[Mkguild] Last Tale of Yajakali - Chapter XXXI

[C. Matthias]

And here is the first chapter of Book III!

Chapter XXXI

With Hooves of Fire

         The day after King Luvatelperu and his 
wondrous host mysteriously disappeared, the 
Metamorians and their friends continued the 
journey south through the Åelfwood.  They were 
joined by the Rheh Talaran, though if the mighty 
steeds were capable of great deeds, they made no 
move to show it amidst the towering trees.  In 
fact, much to their consternation, despite the 
fact that the redwoods had given way to shorter 
and stockier oaks, the forest itself gave no indication that it would soon end.
         As the warmth of the morning’s early 
light blossomed into a cool but bright day, the 
land gradually levelled, though the trees were no 
less impressive.  Their new stallions bore their 
weight without complaint, even the mare that held 
up the rat of stone seemed no worse off for her 
heavy encumbrance.  Charles had shifted into his 
two-legged stance, but he was still dense 
granite.  There was no way to be certain, but he 
figured he had to weigh at least ten times his flesh-and-blood form.
         One thing he was certain of was that no 
normal horse could have carried him so 
effortlessly as this green-eyed, gold-furred 
mare.  Just sitting astride her put into mind the 
joys of holding tight while they thundered across 
the Steppe.  He could see – no feel was the 
better word – the two of them galloping up a 
small hill only to leap into the air and glide 
across a river too deep to ford.  Her hooves 
would dance along the surface of the water as 
though there were rocks beneath them.  And then 
they would emerge on the other side, wet only from the river’s spray.
         Uncontrollably, his tail began to shift 
back and forth in delight at the thought.  There 
was something back there resting atop his tail 
root.  In surprise, Charles reached one paw 
behind him, but only felt the twisting contours 
of the ivy that the wind children had planted 
there.  It had not left him when he’d changed out 
of his four-legged centaur-like form.  Instead, 
it seemed to have grown further, and was crawling 
like ivy up his back.  He had no idea how it was 
nourishing itself, but apparently it could and 
was.  Already, he could feel a bud emerging near 
its base.  In a few days there would be a flower there.
         He frowned at that realization.  The 
last thing he wanted anybody to remember him by 
was that he had a flower growing out of his tail.
         But more had changed than just his 
number of legs and the size of the vine.  Ever 
since the mysterious horses had come into their 
midst, there was a strange sort of energy in each 
of them.  Amongst his friends, he saw it as a new 
light in their eyes, like the first ray of 
sunshine after a storm.  They smiled and laughed 
in a way that they had not done since they left Metamor three months ago.
         And Charles could swear that he heard 
the rocks singing as they passed.  But that was probably just his imagination.
         He let one paw stroke across the muscled 
neck of the mare.  She chuffed in response, a 
sound that carried a dignity that he had not 
thought possible in an animal’s voice.  But this 
was no mere animal.  He could feel an ancient 
power in her frame, and it was that power that 
gave him and the rest of them their unusual ebullience.
         “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” James asked from behind.
         Surprised, Charles turned to look at his 
friend.  The donkey looked awkward riding, with 
his hooves sticking out along the sides of his 
large stallion.  A bell shaped white mark adorned the stallion’s bronze hide.
         “Aye,” Charles agreed as he considered 
the question.  He cast his eyes upwards at the 
steadfast oaks.  Though their boughs were nearer 
the earth than those in Glen Avery, they 
stretched wider than any tree he’d e’er seen.  A 
part of him scornfully noted that the mountains 
were wider still, but he pushed such thoughts 
away.  “Though, I had thought the King said we 
would have left the woods by dawn.”
         James blinked, long ears turning from 
side to side. “You’re right.  I had forgotten that.  Why are we still here?”
         “Because it is not yet dawn of the next 
day,” Andares said softly.  He rode up alongside 
of them, his silvery face set in an amused smile, 
as of a parent to a child who had just asked the 
same question for a tenth time. “A day is 
measured differently for our folk than yours.”
         Charles scowled. “Are you saying we may 
be here for many more of our days yet?”
         Andares laughed, a bright thing like the 
tinkling of crystal goblets. “Nay, I do not mean 
that.  Tomorrow we shall have left the wood 
behind.  Just as we have our rituals on 
leave-taking, so too do the Rheh Talaran.  We 
could not leave their home without their permission.  This day is for them.”
         “But they haven’t done anything,” James 
pointed out.  His stallion stomped one hoof and 
snorted meaningfully.  A spark lit the air, and 
then vanished.  Both James and Charles rubbed at 
their pained eyes.  The rat blinked, waiting for the after image to fade.
         Andares’s subtle smile returned to his 
lips.  His pearl-gray hand gently cupped his 
steed’s ear. “Not anything we would understand, 
but still they have their rituals.  And their 
pride.  We cannot take that from them.”
         James continued to blink, but the donkey 
at last nodded. “Forgive me,” he said softly, 
addressing the stallion on which he rode. “I 
didn’t mean it.”  The Talaran steed flicked his 
tail from side to side and nodded his head 
once.  Beside him, the rat’s mare chuffed as if in laughter.
         Charles marvelled at the mare beneath 
him, wondering just how well they understood what 
their riders said and did.  Perhaps perfectly, he 
imagined.  There was intelligence in those 
luminous green eyes, but it was more akin to the 
Nauh-kaee Guernef than to any man.  It was a 
beast’s eye more certainly than any Metamorian’s.
         The rat let his thoughts wander back to 
the forest as they continued to ride 
South.  Slowly, as the minutes passed into hours, 
he began to notice that the trees were 
diminishing in stature.  Not only were they 
shorter, but they were also mixed with poplar, 
beech and ash.  Nestled in the undergrowth were 
large stretches of bushes, and the moss that 
clung to the tree roots frequently gave way to 
short grasses.  Those grasses grew longer and 
longer, just as the patches of cloudy sky overhead grew larger and larger.
         When at last the clouds themselves 
parted to allow the sun through, the Metamorians 
all savoured its warm embrace.  Summer was 
finally over, but it was the first time that they 
had truly felt any of its warmth.  After so long 
in the frigid embrace of the Barrier Mountains, 
and even in the cool stone halls of Qorfuu, the 
sun’s touch was as comforting as a roaring blaze 
and a bowl full of fresh stew to enjoy with 
it.  Abafouq was smiling openly for the first 
time since his people had cast him from his home 
in Qorfuu.  And even Guernef, enigmatic though he 
was, appeared boisterous, his wing tips 
fluttering and his eyes casting back and forth, 
and if the rat was not mistaken, a bit of a 
whistling tune warbled up from his throat as he kept pace beside the Rheh.
         It was only their new steeds, for whom 
this day was meant, that continued to confound 
Charles.  If they were currently engaged in 
mysterious rituals in order to leave the forest, 
the rat could not tell.  From what he could see, 
they did nothing but carry their charges through 
the ever-thinning forest towards the open plains 
in the south.  Intelligent undoubtedly, and there 
was no question that they were their own 
masters.  But the rat certainly would like to 
better understand what it was they were doing that was so special.
         As if sensing his curiosity, the golden 
mare set one hoof down before a fallen leaf, and 
kicked it up into the air with a flick of her 
foreleg.  The oak leaf spiralled upwards before 
it began to lazily circle back towards the soft 
loam.  The rat watched it as they rode past, 
noting the way it danced on the eddies in the 
air.  As if sprites were whispering in his ear, 
he could see in that single leaf a poem.

We live upon the wind,
Blown our lives, tossed, and turned,
Yet with each thread of air bringing
Us one more time to goodbye.

Goodbye to fire, dancing bright;
Goodbye to leaves, singing sweet and light;
Goodbye to clouds, playing in the sky;
Goodbye to man, waiting to die.

Lay hoof to wind and sing.
Sing of goodbye and good morrow come.

         Charles trembled as the voice died 
away.  Warily, his eyes cast first to his 
friends, but if they heard it, they gave no 
outward sign.  And then he looked down at the 
Rheh, who shone bright in the afternoon sun.  For 
a moment, only a moment, he could have sworn that 
all their heads were bowed in prayer.  Against 
his back, the vine twitched and crawled a little higher.

         Night fell sooner than they 
expected.  Though they still could not see an end 
to the trees, Andares-es-sebashou declared that 
they had left the Åelfwood and were now in what 
his people termed the Boundary.  Less than a mile 
separated them from the never-ending grasses of 
the Steppe.  The Boundary was a ring of wood that 
abutted the Åelfwood, growing outwards in every 
direction.  It was permissible to collect fallen 
wood here and burn them so long as one did so carefully.
         And for that, the Keepers were 
grateful.  They huddled close to the fire that 
the younger Åelf had built, and cooked a bit of 
sausages that they had brought with them from 
Qorfuu.  Charles could not enjoy the food, but he 
did like the fire.  The flames reflected off his 
granite skin and seemed to dance inside of him, 
like a bit of hot earth-blood welling up in his heart.
         “So, tomorrow we enter the lands of 
men,” Lindsey observed in a dour voice. “How do 
you think they will treat us?” His question was 
directed to the kangaroo who crouched quietly 
before the fire, his huge feet making it nearly 
impossible for him to sit comfortably on the ground.
         “With fear and suspicion at best,” 
Habakkuk replied between morsels of meat. “Many 
would want to kill us outright.  There is very 
little chance that any of the people we will meet 
will have ever seen a Metamorian, a Binoq, or an 
Åelf.  They most certainly will not have seen a 
Nauh-kaee before.  I had never seen any until 
Guernef came to Metamor.” He nodded his head to 
the white gryphon who reclined against the base 
of one tree preening his wing feathers.  The 
sharp golden eyes of the Kakikagiget acknowledged 
the kangaroo’s words, but he did not cease his grooming.
         “We are an eclectic group,” Anadares 
said with a slight smile. “But there are people 
waiting for us on the Steppe who will see us safely across their land.”
         “And after?” Kayla asked.  She had one 
of her lover’s blades in her lap, and she was 
gently rubbing a cloth across the edge. “The Rheh 
Talaran are to take us to the border of 
Marzac.  The only way to reach that swamp is to 
go through the Pyralian Kingdoms.  Do you realize 
we have to travel across half the Steppe and the 
whole of Pyralis?  In three months?  Even if we 
make good time across the Steppe, and have 
protection the whole way, going through Pyralis will be far more dangerous.”
         The skunk set down her cloth and shook 
her head.  The light from the fire cast an orange 
glow upon the white stripe in the middle of her 
brow.  It almost looked as if she too were 
aflame. “The Steppe may be empty but for nomadic 
herds and the occasional town.  Pyralis is filled 
with farmlands, villages, and cities.  We will 
not be able to journey through that land without 
detection.  At some point, somebody will see that 
we are not peasants or even scholars on some 
pilgrimage.  We are warriors and mages on a 
quest, and most of us don’t look remotely human.”
         “We should be able to hide from casual 
inspection,” James suggested before biting into a bit of fruit.
         “At night if the moon isn’t out,” Kayla 
replied, a beastial churr settling in her throat. 
“Even then, I cannot easily hide my tail.  And 
Jessica won’t be able to hide her wings without a 
very heavy cloak, and you can forget about her 
wearing shoes with those talons.  And look at 
Geurnef!  How in the world will we conceal him?”
         “He can fly,” Abafouq pointed out 
softly.  He was stirring a broken stick in the 
fire.  The tip had blackened, and he would 
occasionally draw it out to whittle it down to a 
sharp point with his knife. “As can Jessica.  And 
I can pass myself off as a midget.”
         Kayla shook her head. “Yes, we can hide 
some of us, if we truly have to.  James could 
change into a normal donkey, and Charles could 
probably change into a normal rat – well mostly 
normal – and hide in somebody’s tunic.  But I am 
too large for that, even as a normal skunk.  And 
Habakkuk, are you much different if you go all animal?”
         The kangaroo shook his head. “I’m a 
trifle shorter, but not much.  And my feet and 
tail are even longer that way.  There really 
isn’t an easy way to hide me short of magic.”
         Jessica the hawk turned her sharp eyes 
upon the Åelves. “Master Qan-af-årael, is there 
any art you know that could cloak our appearances?”
         The ancient Åelf sat back from the fire 
with his legs curled beneath him.  His eyes had 
been closed the entire time, and he had eaten 
only a few nibbles of some hard bread they had 
brought with them.  But it was clear he had been 
listening to every word they had uttered, for his 
smile was soft, but sad. “Regretfully I must tell 
you that my skills lie in other areas.  However, 
we shall be safe enough, and there is no horse 
alive that can outrun the Rheh Talaran.” Behind 
their camp, they could hear a few hooves stamp as if in approval.
         All eyes cast over to the small meadow 
in which the golden horses had decided they were 
going to spend the night.  Lindsey had made the 
mistake of attempting to hitch his steed to one 
of the trees near their camp.  The stallion had 
bucked and broken free, snorting in indignation 
and stamping his hooves meaningfully at the 
Northerner.  At Andares’s suggestion, Lindsey had 
apologized and prostrated himself before the 
green-eyed horse.  The stallion had apparently 
accepted the apology, as he nuzzled Lindsey’s 
back and allowed him to remove his 
saddlebags.  Nobody else made that same mistake.
         “So you’re saying we won’t have any 
reason to worry?” Kayla asked, her tone suspicious.
         “Indeed.” Qan-af-årael suddenly opened 
his eyes, strange and sublime, they seemed more 
captivating than those of the Rheh. “And if we 
face a force from which we cannot run, it will 
likely be better that we can draw our weapons 
quickly.  If we have to change, or fight our way 
out of our own clothing, then we will be at a terrible disadvantage.”
         “Will we have to do that?” Lindsey asked. “Habakkuk?”
         The kangaroo shrugged. “I don’t know.  I 
have had some images of a warded door in a 
castle, and of some nobleman speaking to a young 
man, but I cannot understand what he has 
said.  Nor did I recognize either him, the youth, 
or the castle.” He spread his paws wide. “I don’t 
know what it means yet, but if I see more, I will tell you.”
         “So I suppose we just hope that whatever 
we face we can run away from.  I don’t like running away,” Lindsey grumbled.
         Abafouq pushed  the stick he’d been 
whittling into the fire and let the end catch 
flame.  He then lifted it like a small 
torch.  The tiny bit of flame struggled to burn 
bright, vacillating in hue between bright yellow 
and sombre orange. “If we run away from anything, 
it be to run towards something much worse.  Much, much worse, I be thinking.”
         “That’s an even cheerier thought,” 
Lindsey grunted and turned his back to the fire. 
“I am going to get some rest.  Charles, you have the first watch?”
         The rat nodded.  He’d been fingering the 
vine that was growing up his back. “And the second probably.”
         When the time came for the third watch, 
Charles could have gone to wake Lindsey up.  The 
Northerner probably expected it, but as the stone 
rat sat upon a rock slab with his back to the 
smoldering embers of the fire, he found he did 
not need to get any sleep.  As a creature of 
living granite, he did not sleep in the same way 
that his flesh and blood companions 
did.  Instead, if he could find a patch of rock, 
he could sink his paws inside and let his mind 
expand out beyond his body to feel everything 
that the rock could.  And in so doing, he 
attained any rest that his mind needed.
         Of course, he had to be careful not to 
let too much of his body slip inside.  Some rock 
was more possessive than others.  The stones he’d 
found that night were quite welcoming and did not 
mind his intrusion at all.  In fact, when he’d 
first set his paws upon their cool surface, he’d 
felt invited.  It was strange to realize even 
amongst stone there were good neighbours and 
bad.  He half imagined that if this particular 
slab could have offered him a freshly baked pie 
like the Glen Avery hedgehog Annette Levins often 
did, then it would have given enough for every 
one of his friends to have a slice.
         The stone extended down into the earth 
and out into the meadow and the woods surrounding 
them.  He was surprised to feel so much stone so 
far south of the mountains, but there had been a 
gentle reminder of a range to the west – the 
Sylvan Mountains he realized.  As if they had 
been friends of old, he spent the night learning 
about all the different creatures who had trod 
upon this amiable bit of stone.  There were 
various animals, from rodents to raccoons, all 
the way to wolves, deers and even bears.  He was 
surprised when he learned that very few of the 
fair folk had ever trod this way.  Were they 
truly that insular now, never even leaving the inner portions of their woods?
         As dawn neared, Charles felt ashamed 
when he had to inform his host that he could not 
stay any longer.  But the stone did not seem to 
mind at all, and the rat rose up from his perch 
feeling rejuvenated.  To his surprise, he felt a 
nudge at his back and saw his mare’s face; her 
green eyes were darker than before, as of broad 
summer leaves at twilight.  She set one hoof on 
the stone softly, and the rat smiled. “Yes, I was 
talking to a new friend.” He did not know if she 
understood what he meant, but his words seemed to satisfy her.
         “I thought you said you weren’t going to 
do that anymore,” Habakkuk whispered from the other side of the camp.
         Charles spun and stared in surprise at 
the kangaroo.  He lay in his bed roll, and if not 
for his open eyes, the rat would have sworn he 
was still asleep.  None of the others had risen 
yet, and though the day was brightening, the sun still lay beyond the horizon.
         He thought he should feel indignant, but 
his stone heart could not quite grasp that 
emotion. “I was careful,” he replied. “The stone was friendly.”
         “You should never do that without 
another of us awake to keep an eye on you,” the 
kangaroo repeated, not even acknowledging the 
rat’s excuse. “And as you know, not all stone is 
safe.  Some is downright dangerous.”
         Another nudge at his back made the rat 
turn again.  Standing behind him and next to his 
mare was the massive Nauh-kaee.  Guernef’s deep 
eyes scowled at the rat.  He opened his beak, and 
hissed, though in that avian tongue, the rat 
could make out words. “I watched you.  You were 
lucky this time.  You may not be next time.”
         Charles sighed and nodded. “Of 
course.  You are right.  I will be careful.”
         “There will come a time when you will 
need to trust me when I tell you not to enter the 
stone,” Habakkuk added.  Slowly, Kayla and 
Lindsey were beginning to stir. “Please do not be 
difficult when that time comes.”
         “Very well, Zhypar.  I will do as you say.”
         “Good,” Guernef said with a squawk. “The 
day comes.” He turned and padded into the meadow 
where he spread his wings and leapt into the air.
         Charles watched the Nauh-kaee lift into 
the deep blue sky before he looked back at the 
others.  When he looked back down, Qan-af-årael 
was standing, his robe pulled elegantly about 
him.  How he could maintain his aura of grace 
after having spent the night sleeping on the ground, the rat could not guess.
         Qan-af met his eye and said, “Today we 
meet our guides across the Steppe.  Let us waste no more time.”
         Lindsey rubbed his eyes and grunted 
under his breath, “About damn time.”

         A half hour later the sun was rising 
over the eastern horizon.  Riding upon the Rheh 
Talaran, they made their way southwards towards 
the Steppe.  The trees continued to grow sparser, 
with more meadows filled with tall grasses 
dominating the landscape.  After crossing a small 
brook a few feet wide, they found they could 
finally see the edge of the wood.  Beyond a line 
of low trees a minute’s ride ahead of them they 
saw a vast plain that stretched to the horizon, 
dotted only with the occasional scrub.
         All of them grew silent as they 
approached the line of trees.  Even the Rheh 
slowed, until they had come to a complete stop, 
all of them standing beneath the boughs of the 
oaks overlooking the plain like a line of 
horsemen waiting for the order to charge.  The 
Flatlands stretched before them, wide, the 
grasses a mix of greens and browns as they swayed 
back and forth in a gentle wind.
         The land lived up to its name, as there 
was not a hill in sight.  Several of the Keeper’s gasped as they saw it.
         “It’s... flat!” James exclaimed in dumbfounded shock.
         “That is why they call it the Flatlands,” Lindsey pointed out.
         “I’ve never seen any place so... so... 
flat!” the donkey continued, as if he’d not even heard the woodcutter.
         “Neither have I,” Jessica confessed. “I 
could probably see for ten, no twenty miles if I were flying.”
         “Likely more,” Andares said with an 
amused smile. “Do you see that small copse of trees in the distance?”
         Charles stared, but all he could see 
were bushes.  But Jessica narrowed her gaze and 
nodded. “Yes, it looks to be fifteen miles 
southwest.  I think there’s a river there.”
         Andares nodded. “Yes.  That is the Atra 
River.  That copse is known as Dulama’s 
Shrine.  We will meet our guides there shortly.”
         “Well, in an hour,” Kayla said as she 
stretched her toes in the stirrups.  The Elvish 
saddles were surprisingly delicate, yet also 
firm.  Charles was certain they could be tumbling 
down a steep slope and not fall off.
         Qan-af-årael smiled and let his hand 
smooth over the hide of his smaller Rheh. “You 
will see something else today that you have never seen before.”
         He inclined his head and as one the 
Talaran horses set out into the grasses.  The 
morning sun was warm, and as they turned towards 
the southwest, struck them along their left 
side.  The Rheh glowed in the radiance.  Their 
walk picked up into a canter, and moments later 
was at a full gallop.  The forest receded behind 
them quickly, before becoming a yellowish-green 
smear on the horizon.  Charles and the rest 
leaned into wind as the grasses whipped past them 
faster than any of them thought possible.  Bright 
sparks danced at the edge of their vision, and 
not a one of them found they could speak.
         Before their astonished eyes, only 
minutes passed before they could begin to see the 
copse of trees Andares had spoken of.  At first 
it was an orange dot on the horizon.  It grew 
slowly, but as the minutes trickled past, it was 
soon clear that they saw a stand of perhaps a 
dozen trees all in a circle.  Beyond them was the 
crystalline blue water of a small river.
         When they were finally able to make out 
the individual trees, they could see tents and 
horses arrayed along the river bank beyond the 
arboreal shrine.  Several men on horseback were 
keeping watch, though Charles could not tell who 
they might be.  He truly hoped he had been right 
that one of them would be who he suspected it was.
         As they neared the copse, in what had 
been about ten minutes time, the Rheh slowed to a 
brisk canter, and they all breathed in 
relief.  Charles could remember moving that fast 
only once before in his life, and that was when 
he’d been riding upon the back of a 
dragon.  These steeds were more marvellous than he could have ever imagined!
         “What in the world?” Lindsey exclaimed 
as he stared back the way they had come, and then 
down at the golden stallion between his legs. “That was... was...”
         “There are few living creatures who can 
move as fast as the Rheh Talaran,” Andares said 
with obvious pride. “If our enemy has any of them 
under their command, then there would be no hope 
at all for this world.” After a moment’s pause he 
added, “And I still have hope.”
         “Who are they?” Jessica asked as they 
neared the copse.  A dozen riders broke away from 
the camp and headed towards them.  Their horses 
looked strong, most of them a deep sable in 
hue.  Their clothes were fashioned from animal 
hides, though some of them looked to have been 
woven.  One of them, one who was significantly 
taller than the rest, bore a black robe.  Charles 
let out a delighted squeak as he saw that.  He’d been right.
         “Jerome!” he called out as the two 
groups neared.  The large man smiled wide and 
kicked his horse ahead, waving one arm wildly.
         “Charles!” he called back in his deep 
voice. “I knew we would see each other again!”
         Charles and Jerome slowed their steeds 
as they neared each other.  The two Sondeckis 
examined each other for a minute.  Jerome 
appeared much the same as when the rat had seen 
him nine months ago during the Winter assault on 
Metamor.  His blond hair and goatee were a bit 
unkempt, but otherwise he looked no 
different.  Jerome however stared in surprise at the rat’s appearance.
         “I was told... but I... I cannot believe 
it.  Are you really stone?” Jerome asked. “And 
those symbols,” he pointed to the two brands upon 
his chest that glowed with a faint light. “Are those Lothanasi runes?”
         “Yes,” Charles replied. “To both.  I was 
turned into a creature of stone by our enemy, and 
it was only by the intervention of the Lothanasi 
that I will ever be flesh again.  I owe them no 
greater favour than to help destroy the evil of Marzac.”
         “That is a big enough favour for 
anyone!” Jerome replied, turning at last to 
examine the rat’s friends. “Welcome to Dulama’s 
Shrine.  I am Jerome Krabbe, a Sondecki of the 
Black.  I have known Charles Matthias since we 
were children, and I was asked to meet you here 
by a little bird.  Now, allow me to introduce 
First Hunter Fultag of the Horse Clan Tagendend.”
         Jerome gestured to a man whose face was 
weathered and cold.  He was lean and sat proudly 
in the saddle.  His gray eyes surveyed them 
warily, but looked upon the Rheh Talaran with 
considerable awe.  Slowly, he nodded his head to 
them until his eyes settled upon Qan-af-årael. 
“As we hath agreed, thy price thou shalt pay, and 
we for thee wilt promise warding, safe 
passage,  and shalt lead thee across the 
Steppe.  I hight Fultag.  This be my son, Horvig.”
         The lad at his side could be no more 
than fourteen at best.  He looked strong and in 
good health.  He nodded respectfully to each of 
them, though there was as also a great deal of 
confusion in his eyes. “I hath ne’er seen any so 
strange as thee, noble guests,” Horvig said in a 
clear if shaky voice.  He kept his lips in a 
polite but firm line. “I wilt serve thee 
honourably in any way that I can whilst thee are amidst our lands.”
         “I Thank thee, First Hunter, master 
Horvig,” Qan-af-årael said. “Thou art the finest 
riders in all the Steppe.  We shalt be honoured 
to have thy ward and guidance in the days and weeks to come.”
         Fultag nodded briskly. “I hath ordered 
my people to break camp.  We wilt be ready to 
ride in minutes.  Until then, pay thy respects to 
Dulama’s Shrine as is right and proper for all visitors to this sacred land.”
         The First Hunter turned his horse and he 
and the other Tagendend riders returned to their 
camp.  Already they could see tents being taken 
down and folded up by the many women and children amongst them.
         Jerome remained behind, his face still 
split by a wide grin. “A little bird?” Charles 
asked him at last.  It was good to have a fellow 
Sondecki in his presence again. Though Garigan 
the ferret of Glen Avery had only been a student 
in the ways of the Sondeck, the rat had grown 
used to feeling his presence nearby.
         “A messenger bird from his lordship,” 
Jerome said, gesturing to the ancient Åelf. “He 
mentioned things that convinced me I needed to do 
this.  We’ve been waiting for three days now, so 
it’s good that you’re finally here.” He pulled on 
the reins and his horse turned towards the ring 
of trees. “Come, there will be plenty of time to talk later.”
         They followed Jerome towards the small 
grove, most of them feeling more than a little 
confused.  But after their wild ride, all of them 
were glad for a few moments before they would 
continue. “Why is this a shrine?” Kayla asked as 
they neared the first of the autumnal 
boughs.  The trees were sturdy oaks, their 
branches rattling in the wind above 
them.  Between them was a small patch of bare 
ground, littered only with bright orange leaves.
         Jerome shook his head. “The Tagendend 
wouldn’t really explain that to me either.  I 
only know that it is a holy place for them and 
for most Flatlanders.  We are to each dismount 
and kiss the ground softly.  Then we must back 
away.  We are not allowed to turn our backs upon the grove until we have left.”
         He almost need not have mentioned this 
to either Åelf, as both Qan-af-årael and Andares 
were already climbing off their Rheh and 
proceeding into the centre of the 
shrine.  Quietly, the Metamorians did so as well; 
even Guernef approached and lowered his beak to the ground.
         Charles was a little disappointed that 
he felt no stone in the ground, but the vine on 
his back seemed to stretch in secret 
pleasure.  One by one they kissed the hard-packed 
earth and backed away.  The Rheh pushed past them 
once they were finished and also lowered their 
snouts to the earth to brush it with their supple 
lips.  Their eyes closed in that moment of soft 
embrace, before they backed away, their hooves 
barely echoing beneath those sheltering trees.
         By the time they had left and stood out 
under the open sky, they all felt a strange sense 
of loss. “I don’t know,” Jessica admitted as she 
gazed at those trees.  They were no different now 
than before. “But I think this is a true 
shrine.  I wish I understood it.  But something happened here long ago.”
         “It felt like a parting,” James said 
suddenly, ears laying back against his head. “I 
cannot describe it any better than that.”
         “It was a parting,” Qan-af-årael 
admitted. “And a promise.  It is very old and 
there are few who remember its history.  But all 
who are born and raised upon the Steppe know of 
it, and know that to harm it would bring 
damnation upon themselves and all their family.”
         Charles briefly thought of the knight, 
Sir Erick Saulius.  He had been born in the 
Steppe.  Perhaps if they survived this journey he 
would ask his fellow rat about the Dulama 
Shrine.  Somehow he knew that the Åelf would not 
tell them anything that they knew.
         “The Tagendend are ready,” Jerome 
called. “We have many miles to go.  Honestly, I 
have no idea how we are going to cross the Steppe 
in time.  Do you realize how many leagues we have to journey?”
         Qan-af-årael mounted his Rheh, and so 
did the others.  The golden horses trotted across 
the grasses until they had drawn alongside the 
Tagendend riders.  Fultag regarded them with a 
strange look of envy, and then set his sable 
charger into a brisk canter southwest along the river.
         “No horse can ride with the Rheh Talaran 
and not find its true self,” Andares chanted as 
if it were a paean to Eli.  Charles thought that 
a strange thing to say, but as they began to pick 
up speed, he could see the look of surprise on 
the faces of the Tagendend.  Their horses seemed 
to be energized, their bodies moving so quickly 
that their legs were almost a blur.  Their hooves 
thundered across the Steppe, and all the world 
began to speed past them at a remarkable rate.
         The Rheh carrying Qan-af-årael gave out 
a mighty cry, rearing with pride, before leaping 
into the air.  But to everyone’s surprise, he did 
not land.  His hooves caught flame, and charted a 
course a good four to five feet above the 
grasses.  One by one, the other Rheh followed him 
into the sky, and then so too did the riders of the Tagendend.
         “By Brienne!” Horvig shouted, his face 
filled at first with fear, and then with utter 
joy. “Dulama praise be to thy name!  Rheh!”
         The other Tagendend took up the chant, 
their horses exulting in their freedom from the earth. “Rheh!  Rheh!  Rheh!”
         The Keepers laughed and chanted with 
them, their whole bodies suffused with the thrill 
of the ride.  Within moments, Dulama’s Shrine was lost to sight.

----------

         Although Kurt Schanalein knew that 
joining the Breckarin army was meant to keep him 
out of his father’s affairs – and more 
importantly, the affairs of the traitor du 
Tournemire and that witch he was using to control 
Father – it had in fact been a blessing in 
disguise.  When he’d lived in the castle as the 
Duke’s heir, he was constantly surrounded by 
retainers and eyes watched him everywhere he 
went.  Now as a lowly officer in the Duke’s army, 
he was free to move about the city in a way he’d never before known.
         While it was commonly known that Kurt 
had joined the army, and it was known that he had 
fallen out of favour with his father, it was not 
commonly known that Duke Friedrich Schanalein was 
trying to impregnate his wife so that he might 
have another heir.  Kurt had heard through the 
peepholes in the castle walls that as soon as his 
mother was with child, his father would force him 
to renounce his claim as heir to the Breckarin Duchy.
         It was not that Kurt truly wanted to be 
Duke.  But when the time came, he had always 
hoped and prayed he would be able to lead his 
people honestly and with Eli’s blessing.  In many 
ways, he was glad that he had become a 
soldier.  Now he could speak to people in the 
city without them seeing his rank and title.  All 
they saw now was another soldier in the army, and 
they spoke of things that he had never suspected.
         And it was also how he had learned where she had been taken.
         After seeing that witch enter his 
father’s chambers with that slave woman in tow, 
he had wondered who she was and if there was 
anything he could do to help her.  After fleeing 
the castle and returning to his barracks, he had 
resolved to go looking for her the very next 
day.  But then his regiment was selected to 
conduct a patrol of the river.  It was a month 
before they had returned to Breckaris.
         Kurt did not smile as he walked down the 
dark streets with a few of his new friends.  They 
were older soldiers, ones who had served in the 
Duke’s army for years, and were more than happy 
to help their young grace seek out the 
companionship of a lady for a night.  That he was 
enchanted with this one wild woman only made his 
desire more exotic, more alluring.  They grinned 
as they guided him down the back streets near the 
wharves in a section of the city that until the 
Summer, Kurt had never even seen.
         The cobblestone roads were lined with 
filth on either side, with tall narrow houses 
that leaned out over the street like wolves 
readying to feast on a crippled 
rabbit.  Flickering lights danced in many 
windows, the glass smeared and coated with so 
much grime that he could see nothing of the rooms 
beyond.  From a few windows and clothes lines 
hung the only lamps lighting the road.  The air stank of beer, piss and faeces.
         “Are you sure you want to come here,” 
Otto , the youngest of the four soldiers 
accompanying him asked. “There are better places 
to pop your cherry.” And Kurt had no doubt that 
Otto had personal experience with several.  For 
this and other reasons, Otto did not know Kurt’s true intentions.
         “The woman is here,” Kurt replied as 
they stopped at an establishment whose 
whitewashed walls were marred by some drunken 
artist’s depiction of an act that Kurt did not 
think any man could actually perform.  He frowned 
and could hear some raucous laughter coming out 
through an open window, followed by a sullen cry. “Yes, the woman is here.”
         “Do you need us to come inside?” Otto 
asked, an amused grin playing across his ruddy 
cheeks. Kurt regarded him with bemusement.  Otto 
was only a common soldier who had never learned 
better.  Kurt would not hate him for his interest in inexpensive women.
         “No.  Otto, you and Wilhelm remain here 
out front.  Hans, Rolf, you wait around back in 
case there is any trouble.  If I am to be a man, 
I should do it on my own, yes?”
         The other soldiers each laughed in 
amusement, all of them knowing the truth of those 
words.  The two older soldiers, the ones whom 
Kurt trusted, made their way around the rear of 
the establishment while Kurt made for the 
door.  When he opened it, the stink of bad ale 
and vomit nearly made him retch.  He swallowed it 
down, and stepped into the poorly lit 
taproom.  Slumped against the bar was a labourer 
asleep in a pool of his own drool, while behind 
him a woman dressed in gaudy rags was gingerly 
counting out some coins from a small pouch – 
likely taken from the sleeping man, Kurt 
wagered.  The rest of the room comprised four 
circular tables, at the farthest of which sat a 
man with oily hair and a foul smelling pipe clenched between his teeth
         Kurt let the door close behind him, and 
did his best to look like a young soldier on his 
way to his first encounter with a woman.  The man 
at the back of the room smiled to him.  Kurt was 
reminded of one of the eels he’d seen in his father’s ponds.
         “Ah, and what brings a soldier such as 
yourself to this place, hmm?” the man leaned 
forward, gesturing with one hand towards the seat 
opposite him. “Is there anything we can do to 
make your stay more pleasant.  A bit of ale 
perhaps?  Or some food?  Or did you have something else in mind?”
         Kurt did not take the chair.  He 
shuffled his feet as if he were nervous. “I... I 
hear that you have... a wild woman.  I was wondering...”
         “A wild woman?” The man looked almost 
offended. “Now, it is true that some of my 
charges can, shall we say, be a bit 
indiscreet.  But wild?  Just because she wears 
the skins of animals does not make her any less 
civilized than you or I.  Certainly she is fine 
quality for such a soldier as yourself.  Would 
you be interested in spending a bit of time with her?”
         Kurt pursed his lips.  He needed this 
man to think he wanted to lose his virginity. “How much is she?”
         The man clasped his hands before him. 
“I’m sure we can discuss a reasonable price.  For 
a young soldier such as yourself.” He grinned, 
revealing a few missing teeth.  Kurt had to 
restrain his desire to knock out a few more of 
the odious creature’s teeth.  Instead he smiled, and proceeded to haggle.

         Ten minutes later, Kurt found himself in 
a small room that he could not have fit even half 
his bed from the castle in.  There was a small 
pallet against one wall with a few ratty 
blankets, and only three feet of bare floor 
between the edge and the wall.  A cramped window 
looked out over the gambled rooftops of 
Breckaris.  The window was too narrow for anyone 
to squeeze through, but it would be enough so 
that everyone would know just what was done in 
this stinking place.  The place reeked with 
filth, and his nose itched from some unnameable 
odours that clung to his skin the moment he stepped inside.
         There was but a single candle burning in 
a pewter bowl next to the bed.  Kurt sat on the 
bed with his knees to his chest, one hand resting 
on his sword hilt.  He didn’t think he would need 
it, but he honestly wasn’t sure how this woman 
would react to his proposal.  And besides, after 
the many months of training he’d received at the 
barracks, nervous as he was, he could not have 
taken his hand off the sword even if he wanted to.
         When Kurt heard the sound of footsteps 
approaching the door, he swallowed heavily.  The 
door creaked open and a woman dressed in barely 
concealing animal furs stepped through.  Her face 
attempted to be alluring, but the lifelessness in 
her eyes shone clearly even in the 
candlelight.  She rubbed her hands over her body 
like a marionette, acting as enticing as she could.
         Kurt sucked in his breath and gestured 
towards the door.  In a quiet voice he said, “Please shut the door.”
         “You like it private?  Me too,” her 
voice was sultry, but there was a vast emptiness 
in her words that made Kurt all the angrier.  Who 
was this woman, and what had they done to 
her?  He wished he could have come here sooner.
         “What’s your name?” Kurt asked, shifting back a little on the pallet.
         She pushed the door closed and then 
smiled, her lips puffy.  There was no doubt that 
she was erotic.  Kurt realized he was aroused and 
felt ashamed. “You can call me, Hunda, my little soldier.”
         He recalled Rolf telling him that 
prostitutes had two names, the one they were born 
with, and the one they told the patrons.  Hunda, 
a female dog.  How fitting.  How revolting.
         Kurt shook his head. “Not quite what I 
was looking for.  Come sit.  On that side of the 
pallet, if you will.”  He pointed at the opposite 
end, hoping his intention was clear.
         She looked at him odd, her posture 
hesitant.  After several seconds of confusion, 
she sat down, leaning provocatively towards him. “Do you want me on top?”
         “I do not want you at all, not in that 
way,” Kurt replied.  He pulled his legs beneath 
him cross-legged, one hand ever on his hilt. He 
whispered softly, “I want to know your 
name.  Your real name, not the one that monster downstairs gave you.”
         She blinked in surprise, leaning 
backwards against the wall.  Her eyes were lost, and she said nothing.
         “I hired you for the night, but it is 
not your body I want,” Kurt reiterated. 
“Something happened to you.  I saw it when that 
woman brought you before the Duke, and said you 
should be put in a whorehouse.  I saw it.  I want to help.”
         She frowned, and for the first time he 
saw something approaching actual emotion in her 
eyes.  There was the briefest flash of anger, but 
it was replaced by an overwhelming helplessness. “What can you do, a soldier?”
         “More than you know.  My name is Kurt.  What’s your name?”
         He held out his hand as a gentleman 
would to a friend.  She looked at it as if it 
were a snake.  And then, slowly, the tension in 
her body began to fade.  At last she reached out 
and took his hand.  Her grip was stronger than he 
expected. “My name is Tugal.  And that... that... 
wizard did this to me.  And my friends... my 
friends... they raped me...” Her hands balled 
into fists, her whole body tightening into a wild 
fury, and then just as suddenly it evaporated and 
tears began to stream down her cheeks.
         Kurt leaned in closer, resting one hand 
on her shoulder. “There are two friends of mine 
that I trust out back.  Is there someplace we can 
go where we can slip out unnoticed?”
         Tugal shook her head. “Alosius watches 
us like a hawk.  When we are not here serving a 
customer, we are chained in the basement.” A 
vicious snarl crossed her lips. “I’ve been 
keeping an eye on where he stores the laudanum.  You could poison him.”
         Kurt snorts. “I could just run him through.”
         She shook her head. “He may be a 
monster, but he is no fool.  I have seen him kill 
two men who did not wish to pay already.”
         “Very well.  Do you think you could get to the laudanum?”
         Tugal sneered. “And where would I go?”
         “I have made the arrangements.  There is 
a small nunnery in the city where you can 
stay.  I know some of the nuns there, and they 
will be happy to shelter you.  Two of my friends 
are waiting out back to take you there now.  We just need to leave this place.”
         It was clear the woman was thinking it 
over. “And why should I do any of this?”
         “Because you may be the only person who 
knows what that witch controlling my father can do.”
         “Your father?” Tugal asked, perplexed.
         “Yes, I’m Kurt Schanalein, his grace’s son.”
         Tugal’s eyes widened, “You.. You... but...”
         The door opened abruptly, and standing 
in the candlelight was the man from the 
taproom.  He was grinning like a cat who’d caught 
a mouse. “Well, well, well, Hunda, you’ve made an 
interesting new friend I see.  Now what would his 
grace’s son be doing in a place like this I 
wonder.  Was that a bit of treason I heard you 
plotting just a moment ago?  As a patriotic 
citizen of Breckaris, I cannot let that 
stand.  I’ll just have to keep you here until 
your father pays for your release.” He drew out a 
pair of stilettos so quickly that all Kurt could 
do was scramble to his feet and hope that he’d 
had enough training. “Now Hunda be a good girl 
and wait right there.  This will only take a 
moment.  And if I catch you looking at the 
laudanum again, I will take you myself, and you 
know how hard it is to please me that way.”
         “Yes, master,” Tugal intoned, her voice drained and defeated.
         Kurt finally managed to draw his blade 
and lunged at the man while his attention was on 
the girl.  Tugal did not even move to rise, her 
head lowered meekly under Alosius’s hideous 
gaze.  The dominance in that man’s grey eyes was 
so certain that Kurt both hated it and knew he could not defeat it either.
         Alosius turned and swatted at the sword 
with one move,  sending the blade clattering 
against the pallet.  Kurt winced and rubbed at 
his hand.  He wasn’t cut, but it stung 
badly.  Alosius stepped forward, and pressed one 
blade against the young soldier’s throat. The 
other was at his belly. “Now you aren’t going to 
be giving me any trouble will you, your grace?”
         The blade pressed so close to his skin 
that Kurt couldn’t even swallow.  Alosius’s smile 
widened, and then his eyes gaped, and blood 
frothed at the corner of his lips.  He turned 
back to see Tugal driving Kurt’s fallen sword 
deeper into his back.  Alosius tried to cry out, 
but all the strength left his legs and he tumbled 
to the floor.  The knives fell from his hands and 
he clawed at the air, trying to grab the woman’s 
legs.  His eyes screamed murder and hate.  Tugal 
bent over and picked up one knife.  She cut open the man’s pants.
         Kurt turned away, his body trembling at 
the sound of the man’s choked cries.  A moment 
later he chanced a peek and watched as the woman 
drove both stilettos through Alosius’s eye 
sockets.  His body ceased twitching a moment later.
         “Well, we won’t need the laudanum after 
all,” Tugal added.  She spat on the bloody 
corpse, and then turned back to Kurt. “Your 
sword.” She held it out to him, hilt first.  Kurt 
cleaned it on the pallet before sheathing it.  He 
was a soldier now, he reminded himself.  He was 
going to see a lot more death than this before his time on the earth was done.
         “Who are you?” Kurt asked, feeling quite 
off-balance.  He could still feel where the man 
had held the blade to his neck.  He rubbed the skin there, but felt no cut.
         “Tugal.  I used to be a mercenary from 
the Giantdowns.  And I used to be a man.  The 
curses of thrice damned Metamor made me this way.  Does this bother you?”
         Kurt shook his head.  He’d heard about 
Metamor of course, but he’d never seen its effect 
up close.  Until a moment ago, he never would 
have believed this woman had ever been anything 
else. “No, Tugal, it does not.  We should go.  I 
need to be back here soon so it can seem like I 
lost my virginity with you.  Not all of my 
friends know the real reason I’m here.”
         Tugal frowned but nodded at last. 
“You’re the first person to treat me like a man 
since this happened.  Thank you, Kurt.”
         “You.. Your welcome.” He stepped to the 
door and peered out into the empty hallway. “Now 
lets go.  I will want to hear about this Agathe, 
and everything that happened to you when we have 
time.  But right now, let’s get out of here.”
         Tugal said nothing more.  But she did 
give Alosius’s body a kick one more time before they left.

----------

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias