After leaving the Duke's chambers, Jessica walked for a few minutes through the halls of Metamor looking for a window. She never found one large enough for her to squeeze through, but she did find a battlement from which to leap off. She shrank to her normal hawk size in midair and took flight to the northwest. It was snowing gently in the afternoon, grey light suffusing everything around, but at least it was still light.
She found a thermal that carried her over the town and city walls within a minute and let herself glide upward in the cool winter air. She had never been to Barnhardt's Lake, but she'd seen enough maps of the Valley to know it was to the northwest about three hours by carriage, and unmistakable because of the large lake that provided it with its name.
Beneath her passed trees and fields, but mostly trees. The Dragon mountains rose like a slumbering serpent, tall peaks the spines of its back, thrumming in the cloudy sky with each stony exhalation. Cross-currents buffeted her from time to time, but otherwise it was an easy if unpleasant flight.
And as the many minutes trickled past, she caught sight of a white expanse in the midst of trees, with a solitary grey tower rising from its midst. A town clustered one side, walls set through the clearing and surrounding the simple buildings of stone and wood. Docks lined the edge of the lake, but no boats were to be seen. The city was divided into an inner and outer bailey, and there even appeared to be defences ringing the lake, watchtowers and various machines hidden from the ground whose purpose escaped her.
All this she saw a good ten minutes before she arrived. She circled toward the inner bailey where she suspected the barracks would be. The ground was cleared of snow, but all the roofs were carpeted in a thick blanket. Several Lakelanders pointed at her as she came down, undoubtedly wondering if she were a true beast or merely cursed. A few guards disappeared inside the fortifications, and then she was among them. Her talons clattered against slippery stone work, and she tumbled onto her chest.
A few people shouted around her, and all kept clear while she pushed herself back up, shifting into her most human form. She could feel a bruise coming on her left side, but nothing that wouldn't heal on its own in a few days. She shook her feathers from head to tail, errant snow scattering around her.
Her gaze settled on a human woman in a woolen cloak, buskins, and hood. "My name is Jessica. I am looking for Weyden the hawk. Can you tell me where he is?"
The woman smiled to her, revealing a few missing teeth. "Weyden, yes, he would be resting in the barracks. He's talked about you, you know. He didn't say you were a black-feathered hawk though..."
"That's a long story," Jessica said as her wings settled back into place along her sides and back. "I've never been to Barnhardt's Lake before. Where are the barracks?"
"That building on your left. The one fronting the lakeward wall." She pointed and Jessica thanked her.
Before she'd taken five steps, a familiar voice shouted. "Jessica!" Ducking his head and coming out of the nearest entrance to the barracks was a giraffe bundled with several scarfs around his tall neck.
"Larssen!" Jessica cawed in delight, and hopped over the rutted stonework toward him. He rested a heavy arm on her shoulder and smiled down, his yellow fur dotted with snowflakes. "Where's Weyden?"
"Van's getting him. He's resting up from flying patrols all morning over the mountains." The giraffe put a heavy hand on her shoulder and steadied her on the icy courtyard. "You're looking very dangerous like this. What happened?"
"It's a long story, but I will tell you. I'm so happy to see you out of the dungeons. How long were you there?"
Larssen frowned and then shrugged. "About four months, then we were released and sent here. It seems like a lifetime ago, but... at least I'm not cramped anymore. I had a sore in my neck that wouldn't go away for weeks after we got out!" He laughed and firmly tapped the middle of his neck with one hand. "At least here we don't have to worry about anyone connecting us with Yonson..."
Jessica frowned, a momentary pang for the lemur who'd befriended her too. "Is Maud here too?"
The giraffe seemed to stand another foot taller, his heavy hooves grinding the stones beneath him. "Oh yes. She's here too. Even our gaoler decided to join us up here. I think we're all happier this way, but seeing you makes it even better. And unless my ears mistake me, here comes Weyden now."
Jessica gazed past Larssen and saw a very handsome hawk hop out of the aperture into the late afternoon grey. His golden eyes found her immediately, his wings stretched, and he screeched a delighted avian cry. The two ran and glided across the courtyard until they met, wings wrapped about each other, beaks nuzzling and cawing laughter deep in their throats.
"My Jessica!" Weyden cried with warm delight, his chest breathing heavily into hers. "Oh my Jessica I have dreamt of this day!"
"And I too," she replied. "My Weyden! My handsome hawk! My man!"
"I am that," he replied with a laugh and another screech. His golden eyes devoured her face, eyes, and feathers. "But what happened to your feathers?"
Jessica stood a little taller, her hooked beak meeting his and kept it there. "Do not fear it, my love! I killed the Runecaster who murdered my master Wessex. What happened in that battle has left my feathers black. Oh please, don't shrink from me! I am still your beautiful hawk."
Weyden blinked, leaning back on his talons, the hold of his wing claws on hers faltering for a moment. And then he tipped back his head and laughed. "Shrink from you? You are more beautiful than ever before! A feast for my eyes and heart to adore, dark with raven flax and gilded with golden eye! I am in awe of you my love!"
Jessica's beak cracked in an avian smile, and she pulled her wings in tight, leaning into his chest, savouring the feel of his wings wrapping around her back and tail. "Oh, Weyden!" She trembled against his feathers, warm now despite the cold flight. "Oh I love you!"
"And I you, my Jessica. Welcome home."
Jessica nuzzled his chest and shoulders with her beak and head, allowing all the months of travel, all the sleepless nights worrying over her hawk, he who had promised to wed her on her return, he who had been imprisoned for merely serving Ambassador Yonson, and he who she'd had to leave to defeat the very evil that had been the cause of his imprisonment, all of those worries and fears she allowed to be washed away in his strong and tender embrace.
"It is so good to be home," Jessica said when she finally drew back a pace. "Misha has invited us both to a welcome home party. I feel like I should go, as he's been a dear friend to me too. Are you up to flying to Metamor?"
Weyden's eyes dimmed slightly and he said, "I have duties here."
"Copernicus told me they were waived for one night. Tomorrow I'll return with you here and stay until your tour is over." Jessica nuzzled his chest feathers again. "Please, my love."
Weyden sighed and smiled. He glanced at Larssen who had been joined by Maud and the child Van. "All right. But there's something we'd hoped to ask you. Now it'll have to wait until we get back."
Larssen guffawed, Van laughed, and even Maud managed a chuckle between giving Weyden vicious stares. Jessica nudged his chest with her wing claws. "Oh, don't do that to me! Not after all this time!"
But it was Maud whose pleasant soprano cut through the mystery. "Weyden, you are enjoying yourself far too much." She slipped an arm around one of Larrsen's massive hands and then lay her cheek against the tough spotted yellow hide covering its back. "Larssen and I are to be married this Spring."
Jessica's heart leaped inside her chest. She gave her hawk fiancé a firm shove and he squawked as he stumbled backward. She danced over to the two completely mismatched figures, the nine-foot tall giraffe Larssen and the human woman who was just over five feet in height. Her head came up to the bottom of his ribs and his hooves were larger than her feet. He could easily carry her in one arm if he so chose. And what is more, they'd been friends before coming to Metamor — Maud had once been a man.
But in all the time Jessica had known her, she'd known a sister and not a woman struggling with forgotten memories of masculinity. If only all could accept the Curses as well as she. Jessica could not help but marvel as she looked at them, delight in her heart for their happiness, at how the touch of those triple Curses expressed themselves differently. Even at the edge of mage sight, she could discern subtle nuances to the manner of the curse, vague dissimilarities that were almost recognizable as animal, child, or that most intimate of qualities to identity, the nearly insurmountable wall between man and woman.
But all of these wonders were an academic riddle she would tease out later. For now, she rushed to her friends and did her best to wrap them in her wings. "Oh, I'm so happy for you both! You two are so right for each other!"
"I agree," Maud said, rubbing her cheek against the back of Larssen's hand.
Larssen lowered his neck, bending it so adroitly it looked as if it should snap, and brushed his lips across Maud's dark hair. "I'm the lucky one."
Maud and Jessica laughed, and then Maud put her other had on Jessica's wing. "And I have something I wanted to ask you before you left with your husband-to-be. Will you serve as my Bride's Maid? I can think of no one I'd rather ask!"
Jessica hugged her closer, beak pressing into her hair. "Oh thank you, Maud! I will! I will! And you must be one of mine!"
The woman soldier smiled firmly, eyes wide with joy. "Let me know when and where, and I'll be there for you both. Now go. We'll be here when you get back." She leaned into the giraffe who still nuzzled her gently.
Jessica turned back to her hawk and shot him a reproving look. Weyden shrugged his wings, but accepted the reproach with good humour. Together, they jumped into the sky, wings outstretched, and shrank into their beastly forms as they gained the evening sky.
Misha Brightleaf trembled and beamed like his namesake. He jumped onto a table, clasped his paws tightly, and gazed at the assembled Longs, the many other scouts he'd invited, and the many friends of those brave souls who'd been sent to Marzac so many months ago. For the vast expanse of the Long House it was a modest gathering, and not a one of the heroes was a Long. But Misha wished for them this honour and more than he could give.
At the very least, they could celebrate the returned heroes. But first, all the invited guests were expecting at least something of a speech from him. He licked his nose, gazed quickly at Caroline who smiled back, and then clapped his paws again.
"Today is a very blessed day! Today our brave friends who have trod in places none of us are likely ever to see ourselves, and have faced dangers none of us are likely to face, have returned triumphant!" He lifted his arms, tail wagging, and everyone cheered. "Let us welcome them home properly now. First, we have Kayla who killed the evil wizard who balked Whisper by stabbing him in the back!"
They were all sharing the makeshift stage with Misha, and not a one of them appeared to like the attention. Kayla, when her feat was named, curled her tail tighter as if she could hide in it. Her paws wished to grasp the dragon blades again, but they were safely back in Rickkter's quarters for now. Still, she did manage a smile and a nod to the fox as many cheered and a few gasped. She could see Rickkter at the front of the crowd, with her friend Murikeer surreptitiously lending him support. She smiled to the raccoon, and he smiled back.
Misha gestured to the next on the table. "And then there is James, a donkey from Glen Avery and good friend to our own rat Charles, who not only has killed a Shrieker, but also defeated the Patriarch's murderer in battle!"
The donkey shook his head, ears upright and said, "I didn't defeat him in battle! I just dropped some bells on him. I was lucky!"
Misha patted him on the shoulder. "Nonsense! You used the weapons you had around you. You defeated Zagrosek! Accept it!"
James wasn't the only one who looked unsettled at the notion. Rickkter's eyes were wide with disbelief, and also, an exploding treasure trove of jealousy. He'd wanted to kill that insufferable dark Sondecki!
But the fox moved on to introduce the others standing with him. "Next to our heroic donkey is Lindsey the timbersman! Only person I've ever known who can make rafts out of tree bark and have the courage to ride them down icy rapids through the mountains!" Lindsey said nothing, but did manage a suggestion of a smile.
Misha wasted no time in continuing. "Two of our fellow Keepers are not here right now. Jessica should return soon. You all know Jessica the hawk, student of the late Wessex ard'Kapler, who was able to avenge her master's death against one of the wizards who controlled Loriod and murdered the Patriarch and his retinue. And I know you know Charles Matthias, who was once living stone but has now become flesh again! Jessica went to fetch her husband-to-be Weyden from up north, and our dear brother Long Charles went to be with his wife and family."
All of the Longs lowered their eyes at that, knowing just what it was that the rat found at the Glen. But Misha had a few more to introduce. "And now three you don't know. The first is Abafouq of the Binoq. He's the one who gave Charles the ability to move and speak while stone. And he helped in so many other ways on their journey I cannot begin to recount them." Abafouq waved one hand, clearly unused to such scrutiny or to being made the centre of attention.
"Oh, forgive me, I almost forgot someone. Abafouq's gryphon friend, Guernef, has flown our Charles north to the Glen to be with his family. Some of you may recall him from last year's battle at the belfry." There were a few nods, and the fox quickly moved on.
"The next is Jerome Krabbe, a Sondeckis like Charles, he joined their fight in the Steppe and helped them find safe passage across that vast land. And I'm told he has faster fisticuffs than a lightning bolt. I haven't asked for a demonstration, but maybe he can show us on a practice dummy later!"
"As long as you don't mind there not being a practice dummy later," Jerome said in a tone almost devoid of humour. The twitch at the corner of his broad lips revealed a different story. Misha laughed, as did many of the Longs, most hoping he was just kidding.
"And this is Andares-es-sebashou," Misha said as he gestured to the last figure, tall and alien in appearance. Neither Keeper nor Man, he bore a regal countenance and a distant expression as if he stood before them yet his thoughts were in the heavens. "He comes from the depths of the Åelfwood, and now you know just as much about him as do I!" There were a few laughs at that. Andares's eyes narrowed in mirth.
"And there is a one more who is missing; one who did not return with the rest. Zhypar Habakkuk, writer, prophet, and mean pool player, lost his life in the battle against Marzac. I'll miss that confusing word bender, but his death was an honourable death. He died saving the world. Let us all take a moment now to offer our prayers for his soul and for those he left behind." All of them lowered their heads and shut their eyes quietly for several long seconds. Lindsey alone kept his open, staring up into the roof with a hollow face.
After fifteen seconds of complete silence in the Long House, perhaps the first time such a feat had been achieved in over a year, Misha lifted up his arms and shouted, "Now let's celebrate their triumph!" With that he jumped off the table with a whoop. The assembled crowd cheered, while the travelling companions climbed down as quickly as they could.
Kayla made her way to where Rickkter was seated, though it wasn't him she was intending to see. Muri stood as she approached, smiling with his arms out in greeting. She opened her arms in turn, moving in quickly and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Off balance, the other skunk could only wuff loudly and try and return the gesture. She was... quite a bit stronger than he last recalled.
"Murikeer Khunnas, it is so good to see you again," she burred, nuzzling against his good cheek. Finally letting go of her tight grip, she moved back to look at his face, her paws coming around from his back to hold his cheeks. "My goodness, it's been almost a year now."
"That... that it has, Kay," he wuffed, getting his breath back. "I'm so glad you made it back from your quest safely."
"And I, you," she said, gently stroking the fur below his eyepatch. "Is this any better? Has it finally healed?"
"There are days that are worse than other, but, aye, it has gotten better."
"I'm glad." She pulled him into another quick hug, giving him another nuzzle. "I look forward to the stories we'll be able to tell each other. Let's do that soon."
The exuberant skunk finally released Muri completely and continued around the table to where Rickkter sat wearing a mildly bemused expression. Kayla slid into Rickkter's waiting arms, and after a quick kiss, she nearly dragged him from his feet to meet her friends. It was quite a thing, the unusual sight of Rickkter being taxed in order to keep up.
"Rick, Muri, I'd like you to meet my friends." But others amongst the Longs also wanted to meet with them, so she dragged them to the first one they could reach, and that happened to be the little Binoq. Abafouq, was dwarfed by everyone around him, but as he stood only three feet in height, he was long used to this. The raccoon and pair of skunks gazed down at the little leathery brown-skinned man who appeared neither midget nor child. His dark eyes met them with curiosity.
"Abafouq, you know Rickkter my fiancé. And this is Murikeer, a good friend, and..." she trailed off at the sight of a white female skunk standing a little behind Muri. "I'm sorry, I don't know you."
"Kozaithy," the white-furred skunk supplied as she nestled closer to Murikeer's flank.
"Uh, yes," Murikeer added with a diffident smile, reaching back to put an arm around the white skunk's waist to draw her close. "She is my... student. She was the motive force behind that influx of refugees that came through the Autumn."
"And we expect more in the Spring," Kozi added with a slight smile. Her eyes met Kayla with a hopeful gaze.
Kayla nodded at that, her muzzle crooked up in a bit of an impish smile. "Well, I must say that it's a pleasure to meet you. It will be nice not being the only female skunk in this pile of rocks any more. We must certainly talk later." She raked Kozaithy briefly with her eyes and beamed at Murikeer while she let Rickkter lead against her. "Certainly an improvement, Muri."
The Binoq coughed politely to draw the introductions back to their original track and nodded to each in turn, his smile faint but visible. "It is a pleasure finally meeting you. Kayla has spoken often of you while we journeyed." He turned his eyes on Rickkter. "I am relieved to see you are well."
"Thank you," Rickkter grimaced, his legs feeling a bit shaky. "I did a little reading about your race after I woke up. You're a very secretive people. But I did not learn much of your magic. How long do you intend to stay at Metamor?"
Abafouq shrugged. "I do not know. I have no fear of your curse touching me. Perhaps two months. We cannot return until the passes have cleared in the mountains. If you wish to exchange magical lore, there will be plenty of time."
"I'd like to learn more as well," Murikeer said, his one good eye fixing the Binoq with an eager stare. "I have spent a great deal of time learning the element of earth and stone. But never have I made stone live as you did for Charles."
"That," Abafouq said with exasperation, "was a very special circumstance. But I will be happy to discuss what I know."
The graceful figure of the Åelf came up behind them and gently put a hand on Kayla's shoulder. All of them turned to him, but he gestured to another corner of the Long House. Finbar in all his sinuous glory was facing down Jerome who had taken a wrestler's wide-legged posture. Kayla gaped, "Is he nuts?"
"He wished to see what Jerome could do," Andares replied with an amused lilt to his voice, as if he found the very notion of challenging another to a fight he would surely lose a very honourable if foolish thing.
All eyes in the Long House turned on the fight which had not yet begun. Murikeer wrapped one arm about Kozaithy's middle as he watched. Abafouq climbed back on the table so he could see. Kayla reached for the swords at her side, but found only empty air and grunted as she remembered they were in Rickkter's room now. Rickkter chuckled softly and shook his head. Of all the Keepers in the room, he had a very clear idea of what a Sondecki of the black could do. If Finbar wanted to open himself up to that kind of punishment, so be it.
Finbar circled Jerome slowly. The Sondecki moved only to keep facing him. Finbar, as a ferret, was long in body, covered in grey fur that changed hues as he slunk through the diffuse lighting from the braziers above and along the walls, with short arms and legs ending in sharp little claws. Lithe and quick, he was a natural contortionist and was next to impossible for anyone else to pin.
Jerome hulked like a miniature ogre, with broad arms and legs thicker than a bear's. Hunched over he almost appeared a bear readying to push over a tree. His fingers flexed freely, and even if he weren't a Sondecki, none of the Longs present would ever want to find themselves at the mercy of those large hands.
Finbar continued circling Jerome for several long seconds. At first the Longs cheered him on, but their voices quickly subsided into an excited murmur. And once all were completely silent, Finbar leapt forward, ducking low to avoid Jerome's hands. But the Sondecki was just as fast as he'd claimed, and he grabbed Finbar by the back of the neck with one hand and just above the base of his tail with the other and pulled them nearly together like he were trying rope.
But from the look of sudden surprise on Jerome's face, the ferret was faster than he'd expected. Taking advantage of his natural sinuous body, Finbar curled his legs around and kicked his claws in Jerome's chest. Jerome staggered backward to avoid those claws, and while they tore through his tunic, they just missed gouging his flesh.
Jerome still had a grip on Finbar's scruff, and he drove him down, wrapping the ferret's legs between his own and squeezing tight to keep them immobile. Finbar responded by twisting his arms around to claw at the Sondecki's midsection. And it would have worked too if Jerome hadn't begun shaking the ferret's head back and forth so fast that it made him vomit. A moment later, Jerome had both his legs locked and his neck wrapped between both arms.
Finbar spat out bile and laughed. "I yield!"
After gaping in surprise Misha began to laugh. "Well I don't think I've ever heard those words from you before, Finbar!"
Jerome slid the ferret down to the floor while using his sleeve to wipe some of the slime from Finbar's muzzle. A warm laugh echoed from his throat. "You almost got first blood on me there. I'm very impressed. You're quite the fighter, Finbar."
Finbar coughed up a little more spit and rubbed at his neck with one paw. "I've never seen anyone move as fast as you. Charles never could."
"He wasn't trained to," Jerome replied and stretched. "And it isn't easy to do even for Sondeckis of the black."
Danielle was at Finbar's side a second later helping to wipe up his vomit. "Don't you ever do something like that again!" she chided him. "If Misha says he's that fast, he's that fast!"
Rickkter shook his head and turned aside back to Kayla and the others nearby. "Lightning fist, or so it is called in the common tongue of Galendor. What Jerome did. I've heard of it but never seen it myself. It's not a common skill among the Sondeckis. It has a rather potent weakness which I would've exploited if ever I had the opportunity."
"What is that?" Murikeer asked, his posture still one of awe at the very brief combat.
"He can't do it for long. It will drain him very quickly. Once spent, it would be easy to finish him off." Rickkter smiled as if he'd accomplished in deed what he described. He then gestured to the ivory handled blade at Andares's side. "That sword you bear, it looks remarkably exquisite. Might I have a closer look?"
Andares drew the sword and lowered the tip to his other hand, revealing the full length of the blade for inspection. It was bright and silvery, etched with flowing symbols along its entire length. Rickkter rubbed his finger tips across the flat of the blade and smiled in delight. "Very impressive. This is probably the finest Åelven craftsmanship I have ever seen." His eyes were wrapped in the metal which he now balanced on the tip of one finger. "What is his name?"
Andares returned the smile, though his was more subtle than the raccoon's which could not fail to reveal pointed teeth beneath black jowls. "His name is Anna-ithil-årda — He That Brings Moon to Earth."
Rickkter nodded in approval. "Very impressive. You are a remarkable craftsman, Andares-es-sebashou." He frowned as he ran a claw along the edge of the blade only to have it make a light click as it met a minor nick toward the tang.
"The subjects of Marzac proved to be rather formidable adversaries." At this, the Åelf's smile became tinged by a veneer of good humour. "But it was not I who forged him. He has been handed down amongst my kind for many generations."
Everyone stared more closely at the blade. Rickkter's tail lashed in renewed concentration. "How old is he?"
"Not as old as the enemy we felled," Andares admitted. "But old. A more venerable companion than he it would be hard to ask for."
Rickkter whistled in delight and shouted, "Hey Misha! I think this sword here is older than Whisper!"
The fox stopped laughing at some joke made at Finbar's expense and came over to see. He looked at the sword in Andares's hands, at the Åelf, and then shrugged. "Probably. Kkart was ancient, but nobody is older than the fair folk. Except maybe the dragons."
"If it is not too much to ask," Rickkter said with real interest, "I would like to see what Anna-ithil-årda can do in your hands. I'm not up to a bout, but I would like to see you move with him."
Andares smiled and nodded. Misha, Murikeer, Kayla, and the others all backed away until Andares had a broad circle in which to move. He stayed where he was for several long seconds, Anna-ithil-årda resting flat in his hands. Jerome and the others turned to watch. Even Danielle paused her lecturing of the still disoriented ferret. Without moving a muscle, Andares already radiated a presence of restrained energy that crackled like lightning in a stormy sky.
And then he moved, lifting the blade in one hand and twirling in quick circles, a dance of artistry as well as deadly focus. He moved his feet only to spin one around the other, and extended his arms only to bend them. The ancient blade caught the light of the chamber and reflected not the brilliant orange glow of torches but the silvery essence of moonbeams upon a still lake. The tip shone with a brightness that hurt their sensitive eyes. It flashed in arcs of such deliberateness that they almost could see a picture of a woodland vista spread before them.
When Andares finally stopped and ended in the same posture in which he began, all of them who watched felt a deep sadness, as if they were glimpsing something buried long beneath the ashes of time. There were a few gasps in the crowd, Murikeer one of them. Rickkter's smile grew broad. "You truly do him justice. Might I be allowed to handle him?"
"One as accomplished as you?" Andares asked, his smile still that enigmatic curl to his lips. "He would be most honoured."
With that, Andares handed the blade over to Rickkter who gripped him with the sort of delight a boy reserves for his first blade of steel that his father allows him after years of dashing the wooden practice staves to splinters. The raccoon gave it a few experimental swipes before leaping into an old practice routine from his days as a Kankoran.
With a quick twirl of his fingers, he spun the sword around in his paw. Then it was over the back of his paw. Then an elegant toss to the other paw where the routine was repeated. By that point he had a few more onlookers and so a few more movements were added for each repetition, the routine growing progressively more complex. Eventually, part of it incorporated a snatch of the twirling blade from mid-air. The first time this was done he was just about to catch the sword; the second time, not so much.
Instead of being able to get his fingers securely around it, the pommel bounced off Rickkter's palm before his fingers could do so. Though they were lightning quick, the next two attempts to catch the wayward blade were no more successful. It was a miracle that his final attempt managed to grasp the sword at all before it hit the hard stone floor. There was no grace, no aptitude, just a blind grab of desperation that was clear to all watching.
Of course the performance was well over by this point and it was all Rickkter could do to sand up while trying to minimize the shivering in his legs. Straightening, he ran his paws over his clothing to smooth it out while trying to stifle a cough that building in his chest. His paws were still deft enough to be able to flip the sword around so he was holding it hilt out.
And that was how he presented Anna-ithil-årda back to Andares, bowing slightly in gratitude but with his ears tucked flat in embarrassment from the near total fumbling. "Truly a magnificent weapon. Again, thank you for letting me hold him. It seems I'm still not quite up to my old strength." He gasped again and bowed his head one last time.
Andares reclaimed his blade with far greater solemnity. "It was a pleasure to watch you perform." A mild look of concern was on his features as he returned his weapon to its scabbard. "Having met you, I can certainly see why Kayla spoke so highly of you."
Rickkter nodded and crossed his arms over his chest in a formal manner, bowing once more to the Åelf.
Kayla grabbed the raccoon by the upper arm and pulled him back. Rickkter stumbled over his own legs and almost collapsed but for a quick whiff of magic. Instead he managed to settle back down at the table, rump hitting the bench with a whump. "You should be more careful," she said tenderly but with a hint of sternness. "I just got you back! I'm not going to have you kill yourself just to show off!"
"I wasn't," he objected after steadying himself. Her green eyes narrowed meaningfully. "All right, I was showing off a little. I just thought I was in better shape than that. I guess the muscles aren't quite back to their old strength yet."
Kayla peered a little closer at Rickkter. "Are you using magic to walk around?"
"It's nothing I haven't done before," he protested, trying weakly to wave her off.
Murikeer put one paw on his shoulder and frowned. "Will you be okay?"
Rickkter nodded. "Absolutely. Just give me a moment."
From the scowl on Kayla's face, it was clear she didn't want to give him any time at all. His eyes tried to both show strength and to beg her to relent. After several second, Kayla's features softened and she nodded. "All right. But don't try anything else, or I'm going to drag you to your room and make you get your rest! I won't have you exhausting yourself further on my account."
"I won't. I promise." Rickkter smiled to her and finally she settled down at his side, stroking one paw between his ears. She wasn't happy with him but that would pass. "Now, Abafouq," he looked around until his eyes found the Binoq who had kept a discreet distance during the exchange, "you were about to tell us more about stone magic. I'd be very interested to learn more about that too."
Abafouq nodded to the trio of skunks and single raccoon and folded his hands before them. "When one is living in the mountains, there are two forms of magic one is finding it wise to learn: the art of snow or stone. I choose stone." And as the little mage began his discourse, Murikeer's keen attention kept slipping inexorably back to his master who seemed to lean far too much on Kayla for support. But each time, he'd sigh, and listen anew to the Binoq as the party continued into the night about them.
Charles talked for many hours of his long travels through Galendor to the utter delight of his children, the keen interest of Garigan, the fretful looks of concern and admiration from Baerle, and the worry of his wife. The rat tried to describe the most fascinating marvels he'd seen, which of course included the fabulous sky-ship Nak-Tegehki guided by the Nauh-kaee, the underground city of Qorfuu with its rivers of quicksilver and its flocks of eyeless sheep, the intricate ridges and coombs of Åelfwood filled with trees that made the Glen seem a yearling child, the pearlescent city of Ava-shavåis that was both living forest and woodland cathedral, the golden Rheh Talaran who thundered across the sky, and the vast empty Steppe where one could see for miles in every direction, a sea of grass undulating beneath the wind.
What he did not do was relate the numerous terrors and privations they'd endured in those long six months toward Marzac, and he dare not even dwell on what Lindsey had pulled from her pouch in her last moments as a female kangaroo. His four, not five, children were too enthralled with the magical enchantment he painted for them to notice that he was leaving things out. Kimberly noticed. He could see her noticing it with every twitch of her whiskers and quivering flutter of her eyes. Someday e would have to tell her some of it, but there were many things he knew he could never say, for fear that he would never be able to leave her sight again without her falling into paroxysms of fear. Risks were often easier to take if she didn't know how close they came to all dying.
But eventually, his four little children all started yawning and sprawling on his lap. He gently pet them, fingers savouring the touch of their little ears, their soft fur, and their warm bodies. Their eyes were too heavy to stay up any more. He sighed and then let his gaze settle on his wife. Kimberly's eyes were for their children, and there was an adoration in them that warmed Charles's weary heart.
"I think it's time for all of us to get some sleep," Charles announced.
"Aye," Kimberly stifled a yawn as she stretched. "Baerle and I can put the children to bed."
"Let me," Charles said as he scooped all four of them into his arms. They curled paws and tail about his arms as he lifted them gently but securely. They were so much bigger than last he saw them. He actually had to use his Sondeck to keep from stumbling. Kimberly and Baerle both followed him closely, snouts anxious, as he ascended the stairs, the way bright from one of his wife's witchlights.
When last he'd come to the children's room, there had been five cribs occupying the large wall with window overlooking the roots that framed their front door. Now, those five cribs had been converted into four makeshift beds complete with wooden rails along the sides, all of them thoroughly gnawed upon. Kimberly took the children from Charles's arms one by one and snuggled them up beneath warm, colourful quilts. Their little arms wrapped about animals made from fabric — bears, dogs, frogs, and dragons. When each of them were curled up with eyes heavy and whiskers still twitching, Charles brushed down the fur behind their ears one by one and kissed them in the same spot.
He knelt down as he'd once done when they were first born at the foot of their beds, folded his paws in prayer, and intoned softly toward the heavens, "Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, secundum verbum tuum in pace..." The words of that ancient prayer of his faith rolled across his tongue and danced in the air, before rising upward like incense toward the throne of Eli. Kimberly knelt beside him and joined him in the prayer, thanking Eli and seeking His protection for their little ones. Charles nearly cried when he came to that section, but a gentle embrace from his vine kept his composure firm.
He made the sign of the yew at last, as did Kimberly, and then the two of them rose. He smiled at his four children, and whispered, "Good night, my children."
"Good night, Dada! Night Mama," they repeated in their high-pitched voices, all filled with slumber.
Baerle smiled to them both, and then stepped to the middle door in the opposite wall, her bedroom since she'd come to live with them ten months ago. "I will have something ready for you both to eat in the morning. Good Night, Charles, Kimberly." She smiled ever so winsomely at the rats and then slipped into her room and shut the door. Only the faintest glimmer of light remained around the jamb.
Kimberly smiled to Charles, kissed him on the snout, and then turned down the stairs with her witchlight weaving back and forth over her head. Charles followed her with one paw on her shoulder, his thumb tracing little circles in her neck fur. They found Garigan closing the hearth for the night. He nodded at their approach, dark eyes reflecting bright green from the witchlight.
"Is there anything more you'd like of me this night, master?" he asked of Charles.
"No," Charles replied with a swell of fondness for his Sondecki pupil. He put one paw on the ferret's shoulder, and felt a warmth spread between them, the touch of their Sondecks. "Good night, my friend."
Garigan nodded, bowed to Kimberly, and then walked to the exterior door. He paused and turned just before reaching it. "What of your gryphon friend, Guernef?"
Charles glanced at Kimberly who just smiled to him, and then back to the ferret. "I'll find out. Do not worry about him."
Garigan nodded and then quickly slipped out the door, closing it fast behind him lest the cold winter air enter. Kimberly said softly, I'll ready the bed. Come in once you're finished with your friend. I'll be waiting."
Charles's heart beat a little faster, and then after his wife slipped beneath the tapestry cloaking their bedroom door, he followed Garigan outside. The ferret was nowhere to be seen, but the white gryphon remained a sentinel between his door at the Glen. His large avian head turned at Charles's exit. "How are you, Guernef?" Charles asked. The Nauh-kaee did not seem in the least bit chilled by the freezing night air.
"I am well," he replied in his screeching voice. "Are you?"
"I will be," he said with a heavy sigh. "Thank you for staying here."
"I will keep watch all night long."
"You don't have to."
"But I will. When do you intend to return to Metamor?"
"I will need to report to Duke Thomas," Charles said softly, "but I can't do it just yet. I'll need a few days. I can't leave Kimberly and my children so soon, even if only for another day. You can go back there if you wish."
"I will return with you, Charles." The Nauh-kaee lifted his head, golden eyes focussed on the pine boughs and the starlight sky with bright full moon known more for the radiance it lent the forest than for its silvery disk in the heavens. "Now go be with your love. You are flesh again."
The rat could not help but recall their first true conversation. While aboard the ancient Åelf sky-ship, Guernef had warned him against being stone in both body and desire. And he'd cautioned the rat that he could not be a husband to his wife if he were stone and thinking stony thoughts. He sighed and gazed at the sky with his much larger friend. Branches laden with fresh white glimmering in moonlight cast an almost mystical charm over the Glen while the shadow of a night watch member moved along a concealed bridge suspended in the heights. "You're right. Good Night, Guernef. I will see you in the morning."
The gryphon said no more and so Charles headed back inside. He savoured the sudden warmth. A single witchlight danced in front of the wooded tapestry. Charles admired his wife's budding talent with magic, something he'd have to thank Murikeer for when he finally saw the skunk. But for the moment he put all other thoughts from his mind, slipped beneath the tapestry with the witchlight following, and entered his bedroom.
Kimberly was cuddled beneath the quilts waiting for him. The witchlight left him and hovered over the bed. The room was cozy and unchanged from when he'd last seen it. His heart ached with the many long months of sleeping on the ground, or while stone, not sleeping at all. "I've missed you, my sweet," he said as he gazed at his wife.
She gently patted the empty side of the bed. "Come to bed, my love. I want to hold you. I want you to hold me."
Charles nodded, quickly disrobed, and then wrapped his paws around his vine. "Just one moment." He glanced around for some place that his vine might do well through the night, and then walked to the hearth at the foot of their bed. He let his backside turn to stone, and while the vine curled around his arms, he gingerly slid it free. Then with paws of stone, he shoved them and the vine's root into the stonework of the hearth. It uncoiled from his chest as he left it there, and he felt strangely naked, even more so than his lack of clothes would suggest. For months now the vine had always been pressed close to his chest. The stone gave way to flesh once more, and he ran his paws over his chest, feeling the fur and strong muscles, but there was no vine, soft and tender.
He turned, saucer-shaped ears folding back. She was so beautiful. His wife. Charles climbed into bed next to her, slipping one paw under the covers and through the fur on her side. One of hers slid up across his chest and then over his back. Warm with short, sharp claws. Charles nuzzled her snout, his flews brushing over hers, whiskers to whiskers. "I love you," he breathed, his legs and chest blending with her own.
"I love you too, my husband," she said, her voice welling with emotion.
They held each other close, two rats in love, while the witchlight above them dwindled and went out.
"You need to get your rest," Kayla assured him.
The raccoon grunted but didn't attempt to argue just yet. He sat down on his bed and breathed heavily. For the first time since he'd risen from his six month slumber, he'd spent nearly his entire day outside his quarters. Misha's little party was still going strong, but every one of his bones from his feet to his head and his paws to his tail was weary from exhaustion. He knew he would sleep well past dawn tomorrow; perhaps he'd sleep even till noon.
"I'm fine," he assured her after catching his breath. "If I don't push myself a little bit more every day..." he took a long slow breath of air, lung aching and sore, "I'm never going to recover my strength."
"Well, I'm here now," Kayla assured him. She lifted up the free corner of his quilt and rubbed her paw over the soft linens beneath. A spell kept the feather mattress beneath soft but firm. "I'm going to make sure you exert yourself right. Misha told me that both the Lothanasa and Healer Coe have left instructions for you to follow if you are to return to your old strength."
Rickkter snorted. "In at least a year. I'm not going to be kept cooped up at the Keep that long. I want to be out and about in a few months. I'll set my own pace."
Kayla scowled and put her paw on his shoulder. Rickkter gasped and felt the little defiance drain from him like wine from an upturned bottle. "Please don't let me linger in the Keep so long," he begged her, eyes meeting her own and finding a cache of sympathy and love.
"Oh, Rick. I could never do that. I just don't want to see you hurt yourself. It tore my heart out to see what both Zagrosek and the Marquis did to you. Most days it was just Artela's promise of your recovery that kept me going."
She eased his shirt over his arms, and Rickkter winced at a sudden pain in his shoulders. Perhaps he had exerted himself more than he should in a single day. He growled again. "What I hate is that you and the rest come back strong, hearty, and hale, and I'm practically an invalid! Some swordsman of no account kills Zagrosek. You all ride horses that can fly, not to mention visit two cities forbidden to our kind and fly in a ship on the air. Jessica actually travels into the Pillars of Ahdyojiak, something I've only ever heard whispers about! And all of you witness a magical conflux the likes of which I can't even dream about! If I am exhausted, it is because I'm drained from jealousy! I want all those experiences for myself. I wanted and still want to be at your side as we face them together. I want..." his voice trailed off and he heaved with a long sigh. "I want to journey and see all these places, Kayla. I haven't truly left the valley since I arrived two years ago. My one real chance, and it's gone."
Kayla nodded as she listened. She could hear the pain in his voice and it stabbed her heart. In a quiet voice she said, "If you hadn't been struck down, I would not have been at your side. The only reason I went is because I needed to go for your sake." With a gentle touch, she eased the raccoon's head onto the pillow, and then began unlacing his breeches. "If it is possible, one day we will see all those places together. I know it."
Rickkter would normally object to anyone undressing him like a child, but this was Kayla and he savoured the touch of her paws on his flesh. If only he didn't feel so weak! The stirring of passion in his loins was felled most cruelly by muscles too weakened and sore to respond. "It won't be the same."
"No," she agreed. She smiled and slipped his pants off. "It will be better."
The raccoon found it impossible to say anything more. The allure of sleep was too great a surcease for his pain for him to ignore much longer. Kayla quietly slipped his legs beneath the quilt and drew it up to his chin. She folded his clothes and set them on his clothes chest.
Rickkter opened his mouth to ask why she did not appear to be joining him, but was met with Kayla's blunt snout pressing in close for a kiss. "Sleep well, my Rick," she said in soft dulcet tones. The raccoon blinked to forestall sleep, but it crept over him as inexorable and as callous as the waters over a drowning man.
She then picked up the dragon swords from the table where they lay awaiting the raccoon's attention, cradled them possessively under her arms and left through the door to his bedroom, closing it softly behind her.