateway road. "I am sorry to hear of your family. I pray that they will be returned to you safely."
"I already lost one child to illness last year; I wasn't even here to be with him." Charles lowered his snout and balled his paws into fists. "But thank you, Sir William."
"You will see him again too," Dupré replied quietly.
"Aye, thou shalt see him again," Saulius added, placing a paw on his shoulder and squeezing even through the mail shirt. "He hath gone to Eli, thou knowest this."
"Aye," Charles replied. He lifted his snout and looked at the ram. The exiled knight turned back slightly, meeting his gaze. "I hope that you are able to see your family again. I hope they still love you."
Dupré swallowed and put one hand over his chest. "I know that my eldest does... I believe the others do as well." He stopped walking and lifted his head to the sky, eyes trailing the long jagged rocks reaching up the snowy summits above. "I am glad that man is dead. It won't restore to me what I have lost. But at least there is some justice still."
He turned fully around and looked at both rats. "I am a Metamorian now, and I'm trying to be a good one. But it's not easy for me."
Charles shrugged a bit. "I understand, but why tell us? Should not your friends and fellow warriors at Hareford hear it from you?"
"Indeed," he admitted with a faint laugh. "Thank you for telling me, and for listening to me. I am very, very glad to have met you both. If ever you come to Hareford, I will make sure that you are appropriately received. Now, let's return before they start to worry too much about us."
Charles fell into step alongside the ram and realized that he quite liked this man. He knew that Duke Thomas and his advisers had to be very suspicious of him, but Charles decided then and there that this was one who could be trusted. It would be a shame when they had to say goodbye later that day. He needed others who understood.
Together the three of them walked back in silence through the occluded passage between the mountains. Though they knew where they trod, they were all irretrievably lost in their own thoughts.
Berchem had both Anson and Ralph take turns keeping a close eye on him for the remainder of their scouting tour through the woods south of the Glen. James's frustration grew with each hour, but it was tempered by the knowledge that come tomorrow he'd be scouting with other Glenners and could put the little misstep behind him.
And maybe he'd be able to leave the bell behind this time. Every time he touched its smooth bore he saw the bunny with gaping blood-smeared holes where its ears should have been. How could that have happened? It was just a bell.
Even as they passed from the cluttered woodlands to the cleared fields of the Glen, his thoughts strayed back to that moment, a moment that the object dangling from his hip seemed to throb a paean to each time he touched it.
But lo, a stir is in the air!
He slapped his hand down on its surface to silence the voice that resounded within. James had no desire to find out what was stirring in the air. Ralph glanced back at him, the vole's queer nose twitching as he waved a long-clawed hand. "Is something wrong, James?"
The donkey shook his head and snorted. "Nothing. It's good to be back."
"Let's report in," Berchem said with a flick of his tail. Neither James nor the others objected. Torches were lit all around as evening closed in on the forest glen like a fist. James glanced at the Matthias home, but it was dark within. His hand curled around the bell's broken lip and steadied his heavy breaths.
Lord Avery's two boys were standing guard just inside the brewery door. Darien and Christopher were still a head shorter than their father, and they still had the characteristic perpetual twitch common to squirrels, but their expressions were very serious as they fulfilled the duty their father bound them to. They scrutinized them with wide, black eyes, and then motioned for them to come inside, their tails flicking back and forth like bees flitting from flower to flower.
Brian Avery was standing over the map as he'd been the previous night, checking off various places with the badger Angus. They both smiled when they saw Berchem and the others approach. "How did it go today?" Brian asked, his voice weary but brave.
"Nothing unusual," Berchem replied without much enthusiasm. "We saw no Lutins nor anyone else for that matter."
"That's good," Angus said with a faint smile that revealed a few fangs along his jowls.
"However," Berchem added as he glanced back at the donkey, "James nearly got himself killed when he slipped on a stone and took a tumble down a culvert."
Both badger and squirrel turned to him. Lord Avery frowned. "You slipped on a stone?"
"I didn't see it," James admitted, grinding his flat teeth together. "And I wasn't in danger. I caught some trees on the way down and landed safely."
His face darkened. "The mountains are very dangerous, and there won't be trees to catch you if you stumble." The squirrel sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't send you into those mountains for now. Get some food and rest. You'll be scouting again tomorrow."
"But," James blurted, hands and tail quivering.
How silently serene a sea of pride!
"We'll discuss it again later," Lord Avery cut him off. "I cannot do it right now. I'm sorry. Go get something to eat and some rest."
James gripped the bell tightly with his right hand to keep it from ringing in his mind, glared once at Berchem, then stormed out of the brewery and into the cold night air. He heard Angus's brusque voice call after him, but no one followed him into the darkness.
Evening settled around the Glen with a somber stillness that made Charles anxious. The woods and snow piles glimmered in the torchlight like a thousand eyes watching and waiting. Into this gap Charles and Erick rode quietly, the hooves of their ponies disturbing the silence as if they were wandering a graveyard and not the Glen's commons.
He'd not seen the commons so quiet since Nasoj's attack the previous winter. How barren and miserable it had become. Everyone hid within their homes offering their prayers that the plague would not reach them. Before the only infectious thing that pervaded the Glen had been cheer and a leisured woodland pride. If Kimberly and his children were here, at least he could have some cheer within his home; but even that would be denied to him now.
They rode Armivest and Malicon to the stables that Sir Saulius had erected near the Matthias home. There they tended their steeds and gave them oats to sate their hunger while they removed the tack and draped them in blankets to keep them warm through the night. Neither spoke except to offer commands and compliments to the ponies.
There were no lights on in his home so Baerle must not have returned from her patrol that day. Charles was not terribly interested in going there either and decided that he would see if he could find James at the Inn later so they might share drinks together. But first he and Saulius needed to report what they had seen and what they had done with the soldiers from Hareford.
Lars Hasgkenn's brewery was subdued, but compared to the commons it breathed of life. The twin squirrel boys Christopher and Darien stood guard at the door, their bearing serious despite the faint twitches still visible in their tails and whiskers. They greeted Charles and Saulius as officially as their unbounded enthusiasm could muster before returning to their duties. Beyond them, both rats saw a handful of the equine Polygamites clustered in one corner speaking quietly, while nearby some of the scouts and hunters for the Glen spoke of what they'd seen in the land, and in quieter whispers what they'd heard. Near the bar waited Lord Avery and Angus the badger. They both half-smiled when they noticed the rats.
"Sir Saulius, Charles, it is good to see you both safely returned," Lord Avery said as they approached. Angus stood for them, but the squirrel lord gestured for them all to sit down. "Are you famished? Jurmas has provided an excellent oatmeal mixed with some of last year's maple syrup."
"Aye, that wouldst be most agreeable," Saulius said with a twitch in his whiskers. "We didst encounter Sir Dupré on the northern road, accompanied by soldiers of Hareford."
"They ventured to the west?" Angus blurted in surprise. The badger's eye ridges lifted noticeably in emphasis. "They usually do not."
"'Twas the ram knight's idea methinks," Saulius replied with a renewed twitch. "They dost not yet trust him."
"And we should be wary of trusting him ourselves," Lord Avery said with a nod. "Still, what did you find, and what did the folk of Hareford have to say?"
Saulius regaled them with as many details as seemed prudent, but there was very little to tell. Their journey north along the road, and then to the Gateway had uncovered no Lutins or bandits of any kind. The hills and forests were quiet and peaceful as they usually were this time of the year. Even the folk of Hareford had offered nothing new to learn.
"So, nothing new," Angus said with a grunt. "That's probably the best news we can expect for now."
"Indeed," Lord Avery agreed with a firm nod. "Thank you both. Where do you wish to travel tomorrow?"
"South toward Lake Barnhardt," Saulius replied with a faint smile. "Then north again the next day."
"Reasonable," the squirrel agreed as he rubbed his forehead with one paw. "Go fetch your dinners. You've both earned them. A few more scouts report in and I'll be able to fetch the sleep I didn't get last night!"
"Has there been any news at all?" Charles asked.
"Nothing unusual at the very least. The woods are quiet but for the animals eager for Spring. I fear the Vernal celebrations will be quite muted this year." He frowned and then added, "James slipped on a rock today and tumbled down a cliff."
Charles's heart tensed. "Is he well?"
"He took no injury," Lord Avery said slowly, "but I'm afraid I can't risk him going with you into the mountains, not when he slips like that. We need men of sure hoof and paw for those slopes. Another scout will take his place with you, we just haven't decided who yet."
The rat shook his head and ground his incisors together. "No. It must be James."
"He's not as sure-hoofed as you say, Charles. I'm sorry."
"He is better than you think, and better than anyone else here in the Glen. Even you, Angus." Charles squared the badger with a steely gaze. His heart clenched and pounded in his chest, and his flesh simmered as if soaked in scalding water. "Not only did he survive in the Barrier Range, but I saw him thrive there. He tumbled a man off a cliff and took not even a scratch. If he slipped today then it was only because he didn't have his gear."
The squirrel shook his head. "But he did slip."
"And he won't ever again," Charles said through his teeth. "Ever. I've spent most of the last nine months of my life with him by side every day. If I could only take one other person it would be him and no other. And it will be him. Milord, as the head of the Long Scouts here in the Glen, I have it within my authority to select whom I will. I do not wish to do that to you whom I call friend and lord. But please trust my judgment when it comes to James. He will not disappoint you. He is the perfect man for this very important task. Please, trust me, milord."
Lord Avery glanced at Angus and sighed heavily. The badger grimaced but said nothing. Avery turned his gaze back to the rats and spoke softly but firmly. "Charles, I do trust you. I... I will place him back on this mission. But if he falls or puts others in danger again, then he will not go. And you may speak of the Longs but that will not change my mind either. Misha can complain all he likes later. This is about Metamor's safety. It is too important to worry over bruised pride. I hate putting it bluntly like that, Charles, especially with you who have been so loyal and so valiant, but responsibility for the Glen falls to me. Do you understand?"
He took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you, milord. I will go tell him the good news."
"And let him know that I trust him," Angus added with a grunt. "He's a good man."
Charles smiled faintly. "I will. Good evening, Angus, milord Avery." Saulius bowed his head to the squirrel and the two rats left the brewery together in search of the donkey and the promised oatmeal at the lone Inn. The sullen, cold night outside brooded with unwelcome murmuring.
March 7, 708 CR
James didn't remember arriving in the vast chamber. For as far back as his mind could trace the current moment he had always been standing in the empty stone hall that stretched for at least a mile in each direction. The distant walls rose up on either side and seemed to bend as they continued to rise, until they formed a conical arch overhead. But as he stared upward, he could see nothing in the enclosing darkness. There were no torches or lanterns, not even the fickle dancing of a witchlight to provide illumination. Yet near to the ground the donkey could see everything clearly. But as soon as he lifted his head everything he tried to stare at vanished behind a veil of shadow.
The floor beneath him was fashioned from carefully fitted together stone blocks, each wider than he could stretch out his arms. The grooves between them were so tight that not even a hair could slip through the cracks. And their surface was so flat that James feared slipping on his hooves.
He moved carefully around, looking from wall to wall to see if, even at his great distance, he could see some door through which he could escape. But as far away as he was the walls seemed as featureless as the floor. James picked a direction and began to walk, warily lifting his eyes to the ponderous weight that seemed to press down on him from the shadows above. The clop of his hooves on the stone did not echo. Even his breath and heart beat offered no sound to hear. Everything was silent.
From above him a vast throbbing made him tumble to all fours before crouching as low to the ground as he could manage. The sensation, it was too deep and encompassing to call sound, pulverized all concern about escape until there was nothing left in him but muscle and sinew encasing brittle bone.
The soul shall find itself alone.
Alone. James breathed slowly, ears pressing back along his neck and sharp mane. The chamber now echoed with that thought, a clarion ring that brought with it images and faces that spoke of a time before the chamber, a time before the timbre and pitch of the shadows above had beckoned him.
How could he be alone? He saw his friend Charles the rat before him, regaling him with the news that he'd secured his position on the mission to the mountains after his brief slip had put it into jeopardy. Charles didn't want him to be alone; Charles wanted his company.
But to what end? Baerle would be there too wouldn't she? Was he trying to give James another chance to express himself to the opossum?
Another image seemed to ricochet into his mind as the throbbing from above continued. The opossum had wrapped her arms tightly about the rat's neck when he'd returned from Metamor. Relief? Comfort? What had been the motive? What was the purpose behind such contact? Her eyes, never noticing the donkey, strayed ever to the rat who called him friend. She lived in his house. She breastfed his children.
What about him?
Another blast of presence pressed him further against the ground. His bones trembled under the assault; before his startled eyes his hands and arms melted into hooves and forelegs of a common donkey.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish.
Alone. A common beast of burden to both Charles and Baerle. Was it really a wonder that they wanted him along on the trip into the mountains?
The vibrations that before had crushed him low now seemed to fill him with their own peculiar energy. He lifted his long head, glaring into the darkness, almost certain that he could make out a long thine line that curved in a wide circle through the shadow.
James drove all four of his hooves into the smooth stone beneath him and forced his body upright. He felt the brand in his side flaring with febrile life. He could almost taste a bit in his mouth and feel straps across his face and neck. When he moved forward, they pulled against him as if he were dragging a cart or plow.
No! James ground his teeth together and shook his neck back and forth, bucking his shoulders and throwing off whatever bindings were lashed to him. He forced his hooves to return to being hands and after a moment's clutching fear that they would stubbornly remain a beast's hooves, they cleaved and his fingers returned.
He stood on two legs and lifted his head to the darkness above. The vague suggestion of an outline shifted hazily through the shadow. A sonorous vibration made him tremble.
The soul shall find itself alone.
James shook his head and covered his face with his hands. "No! No, I don't want to be alone!"
The soul shall find itself alone.
"No! Please, not that!"
Alone!
"I will have her! I will!"
Alone!
"No I won't! She'll be mine! Whatever it takes, I won't be alone!" His voice felt raw as he shouted up into a darkness that swallowed his words like a frog swallowing flies. And then the darkness throbbed anew, the faint outline circling round him so wide and so ponderously, yet for a moment, he thought he caught a glint of an edge scalloping upward further into the invisible.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish.
James blinked and felt his eyes drawn down toward his hooves. There, resting as if it had always lain there between his hooves, was his cracked bell. Slowly, the donkey lowered and lifted that instrument into his hands, cradling its soft, but thrumming surface. He pressed the unbroken side to his snout and spread his lips wide against it, until it trembled against his flat teeth.
With a desperate desire, and a resolute endeavor.
James could see her before him, her soft white fur, small perky ears, long tail, trembling whiskers, and brilliant eyes. If his bell could do what he saw it do that hare, what more could it yet do?
Nevermore.
What more could it yet do to make sure he would nevermore be alone?
Of despair!
No more for him. James breathed of the scent of the bell, breathed of its chrome and hint of fire, the cool of the iron, and tickling of soot. No more despair for him. No more being alone. Above him the weighty might of the bell he knew that had poured forth its essence into the small marvel he clutched in his arms, began to toll with pitiless determination.
Words trickled from his lips as if pouring from that ageless beacon, "I say that dream was fraught with wild and waking thought. Let none of earth inherit that vision on my spirit. I care not though it perish with a thought I then did cherish." He gasped for breath when the words ceased, so simple and yet each felt like a shovel jabbing into his chest.
Tolling. Bells. Bells. Bells.
James trembled and brayed with a feverish laugh. His voice was once more his own. "Baerle. You are mine." He struck the bell in his hands and it resounded with a cacophonous knell that echoed and echoed, rebounding around him like thunder. Everything around fell into shadow but that last vision of her brilliant face.
Sir Saulius awoke that morning with many things troubling him. There was little he could do about the subtle machinations the ram knight had seemingly suggested to them. He felt as if the ram were sounding them out to determine if he could have them as allies against enemies even here at Metamor and it made him very nervous.
Yet, at the same time, he also wondered if that might not just be a paranoid suspicion brought on by the rumors and cautions he had heard about this man. Still, one thing the ram knight had said lingered in his mind even after all else had been dismissed. The notion was both appealing and frightening. It carried with it uncertainty and love in measures he could not discern. But at the very least it was something worth pondering and far more appealing than any questions he had about the ram's loyalties.
Even though the sun had not risen yet and the morning was illuminated only by the many torches and lanterns scattered around the Glen, the rat knight did not find his squire in his home or in the stables. Both Armivest and Malicon were freshly groomed and saddled, so Charles had done his duties, but the rat was nowhere to be found.
Sir Saulius sighed heavily as he left the ponies and started across to the northern side of the Glen commons. He knew where his squire and friend must be.
He found the rat crouched over Ladero's grave with eyes shut tight, and his paws blending into the cross-shaped tombstone. Saulius was careful not to step on his squire's tail that stretched out behind him across the cleared ground as he crouched down at his side. He put one paw on Charles's shoulder and drew it back quickly when the flesh and tunic turned into stone beneath his fingers.
"Please," Charles said in a voice that sounded like boulders rubbing against one another. "He's the only family I have here. Leave me with him for now."
"We hath duties," Saulius reminded him gently.
More and more of the rat's countenance took on the chiseled gray of granite. "The marker has kept watch over my son's flesh. Leave me with the marker for a few minutes more and then I will finish readying our ponies."
Saulius shook his head as he stood. "Thou canst not stay amongst the dead. A few minutes, aye, but no more." His squire's tail was stone now too as he stepped over it on his way back to the stables.