[Mkguild] MK story - Burying a friend

[Chris]

I never sent this little tale to the lists. Recent interest by Virmir
got me to finally finish it! At least I hope it is finished.
 
 It is set after Winter Assault and after my story Counterstrike story.
 
 
   Chris
   The Lurking Fox
 
 
 
Burying a Friend
By Christian O’Kane
------------------------
 
 
   Edmund found himself aimlessly wandering the halls, rooms and
corridors of Metamor keep. It was late and he should’ve  been asleep but
wasn’t tired, he had too many things on his mind. Instead he walked the
halls thinking and pondering the future. Soon he lost all track of time.
 
   Suddenly a clock chimed midnight faintly somewhere in the distance.
He stopped short when a figure suddenly stepped in front of him. It was
dressed in a flowing black robe that covered it completely. Even the
head was concealed by a large hood. No trace of the figure beneath was
visible. A cloth sleeve was held up to the paladins chest but he saw no
trace of and hand in those voluminous sleeves.
 
   “Hold Sir,” a voice as cold as a grave said.
 
   Edmunds hand grasped the hilt of his sword but did not draw it.
“Sir?” he asked in a stern voice.
 
  The end of the sleeve, where a hand should be rose up to the cowl to
about where a face might be hidden. “Shhh. Show reverence for the dead.”
 
   Unsure of the meaning of that the paladin simply stood his ground and
waited for he knew not what.
 
   Behind the mysterious person was a doorway that opened onto a
corridor that ran perpendicular to the one they were in. In that
corridor a figure appeared moving at a slow, stately pace. Like the
figure in front it too was dressed in a black robe that covered the
whole body down to the stone floor. The difference was that this figure
had the hood pulled back to reveal the whole head. It was one of animal
changed keepers. The thick, black fur covered a canine head which was
oddly enough topped by only one ear. Where the other should have been
was a black bandage. With a start Edmund realized that this stark figure
was Misha Brightleaf! How strange the scout looked with his fur dyed all
black and moving at such a slow, measured pace. 
 
   Behind the fox came Caroline, George and  Finbar, all dressed the
same as Misha. Each of the four were grasping the corner of a large,
oblong box which was covered with a black flag. A coffin. There was no
doubting what that box was or what it contained.
 
   As he watched the four moved past carrying the coffin at the same
slow, stately pace. Behind them trailed a dozen keepers. Some were
walking, others were being helped along on the shoulders of friends. Two
were actually being pushed along in wheeled chairs. All were dressed in
the same black robes. He recognized the lithe form of Danielle looking
very strange with her fur dyed black. This was all the Long Scouts, even
the ones who should have been in bed recovering from their wounds.
 
   The strange procession passed the knight in total silence. No
footfalls, no voices, not even the soft ruffle of cloth broke the
silence. Each moved with a slow flowing motion as if they were floating
across the stone floor instead of walking on it. It was as if he was
watching a ghostly procession. A supernatural glimpse of some event long
past.
 
   He was watching a funeral procession. But who were they burying at
this late hour and why? He could understand the black robes and covering
but why so late when no one would see them? Were they ashamed of the
deceased?
 
   Then they had gone past him. The robed figure glided backward into
the corridor and then followed after the procession. Without
understanding why the paladin fell in step behind, his footsteps as
measured and silent as the rest.
 
   The procession proceeded in silence through the halls and corridors
of a Metamor keep that was devoid of life. They saw no other living
things nor any sign of life in their journey through the ancient
edifice. Not even the air stirred with life, but hung lifeless about
them like the musty air of a long forgotten crypt. The halls they moved
along seemed ancient and long forgotten. It was if they were the first
people to set foot in them in centuries.
 
   After an eternity of moving through the haunted halls they reached a
door made of wood and iron, long weathered and rusted. Despite the
corrosion the door swung open on rusted and corroded hinges without a
sound. A draft of cold air rushed past them sending a shiver down
Edmunds spine.
 
   On the far side of the door the passage sloped down at a shallow
angle turning clockwise as it did. The procession moved through the
doorway and down the passage. As he moved along behind Edmund noticed
that the walls and floor had changed. No longer were they made of stone
blocks, instead they were made of a soft, gray bedrock. The rock itself
seemed to have been shaped and smoothed without leaving any mark of
chisel or hammer. He knew magic that could do that easily but somehow he
doubted that was how it had been done.
 
   The procession moved slowly along, deeper and deeper into the bedrock
as they walked down the constantly turning passage. Soon the paladin
lost track of time and knew only the gray walls and his ghostly
companions.
 
   Suddenly the passage leveled and straightened out into a wide
corridor that was well lit by a soft light that seemed to be everywhere
and come from no where in particular.
 
   Without breaking stride the procession moved out into the corridor
taking no notice of the change.  After a short distance the line seemed
to waver a moment then paused. He saw Misha suddenly stop then bow
deeply to his left before moving on. As each person passed that one spot
they too repeated the vulpine’s strange behavior.
 
   It wasn’t until he reached that place did Edmund understand what was
happening. The wall to the left was covered with stone flowers, trees
and vines intertwined to form a beautiful archway. Over that arch was
the words “Here lies Llyn FarStrider. Great Warrior, Great Friend.”
 
   Beyond the archway was a good sized room lit by the same warm glow of
the corridor but somehow softer and warmer. In the center of the room
was a large coffin resting on a bier, both of the same soft, gray stone
that surrounded them. Carved into the top of the coffin was the full
figure of mink woman dressed in a fine dress. The statue was so
realistic that he could almost expect to see her sit up and climb down.
At her feet was a long bow and a sword in a gold scabbard. Unlike the
figure, the two weapons were real. The bow made of a fine grained, dark
wood, the swords hilt, ivory wrapped in a light colored leather. The
figure, the bier it rested on and the floor of the entire room was
covered with flowers of all colors and shapes. He wondered how they had
managed to find so many flowers in the dead of winter. Here was the last
resting place of  someone beloved.
 
   As much as he wanted to look and ponder he was drawn onward. He bowed
once to the entombed woman and followed after the departing procession.
In a moment he caught up to them and again fell in step.
 
   The group turned a corner and the light around them grew noticeably
darker. They moved silently down a long, empty corridor until they came
to a blank wall that marked the end of their journey.
 
   Set into the wall on the left was an archway like the one he had seen
before but this one was plain and unadorned. Over it were the words
“Here lies one of our own”. Nothing else, not even a name.
 
   Beyond the archway was a room as large as the one holding Llyn, it
even possessed a bier in the center. This one was open, it’s massive
stone lid laying on the floor next to it. The lid was as plain as the
doorway and no flowers covered this room, there was only the cold stone.
 
   The four holding the coffin came to a halt but the procession didn’t.
The black robed people slowly filed past and into the room with the
same, slow gait. They formed a circle around the bier. Off to one side
stood two of the fully robed figures, one of those had been the one that
had halted him much earlier but he couldn’t tell which. Both looked
exactly the same. They stood with bowed heads and their arms folded
behind them. He wondered what lay beneath those robes, animal, woman,
man? Was there anything beneath? Perhaps only the dead? They certainly
would be fitting in a place like this.
 
   Only when the last of the procession was in there appointed place did
the four carrying the coffin move. With a slow stilted gait they stepped
forward into the tomb their feet hitting the floor in perfect unison.
But still they made no sound and the ritual went on in total silence.
The four lifted the coffin above their heads and straddled the bier with
two on either side. When the coffin was suspended directly over the
stone dais they halted.
 
   With a slow movement they lowered the coffin into the open bier. It
settled into the stonework with the same silence as everything else.
They then stepped backward but stopped short of the ring of people
around them.
 
   The two black robed, mysterious figures glided forward till one stood
at each end of the massive, stone lid. They bent down and the end of the
sleeves draped the edges. With a startling ease the stone lid was lifted
clear of the floor. They moved over to the raised stone coffin and
carefully lowered the lid into place. Despite it’s great size and weight
it dropped into place without the slightest sound or adjustment. Then
the two slowly backed away and slid quietly out of the room.
 
   Misha came forward and stood at the foot of the sarcophagus. Behind
him stood George and Caroline. The black robed otter stepped up to the
fox and held up both arms. In her hands was a long bow. The leader of
the Long Scouts took it from her. He bent over and broke the weapon over
his knee. The CRACK of the wood breaking boomed out and Edmund
involuntarily jumped slightly. The fox then carefully placed the broken
pieces on the top of the bier.
 
   As Caroline stepped back, George stepped forward. With his arms
raised. He was holding a sword in a scabbard of unadorned black. Misha
took the offered weapon and broke that was well. Then he placed this
weapon next to the bow. The fox stepped backward three steps and
stopped, standing fully erect.
 
   One by one every Long scout came to the foot of the sarcophagus and
remained there for a moment with bowed heads. Then they took three steps
backward, turned around and left the room. One after the other they all
passed by the bier and took their leave of the crypt. None made a sound
or even acknowledged Edmund as they passed him.
 
   Last was Caroline who stopped even with Misha and placed her hand on
his shoulder.  Misha softly kissed her hand and after a long moment she
too left the crypt leaving only the fox and the paladin.
 
   Misha stood as still as stone for a long time staring at the
sarcophagus. The stillness seemed oppressive. He should leave but his
heart told him to stay. He had been led here for a reason.
 
   “I thought he was a friend,” Misha said, speaking for the first time.
His voice seemed oddly fragile, wrought with emotion. “I personally
chose him. We trained together, relaxed and got drunk together. We
fought side by side in countless battles. I trusted him with my life .
.” He paused for moment and began to shake. He didn’t speak for a long
moment.
 
   “How did he repay that trust?” he asked in a voice as hard an brittle
as ice. “During the Yule assault he poisoned twenty people who were
guarding the south gate and let Nasoj’s assassins in. At the end he
tried to betray Long House itself.”
 
   The paladin pondered for a long time before he answered. “Some people
loose themselves my friend. They get seduced by what they think is
important in life and forget friends and family. Even the Great One was
betrayed once.”
 
   Misha nodded slowly. “It hurts,” he said in a whisper.
 
   Edmund placed a hand on Misha’s shoulder. “I know but do not forget
all the friends who have stood by you.”
 
  “I don’t forget the friends I lost. But I never lost any as close as
Craig or Llyn.” His shoulders heaved in a sob. “I was a siege engineer,
for the love of God. We lost more people to the conditions on the
battlefield than in actual combat.” Edmund could see his clenched fists
shake. “And we never, ever, had one betray us. I can’t understand how
anyone could do this to me!”
 
   Edmund just sighed and shook his head. “Nor do I, Misha. During my
life I have been fortunate enough to command men of honor and loyalty.”
 
   “So you have never even faced it?”
 
   Edmund opened his mouth like he was going to respond but stopped
himself. Misha saw a pained expression cross his face before he
responded. “I remember the betrayal of Judes in the canticles. That is a
lesson that should suffice for all.”
 
   Misha’s tail flicked a bit in agitation. “And if it does not?”

   “Then I would suggest finding someone more familiar on the subject,”
said Edmund calmly. “For some betrayal comes all too easily.”
 
 
**********************
   
 
   “Personally I’ve always had problems with betrayal. The groups I was
raised in always promoted loyalty above all else.
 
   "I thought you left those groups," Misha commented
 
   Shrug. "I left, yes. But never did I betray them, never did I do
anything against them. I may have disagreed with them in the end, but
they were still all the family I ever had. You don't go against that."
 
   "So you were young and stupid. I was a merc like you, once, I know
how things are out there. A better offer comes, you take it."
 
   Rick gave him a quick, slightly annoyed glare. "I don't know about
you, but I only walked when I knew I would be dead if I stayed, or if
going wouldn't make a difference." He took a drink. "But you can't
honestly sit there and tell me that all you have with the Longs is some
glorified group of mercs."
 
   Misha just sat silently beside him.
 
   "That’s what I thought. There's a saying where I came from. 'The bond
that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy
in each other's life.’" He reached over and patted Misha on the back.
"You've still got a hell of a family, Misha. Don't forget about them."
 
   "I thought they were all my family. Now I'm not so sure. Is there
another traitor among them just waiting for the right price?"
 
   "Do you think there is?"
 
"I don't know who to trust anymore Rick. You've lived your life with
suspicion and treachery. How do I find out?"
 
   "The way I look at it, you've got two choices. You can embrace your
suspicion and paranoia and begin treating everyone like a potential
traitor. And destroy all you've built up over the last eight years. Or,
you do everything you can to give the rest every reason in the world to
never even CONSIDER following Baldwin."
 
   Misha didn’t speak for a moment. "I thought I HAD done that."
 
   Rick sighed deeply. "Then I don't know, Misha. I honestly don't know.
I've never been a good leader."
 
   Misha openly laughed. "You never a good leader?"
 
   "What can I say? I've never wanted to lead. I just do what I need to
survive, Sometimes people follow me. I've ordered people, yes, but I've
never inspired them. Let me put this another way. Why did you start the
Longs in the first place?"
 
   “To protect Metamor and the people I care for. I didn't mean to start
the Longs. They just seemed to come to me. I remember Craig asked to go
out with me one day. And that started it all."
 
   "Have you ever regretted it?"
 
   "NEVER!" Misha answered forcefully. "I've made too many friends. And
it brought me my sweet Caroline."
 
   Rickkter nodded and stood up. "Then that's your answer. If it was
worth all the sacrifice, all that you've been through... then don't let
this stop you. What I said about inspiration earlier was true. And of
all the commanders I have ever served under or with, only a handful have
ever shown true leadership and set the example to follow." He gave
Misha's shoulder a squeeze. "If things were different for me, I would be
honored to be a member of your scouts."
 
   "They'll always be a place for you in the Longs. You are a Long, even
if you'll never admit it to yourself."
 
   Rick just chuckled at that, gave him a final pat on the back and
headed off. "Always good to know. Oh," he added, turning back. "If you
still have doubts about... things, just ask the rest of your scouts what
I've asked you. You should be able to see the answer in their eyes. That
will tell you if it really was worth it."
 
 
  The End
 
 

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