Goldmark lifted his legs one at a time, until all four had risen from the snow and settled back down inside. He raised his arms to the falling white as it settled in his fur like gossamer lace. "It's getting thicker," he said with some worry. "And I don't think it's going to stop anytime soon."
Charles grunted and hoisted his daughters in his arms. "I'm afraid you're right." Little Bernadette and Baerle wrapped their arms about his neck and rubbed their faces against his chest. He glanced at Saulius who held his sons. "And it's getting cold. Time to take them inside."
"Aye." Saulius held the two boys a little closer and all of the rats hurried back into the Matthias home beneath the massive redwood. Baerle the opossum already had a fire crackling in the hearth. Charles and Saulius deposited the children before it, and they huddled up close, noses twitching and whiskers flicking away melting snow.
"How's it looking out there?" Kimberly asked as she carried in a kettle of tea to steep.
"Not good," Charles said with a sigh. "We'll have another three or four hands of snow by morning."
"And when is Habakkuk's funeral?"
"Two days from now," Charles replied. He glanced at Julian who sat next to his children warming his paws. "I think we'll need to head back first thing tomorrow morning. Will that be a problem for you?"
Julian shook his head. "It shouldn't be. Just wake us early and we'll have everything ready to go in an hour." He smiled a little and gently put a paw on little Charles's back to brush a bit of snow off. "We've got one more surprise in store that I think will help with all this snow."
"Oh? Never mind. I'll wait until tomorrow." Charles stretched and glanced at his friends and family. "Well everyone, it looks like we're going to be spending a couple nights at Metamor Keep. Let's pack enough for the trip."
"Metamor Keep!" his children shouted as one. "Yay!!" They jumped to their paws and scampered up the steps as fast as they could go. Charles saw four tails bouncing up and down disappear up the stairs.
Kimberly sighed and put the kettle over the fire. "You'd better tell the rest of your friends too. I can take care of things here."
Charles put one paw on her shoulder and drew her into a quick embrace. "Thank you, my Lady. I promise I won't stay for any drinks!" The Longs and the his travelling companions had all gone to Lars's place for food and drink. He hadn't been there since he'd returned and both his tongue and belly greatly desired one of the brewer's many specialties.
Kimberly smiled and kissed his nose. "I know you won't. Now hurry back. I want to show you the packs we made for the children."
With that thought in mind, Charles leapt back into the snowy evening his toes barely touching the heaps the heavens had dropped on them.
Her inchoate desire to see the black dragon again was rewarded even before she fully realized that was what she wanted. Kayla found herself soon after sleep in the ancient cavern replete with beauty and colour of such surprising vivacity that her black and white fur felt drab and dirty by comparison. Surrounding her were the coils of her dragons, Clymaethera and Trystathalis. They purred in their repose, wings folded beneath domes replete with hanging white crystals that glimmered from the light all around. Kayla smiled and felt at ease.
Vissarion remained by the underground azure pool, his black coils framing it and his scales scintillating in its mellifluous light. Kayla's heart lifted with her body as her paws carried her over stones that glowed with her steps toward that wondrous dragon. His golden eyes were warm like burnished bronze and she could see herself reflected within them. His maw parted, and a brilliant blue tongue darted forth, presaging a long sibilant sigh of contentment. "Thou returned to me, Kayla. What do thee wish of me this night?"
Kayla put her paws on the end of his snout and felt the warmth from his nostrils course through her fur. His scales were hard and smooth like velvet. "The man I love, Rickkter, is very weak. I am frightened for him, Vissarion!"
"But I can see that thou are tending him. Will he not recover?"
"I..." Kayla lowered her snout to his sharp beak. "I don't know. He was doing well when I returned, but now he's so weak and I fear the strain may be too much for him. You said you could help me. Can you help Rickkter?"
Vissarion said nothing at first. Kayla listened to the confidant purring breath of her dragons, and the drip-drop of water into the pool. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see faint ripples spreading over its surface, diffusing the glow from the rocks beneath until it an azure nimbus spread from the rock wall to the dragon's paws.
And then the foremost paw lifted and gently caressed Kayla's back, petting down her fur but stopping before reaching her tail. "Fear not, Kayla. For thee I shall do whatever I can for Rickkter. I can give him strength enough. But thou must place me within him. This will be the only gift I can give. He will have the strength of a dragon within him. But then I will leave thee. Is this what thou wish of me?"
Kayla shuddered and leaned into his might paw, not even sensing the prick of his massive claws. He was so gentle with her she could not help but know he was wise and kind. She nodded. "He would love to have such strength. I will place you in him, but how?"
"I will teach thee what must be done. But let none interfere or it could kill him; this is very dangerous. Do thou understand me?" Vissarion's voice deepened, booming already, it now made her bones tremble to their marrow.
Kayla took a deep breath, the warmth of his head filling her cheek and neck. "I will trust you. Teach me what I must do for the man I love!"
And in that vault of colours and sinews old and ever-growing, Vissarion the wise spoke of the power to save the one she loved. The words burned into her mind as fierce as a brand in flesh.
Feb 12, 708 CR
It was well past midnight when Murikeer finally left his rooms to see his mentor. He could hear the faint snoring of Kozaithy in the adjoining room but even the sound of the white skunk's breath was not enough to quiet the alarm in his heart. He needed to see Rickkter and learn how he fared for himself.
His spell to let him know when Kayla had left had triggered several hours past, but he had been more exhausted than he'd realized from his journey and had been unable to stir himself for many hours. Now that he was awake, he'd been careful about attiring himself so as not to wake Kozi. It was so strange that he'd return to Metamor to find the very woman he'd met suffering from a degenerating illness that would soon claim her life to whom he'd suggested the curses of Metamor as a cure transformed by them into a skunk like himself. Few were the days since then that he'd not spent in her pleasant and vivacious company. But there were still some things that he had to tend to on his own.
This was one of them.
The halls of Metamor were mostly empty at that late hour, but there were a few Keepers stumbling about after having too much to drink. Murikeer kept out of their way. Including one cloaked individual who was having to use the wall just to keep them self upright.
"You know, I had expected to find you in your quarters, not wandering the halls."
Muri quickly turned back, gazing in surprise at the figure across the hall, who was now leaning heavily against the wall. "Rickkter? What are you doing out here?"
"Looking for you, actually," he said, pushing back the cowl over his face and letting a small witchlight flare into existence between them. Rickkter's eyes glowed like the animal he was, but that was all about him that appeared healthy. His fur had lost its lustre and his face had a gaunt, almost starved appearance to it. "She's been gone several hours, but it's taken me all that time to gather the strength needed to get out here. I need your help, Muri." His head dropped and he looked off into the darkness. "And I need to sit down."
Nodding, Muri crossed the hall and offered his mentor a hand. Much to his surprise, Rickkter took it. "Let's go back to your rooms, they're probably closer," he said, omitting how Kozaithy was sleeping in his.
Kyia must have been on their side as the trip was thankfully short. Rickkter was almost out of breath by the time they reached the rooms and staggered to his bed before practically falling into it. Muri stood by and let him recover, letting his eyes drift over the entwining wards and traps of the room. The bedroom smelled of skunk and raccoon that to someone not familiar with Metamor would have been overwhelming but to Murikeer's nose was merely a background musk. More noticeable was the aroma of a heady broth that made Murikeer's nose twitch with appetite when he realized that he had not thought to eat since leaving Glen Avery that morning. His stomach growled in protest. The air was warm as if from a fire with no hint of wintry chill but Rickkter was still bundled heavily in quilts. The southerner had always preferred the heat. While nothing appeared out of the ordinary magic wise Murikeer still felt unsettled.
"I heard you... when you came by... this afternoon," the exhausted racoon panted, "No one.. comes to my door... without me being alerted. But I thought you said... you were going back to the Glen." He could only get a few words out between panting breaths and clutched at his chest with one hand that shook with infirmity.
"I did. Kimberly is a dear friend to me, and her husband is also a friend. But I've come back to see you. Kayla wouldn't let me in earlier." Murikeer heated the lukewarm broth with a minor bit of magic and stirred the settled stock before pouring it into a bowl. "It was... most unlike her." He held the bowl out to Rickkter but the raccoon lifted his lip in a moue of disgust and waved it away.
Rickkter had forced himself up onto his elbows and was struggling to sit all the way up. With a grimace and quick burst of magic he managed it. " Something's very wrong, Muri. Very wrong." He heaved a breath and sagged forward a bit to lean his hands upon his knees. "With Kayla."
Murikeer raised his brow at the exertion of magic to accomplish such a simple seeming task. He set the bowl down and frowned at his once overwhelmingly powerful mentor, amazed at the sudden drastic downturn to his recovery. "What have you seen?"
"Nothing. Most of the time it seems like her. It's just..." Rickkter grunted and winced, one paw lifting to his chest to still some pain. The moment passed and his paw fell back into his lap. "It's just ever since she's returned, I've gotten weaker and weaker. Every time she touches me I feel my strength leave me. I tried to fight her at first, but I can't." He tried to spit the word, hating his own inadequacy, but he only sent himself into a coughing fit.
After Murikeer steadied him and he regained his breath the raccoon continued. "Before she came back I was doing better. I could walk, I could stand. I spent two years dying before I came to Metamor, and on all but my worst days it wasn't this bad." He paused a minute for breath. "There's something else. She keeps taking the swords back. At first she said it was just habit. It seemed reasonable at the time. But she did it again. And again. And this last time, she told me it was right for her to do so. Said I was too weak and the dragons wanted to be with somebody strong." Rickkter glowered, eyes fierce with their old vitality. "And today, once when she leaned over to push me back into bed, I swear I saw a black dragon in her place."
Murikeer pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth and sucked hard. "A black dragon? That cannot be good. Do you think it has something to do with Marzac?"
"You heard the story about Lindsey. She did say that there was a black thing growing in her pouch before she ripped it out -- he now I suppose. Still, if it could get to one of them, it could get to all of them."
"She can't be doing this herself," Murikeer said, feeling a painful memory welling up inside him. "She can't be. She'd never do such a thing. She loves you too much."
"Aye," Rickkter whispered, lowering his head and looking away again. "But I can't do anything for her. Physically, I can't get out of bed without the help of her or my own magic. That's why I need you."
Murikeer pondered for a moment, pushing back the awful memories that clamoured for attention, until he finally knew there was only one option. "We have to capture Kayla and remove whatever magic geas she's under. It sounds as if it is connected to the dragon swords."
"The swords... certainly seem part of it. But first, I need you to find out exactly what it is she's been doing to me."
Extending a few magical probes, Murikeer drew closer and peered deeply into the magic surrounding his mentor. The Curse, by its very nature, created a tangled weave of magic around a person. Rickkter had layers of his own ensorcellments and wards on top of those from his years as a battlemage. Muri took his time, slowly teasing past them, looking for any signs of Marzac's influences.
"Rick, I need you to--"
Closing his eyes, Rickkter dropped the last defences.
When the task was finally finished, Muri withdrew, making a slow hissing sound as he drew air in through his teeth. He flexed his fingers several times as if to alleviate pain from them."Yes, there is damage. It's very deep and very direct. At best, I'd describe it as... punctures, in your main life force. It also appears to be recent."
"So we were right," Rickkter muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor.
"And we're going to help her. First I'm going to put reinforce the spells on your bedroom door to keep anyone from coming in here. Then I'm going to speak with George. I'm going to need soldiers and scouts to help corner her long enough for me to use magic."
"I just got her back," Rickkter said weakly. "Two months in agony, waiting, and I just got her back." He turned and looked up at Muri, his eyes glistening with wetness in the candlelight of the room. "Don't hurt her Just save her."
Murikeer nodded and stood, "I will do what I can." He laid a hand upon his mentor's shoulder, "And everything I will do will be to save her, and protect her from whatever this malaise is."
The sun had yet to rise, but they had torches and Kimberly offered a witchlight to help. The Longs and the Glenners cleared some of the snow out around the wagons, while Sir Saulius and the other rats tended to the dozen horses to make sure their harnesses were secure and that their legs were warm enough. Guernef flew on ahead, his white plumage disappearing in the still falling snow above. Abafouq and Andares used pyrocks to melt the ice from the wagons. Charles, Kimberly, Baerle, and James saw to the children, making sure they were wrapped snug and warm before venturing out onto the road to Metamor. Mrs. Levins the hedgehog supplied them with warm pastries.
Once the wagons were cleaned off and their supplies stowed, Julian opened a compartment in the side of the first wagon, and with Elliot's assistance, took out a long metal ski and set it on the ground. "What's that for?" James asked.
Julian smiled, his red eyes the only thing of his countenance different than the snow around. "Our wagons all come equipped with skis. We will convert them, with your aid, into sleighs. This will save us a few hours on the trip back. With snow as thick as this the wheels would become stuck ere we left the woods. But with skis we'll glide right over."
Lindsey nodded in approval. "My folk did the same back in Arabarb. Winters are even crueler there."
The skis attached to the side of the wagons, and once both were down, Julian invited Charles to turn a crank. This drove screws in the framework that with each twist lifted the wagon higher off the ground. Six inches and twice as many turns of the crank and the skis pushed the wheels out of the snow. The Longs and the Glenners all admired Julian, Elliot, and Goldmark's craftiness while they did the same for the other two wagons.
Charles laughed after raising the last wagon. "You must have been preparing these for a while. What are you going to use them for?"
Julian put one finger to his muzzle and smiled. "It's a secret. But we'll be unveiling them in a few days. We'd love to have you there when we do, Charles. And you as well Misha. If it is possible of course."
The fox rubbed one paw beneath his chin, glancing over the skis and admiring the mechanical apparatus that lifted the wagons. "I'll try. But I really want to know how you managed to build these in secret! Not many at Metamor would know how to fashion these cranks and screws."
"Bryan was of inestimable help," Elliot replied with a lop-sided grin. "That cobra really knows his way around mechanics. We told him what we wanted, and he drew up some designs and even recommended a few folks to build this for us."
Misha laughed and wagged his tail. "I should visit him more often. I would if he didn't look like he wanted to eat me all the time!"
"We're rats!" Goldmark objected with a firm chortle. "He practically salivates when he sees us!"
"Well, that's all of them," Julian said as he wiped his paws on his breeches and twitched the snow from his ears. More snow fell to replace the scattered flakes. "Now let's get started. It's going to be a long road to Metamor sleigh or no!" With that, he hoisted himself atop the wagon and took the reins.
The Longs scrambled into the last two wagons, while the travelling companions took the first with Charles's family. Sir Saulius sat with Julian to aid him with the horses. All of them took heavy blankets lined with fur and huddled beneath for warmth. The many Glenners who'd come to see them off waved to them, many carrying torches, others huddling in woolen cloaks dusted white from a few minutes snowfall. Another two hands of snow had fallen overnight which kept many of the shorter Glenners indoors. It would be a few days before they'd dug themselves out again.
But now the wagons-turned-sleighs had to prove their mettle. Julian gave the reins a firm snap and the quartet of horses pushed against the snow, heavy hooves digging into the banks and driving against hard packed slush. The skis groaned as they were dragged forward half an inch, and then an inch, and then three inches. And then the sleigh jumped forward, and the horses started a steady trot. The children squeaked in delight, each of them trying to lean over the sides of the wagon to watch. Behind them the other wagons got started one after another. With a tug on the reins, Julian turned the horses down the southward road from the Glen and the sleigh followed, riding along the snow almost as smoothly as if it were gliding.
Julian laughed in delight as the sleighs took the road through the twilight white that cloaked hill, tree, and sky at a brisk pace. Charles hugged Kimberly close who chittered eager for warmth, her witchlight bobbing a few feet above her ears. To the south hidden behind the haze of snowfall waited Metamor.
The Patrolmaster had been up late the previous night seeing to both his and Misha's jobs in light of the stronger than expected snowfall. Patrol routes would have to be changed and civil crews sent out to clear the roads through Keeptowne and Euper. While the latter were not under his authority, given the assault Nasoj launched the previous winter during a blizzard, scouts and soldiers had to be sent now to protect those crews. It wasn't until after midnight that he'd finished seeing to the new orders and could finally sleep for a few hours when it would all begin again.
So he was irate when woken by Murikeer after only having two uneasy hours of rest. "Muri, if you haven't brought a beautiful woman with you, I'm going to skewer you with my sword once I find it."
The skunk blinked his one eye but otherwise ignored the jackal's surly growl. "I'm sorry for waking you, George, but Misha is gone and I need your help now. Kayla, that is, some force controlling Kayla may be killing Rickkter. We have to capture her and destroy whatever it is that's doing this."
The jackal narrowed his eyes, grunted, and waved Murikeer back. "Get out of my bedroom and let me get dressed. Wait by my desk and I'll be there in a moment. I have some whiskey in the bottom drawer. Pour me a small glass will you."
"Thank you," Murikeer said and left.
Ten minutes later, George was dressed, had half-finished his whiskey, and had listened to Murikeer's tale. Ten seconds later, the jackal downed the rest of his whiskey and shook his head. "A dragon? Why would a dragon want to kill Rickkter? And why it would it possess Kayla?"
Murikeer shook his head. "I don't know. But we believe it has something to do with Marzac."
George grunted and licked his nose. "I thought Kayla, Charles, and the rest destroyed that place."
"And I believe they did," Muri replied. "That wall of magic that swept through Metamor seven weeks ago can have no other explanation. Nor would they lie about these things. You heard what Lindsey suffered. This may be similar. A last gasp of Marzac's power. Why they want Rickkter dead I do not know. Perhaps they don't want him dead after all, as they surely could have killed him with ease if that is what they truly wished. He cannot defend himself. Maybe that is what they want."
The skunk sighed but the tension did not leave him. "We have to capture Kayla if we are to learn what Marzac is trying to do through her, and if we are to rescue her and Rickkter. I should be able to counter any magic she possesses, but I need help to capture her. Can you supply the men?"
George frowned and spread his master copy of the duty orders on the desk. "This is a bad time. Almost none of the Long Scouts are still at Metamor, and those who are were sent out last night to help defend the road clearing crews. But we do have a number of soldiers who can help. And there may be a mage or two I can rope into the search at this hour."
"We don't have to search for her," Murikeer said. "She's going to come back to Rickkter's room with the dawn. We can capture her there."
"If she goes back," George added with a sour expression. "I'll send a message to Andwyn. He can have his spies keep an eye on her and find out where she goes. He at least won't have to be woken up."
"Do we have to involve him?" Murikeer asked. He did not know the bat very well, but none of his friends had evinced any trust in him.
"Kayla works for him. It'd be impossible not to." George tapped his thumbs to his chin. "I'll see who I can find to help.
"Tell him to make sure he uses new people. As you said, Kayla worked for him. We don't want our hand tipped because she recognizes someone watching her."
George nodded in accord. "Good idea. I'll meet you at Rickkter's quarters in an hour to prepare Kayla's welcoming party."
Murikeer took a deep breath but did not bother trying to smile. "Thank you, George. I will return there now to keep watch on my friend." The skunk turned to leave, but stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "One thing, George. Kayla is not to be hurt unless there is no other choice. If she suffers any harm, you will have not just Rickkter to answer to. She isn't responsible for her actions."
"Like Llyn?"
Murikeer nodded, fighting back the swell of memory.
The jackal nodded and licked his nose again. "I understand. Now get out so I can do my job." Murikeer left without a word.
Kayla woke with a renewed sense of purpose. She leapt from her bed feeling energized and hopeful. Donning her warm travelling gear, she buckled the dragon swords at her sides and pet the hilts. She almost felt them tremble beneath her. Her long tail lashed back and forth, and she spared it a few minutes to brush out knots and make it presentable. But the knowledge of what she would do this day gave her focus and impetus — today she would restore all strength to the man she loved.
But first she would get him something to eat. He liked the broth, so ventured down to the Keep's kitchens to ask for some more. It was so wonderful being back in Metamor. She loved the variety of scents and the warmth that came to her even through the wintry chill. And none were more scrumptious than those that arose from the kitchens.
The day began early in the Keep's kitchens, and she found that same lady alligator overseeing the preparation for the day's meals. She smiled and waved from the entrance. "Miriam! Good morning!"
The alligator, dressed in heavy woolen breeches, shirt and apron, dropped her jaw in a reptilian approximation of a smile and waved her in. Kayla stepped into the mess of pots, pans, fires, brick ovens, and scents everywhere. Keepers seeming children, grown men and women, and beats all mingled together to prepare food for the Duke and his many staff as well as those who would come to purchase some morsel. Normally Thalberg oversaw the Kitchens with religious fervour, but apparently he'd delegated that task to Miriam for now.
"Good morning, Kayla," Miriam said with a drawling lisp. "How is your Rick doing?"
"He's still weak, but I'm confidant he'll rebound today." Kayla wanted to share her great secret, but knew it was better not to mention such things in case they didn't come to pass. "I was wondering if I might have some more of that delicious soup you made yesterday. If there is any."
Miriam gave a short crisp nod and gestured with a long green, scaled arm toward a pair of stoves against the wall to her left. Large pots sat atop cast iron stoves and churned merrily. Kayla felt the heat from those stoves grind into her fur.
"Bernadette, would you spoon out a bowl of the pork broth for Kayla here?" Miriam called in a booming voice. She sounded almost exactly like Thalberg. And despite how alien she appeared, there was no mistaking her for a man, let alone the irascible Steward!
Kayla beamed. "Oh thank you!" She went over to the mouse who stood on a stool to fill an earthenware bowl with the delicious soup. Right after Rickkter had eaten, Kayla would do as Vissarion instructed. This would be the last time she'd ever see him weak. She could barely even wait for the soup bowl to be handed to her before darting off to his chambers.
Murikeer paced back and forth doing his best at wearing a rut in the floor as the minutes trickled past. But after an hour, George did arrive as promised. With him came a dozen soldiers dressed in mail with various weapons. Rickkter nodded in approval at the bolas two human women carried, while the rest were a mix of swords, spears, and one large net. Murikeer didn't recognize any of the soldiers, but they were a mix of adult humans and beasts.
The smallest amongst the group was a mouse not dressed in armour. Murikeer recognized the late Prime Minister's apprentice immediately and nodded courteously. "Kindle. I'm surprised to see you here."
The mouse stood as tall as he could and replied with a sharp defensiveness. "I have been a mage in the field for the last year and a half. I have learned much in that time. I know I am not at your or Master Rickkter's calibre, but I can help."
George nodded. "I've seen Kindle in action, Muri. He'll be able to help."
Murikeer bore a faint moue but accepted it. "I've cast a few spells in the corridor outside that should help us. Illusion magics to conceal soldiers standing in the alcoves on either end of the hall. You can put one or two in each. I don't know how much her ability to sense magic has grown, or how much Marzac is giving her, if indeed it is Marzac, but with luck she won't notice them until it's too late."
George gestured at the two bola wielding woman and a cat and dog. "Patri, Belin, take the alcove to the left. Laird, Brica, take the alcove on the right. The rest of you wait here with us. And remember, the skunk is not to be hurt." He then turned to Murikeer and said, "I heard from Andwyn just before we got here. She went to the Kitchens to get some food. She'll be hear any moment now."
"Good," said Rickkter, from the doorway to his room. He was leaning heavily against the frame and Muri could clearly make out the web of spells he was using to keep himself standing. Pushing off from that, he limped into the middle of the main room. "Make sure your men know to avoid the swords as well. If she chooses to use them in an offensive manner, there's nothing you have that would stand against them."
"Rickkter, what are you doing?" Muri said, striding up and putting his paw on the raccoon's chest. He could feel the bones beneath the thin robe and fur there. "Get back to bed. You're not well, and we can handle this."
Rickkter glared back at him in return. "No. This ends now. She won't want to hurt me, and if she uses the swords, they won't want to hurt their true master. That's not true for any of the rest of you."
"Fine then." Murikeer steeled himself, pondering the various trap spells he knew and which might be the most effective. "Then close the door, blow out the lanterns, and wait."
Kayla hummed a little tune to herself as she swiftly made her way to Rickkter's quarters. She carried the bowl of soup in one paw, feeling its warmth and the warmth of Vissarion's presence within her. With her other paw, she turned the handle to Rickkter's door and stepped through. She stopped, Vissarion and she startled to see that not only was he out of bed but that he was surrounded by soldiers.
"Rick! What are you doing out of bed!" she snapped sharply as her eyes darted among those surrounding him. They looked back with flat eyes stares that said they were not here to visit. "What is the meaning of this?" Murikeer stepped from among the crowd to stand beside Rickkter. "Muri! This is your doing, isn't it!"
"This is no one's doing, love," Rickkter called out to her, his voice thin and reedy but firm despite his weakness. "You have a problem and we need to help you."
The soldiers were all advancing toward her. She could feel her tail standing up and brushing out in fright. Murikeer, at their head, bore a grave expression. "Please don't fight us, Kayla. We're trying to help." His normally dark eye had a strange deep gleam to it; an internal luminescence that even Kayla could see was magic of some diabolical sort.
They're here to stop you! Run!
Kayla threw the bowl of soup in the face of the nearest soldier, a human man, who swore and fumbled at his armour as the broth ran down his undershirt. She jumped back and felt bands of force wrapping around her from behind. The skunk and a small mouse fellow were drawing strands in the air against her. The other soldiers moved in, their weapons drawn, but reaching for her with their free hands.
Vissarion's voice guided her true. Use your swords to cut the magical bonds!
Kayla swept the dragon blades from their scabbards and twisted them in an arc behind her. The mouse fell backward with a startled cry as his magical bindings were cut. Murikeer only took a precautionary step back. He released his own magic before the attack could backlash against him. His healthy eye was filled with a sick dread twisted into hate.
The bonds severed, Kayla leapt backward and yanked the door shut. She turned to her left and began running down the hall, when through the wall stepped a woman and a cat. The woman spun a bola over her head, and the cat stood ready with a large net. They were hunting her like a wild beast! What had come over them? What madness had descended on Metamor?
Behind you!
Kayla turned just in time to hear the whip of a bola ripping through the air toward her legs. She jumped, driving Clymaethera beneath her. The bola sprang apart, the trio of heavy balls clattering across the hall.
The door burst open, and Murikeer was the first out. He threw his paws forward, but Kayla lifted the swords between her and the spell. She could see it all clearly now, his own net of strands of magic, each laced with a soporific agent. She knew that Vissarion was helping her to see more clearly the magic worked against her and she was grateful for it. With a slash of her dragon swords, the net and its sleep spell were torn to shreds.
A whine in the air and she jumped to the side, letting the bola pass her by this time. The woman before her had aimed it for her thighs, so it sped past and tangled Murikeer and one of the other soldiers. Both fell with a crash. She saw Rickkter come staggering out of his room, having to catch the door to keep from crashing down on the hall floor. "Kayla, no! Don't run from them!"
But Kayla turned away from him and shoved aside the cat who tried to block her way with her elbow as she ran from the corridor. Tears streamed from her eyes, weeping for her Rickkter who now wouldn't receive Vissarion and all his strength. Why had Murikeer betrayed her love and his mentor like that?
She could hear the sound of pursuit behind her already. Kayla knew she couldn't run forever. Murikeer and the soldiers of Metamor would capture her inevitably. If even Murikeer had betrayed her, had forced Rickkter to work against her, then there was no one she could trust. "Oh Vissarion, help me!" she cried as she fought back the tears of anguish.
I will.
Murikeer struggled to his feet, while the bull he'd collapsed with removed the bola from around his legs. "Are you all right, Andhun?" Muri asked.
The bull nodded and kicked the bola away. "I'm fine. You?"
"Not at all." He turned to George who was right behind him, scimitar in paw. "George, she has been touched by Marzac. I saw it on her. I saw it!"
"What did you see?" the jackal asked.
"The same magical taint I saw at Patriarch Akabaieth's camp. And the same one when I faced Agathe in pass of Askaaren in the Sathmore mountains last year." His voice was raw, and he could barely hold the agony back. Agathe had nearly destroyed him and it was only extreme good fortune that he'd survived the encounter. Now a dear friend had been infected. "It isn't as strong as I saw on Agathe, but it's there."
George frowned. "Now what?"
"Now we hunt her down," Murikeer replied, steeling himself for what had to be done.
"Muri!" Rickkter called out to him from where he hung onto the door. "Alive, Muri! And if it comes down to her or the swords... I want her."
Murikeer nodded. He turned to the mouse who was shaking his head. "Kindle, you stay behind and keep watch here. Warn me if she comes back. George, leave a few men behind with Kindle and then follow me." So saying, Murikeer raced after the fleeing skunk, her trail easy to follow. For none left a more abrasive scent than a skunk in fear. George and eight other soldiers were quick on his tail.
Murikeer glanced at the walls around him and softly said, "Kyia, please help me find Kayla before she accidentally hurts anyone. She is... walking through darkness."
The walls remained still, but Murikeer knew the spirit of the Keep had heard.
Kindle shook his head once more as he watched the pursuers take off down the hall. Turning, he made his way over to Rickkter. The raccoon took his offer of assistance a little too seriously, almost falling atop the mouse as Kindle put his arm across his shoulders.
"You know, if what she's trying to do doesn't kill you, I'm pretty sure you're going to end up doing it yourself."
"Just get me back to bed," Rick replied between laboured breaths, his lips drawn back in a snarl. "I have my own plans to make."
Snowflakes rushed past them, both those descending from the sky and those kicked up by the horses and the skis. Charles brushed several clinging to Kimberly's whiskers free. She wriggled her snout but smiled in thanks.
"We're making very good time," he observed, noting the way the forest opened out more and more frequently into clearings and small villages.
Julian nodded and gestured to a shadowy darkness in the distance. "You see that outline?"
Charles and Kimberly peered at it, but through the haze of snow it only seemed a dark smear beginning to take on shape. "What is it?" Kimberly asked.
"That's Metamor Keep!" Julian smiled even as more snow became lost in his white fur. "Another hour and we'll be there."
The news was greeted with a chorus of delighted squeaks.
After escaping Murikeer's trap, Kayla ran through the endless halls of Metamor looking for some place she could hide. But her particular species left an unmistakable odour behind; she could smell it every time she slowed. Rickkter's amulet, gifted to her so long ago to mask her natural potent musk, had weakened noticeable during her journey to Marzac and she had not had opportunity to have it corrected since returning. Simply by following that scent she knew it was inevitable that they would capture her.
So she did the only thing that made sense; she ran down to the dark and mouldy cellars where it stank even more than she. Her nose revolted at the putrid scent of mildew and decay festering for untold ages amidst slime, oil, and water so foul that nothing could live in it. She was careful of her paws that she did not leave a trail visible to the eyes in lieu of one to the nose and thought of nothing deeper, further, darker, more pungently foul places where she could hide hoping that the mage of the Keep would heed her. But even as she ran through those dank passages ever fearful that the Keep would redirect her right back around into the waiting arms of her pursuers she felt some measure of relief.
For the first time since the waking nightmare began she couldn't hear anyone behind her.
"I can't stay down here forever," Kayla whispered in that soft voice Charles had taught her on their long journey together. Only somebody standing next to her would have heard her, even with the ears of a beast to aid them. But her voice did little to comfort her. Still, from all her experience in Intelligence, she'd long learned that before a winning strategy could be devised all of the obstacles had to be identified.
Kayla kept walking. The hallway was long with several branches all of the stones stained dark with soot from the unevenly spaced flambeaux that brought the only light they'd ever born. It was enough to show her the floor and the safe places she could walk amidst turgid puddles and rancid growths. She briefly wondered who lit the torches this far into the unused depths of the Keep but brushed the curiosity aside as a distraction from her purpose. Even so deep as this, it was still part of Kyia, and she could provide whatever she wished.
And she had provided for Kayla; she'd given the skunk a way to escape her pursuers and gain time to plan. Her objective was simple enough — she had to reach Rickkter and place Vissarion within him to restore his strength. Once done, all would understand what she was attempting and together they could set all to rights.
But Murikeer was between her and Rickkter. He had also recruited George and members of the Watch and probably the Longs to the chase. She couldn't hurt any of them; they were her fellow Keepers; they were her friends. She had to outsmart them if she was to reach her love. They were all tough soldiers and the Keep was their home; it wouldn't be easy. And there was a second mage that she saw, Kindle. The mouse may not be as formidable a foe as Murikeer, but he was still more capable than Kayla on her best of days.
What advantages did she have? She had the dragon swords but she dare only use those for defence. A slight smile creased her snout as she recalled the way she'd felled Zagrosek when he'd threatened to kill her love. If absolutely necessary she could use her spray. The thought had a pleasing sort of irony. Even Murikeer, a skunk himself, would not be immune to that.
But her greatest strength was as always her own mind. It had brought her to the cellars. But how to get back to Rickkter?
There is a way.
Her tail lashed and nearly brushed against the foul mucus coating the wall. "What is it, Vissarion?"
Rickkter's quarters have windows.
Kayla reached an intersection and cautiously glanced down either side. She saw nothing but more guttering torches and ancient refuse. "But I could never climb the outer walls! They are slick with snow and ice. I'd fall to my death."
Yes, thou would. But I would not.
"I don't understand."
Find me a window and I will tell thee on the way what I can do for thee.
Kayla breathed a sigh of relief. Vissarion would help her. She felt intensely grateful to have him with her.
At first it had been easy to follow Kayla's trail. Not only did she leave an olfactory path in the air that even the humans could detect, but Murikeer knew her magical signature so well that he could see the way the conduits of magic had altered in her passage. She did not drip taint like was done at Akabaieth's camp or in the Askaaren pass, but even the way in which it disquieted the Keep's magic was visible to him.
But as her path headed lower and lower within the bowels of Metamor, her scent trail was overwhelmed by other stenches that none of them ventured to name. Only desperation could have driven her through these passages, Murikeer knew, because the foul miasma curdled his stomach and filled him with an ever present nausea. It took all of his self-composure not to vomit. Belin the dog was not so capable and added to sickness draping the walls.
Still they pressed on for a few minutes more as Murikeer could still see the magical trail. After reaching an intersection with another passage Murikeer stopped and stared for several seconds in each direction before growling under his breath.
"What is it?" George asked. The jackal was doing his best to pretend like he couldn't smell anything.
"I can't see her trail anymore," Muri admitted with a sharp churr. "It's just gone! I don't know which way she went!"
"Let's get out of here," Andhun the bull suggested in a strained voice against the stench. "She can't be staying down here."
Murikeer snapped. "No, we have to find her! Before she hurts somebody."
Patri shook her head, nose hidden beneath her collar. The human woman looked pale green. "She's not going to find anybody down here."
"She's right about that, Muri," George replied, putting one paw on the skunk's shoulder. "Let's double back. Kayla won't stay down here forever." The old warrior, of them all, seemed the least discomfited by the overwhelming reek of the place. To him was hardly a comparison to fighting a battle on fields strewn with the fallen left to rot for days or weeks.
Murikeer ground his teeth in frustration. "Give me a few minutes. I might still find something." He touched every cord of magic around him, reaching down them to feel everything he could. He tried to remember all he had seen in that terrible day last year when Agathe had been revealed to be the power behind Bishop Hockmann's invasion from Breckaris. Murikeer shuddered at the memory of his attempt to contend with her. Never had he seen somebody able to draw so much power. It had taken all his skill just to survive and even that thin victory had come by the aid of other brave souls. As it was she had nearly emasculated him.
And now an evil power moved a woman for whom he had deep affection. His paws trembled at the memory of a dark sword that had driven somebody else he'd cared for to commit atrocities. It would not happen again!
But try as he might, he saw nothing in any of the strands of magic. Murikeer growled but relented. "There's nothing here. Let's head back up a few levels. George, we need more soldiers to patrol all the exits from Metamor. If we keep her in the Keep, Kyia may yet lead us to her."
George shook his head and waved for the others to turn about. "I doubt that will be necessary, but I will spread the order. She'll most likely circle about and try to get at Rickkter again to continue whatever plan she has."
The soldiers retreated gladly. Murikeer lingered one moment more before dropping the cords of magic and following them. He shook his head and with a bitter laugh whispered to himself, "She may have lost us down here but this stench is going to cling to her just as much as it is us. Wherever you are Kayla, I'm going to save you."
"I can't believe we're already here!" Charles said with a bright laugh as the city walls of Metamor loomed ahead. Beyond the pale shadow of the Keep towered, brooding like a giant mountain as the snow kept falling.
"I've ridden in sleighs before," Lindsey murmured thoughtfully, "but none have moved as fast as this. Yours have a wind behind them, Master Julian."
The white rat nodded, red eyes wide as if he himself couldn't believe it. "I'm very pleased with how well they've performed. I hope you can give us your perspective when we unveil them. I'm sure many will be interested to hear of their speed and smoothness.
"Most likely," Abafouq said with admiration. "I am wishing I had something smaller for when I travel the mountains again. But I doubt Guernef will let me attach a harness to his back."
This led to guffaws from the Nauh-kaee's friends. "Speaking of Guernef," Charles asked, "where is he?"
Abafouq gestured to the snow white sky above. "Somewhere up in that I fear. He'll join us when he joins us."
And that was something else they were all accustomed to.
The road to the city gates were chocked with snow and few travellers. What few there pondered leaving the Keep, saw the huge piles of snow and the futile efforts of the Keepers to clear the roads and promptly changed their minds. So they reached the guards at the gate without delay. A quartet of guards bade them stop for inspection. All of them were animal men well suited to the winter weather.
The foremost was a polar bear dressed in iron breastplate whom Charles recognized as Cassius. A fellow Follower, they'd sometimes commiserated after Mass about the content of Father Hough's homilies, but rarely had occasion for much else. His eyes found Charles immediately and they brightened.
Cassius smiled faintly and looked the sleighs up and down. "Charles! We were told to expect you but I didn't think you'd actually attempt to come home in this."
This news gave the rat pause. "Who told you to expect us, Cassius?"
"Message from Andwyn," Cassius replied. "He says you, your friends, and the Longs are to head to Master Rickkter's quarters immediately. There's something wrong with Kayla but the message didn't say what."
Lindsey tensed and leaned forward. "Something's wrong with Kayla? Then let us through now!"
Cassius grabbed one side of the sleigh and hauled himself over the edge. His large body landed with a whump on the snowy hay bales. "Keep going then. I'll wave us through the other gates."
Lindsey turned to Julian and in a dark command shouted. "Move us now!"
Julian nodded to Sir Saulius who cracked the whips fiercely. Even as the gates of Metamor groaned open the sleighs rushed through in heedless abandon. What had only moments before been excitement had turned to worry. Even Charles's children kept hushed like their father, eyes wide with questions. Kimberly held them tight, an old and familiar worry returning like an unwelcome guest. Charles was going to have to risk his life again. She didn't know why, but she knew it was coming.
The spires of Metamor blotting out the northern sky grew closer.