Feb 10, 708 CR
What had begun as a venture by a quintet of rodents, quickly expanded as the twilight dawn sun crested the Barrier range. Other than Kayla who said she needed to remain behind to tend to Rickkter, all of those who'd gone to Marzac elected to journey to the Glen as well. Misha was not going to be denied the opportunity to see Charles, one of his dearest Longs, and he certainly wasn't going to let Sir Saulius get there first either; to keep it from being a race, it was best they travelled together. But when Misha comes, so too did as many Longs as could be spared. And then Murikeer also wanted to go and visit for at least a day or two, which meant Kozaithy would come too.
Julian, whose carriages and teams of horses they would be taking, issued the command to set out before anybody else decided to tag along. But of course that was delayed so that the travellers could wish their companions for the last month and a half a safe return trip.
"It was an honour to meet you both," Jerome said to Captains Aldanto and Darius. The Sutthaivasse captain smiled and bowed to the Sondecki and the rest.
"And it was a delight to have you as passengers. I will never forget this voyage, and will regret having to leave this magical land so soon. Perhaps," he hefted a brass scrollcase in one hand, this one bearing the horsehead seal of the Hassan house, "what I have here will bring me back one day."
"That will be a happy day indeed," Jessica replied with her beak cracked in delight. The hawk had elected to go visit Charles first before flying to her husband-to-be in the Lakeland. Still, some of her energy seemed to have left with Weyden.
Similar words were shared with Darius but he stepped aside to share the words he had with his brother who had come to see him off. The elk and man hugged and then clasped arms firmly. "I will bring your love and letter to our family," Darius assured him.
"And I will send more," Yacoub replied with a warm smile. "Thank you for coming, and for being... honest with me."
Darius acknowledged the remark with a simple nod. "Thank you for dinner last night, and the excellent music. You have significantly improved since your early forays back home."
"I've had some good mentors," Yacoub admitted with a wry grin. They both chuckled. "But I am not saying good bye so soon, my brother," he intoned levelly. Darius looked up with a tilt of his head and a twitch of one dark brow. "My commander gave me explicit orders to escort this caravan to Metamor's borders." He added laconically with a smile pulling at the corners of his cervine mouth, "My squire will attend, if that is amenable." Darius grunted a laugh and nodded with a helpless shrug.
And even as the elk spoke of him, Intoran arrived with a pair of muscular destriers caparisoned in full Metamor regalia. In one arm he nested the Metamoran rearing equine banner of Thomas's House. His calm dark gaze looked to the Egland Knight and then the Egland Captain silently. The faintest of smiles, firm and resolved, decorated his snout.
So two caravans left the gates of Metamor that morning, one heading south on a journey of a week toward the port city of Ellcaran, the other on a journey of hours toward the woodland village of Glen Avery. The one heading south carried Captain Aldanto, Captain Darius, and the Ellcaran branch of the Urseil family holdings while an elk knight and his oryx squire rode at their side.
The one heading north carried five rats, six Longs, the heroic companions who'd gone to Marzac, and a pair of skunks in three carriages, drawn by a team of four horses each. Julian and Sir Saulius led the first carriage, and with them rode Misha, Caroline, and the six travelling companions. The carriages were long, with panelling on the sides that could be folded over and latched to create a secure cage to confound thieves and brigands. There was room enough inside for eight men to make a stand. This day they rode with the carriages open, and sat upon bales of hay for wont of anything better.
In the second carriage, Elliot and Goldmark rode with Finbar and Danielle for protection, along with the gifts they had all collected for Charles. The two Longs kept a close watch on the woods and fields as the horses trod along the northern road, the fall of their hooves muffled by newly fallen snow. Elliot and Goldmark told each other pleasant little jokes and complimented each other on the horses and the carriages to make the hours pass more quickly.
The last carriage bore Meredith as a driver, with Hector to aid him as well as Jotham, Muri and Kozaithy. Murikeer kept silent, while Jotham, Meredith and Hector chatted amiably about last night and seeing Charles again. The skunk kept glancing back at Metamor and then down into his paws, flexing his fingers as his mind pondered a puzzle only he knew. Kozaithy already knew the look in his single eye and remained a still, strong presence at his side to let him think.
In the first carriage, Misha could not help but admire the horses and carriages in which they rode. "Where did you ever find these? I didn't know anybody had teams of horses and carriages for hire quite like this."
Julian laughed a chittering laugh, his long white tail sliding back and forth in the recess between the driver seat and the carriage front. "They aren't for hire, just yet. This is their maiden voyage, Misha Brightleaf. Their debut as it were. They will be for hire soon."
The fox's one ear lifted and his eyes widened. "They belong to you?"
"To us rats," Julian replied. "We've been saving every last copper we've made over the last few years between us. Elliot and Goldmark came up with the design for the carriages based on things they'd seen in the scriptorium and the library, while Sir Saulius picked the horses. Hector is sculpting placards we will affix to the carriages soon. Once done, we'll be ready for hire."
Misha nodded and patted the stout wood side, claws tracing over the bolts where the panelling would fold. "I'm very impressed. I'd never suspected you five would have something like this hatching in the cellars."
The white rat and the knight exchanged a long firm glance. Finally, Julian smiled. "We wouldn't have revealed these until we were ready if not for Charles. He alone visited us and reminded us that while we may be rats, we are still men." Sir Saulius nodded the whole while, but he said nothing. After a brief pause, red eyes staring out into the cool winter forest lit by the morning sun behind them, Julian added, "For Charles, we'll do anything."
Caroline's long tail slid on top of Misha's as she leaned forward. "I remember that beautiful glass sculpture you gave Charles and Kimberly for a wedding present."
Julian smiled. "And that was worth every copper too."
"Well," Misha said as he patted his fist against the wood, "let me know when you and your carriages are ready for hire. Maybe I can drum up some business for you."
Julian turned in his seat and bowed his head to the fox. "I am deeply grateful for that. Thank you."
After two hours on the road a gentle snow began to fall. The sun still shone far to the south, but it was fast disappearing behind a haze of cloud. Everyone bundled a little tighter and the beastly Keepers amused each other by licking the snowflakes from their noses before they could melt. An hour later and the snow abated, the cloud cover breaking to reveal a bright midday sun. The glare was piercing every time they passed through fields, but when they reached the deep wood beyond the Lakeland territory, it no longer bothered them.
With the journey nearly at its end, Misha stretched his legs and glanced at the travellers with a curious eye. "So, what are you going to do now that you've made it back to Metamor?"
Jessica squawked with delight. "I'm going to marry Weyden very soon, as soon as his regiment comes back to Metamor. And then I think I shall pick up my studies. Wessex's too. I have a few things I want to explore further, questions that even now don't have satisfactory answers."
Misha nodded. "My sister will want to speak with you as soon as you can. Things have happened in Marigund that she believes are related to what you did at Marzac. If you can believe it, the Mage Guild has even sought the help of an advisor from Yesulam who can inform them of the events happening there. I'm not sure what this means, but it sounds like what you all did reached across the world."
"Was there really a wave of magic that came through Metamor that night?" Abafouq asked with eager delight.
"Aye, though I didn't see it. But everyone who wasn't cursed saw what the curses would do to them for a moment. You may not have heard, but a Midlands noble who was exiled here two months ago saw that he'd become a ram that night. And so he did. Duke Thomas sent him north to Hareford to lead the garrison there."
"Much has changed," Lindsey mused quietly.
"But with the influx of refugees, and the welcome news you bring of Marzac's defeat, we are in a stronger position. Most of the changes have been for the better." Misha grimaced and then glanced at the other five travellers. "And what of each of you?"
"I will rejoin the timber crews when they return," Lindsey replied. "That is all."
"I guess I'll go back to being a Glen soldier and scout," James said with a shrug. "I like Glen Avery. It feels like a home more than Metamor ever did."
"And I will stay at Metamor for a time," Abafouq said. He rocked back and forth on the hay bale, legs too short to reach the bottom of the carriage. The Binoq gestured with one hand at the forest around them, so dense that they could no longer see the mountains. "I would very much like to learn more of this place, see its beauty, and its people. And, though I may look a little like you, I am not human, so I should be protected from the curses. Although I am thinking looking like a beast may not be such a bad thing, I would rather be as I am if it were up to my choosing."
"You're the first of your kind I've ever seen," Misha admitted. "All I'd ever known of the Binoq was some children's rhymes and fairy tales."
"And my people would prefer it that way," Abafouq added, his eyes narrowing and a harsh coldness coming into his voice. "When the snows melt and it is safe to travel, I expect Guernef and I will return across the mountains. But to what I do not know. I was cast out from my people because I associated with your kind. I suspect I will be forced to return to Guernef's cave and remain his charge."
"You could stay at Metamor," Caroline suggested. "You have friends here who care a great deal about you."
"That is so," Abafouq admitted with a gentle nod. "But I have already brought my people more attention than they wish. I cannot risk bringing them anymore than I must."
"Well," Misha reiterated, "if you change your mind, you're welcome here."
"Thank you." He fell silent, brooding, even as Jessica shifted to his side and put a wing at his back. He did not acknowledge her.
Jerome let out a heavy breath. All eyes turned to him. "I am human. I can be taken by the Curses. And while a part of me hopes that I could become a beast — perhaps like your Steward, I've always had a fondness for alligators ever since I was a child and watched them in the rivers of my homeland — it is better I do not. Eventually, Charles and I will have to return to Sondeshara to answer for what has become of us in all the years of our long absence. I was sent to bring him back there five years ago. But now is not the time."
Misha frowned, his tail wagging anxiously. "So what are you going to do?"
"I think I'll head north for now. I've never seen the lands in the north and I think I'd like to."
"That's a very dangerous land!" Caroline objected.
"Aye, but that's what will make it interesting."
They all laughed at that. Even the perpetually silent Åelf offered a mild chuckle. And with that, Misha's eyes turned to him. His pearl grey cheeks were hidden beneath long black locks so dark and glossy they made Jessica's feathers appear drab and uncouth. "And what of you, Andares? Where shall you go?"
The Åelf's golden eyes found him and he smiled ever so faintly. "I will return to Ava-shavåis. It will not be long, for there is only the companionship I've formed with these my friends that keeps me here now."
"Will we ever see you again?" James asked.
"I dearly hope so," Andares replied with a slightly wider smile.
They arrived at the Glen about the noon hour. The main clearing was still covered in fresh snowfall, but it was crisscrossed with paw, hoof, and boot prints. Several Glen children were repairing snowmen and snow fortifications for an afternoon snowball fight. Amongst them were the Avery boys, but the twin squirrels were only directing affairs not partaking in them. They waved to the carriages, but restrained their skittish desire to rush up and greet them.
A rope dropped out of the lacework of branches overhead, and down slid Angus the badger. He grinned, a smile that revealed a numerous array of yellowed fangs. "Welcome to the Glen! You must be here to welcome Charles home."
"And to offer comfort," Sir Saulius said. "Where might he be found?"
Angus hooked one paw over his shoulder, let go of the rope, and dropped with a whump to the ground. Snow dust scattered around his stout legs. "He and Lady Kimberly have stayed home all morning long. That white gryphon is sitting out front and won't let anyone else enter."
"He will us," Abafouq said confidently. "He is our companion and my dearest friend."
Angus nodded, and then stared more closely at Abafouq. He blinked and shook his head, then waved a hearty paw. "Come on then. I'm surprise it took you this long to get up here, Misha."
"We had a welcome home party for Kayla, Jessica, and the others last night at the Long House," the fox explained as he leapt over the side of the carriage. "We've got a bunch of things for Charles."
"Do you need a paw carrying anything?"
Misha shook his head as the Longs all disembarked and began grabbing packages. The rats insisted on carrying their own, which with all five of them working together they managed quite effectively. The fox wagged his tail and smiled to the badger. "I think we've got it all."
Julian nodded toward the horses. "Just have somebody keep an eye on the horses until we can stable them for the night."
"They will be perfectly safe," Angus assured him. He then gave a sharp whistle, and several Glenners descended from the trees on ropes. While the Keepers all followed Misha and the rats toward Charles's tree home, the Glenners tended to Julian's carriages. The children all stopped to watch them, but the Avery twins kept them from rushing over to say hi. Misha was surprised with how mature they were behaving. They were almost eight years old, but they acted nearly twice that.
As promised, a large white gryphon sat blocking the passage to Charles's door. Fixed eyes regarded them with no hint of bending. But Abafouq squirmed past them and wrapped his arms about the gryphon's feathered neck. The Binoq did not have to do anything else. The gryphon nodded and then stepped to one side, before jumping up out of the little gulley between the roots. He nearly carried Abafouq with him, but the Binoq let go at the last second and tumbled back to the dry ground where a moment before an impenetrable wall had perched.
Misha knocked on the door and a moment later a very familiar rat opened the door. The black handprint was still over his right eye, and he was dressed in very fine clothes with a belt buckler that looked like the head of a rat, but it was still his brother Long. Misha laughed in delight and dragged him from his hind paws into a tight embrace. "Charles! It's so good to see you again at last!"
"And you too, Misha!" Charles gasped as he hugged back. "Come on in! All of you come in!"
As Misha pushed him inside, Sir Saulius also gave Charles a firm hug, if not quite as dramatic. Behind him came Murikeer, who merely laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder and paused briefly to meet his gaze with his dark eye before passing. The rats laughed together as they brought in gifts, followed by Longs with gifts, and then his travelling companions. To these, Charles seemed fixated. Jessica was the first to his side, wrapping him in her wings and declaring her sorrow for his boy. Charles grimaced, but thanked her. James and Abafouq said much the same, and so did he. Lindsey couldn't say anything at all, nor did he have to. Charles and he both began crying as they held each other while the rest gathered inside his home, finding whatever place they could to sit and get comfortable.
Jerome could only pat the rat on the shoulder, but when Lindsey and he parted, the Åelf surprised them all by kneeling down and wrapping his arms around his friend's shoulders. Even his travelling companions gaped at it, for they had never seen him act so human as this. The Longs and the rats could only stare and wonder why it shocked the others so.
But the moment passed soon enough, and within minutes, Charles, still teary-eyed stood by the door and with paws spread wide said, "Thank you all for coming. I am sorry I didn't see you yesterday at Metamor, but... you understand. Let me get my children, and we'll... we'll have something readied for you to eat. I want to talk with all of you and learn about all that's happened to you here at Metamor."
"And we want to learn what's happened to you and what you've seen out in the world!" Goldmark shouted. This was echoed by the rest of the rats and all the Longs. Even Murikeer and Kozaithy were nodding eagerly.
Charles smiled, a weary smile but still a smile. "Very well. But you first."
Misha reclined in one of the chairs, as he heard the boisterous squeaking of the children overhead come rushing down the stairs, "Well get comfortable Charles and let's begin!"
Rickkter first noticed consciousness after his clock struck ten. Each chime of the bell was like the twinkling of a distant star, noticeable but only at the very periphery of his visual capabilities. For a long time he lay there, eyes attempting to open but falling back after each brief flutter of light pierced his lashes. He could hear nothing but the distant click of the clock as an army marching leagues distant but growing ever closer.
When the clock struck eleven, the chimes were bells ringing from the tower of a city in the distance. His eyes flashed open, and in the dim illumination, the raccoon sight glimpsed the grey masonry, smoothed and cool over his head. And then all was dark again. But a struggle began to build in him, first in his fingers, twitching and brushing over his chest where they lay. His whiskers and jowls trembled; his tongue felt short, sharp fangs all around. His nostrils spread, and the faint musk of skunk filled them.
Kayla.
He tried to sit up, but there was no energy in his muscles. His mind was draped in a heavy curtain, but every so often a shaft of light would piece that obdurate maze of shadows. Kayla was home and safe and that was almost all he knew.
By the time his clock struck twelve, he felt enough strength to roll over and begin to keep his eyes open. He managed to prop himself on one elbow when the door opened and in walked the most beautiful skunk in the world carrying a tray laden with a meaty smelling soup. "Good afternoon sleepy head," she said as she set the tray on his table. Rickkter noted the dragon swords bouncing off of her hips. Hadn't she given them back yesterday?
"I've brought you some soup," she said as she reached behind his head and helped him sit up in bed. "It will help you feel better after yesterday."
"Thank you, Kayla," he said. His body was still sore, but it felt good to sit up at least. Kayla laid the tray in his lap, and he savoured the chicken broth.
"You overdid it yesterday," Kayla told him with crossed arms and an arch look the sort a mother gives an unruly child. "I spoke with Healer Coe, and he agrees. You are going to get extra rest today, and then we'll try again tomorrow."
"Try what again?" Rick asked before blowing on the soup.
"Walking about the Long House of course."
Rickkter slurped the chicken broth and a bit of meat. "I've been doing that. I'd like to walk outside the Keep."
"Not today," she assured him. "Besides, it's snowing and I know how you feel about snow."
"Ugh. Fine." He nodded toward the swords. "What are you doing with my swords? I thought you gave them back yesterday."
Kayla blinked and then touched the dragon swords in wonder. "Oh!" Chagrined, she began to fumble at the buckler with her paws. "I... I guess I'm so used to carrying them, I must have taken them last night without even thinking about it." She managed to unbuckle them on her third try, and with oddly heavy steps, she lowered the swords to the table, wakizashi laying crossways over the katana, and then slid her arms away. Her eyes continued to lay on the swords with such an intensity that Rickkter felt a twinge of jealousy.
"Those are powerful blades," he warned her. "They may have accepted you while I was comatose, but they need to be in the hands of a warrior to be truly content."
Kayla nodded, and then pulled one of his chairs closer. "They told me as much when they spoke to me. But they accepted me, Rick. I don't think you have to worry."
"I know they'll never hurt anyone I love," Rick admitted. He swallowed another spoonful of the soup. "I just worry about you, my love. It's been so long. Tell me more of your adventures, and I'll tell you more of mine. When I first met them in fact."
Kayla smiled and was more than happy to share.
Hours later, as the sun began its descent, Rickkter succumbed to exhaustion having only ever left the bed that day to use his chamber pot. Kayla, feeling a warm energy fill her, tucked him into his quilts, kissed his brow, and then took the swords with her when she left.
It was a very long afternoon of good friends, good food, some good ale brought over by Lars just before dusk, and a great deal of learning on both sides. When evening settled in full, most of the Longs went to Lars's for dinner which they brought back to share. Another two hours and apart from Misha the Longs retired to the Inn, Andares went to explore the woods by himself, and the rats apart from Saulius went upstairs to play with Charles's children. Jessica had left for the Lakeland country earlier in the afternoon, which altogether left the Matthias house far calmer and closer to normal.
Charles leaned back on the couch, tail trailing between his legs, the vine wrapped snug around his chest beneath his tunic, with Kimberly laying her head against his chest. Her eyes were closed, but her ears twitched at every voice around him. With one arm he held her close, claws gently stroking along her shoulder.
Misha set his mug down empty and crossed his paws together. "When are you going to be returning to the Keep? Duke Thomas needs to hear your side of things still."
Charles frowned and pondered for a moment. Misha and Saulius sat next to each other on the other couch, while Kozaithy reclined at the other end watching Murikeer and Abafouq engage in a quiet but intense discussion about magic. Lindsey sat in one of the extra chairs gazing into the fire while James crouched before it attempting to keep both it and a conversation with the woodcutter alive. Baerle was just returning from the kitchen with a kettle to steep. Jerome leaned against one wall, idly stretching his arms and legs.
"I'm not sure. The day after tomorrow perhaps. I haven't really said hi to anyone in the Glen yet, and I should at least make the rounds tomorrow and check in with Lord Avery and Angus to see about getting back into scout duty with them for the time being." He twirled one finger through a bit of his wife's fur behind her neck. "When I come down to the Keep I'll spend the night at the Long House, but I'll be coming back here the very next day."
Misha nodded. "I know you're thinking it, Charles," the fox said with a long sigh, "but I'm going to make sure you don't have to go on any long missions for a while. You need to spend time with your family."
"Thank you," the rat replied as Kimberly's muzzle creased into even greater contentment. "But don't make me feel useless either. We men are meant to work. And we are meant to soldier."
Sir Saulius stroked his whiskers with one paw. "Thou hast Malicon. For now thou canst practice thy horsemanship. A good skill for squire or scout." This last he said with one eye sliding ever so briefly to Misha. The fox grunted but didn't argue.
"It will be good to ride him again. But after the Rheh, I don't think any other horse could ever be the same." Charles leaned back his head and gazed longingly into the ceiling, eyes lost in the concentric rings illumined with the steady pale blue of the witchlight, and the dancing orange of the fire. "Oh, Erick, you would have loved it."
The knight rat frowned for a moment, but it didn't last long. "Aye, thou dost speak true. But I wouldst ne'er betray my steed Armivest, though I wouldst dearly love for them to meet and impart some of their grace upon my noble pony."
"Do you know of the Tagendend?" Jerome asked.
Sir Saulius nodded and his scowl returned. "A rival clan to my own, but aye, I know them."
"In a few months I believe a new generation of horses shall emerge from their stock which carry the blood of the Rheh. Perhaps I can arrange to purchase a few for you and Metamor. After I journey to the north, I think I'll return that way. I'd like to ride with them again if I can."
"Why to the north?" Charles asked.
"I've never been there," Jerome replied with a faint laugh. "Perhaps I can learn a few things to help you here." He nodded to Misha and the fox nodded in return. "Either way, when you return to Metamor, I shall leave for the north."
"You should come back for one day," Lindsey said softly, eyes fixed on the fire.
"What is that?"
"Zhypar's funeral," Lindsey supplied without expression. "I spoke with Father Hough last night and he's agreed to have a funeral for him. It's in three days."
"Then I will return to Metamor with Charles and leave after."
"And I will stay an extra day for Zhypar," Charles agreed. He squeezed Kimberly's shoulder. "He deserves all our attendance."
"The children will love going to Metamor," Kimberly whispered, eyes still closed, one paw gently pressed against her husband's belly. "You can keep them still by telling them more of your adventures while we travel."
Misha smiled. "A splendid idea! When we return tomorrow, we'll prepare your rooms with fresh quilts, bread and cheese, and some wood for the fire."
"Thank you." Charles tilted his head back at the sound of excited thumping from above and a chorus of squeaks. "It is good to be home, and with all of you my dearest friends and family. But life won't ever be the same for any of us who went to Marzac. Ever."
All of them sat quiet, listening to the crackle of the fire, the steeping of the kettle, and the laughter of little children from the room above. They sat like that, all of them lost in contemplation until the kettle began to boil over and the hiss of steam intruded. Baerle rushed to set it aside, and James was quick to aid her. "Would anyone care for tea?" the opossum asked, almost embarrassed to have broken the stillness of their repose.
"Aye," Sir Saulius and others replied quickly. The knight rat then turned to his erstwhile squire and said with genuine warmth. "If thou hast been changed by thy journey, then thou art in good company. For all of us hath been changed by this land, and it doth change us still."
"Aye, aye!" Misha echoed. Charles lowered his snout to kiss his wife upon her brow, his eyes assenting to his friends with a quiet and distant gaze. There was nothing more his bruised heart felt it could ever say.
Kayla stood in a large cavern whose ceiling glowed with a myriad of blue and green lights, subtle and soft, but enough for her beastly eyes. Cathedrals in stone hovered at the edge of her vision, small alcoves decorated with saints of granite haloed by the ceiling's effulgence. No true faces, but honeycombs and grilles of such delicacy that the skunk could never bring herself to even breath upon them. She gazed in rapt wonder, turning around to savour the awes that the cool radiance bereft of the sun's light illuminated.
The chamber was vaster than her mind could fathom. The ceiling lowered in arches framed by columns of stone rising up from the floor and down from the ceiling. Stalactites and stalagmites she recalled Abafouq explaining once in a time so long past. Past the arches she caught sight of a wide pool that glowed a blue so rich no noble no matter how wealthy had ever been clad in a colour so pure. Beyond the walls framing the pool shone like burnished brass and an August sunset. A figure, dark but shimmering with obsidian majesty coiled there, waiting.
Kayla felt a comforting bulk on either side of her. Turning to her right then her left she beheld two very familiar dragons. To her right lay coiled in languid comfort the massive serpentine shape of Clymaethera. And to her left stood the only slightly smaller golden shape of Trystathalis. The dragons from the blades were here with her. This was a dream.
"Who is that?" she asked, her voice breaking the stillness punctuated only by the drop of a distant trickle of water.
Clymaethera's voice, deep and resonant so that the cavern thrummed in a pleasing chord, was filled with a reverent awe. "That is Vissarion! Vissarion the Wise."
Kayla blinked and gazed at the black dragon that sparkled beneath the luminous walls. "Did you not once call him Vissarion the Mad?"
"Once," Clymaethera agreed. "But no more. Go and speak with him."
"Go," Trystathalis urged. "We shall be at your side. Ever at your side, Kayla."
The skunk could almost feel the dragons in either paw. Though swords of immense power when awake, here in her dreams that power was realised in their true nature — wyrms of old forged both by love and by desire to wise service. Their comforting presence moving with her beneath the cavern vaults, the skunk felt no fear as she approached the figure waiting by the azure pool.
As she passed through a series of columns hanging like an ornate ivory comb, the dragon came into stark relief. His scales, layer upon later folding over each other, undulated with a faint rasp, each scintillating in their brilliance. Black, they still contained, when the light shone upon them at the right angle, all the hues of the rainbow. His eyes were platters of gold heaped with purple fronds and garnished with emerald veins. His wings kept close to his long sinuous body that curled out around the periphery of the pool, their folds shining with a sky before the dawn. His tail, spaded and strong, swept out to the rear wall of the cavern, visible more for blocking the ceiling's light than for being seen of its own.
A warm voice rich in antiquity greeted her, brought by a tongue forked and blue like the subterranean lake. "Thank you, Kayla, oh bearer of the swords Clymaethera and Trystathalis, my kin. Thy valour will be known to all the dragons of the world, from ancient wyrms who have longed for this day since before your race inhabited this most blessed of all vales, to hatchlings who have not even seen as many summers as thee. Thy deeds and the deeds of thy friends and companions will be celebrated for all the ages of my kind."
Kayla felt dwarfed and humbled both by his presence and by his words. "Thank you, Vissarion! But I was told that you were corrupted and an agent of Marzac."
The large serpentine head lowered, golden eyes closing and a shimmering ripple ran down his entire body. His voice, when it returned, so strong that it stirred her bones, was subdued and deep in melancholy. "In my folly and in my hubris, I did set out to strike at Marzac only to fall into its hands. I was for a time its servant, my own thoughts and desires buried beneath a compulsion of such vast enmity that I recoiled from its mere suggestion."
His head lifted a foot, the taper of his pointed snout nearly level with her face. "But you and your friends destroy Marzac. It's power is broken. Just as it broke over the man thou slew, Tournemire, it's power was broken over me. My spirit has been released from its aeon-long prison. Now I seek to do some good for those who have freed me, to repay what little I can."
Kayla pondered that, eyes glancing to the dragons at her sides, her trusted companions. They gazed at Vissarion with an admiration that went beyond anything she had seen in them when they spoke of Rickkter. That alone reassured her. "What do you wish to do?"
Vissarion's unblinking eyes held her still. "To aid thee. I cannot return to my own body. It has been destroyed, and as much as it had been corrupted, it is for the best that it is no more." He dipped one forepaw into the pool, and it shimmered as the waves ran from side to side, doubling back and intersecting. Brilliant blue shapes appeared in the water's surface. "I am content to, as my kin have done, inhabit vessels to give power to those who are worthy to wield them, as thou are to they. Or even to give my essence to another in need of strength. This is all I can offer thee, Kayla."
He lowered himself onto his belly and the spade on his tail dipped into the water. Lightning blue flashes darted back and forth through the far end of the pool like fish startled by a thrown rock. "Do not answer me tonight. Kayla, thou hast much to consider. I have waited so long to be freed from my prison. Call to me whenever thy heart knows."
Kayla smiled and lowered her head in a bow, reverence overcoming her at last. "Thank you, Vissarion! I will not forget your offer."
His serpentine jaws creased in a smile, and then with the thrumming of delight in the chest's of three dragons filling her ears, all the light inside the cavern dwindled away.
Feb 11, 708 CR
Murikeer pulled his cloak tightly over his shoulders and stared with his one good eye at the still dark horizon through the thick canopy of trees. The sun wouldn't rise past the eastern mountains for another hour. He'd not been able to sleep very well and so after being roused by unsettling dreams, he'd come out into the cold wintry air to clear his mind. Murikeer rubbed his forearms against the cold and pondered what it was that stirred so fretfully in his mind. Was Nocturna trying to convey something to him? Was Malger?
The last pair of days had been full of many welcome homecomings both at Metamor and the Glen. He stood upon the high balcony of the Mountain Hearth Inn and tried to dispel his unease. Fresh snow squeaked under his bare paws and settled upon his shoulders but he did not notice. But no matter how he tried to marshal his thoughts, no matter how many Glen scouts he studied, he couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong.
It was nothing he could state, just a distant something, like a kink in a blanket near his paws between the quilt and the linens. Not something touching him directly, but still something close. He'd studied the weave of magic for many long minutes, but could detect nothing unusual.
The skunk mage recalled the barely concealed agony that Charles felt. He well knew what it was like to lose a loved one. Llyn had died in front of him. Charles lost his child while half a world away. The day he'd come home to his family, a day that should have been filled with rejoicing was marred by that distant death.
But that did not seem to be what gnawed at his mind. The only thing that seemed to be consistent in his unsettled thoughts were that they always drew back to the one who hadn't come. His fellow skunk, Kayla. How was she doing? His eyes rove to the southeast and he sighed, breath misting before him in the torch-lit darkness.
"Muri?" a familiar voice called behind him a moment after his ears caught the sound of the door from the balcony being drawn open. He did not turn though he rotated one round tipped ear rearward.
"Good morning, Kozi," he replied as he leaned over the railing outside their room. His tail stretched out horizontally behind him and Kozaithy brushed it as she crossed over to stand beside him at the railing. It was the best room at the Inn, one always promised to him by the Innkeeper Jurmas after he'd repaired their cistern and tub two years past, and the only one with such a balcony and complete view of the Glen. He prized it for its solitude as well.
"It's not even dawn yet. Are you well?" She had a long robe hugged about herself against the cold despite the amulet of warmth and scent masking Murikeer had given her shortly after their first meeting. Some instinctive responses were never easily quashed. Her tail emerged from beneath the cut back of the robe, the white fur lost against the snow.
"It's early enough," Murikeer replied with a swish of his tail. Kozaithy walked up to his side and leaned next to him, elbows on the wooden railing. "In a few months the sun will be up even earlier than this."
"In a few months," Kozi agreed. "But you've been up for a long time. And you have that worried look in your face."
Muri didn't say anything for several long seconds. Kozaithy had not known him long, and she'd only seen his true appearance for a minute at their first meeting back in Sathmore. But she seemed to sense his feelings more adroitly than even Llyn had. He sighed. "I don't know what it is, but I think I have to go back to Metamor, and soon." He rested his hands upon the winter cold wood of the railing, the tips of his claws digging at the rime ice clinging to it. "Today." He said with a frown, "Something's wrong, and I can't quite say what, but I need to get back to Metamor swiftly."
She nodded, slipped one arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulder. Together they stared at the Glen, sleeping peacefully beneath its blanket of snow in its city of trees.
Kayla found Rickkter still asleep when she came to his quarters the next morning. The warmth of her dream, the splendour of the cave, and the majesty of Vissarion the Wise still thronged her mind. Those scintillating memories danced in her thoughts like light refracted through a crystal chandelier. Mingling with them was her love for the raccoon and her anxiety over his state.
She brought him fresh broth of lamb from the Keep's kitchens and set it at his bedside. It still steamed and just the scent of it made her stomach growl in hunger. An alligator had insisted she take so much, one she'd almost mistaken for Thalberg but it was only one of the refugees. Miriam her name was, and she'd already distinguished herself as a member of the Steward's staff. Kayla had enjoyed their brief conversation, as for a time it had taken away her worries and fears.
But now as she gazed upon the face of her man, gaunt with flesh sagging against cheek bones, and fur ragged and patchy in spots, all her worries came back. His breath was consistent, but there was a laboured wheeze underlying each inhalation. It hadn't been there before.
Kayla wrapped her paws tighter about the dragon hilts and trembled. Rickkter was still very frail and it pained her deeply to see him so. Before he'd been struck down in the Belfry by the Marquis, she had always seen him as a reservoir of strength unchallenged and indomitable. Now he was but a shadow of his former self, a wraith that lingered as a memoriam as the mind forgot.
Could she nurse him back to health? Not if he proved stubborn and insisted on going about as if nothing were wrong. He must rest and she needed to be here to make sure he did. And that meant keeping others who would tax his strength from visiting long and troubling him with affairs he could not see to until he was well. Better not even to think of them.
She smiled when his nose twitched at the savoury aroma of lamb broth. A moment later he blinked open his eyes and struggled to sit up in bed. She leaned over and helped him; he didn't thank her, only grunted like a surly beast.
"I brought you something to help you get your strength back," she told him after he'd situated himself against the headboard. "Did you sleep well?"
"Too well," Rickkter grumbled and stretched. He stopped and stared at her waist. "You took my swords again!"
Kayla lowered the tray with the bowl of broth onto his lap and nodded. "They need somebody strong to carry them, Rick. That's not you right now. When you're ready, they'll go back to you."
"Those swords are dangerous," Rickkter objected. "You don't know what they're capable of."
"Oh yes I do," she assured him as she forced a spoon into his right paw. "I've been carrying them for eight months now. A week or two more will not matter to them or to you. Your job is to get back your strength, not fret over your swords."
Rickkter's face sped through several different emotions, not all of them ones Kayla could discern, but the final one, begrudging acceptance, was familiar enough. "You're right. I'm just worried about you, that's all."
Kayla kissed him on the brow and felt him tremble beneath her. "There's nothing to worry about, Rick. I love you. Now eat your breakfast before it goes cold."
At least he could still manage to do that by himself.
Lord Avery smiled from a distance as he watched Charles putting his children one by one on Malicon's back. The roan pony accepted them patiently, even when their little paws grabbed his mane and began tugging as children were wont to do. Charles beamed at each of them in turn, while Sir Saulius gave them instruction on what they should do while in the saddle. The other rats waited around the makeshift paddock and shouted encouragement.
"It is so good to see him back," the Lord of the Glen opined, paws wrapped firmly about an earthenware mug steaming with heated cider. "He may not have lived here long, but he's every bit as much a Glenner as the rest of us."
"He's a Long Scout," Misha pointed out, taking a moment to sip his cider. The large fluffy grey tail of the squirrel flicked back and forth as snowflakes landed on its tip. Several times it brushed the fox's shoulder. "He's equally at home in the city or the forest."
"True," Brian Avery admitted, his cheeks inflating and deflating with an exaggerated frown. "But Kimberly and he are going to have to decide where they will live. Not you or I. He is not a serf tied to the land, nor is he a sworn vassal. If ever there was a freeman, it is he."
Misha didn't rise to the bait. "He has sworn duties to the Longs. They are his family too. We know we cannot always be with each other, but... it was Charles and I who found the Long House! It was made for him as well as for the rest of the Longs. An unhappy judgement drove him here, but that is past. He needs time with his family, yes. But when the time comes, I will ask him to return to Metamor. I am asking you, for our friendship, do not fight me on this. The Longs have lost enough in the last two years."
Brian's tail flicked again and he sipped at his cider. He did this by dunking his front incisors into the cup and licking them off. "I may not have known Charles as long as you, but I know he is not somebody who can be forced to do anything."
"He is stubborn like that," the fox agreed. He lowered his snout over his cup and watched Charles reach down to the ground and then blink when he realized there was no child there. The rat straightened quickly and laughed with the four children already stacked on Malicon as Saulius began leading the pony around the paddock.
"Of course," the squirrel added with a sly smile as snowflakes melted on top of his head, "with Charles here, it means you Longs visit us more often. Lars and Jurmas see more business that way."
Misha made the mistake of drinking his cider, and at that remark, coughed everything he'd just drunk. The spew drenched his snout which he furiously rubbed off with his sleeve while the squirrel laughed.
When the fox had recovered, he glanced at the trees overhead weighed down with winter white and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. "It would be a good idea to have a Long coordinate with you Glen folk; somebody could serve here for three to four months before rotating back to Metamor. If I could get another half-dozen to a dozen Longs I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'd like to have more long term assignments throughout the valley but we have only so many. Nasoj's last attack really depleted us."
"I will support you there if you ever have enough men." Brian finished his cider and watched the rats. Off to one side Kimberly and Baerle watched and chatted quietly to themselves. James the donkey stood close by attempting vainly to garner the opossum's attention with both word and gesture. But Baerle, like Kimberly, was too engrossed in conversation and in eyeing Charles to pay him any attention. "What of James?"
Misha pondered the donkey and then shook his head. "Surprisingly resourceful when backed against a wall, and he could be a good swordsman, but I don't think he has the temperament to be a Long. But I wouldn't mind the chance to train him some myself."
"What little I've heard of their adventures beyond the valley staggers my imagination." Lord Avery lifted the cup to his snout then frowned when he remembered it was empty. "I'll never see anything like it."
"I hope none of us do. And I know they haven't told us everything yet. I can see it in their eyes."
"Aye."
The two stood silently together as the snow fell around them, eyes ever on the rats, the paddock, and the quartet of rat children desperately clinging to the pony's back. Malicon trotted in a circle, carefully guided by Sir Saulius, with Charles pacing him and instructing his children in an encouraging and delighted voice. There was a subtle distance to that voice, but few would ever note it.
"At least now they're home," Misha finally said. He smiled and glanced at the squirrel with one eye. "Now if Rickkter can recover his strength all of my friends will be back to normal. Or as normal as they can be!"
Brian laughed, a genuine thing that made all of his fur shake sending snow scattering in every direction. "There's no such thing as normal in Metamor!"
Misha barked and shook his head with a grin. "Aye that's the truth!" And nothing made it plainer than four rat children squeaking on the back of a cantering pony while various animals on two legs watched with delight.
The ride back to Metamor was a struggle against a snowfall that grew steadily more insistent as the day wore on. What had been a simple road soon become two to three hands deep, enough to drag on wagon wheels and slow a horse's gait. The five hour ride became six and then seven. Murikeer and Kozaithy finally returned to Metamor gilt in white raiment like a bride on her wedding day. Both were exhausted and cold desite having only sat upon the same wagon seat for the past several hours. Not even the skunk's magic had been able to keep out all of winter's bite.
Evening would soon press down on them, and while Murikeer's body wanted nothing more than to savour a hearty stew and mead at the Deaf Mule, his heart still trembled with disquiet. So he left Kozaithy at the Mule where she could warm herself and her belly and ventured within the ever-shifting walls of the Keep. He ran one paw across the grey stones, cool, but almost warm as well. "What bothers me so, Kyia?" He'd replayed the events of the last few days in his mind trying not to miss a single detail. But no matter what he saw, the riddle that he knew must be there continued to elude him.
He sighed and began walking through the passages, no destination set in mind. He saw quite a few Keepers on errands, but none said more than a customary salutation. After a very brief walk, the passage turned and Rickkter's door stood before him cast in subtle shadows unlike the rest of the hallway which glowed with warm lamplight. The oddity drew him as a lodestone.
Without thinking to knock he tried to lift the latch only to find it secure, the inner bolt shot. His whiskers twitched curiously, as Rickkter seldom bothered with the bolt unless he was working with potentially dangerous magic. He relied on his wards to keep the random caller from intruding upon his chambers. Those wards had long ago been altered to let Murikeer pass and did not work to steer him away. With a thread of magic he extended his touch through the wood of the door, weaving it between the tight nest of wards, and tried the bolt. He found that it resisted his efforts and, though both bolt and latch rattled, neither released the door. With a scowl at the door he raised his hand and knocked.
After a moment he heard the pad and click of footsteps coming to the door. The bolt rattled back and the latch lifted but the door only opened a handspan. A the monochromatic muzzle of a skunk poked through the gap and dark eyes looked out at him. Kayla smiled slightly as she saw him but did not open the door further.
"Good evening, Muri. I thought you'd gone to Glen Avery with the others." Her eyes fixed upon his own and did now waver, taking no notice of his damp clothes and disarrayed fur.
"Good evening, Kayla. And yes, I had, but I just returned. What little I could do there for now I have done. I expect I shall return there sometime after Habakkuk's funeral."
Kayla's eyes lowered and a deep sadness filled them. "He was the strongest of us." She looked away for a moment, her flesh trembling beneath the fur. "I'll never understand how he could face what he did and not fall into despair. He loved to the very end."
Murikeer tried to glance past Kayla but could see nothing of the room beyond. "How is Rick? Can I come in and see him?"
"No," she replied without hesitation. The vehemence in her tone startled him as did the unexpected hardness in her eyes. "He is not well right now and needs his rest. It would be better if you came back in a few days when he's regained his strength."
"But surely a few minutes will not disturb him." He did not mention the fact that, until her return, it had fallen to Misha and Murikeer to attend him when he would tolerate their presence.
"I'm sorry, Muri. But I can't let you come in. He's very weak."
"Then perhaps I could do something for him."
The skunk snorted derisively. "What? Fashion an illusion of health for him? No, your art won't help him right now. What he needs is rest, good food, and to be left in peace. I brought the first, and he's now taking the second. Your coming in will deny him the third." She smiled to him, an act that seemed almost pretense. "I'll let him know you came to see him, Muri. Hopefully in a few days he'll be strong enough again."
Murikeer thought he might say something more, but nodded and stepped back from the door. Now was not the time to force this issue. "Thank you, Kayla. I will come back another time."
She closed the door seconds after the words had left his tongue. Murikeer took a deep breath and opened his eyes to the magic around him. Apart from the dark smear of the curse which lingered in the very air, the magic of Kyia herself which shone like a brilliant pearl all around, there was a tight knot of spells guarding Rickkter's door. He could see nothing beyond, a testament to the number of defensive wards his mentor had erected. He'd need to come back for a closer look.
He tied a knot in the cords of magic outside the door. Murikeer would know when Kayla left, if even she did, and that was when he'd come back. Something was wrong; very wrong. Kayla was never this way, never so distant or dismissive. He couldn't explain what it might mean; had the journey to Marzac truly changed her? Or was it something else altogether?
Murikeer would learn soon enough.