[Mkguild] The Last Tale of Yajakali - Chapter LXX

[C. Matthias]

And here we have another Chapter.  Things are 
getting exciting!  I hope to have a new chapter 
every two weeks until this is done.

The rating on this one may be too much for 
MK.  If so, let me know and I'll tone it 
down.  You'll know what I'm talking about.

Metamor Keep: The Last Tale of Yajakali
By Charles Matthias

Chapter LXX

The Last Felikaush

         The staircase leading down from the 
entrance hall had no lanterns to guide their 
way.  Neither had Habakkuk or Lindsey carried 
any, and with their friends lost in the Chateau’s 
illusions, they could only rely on what ambient 
light came from above and their sense of 
touch.  Habakkuk, who could wear no shoes, took 
each step first.  His feet were long enough that 
his toes curled over the edge of each 
step.  Gingerly he would lean forward, long tail 
lifting but still dragging on the steps behind 
them, and lower one foot until it met the cold stone of the next step.
         Lindsey and he kept hand ad paw firmly 
clasped together.  The kangaroo’s claws dug 
lightly against the flesh callused and chapped 
from his years on the timber crews.  With his 
free hand Lindsey dragged his fingers against the 
smooth wall to steady them.  Although they’d only 
started down the stairs not even a minute past, 
already the darkness was too thick for his human 
eyes to penetrate.  And since kangaroos were 
animals of the sun, Habakkuk’s eyesight was 
little better in so tenebrous a place.
         “Shouldn’t we try to make some sort of 
light?” Lindsey asked in a voice even quieter 
than the scrape of Habakkuk’s toe claws.
         He could feel more than see his 
companion and guide turn.  Habakkuk was now only 
a dim shadow in the blackness of the endless 
stair, a thing of faint lines and denser 
presence.  The soft russet fur on his arm brushed 
Lindsey’s own and a sigh escaped his long muzzle. 
“Everything is coming together now. The Hall of 
Unearthly Light is below.  There will be light 
again.  At the very least, the Marquis had to 
have some light for his passage.  Just, trust me 
now and we’ll get through this.”
         “I trust you, Zhypar.”
         The kangaroo squeezed his hand a little 
and then continued into the darkness.  Lindsey 
stared wide-eyed into the abyss.  His eyes were 
adjusting to the darkness and he could still make 
out the faint line of the next few steps.  But 
with each step they faded more and more from 
view.  In another minute he knew there would be 
nothing to see at all.  Each step already took 
several seconds to make. How long and how careful 
would they need to be once all the light went 
out?  Would the stairs disappear completely 
beneath them?  Would they be trapped in some 
labyrinth with only their hands and paws to guide 
them?  The very notion of it made him squeeze Habakkuk’s paw tighter.
         “Do you remember,” Habakkuk said softly 
and with uncanny warmth, “when Charles told us of 
his journey beneath Metamor?  Last year during 
the assault the other rats had found a passage 
that led north to Glen Avery.  Do you remember him telling us that?”
         Lindsey nodded, carefully setting his 
right boot on the next step.  The left followed 
more quickly.  His mind turned back to one of the 
many nights on their journey around the fire 
talking of others things while they ate their 
evening meal.  A slight smile came to him. “I 
remember.  He said the walls were black and 
smooth as pearl.  Kayla said Andwyn had teams explore some of those passages.”
         “That’s right.  And they were no threat 
to Metamor because they couldn’t be opened from 
the passage if locked outside.” Habakkuk took the 
next step and then added, “I remember Charles 
saying how long it took to traverse the 
passage.  Just think how much farther we’ve come 
in these last six months.  An entire 
continent!  I daresay there are two or three 
others at the Keep who can say as much as we 
can.  But this stair reminds me of Charles’s 
passage.  Only we know this will end and end soon.”
         Lindsey wasn’t so sure about that.  He 
couldn’t se anything at all anymore.  Tentatively 
he set his foot down on the next step.  The wall 
beneath his right fingers felt smooth apart from 
places were another mineral had been worked into 
grooves.  That other mineral felt soft but firm 
like lead. “How do you know it will end soon?  Did you foresee it?”
         “No, but I remember what Abafouq 
translated in Qorfuu.  The Hall of Unearthly 
Light was beneath the city.  The Chateau was 
built over top of the city’s ruins.  So first we 
must pass the layer of ruins before we reach the 
Hall.  It cannot be much further.”
         Lindsey felt somewhat comforted by that 
as they walked.  The seconds drew into minutes 
and the darkness persisted.  His fingers 
alternated clawing at the wall and just sliding 
across it.  He rubbed his other fingers across 
the back of Habakkuk’s paw.  But other than the 
sound of Habakkuk’s claws and tail scraping over 
the stone stairs, all he could hear was their own breath.
         The kangaroo began whispering under his 
breath. “Lucnos... matraluc... gold, quicksilver, 
plumbum.”  He repeated them again, the first two 
drawn out as if Habakkuk were savouring the way 
they rolled off his tongue, the others quick like 
bolts from a crossbow.  “Lucnos... matraluc... gold, quicksilver, plumbum.”
         “What are those?” Lindsey whispered.
         “Luc... the minerals Yajakali used in 
his weapons.  Lucnos meant light of night.  And 
Matraluc was mother of light.  There...” the 
kangaroo’s voice trailed away and he stood still 
for a moment.  Lindsey glanced where he knew 
Habakkuk would be but of course he saw 
nothing.  When his friend spoke again, the voice 
was so quiet that only in that place where no 
other sound existed could he have heard him. “Light.  Look below.”
         He stared down the staircase and at 
first didn’t understand what he was 
seeing.  Somewhere far below he saw thin lines 
that narrowed even as they brightened.  His heart 
quickened and he knew them at last.  The 
steps!  Somewhere below there was light!  He took 
a long slow breath and squeezed Habakkuk’s paw. “At last.”
         “I’d rather the stair continue 
forever.  When we reach that light we face the 
very end.”  Nevertheless, Habakkuk resumed 
climbing down the steps.  What enthusiasm for the 
light Lindsey had died with those forlorn words 
from the kangaroo.  He kept his grip on the paw tight and followed him down.
         The light steadily grew and within a 
minute Lindsey could see Habakkuk’s outline 
again.  Still their guide set one long foot 
gingerly down on the next step, a step they both 
could see limned by a warm yellow light.  If 
anything, he seemed to take each step slower than 
the last.  Lindsey sighed and leaned closer to 
whisper, “We cannot delay the end forever.  We 
have to stop the Marquis and we don’t know what’s become of the others!”
         Habakkuk lowered his long ears, eyes 
narrowing with a look of profoundest sorrow. “You 
speak true, my love, my northern flame.  You 
speak true.  Let us be done with it then.” His 
manner became resolute so quickly that Lindsey 
couldn’t help but wonder if some he’d reached 
some great decision.  No longer did he scout out 
the steps but noted each merely by sight and 
trusted to what the light revealed.
         Within another minute the light grew 
bright enough that they could see details along 
the walls that had before been invisible except 
to Lindsey’s touch.  Crisscrossing the walls as 
if it were ivy were bands of some inlay.  It had 
a dull luster even in the yellow light, though it 
was subtly brighter than the stone in which it 
had been set.  The design was intricate with the 
familiar delicacy that they’d seen in the ancient city of Ava-shavåis.
         “We must be getting cl...” the words did 
on his tongue as he saw the stairs reach their 
end.  The yellow light pooled at the bottom and a 
circular arch led into another hallway.  Lindsey 
swallowed and stared.  No longer needing 
Habakkuk’s help, they descended the last steps together.
         Lindsey didn’t know what to expect when 
they reached the bottom.  But the long hall 
inlaid with the dull metal and interspersed with 
flaming torches was not it.  The hall stretched 
so long that they couldn’t make out its end 
despite the light.  The northerner let out a sigh 
of relief and paused, yanking the kangaroo back a 
pace. “What is it?” Habakkuk asked, still speaking in hushed tones.
         “This metal,” Lindsey replied, stroking 
his fingers over the grey inlay.  It felt soft 
and pliable beneath his fingers. “It’s just 
common lead.  I thought you said it was supposed 
to glow with an unearthly light?”
         Habakkuk sighed and nodded. “It did 
once.  What the Binoq carved in Nafqananok told 
of how the prince laid lucnos in the walls of his 
sanctum sanctorum.  But it also said how the 
lucnos could change lead into gold, but 
eventually the gold all became lead again.  It 
seems that even lucnos shared that 
fate.  Come.  We should not marvel.  This place is evil.”
         Lindsey turned back to the kangaroo and 
together the two of them walked down the long 
hall.  The end of the hall never revealed itself, 
but only grew brighter with each passing 
step.  The walls darkened beneath the scowl of 
such brilliance.  Both of them lifted an arm to 
shield their eyes as the passage dwindled to 
nothing but that shining golden radiance.
         And then they blinked and all the world 
came into view again.  The hall opened into a 
large chamber festooned with the scrollwork 
pattern along ceiling, wall and floor.  The stone 
was smooth as glass but firm.  Nine columns in 
the shapes of vast trees rose along the perimeter 
of the chamber.  Their branches crawled together 
over the ceiling through the leaden inlay and 
seemed to bear thin fern-like leaves.  Set into 
each tree was one of the nine chevrons also in lead.
         Their eyes were drawn not to the feat of 
artistry to sculpt stone so delicately, but to 
that which hulked in the centre of the 
chamber.  A circular platform of marbled stone 
stood on nine legs over a crack in the 
floor.  The crack was not so much a chasm as an 
emptiness where the floor should have 
been.  Straight but jagged edges spread out like 
a fist punched into ice and within each nothing 
existed but a darkness more profound than they had faced even on the staircase.
         Resting atop the platform was a golden 
dias with nine stanchions at each of its nine 
corners.  A nine sided lacuna in its centre 
waited for something to fill it.  Lines of a 
strange speckled grey mineral led from each 
stanchion to the central depression.  Atop each 
stanchion was a different coloured gem all dark 
despite the preternatural glow reflected in the 
gold.  At the base of each stanchion one of the 
nine chevrons had been inscribed.  Along the rest 
of the dias pictographs of demons and monsters 
cavorted in every vice imaginable to man, and 
many beyond even the blackest desires of man.
         Before them rested in malevolent regard 
the Dias of Yajakali.  And beneath it so tranquil 
and menacing, the very crack in existence Yajakali had created.
         “Great Eli help us,” Habakkuk stammered, 
his brown eyes wide and his fur trembling in fright.
         “You are quite beyond anyone’s help 
here, Felikaush.” The mocking tone was 
unmistakable.  Turning their heads, hand and paw 
still clasped, Lindsey and Habakkuk beheld the 
Marquis du Tournemire emerge from behind one of 
the pillars.  In one hand he carried his deck of 
cards, and his fingers methodically moved the top 
card to the bottom with the nimbleness of a trickster.
         Lindsey reached for his axe with his 
free hand and immediately felt his muscles 
constrict.  The Marquis smiled with supreme 
amusement. “You do recall what I made you do to 
that donkey the last time we met.  I could have 
you strangle the Felikaush here just as easily.”
         Lindsey’s heart sank.  The control in 
the cards was complete.  Beside him Habakkuk 
glared but also stayed perfectly still. There was 
nothing either of them could do to the 
Marquis.  Slowly, his arm descended back to his 
side where it lingered harmlessly.  This appeared 
to satisfy the Marquis. “You do remember.  How 
delightful.  And how interesting that it would be 
the two of you to reach the Hall of Unearthly 
Light first.  Your companions are quite lost and 
I fear they may not join us in time to watch what I have in mind for you.”
         “And what is that?” Habakkuk sneered 
through his snout.  Lindsey tried to move his 
tongue but found that it remained fixed.  Why was 
the Marquis letting Habakkuk talk and not him?
         Tournemire laughed, a sound that grated 
on their ears. “You, the last of the Felikaush, a 
race singularly gifted with the art of prophecy, 
must ask me what will come to pass?  Don’t you already know what I intend?”
         “I do not know everything,” Habakkuk admitted with disdain.
         The Marquis spread his cards between his 
hands and studied the kangaroo for a moment 
before continuing his diatribe. “No, you don’t do 
you.  I can feel it in your mind, all the various 
possibilities coming together now.  Everything is 
leading up to what will happen tonight.  Yet 
still you cling to the hope that you will stop 
me.  You can see that you won’t, but you still hope for it.”
         “You see only what you want to see, 
Marquis,” Habakkuk replied with acid in his 
voice. “You have no understanding of the future.”
         The Marquis moved away from the pillar 
and walked toward them.  Behind him they could 
see his Castellan and Steward propped against the 
wall as still as statues.  There didn’t appear to 
be anyone else in the room, but the Marquis was 
more than enough.  Though quite a bit shorter 
than Lindsey, he still managed to look down his nose at the both of them.
         “No understanding?  It is I more than 
anyone in the world who has shaped the 
future.  You, Felikaush, have done nothing but 
watch what I have set in motion come to 
pass.  Even your precious Åelf has wasted 
centuries watching the stars move without 
realizing he could stretch out his hand and shape 
them.  You’ve done nothing for the future.”
         The Marquis spread his hands wide and 
the deck of cards hung in the air between them as 
if laying upon an invisible table.  His smile 
mocked their paralysis. “It was I who 
orchestrated moving the Censer to Metamor and 
turning Loriod against your precious Duke.  It 
was I who arranged the assassination of Patriarch 
Akabaieth.  It was I who drove Breckaris to 
invade Sathmore.  It was I who instigated civil 
war in the Southern Midlands.  It was I who 
turned Whales mighty and unconquerable fleet 
against itself.  And it is I whose actions have 
created whatever future this world might 
have.  And it is I who pull your strings this 
night.  It is I who decide whether you shall live 
or die.  What can you do?  What have you 
done?  Trade messages by carrier pigeon with your equally inept conspirators?”
         Habakkuk lowered his eyes and ears. “I have thwarted you.”
         “Hah!” The Marquis leaned his head back 
and crossed his arms.  The cards remained before 
him. “You move your tongue only because I give 
you leave.  You cannot thwart me.”
         “But it has already come to pass. I am 
here.  My friends will be here soon.  And 
besides, everything you touch fails.  Not a 
single one of your schemes has succeeded.”
         The Marquis lowered his eyes and shook 
his head. “What delusions are you spouting, Felikaush?”
         “I don’t have to change the world to 
thwart you. That is where you’re mistaken.  A 
touch here or there is all that is needed.  Your 
allies understood this.  It was all that Marzac 
would allow them.  A touch unnoticed has undone 
every one of your plans.  Loriod indulged his 
worst tendencies to turn the Duke against him 
before your plan to install him on the throne 
could succeed.  Had you succeeded, you could have 
tied the Censer to Metamor at your leisure 
instead of sacrificing one of your allies to do 
it.  You didn’t succeed.  You barely hung on to what you had.”
         The Marquis idly began flipping through 
his cards.  He’d stare at the face then toss them 
into the air where they floated untended. “Loriod 
was a fool.  His mistakes were not because he 
sought to undermine me.  His mistakes were 
because he thought himself more important than 
me.  And yet I still tied the Censer.  You may 
remember.  You were there with all of your 
friends.  You could do nothing to stop me.”
         Habakkuk snorted, ears lifting with 
renewed liveliness. “Your other allies betrayed 
you too.  Yonson insured that a book revealing 
the secrets of the hyacinth found its way into my 
possession.  It was a book I translated, which he 
gave to Jessica, knowing the only one who could 
translate it at Metamor was me.  It led me 
inexorably to discover the hyacinth you had him 
place at Metamor to store magical energy.  With 
it destroyed, your plot to turn the Duke into a 
willing beast of burden failed.  And you were 
forced to come to Metamor yourself to tie the 
Censer.  Yonson betrayed you in the only way he 
could, sneaking out a critical piece of the puzzle.”
         “You are starting to bore me, Felikaush.”
         “Agathe betrayed you by keeping Tugal 
alive and taking her to Breckaris where she could undo our confinement.”
         The Marquis studied his nails. “I 
deliberately left Agathe there so that you could 
kill her.  I knew she’d summon the Pillars.  I 
used you to help me gain their power.”
         “But you intended one of us to be struck 
down in the fight.  Tugal took the blow meant for 
us.  And let us not forget the innumerable ways 
that Zagrosek has undermined you.”
         “And he is now dead.  Which brings us to 
you, Zhypar Habakkuk.” The Marquis pulled a card 
out of the deck and twirled it on the end of one 
finger. “The last of the Felikaush.  A sad 
pathetic creature.  I’ve seen your thoughts and 
your dreams.  You do what you do because you 
believe you must.  And you have shown great 
fidelity in your quest to thwart me, even if your 
efforts have been in vain.  Yet, deep inside, you 
still want something.  Something very special to 
you.  There is something missing in you, and it 
stands as a raw wound upon your soul.”
         Tournemire laid one hand upon his 
doublet over his heart and his eyes twinkled with 
burlesque humour. “But I am not without 
sympathy.  I will help grant you this day that which you’ve always hoped for.”
         “And what is that?”
         The Marquis pulled a second card out of 
the deck and glanced at Lindsey. “You were once 
female.  I have seen between you more than just a 
friendship.  Before the curses of Metamor changed 
you, you were contemplating marriage.  The Last 
Felikaush had found the one person who he could 
truly love after so long a time running from the 
pains of his lost family and city.  Together, he 
need not be the Last Felikaush anymore.  His line 
could continue, and his family’s sacred charge would not need be lost.
         “But then Metamor made Lindsey a man and 
you couldn’t be together.” The Marquis pressed 
the card to his face and lowered his eyelids as 
if he were crying. “Truly a story that bards 
would sing of if only they knew your misery.”
         “I want no favours from you!”
         The Marquis stepped closer and patted 
the kangaroo on the jowl. “Ah, but I am your 
host.  You as a guest must accept the gift of the 
host.  Is that not the laws of hospitality where you come from?”
         Lindsey felt ready to explode 
inside.  All he wanted to do was grasp his axe 
and cleave this hideous man’s head in twain.  But 
Habakkuk, so strong that he was, kept his voice 
steely and firm. “You do not give gifts.  You give curses.”
         “Metamor gave you the curse.  I will 
lift it.” Lindsey immediately wondered how he 
planned to do that. “You doubt me?  Merely 
because your lackwit mages cannot understand the 
conflux of spells they live under does not mean 
that it is a knot that cannot be undone.  The 
curse of Metamor is but a plaything and I can 
twist it however I will.  And I will that this 
great wound on your heart be made whole.”
         The Marquis let the other cards in his 
deck lazily float around him while he took a 
single card and spun it so that Lindsey could see 
the face.  Seven hearts surrounded a central 
figure of a man with braided red beard and 
axe.  The figure was unmistakeably Lindsey. “Now 
let us see what happens when the curses of Metamor are lifted.”
         He pressed his fingers to the side of 
the card as if he were plucking a bit of 
hair.  Lindsey felt his body tense and a thousand 
hands jabbed into his flesh.  His beard lifted 
and yanked clean from his face.  His hair was 
pulled down his back.  A burning sensation in his 
groin pressed ever inward like a hook jostling 
his innards to loosen the blubber.  Iron rods 
pierced his chest and drew it out.  All the 
while, his tongue yearned to scream but the 
Marquis’s control prevented him from uttering a sound.
         The Marquis spun the card on his 
fingertip.  When it stopped, the image was 
grossly changed.  Gone was the beard, the axe, 
and the man.  In its place was a northern woman, 
broad of shoulder and hip, with ruddy jowls and 
long red hair.  Lindsey recognized the woman who 
he’d once been before the curses had changed 
him.  And then, he felt a hand reaching up and stroking his smooth cheeks.
         Smooth?
         The Marquis stepped back a pace and 
Lindsey found that he could control himself a 
little bit.  He spread his hands over his body, 
exploring and noting very quickly that the 
Marquis had spoken true.  Lindsey was no longer 
the man he’d been for the last eight years.  She 
was now the woman she’d been born to be.
         “How?” her voice was still rough and 
uncultured, but unmistakeably feminine.  She 
could see a look of total anguish in Habakkuk’s face.
         “The curse is easy to manipulate,” the 
Marquis replied with an amused sneer. “However, I 
don’t think the last Felikaush fully appreciates 
my gift to him.  He needs to see more of you.  Now, let’s help him.”
         Lindsey felt the Marquis’s control guide 
her hands again.  Her tongue kept behind her 
teeth while she set her axe on the ground, then 
loosed the straps of her pack and dropped it atop 
the axe.  Habakkuk tried to turn his face away, 
but the Marquis kept his gaze fixed on Lindsey as 
she took off her attire one piece at a time.  In 
only moments, Lindsey stood with arms spread wide 
bearing nothing and revealing all of her once lost femininity.
         Habakkuk’s lips opened in a soft moan, “Lhindesaeg.”
         Hearing her given name made her flesh 
tremble.  Lindsey had changed it to something 
easier on Midlander tongues when she’d gone to 
Metamor and it had remained a secret between her 
and Habakkuk since.  His eyes, brown and soft, 
vacillated between long denied desire and utter agony.
         “Now, Felikaush, your love is before 
you,” the Marquis said with a sickly warmth. “Can 
you not find it in yourself to respond to that 
desire you have long thought lost?”  As if a tree 
finally giving way to the woodsman’s axe, 
Habakkuk tore at his clothes with feverish 
passion.  He shucked his pack, ripped a pants 
seam in his haste, and then doffed his tunic in a 
pile behind him.  The black spider-like scar on 
his side shimmered in the golden light from the dias.
         “Lhindesaeg!” His voice, throaty and 
guttural, nevertheless carried with it a tone of 
love.  Lindsey’s heart nearly broke at the 
conflict within him How could there ever be a 
worse time and place for their love to be rekindled?
         But her tongue moved to echo his sultry 
sentiment. “Zhypar!”  She flung herself into his 
arms at the Marquis’s command, and shuddered 
against his furry chest.  His paws stroked down 
her smooth skin, playing through her now long hair.
         “No, this isn’t quite right,” the 
Marquis said with mocking regret. “One curse 
still separates you from true union.  Lindsey is 
human, but you, Felikaush, are part beast.  This 
will not do.  There is something else in your 
mind, a fancy I take delight in.  The curse I see 
upon you can easily be shared.  There will be no 
copulation between man and beast.  As I am your 
master, you shall be my beasts.”
         Habakkuk’s arms tightened around her as 
the Marquis spun the card again.  Her body 
spasmed with sudden pain, as hands grasped every 
part of her and twisted it afresh.  Her ears were 
tugged upward like hot candlewax; her nose and 
lips drawn forward by grappling hook.  Her feet 
were crushed and then rolled out long and 
thin.  Something jabbed a hole into her belly.  A 
tickling sensation ran across all her flesh as a 
scarlet coat of fur grew in.  And her back was 
pushed forward as chains dragged a weighty tail from her rump.
         When the card stopped spinning, the 
Seven of Hearts featured a red-furred female 
kangaroo.  Lindsey could see that same fur on her 
changed arms.  Her new snout obscured the front 
of her wider vision, and she felt awkward on her 
legs.  The tail kept swaying back and forth and 
she kept having to shift her ungainly feet back 
and forth to keep from falling over.  All through 
it Habakkuk held her as best he could, his eyes 
fighting the beastly passion the Marquis’s whim stirred.
         “Much better.  Now, onto the dais with 
you that you might sanctify it with your carnal 
nature.  Go on.  Hop on up.” Lindsey stared as 
Habakkuk fell back a pace, his body shifting into 
the full animal form.  His arms shrank, thumb 
disappearing, as his hips swelled and posture 
forced him lower to the ground.  He turned to the 
dias and mechanically hopped onto its golden 
surface.  Lindsey found herself forced into the 
same beastly shape and followed after him with a gait that matched.
         The Marquis sighed and let go of all his 
cards.  They circled him slowly, some face out 
and some face in.  His smile filled them with 
despair even as his cards filled them with lust. 
“And now be together as the beasts you are.”
         Lindsey found herself leaning forward, 
unfamiliar tail rising behind her.  Habakkuk 
snuffled along her backside, his paws brushing 
across her sides and finding purchase, while what 
emerged between his legs sought that which the 
curses had taken away from her eight years 
past.  Lindsey warbled an animal’s cry but could 
do nothing more as Habakkuk and she came together.
         Her long ears were filled with the 
grunting of her lover and the laughter of the vile Marquis du Tournemire.

         Kayla jostled her arms but they remained 
firmly fixed on the decaying chest of the raccoon 
Rickkter.  Her lover’s green eyes, once vibrant, 
dominant, and a touch mischievous, now glowed a 
sickly colour that reminded her of the fungus 
she’d seen growing beneath the Binoq 
mountains.  His claws, grey and long, fumbled at 
her jerkin but the tough leather kept them from scaping her chest.
         Through her arms, what life Rickkter had 
left, what thoughts, what hopes, what of anything 
was drawn into Kayla’s body.  Of all that she had 
experienced both in her youth, her days at 
Metamor, and in the six months travelling to 
Marzac, she’d never experienced anything so 
horrifying as stealing a life.  Not even the 
Marquis’s torturous powers frightened her more 
than this.  She experienced all Rickkter’s 
thoughts of love for her turn into cries of terror and fright.
         Yet, as if somehow he was still trying 
to love her, his thoughts kept turning to the 
bracer around Kayla’s arm.  It had been a gift 
from Rickkter to her shortly before the events of 
the Summer Solstice struck him down and forced 
her to leave Metamor.  She’d never given it much 
thought — the dragon swords had been far more 
interesting even when they weren’t talking to her 
— but now it seemed important.  She angled her 
arm to get a good look at the bracer.  Fashioned 
from sturdy metal with runes inscribed along the 
back, it still appeared to be no ore than a 
decorative work.  Though it fit comfortably, 
there was a gap between her forearm and the metal that she could see through.
         And then she stared through it, the 
shock of what she saw, or didn’t see, snapping 
her mind out of the numbing terror of the undead 
Rickkter clawing at her chest.  She should have 
seen his desiccated and mangy fur, but all she 
saw was the dull, dusty stones of Marzac.
         Marzac!  She was in Marzac!
         As soon as the sight came to her, 
Rickkter and the walls of Metamor 
disappeared.  She stood alone in the entrance 
chamber to the Chateau Marzac.  The door was 
closed and latched.  Behind her she saw a long 
set of stairs descending into darkness.  Their 
plan had worked!  She could go to the Hall of 
Unearthly Light.  But what had happened to her friends?
         Resting one paw on the hilt of 
Clymaethera, the skunk turned about, 
monochromatic tail swinging behind her 
head.  Apart from the tenebrous staircase the 
entrance chamber was completely barren.  But was 
this true or was it merely another aspect of the 
magic closing the door had summoned?
         Kayla peered down at the braced and 
wondered.  Slowly, she lifted it and peered 
between the top curve and her upper arm.  Turning 
on one paw, she swept across the room.  Brief 
flashes of colour met her eyes and her leapt in 
her chest.  Her friends were there trapped in 
their own illusions!  How could she free them though?
         She settled on the nearest.  James the 
donkey had drawn his sword and was stabbing down 
into the empty air with dark eyes wild with 
anger.  What could he be seeing?  The memory of 
undead Rickkter assured her it was better if she 
didn’t know. Gingerly, she reached forward and 
tried to grab him on one shoulder.
         And then he was there.  He stared down 
at the ground and blinked.  Turning his head to 
one side he saw her and he let out a gasp of air. 
“Kayla!  What’s happened?  Oh Eli, what have I 
been doing!” The agony in his voice tore at her 
heart, but she couldn’t risk letting him fall apart on her now.
         “It’s all illusion,” she replied, 
sliding her paw down over his shoulder blade to 
comfort the distraught equine. “The Chateau is trying to destroy our resolve.”
         James took several deep breaths and then 
nodded. “Where’s everyone else?”
         “In the room.  I can see them through 
this.” She lifted her hand to show the donkey the 
bracer.  But as soon as she broke contact with him he vanished from sight.
         With a strangled cry, she stuck out her 
hand again and he appeared.  The donkey shuddered 
and put his hoof-like hands over his long snout. “Oh, Eli!  It came back!”
         Kayla frowned and with her other paw 
grabbed James by the hand. “I think we have to 
keep touching.  Come.  We’ll find the 
others.”  James nodded, his face drooping and 
morose.  Whatever he’d seen and done still 
haunted him.  He sheathed his blade and followed 
after the skunk as she scanned the room.
         Just behind them she found the 
rat.  He’d turned to stone again and appeared 
half-sunk in the floor.  She rested her paw on 
top of his head and the familiar cold granite 
appeared.  His movement was slow and ponderous 
like the rock he’d become.  Behind her, James 
groaned like a man guilty of some terrible indiscretion.
         “What happened?” his voice droned in the 
steady rhythm they’d grown used to during his 
time trapped as living stone.  He blinked jewel eyes.
         “The Chateau is using illusion against 
us,” Kayla replied. “I can see the others but I 
have tot ouch them to free them.  James, can you 
take Charles’s paw and keep him with us?”
         Beneath her fingers she felt warmth 
spreading through his stony flesh.  And then, 
pinpricks of fur prodded her paw pads.  Soon, 
colour returned to the rat and fur replaced the 
stone.  He nodded to them and sliding his paws 
along Kayla’s arm, moved over to James who 
appeared hesitant at first to take his paw, but a 
smile from the rat ended whatever uncertainty lurked in the donkey’s heart.
         Kayla peered through the bracer and 
frowned. “I thought Habakkuk and Lindsey were 
right over here, but I don’t see them.  Ah, 
there’s Andares.” Together the three of them 
crossed the room to whee te younger Åelf had once 
stood.  Kayla reached out her arm and wrapped her 
paw around his upper arm.  The Åelf appeared and 
after blinking a few times to clear his eyes, 
smiled.  His high-cheek boned face conveyed both 
a note of sadness along with his greater relief.
         “Thank you, Kayla.”
         Kayla gestured with a twitch of her head 
and tail behind her to where the other two stood. 
“We have to keep touching or the illusion returns.  Grab Charles’s paw.”
         “It would be better,” the rat suggested, 
“if we were to hold each other’s tails.  That 
will give us animal Keepers each a free hand.”
         “Good idea,” Kayla agreed.  She gave 
James’s hook-like hand a quick squeeze before 
letting him slide it up her arm, down her back, 
and along her tail until he tightened his grip on 
its end.  It felt very strange to have anyone 
other than Rick probing her tail, but this was 
not the time to belabour rules of modesty.
         Charles took a few steps around after 
wrapping one paw around the donkey’s tail and 
waved his own near to where the Åelf 
stood.  Andares grabbed the scaly end in one hand 
and nodded to them. “Where are the others?”
         “I’m looking,” Kayla replied.  She saw 
both Guernef and Abafouq a short distance ahead 
and walked toward them.  She felt a slight tug on 
her tail as the others did the same.
         Both the Binoq and the Nauh-kaee were 
grateful for being rescued.  Abafouq had tears 
drying on his cheeks.  With a bit of jostling — 
Andares took James’s tail, Charles took his hand, 
while with one hand Abafouq held the rat’s tail 
and his other arm was wrapped about the 
Nauh-kaee’s neck — they managed to link hand, 
paws and tails and continue toward the door.
         Jerome gasped with relief when freed and 
took up carrying the Nauh-kaee’s lion-like 
tail.  Jessica was similarly relieved and let 
Jerome cradled the tips of her wing 
feathers.  But of the ancient Åelf or Habakkuk and Lindsey there was no sign.
         “I can’t say Qan-af-årael disappearing 
really surprises me,” Charles admitted with 
whiskers atwitter. “It worries me, but doesn’t 
surprise me.  But where did Lindsey and Habakkuk 
go?  You said that the rest of us were still in 
the same place we’d been when the door was shut.”
         Kayla shook her head, ears and whiskers 
folding back. “I don’t know.  They were right 
behind us but they aren’t there anymore.”
         “I saw Habakkuk put his paw on Lindsey’s 
shoulder before the door was closed,” Andares 
said softly. “Perhaps they were never consumed by 
the phantasms of this evil Chateau?”
         “Perhaps,” Kayla admitted.  She didn’t 
remember that, but they had been standing behind 
her. “Do you think they’ve already gone ahead of us?”
         “We do have noses,” the rat pointed out 
as he tugged himself toward the staircase. “Let 
me sniff and learn.”  The line moved as best they 
could to the top of the stairs.  Charles bent 
over, drawing Andares down with him to keep 
touching.  He brushed his whiskers and nose 
across the top step and drew in what scents he 
could.  Apart from the mustiness of the place, he 
could discern the faint earthiness he’d always 
associated with his kangaroo friend.  He 
straightened. “They did indeed go down before us.”
         “Then we need to follow,” Kayla 
said.  She peered into the dark and glanced back. “But we need light.”
         “I will tend to that.” Jessica lifted 
her free wing and three bright globes of light 
emerged from her wing feathers.  They hovered in 
the air, until two broke away.  One flew ahead of 
Kayla and stopped, while the other danced a few 
feet over Charles’s head. “It will be easier than 
lighting and carrying a lantern.”
         Kayla nodded and set her paw on the 
first step. “Then let’s go down.  We don’t have 
much time left.”  She kept the bracer before her, 
but for once it showed her nothing hidden.  The 
stairs were at least real.  But how far ahead were their friends?

         The ivory road widened some as 
Qan-af-årael neared the glittering crown of the 
world.  The city of Jagoduun rose from the forest 
with ziggurat towers and arcades of brilliant 
marble and chalcedony.  Jade spires and golden 
capstones reflected the sunlight both above and 
below, while crystals of the most luminous hue 
sparkled with mellifluous array over those 
arcades.  Precise geometric lines captured every 
astronomical event in the lay of the city, 
equinoxes, solstices, eclipses, and every 
constellation was crafted into the 
design.  Rivers of lucid water poured from the 
centre and ran in myriad canals throughout the 
city.  Aetherial music of a hundred thousand 
different voices and instruments, Åelf and other, 
combined in eternal praise of their city’s immortal prince.
         Qan-af-årael continued his stately pace, 
eyes absorbing the splendour of this imagined 
metropolis with a resigned awe.  The swamp that 
now infested this land was now a sub-tropical 
forest of alder, birch, cedar, elm, fig, holly, 
juniper, locust, oak, and the odd 
pistachio.  These also were interwoven into the 
lower arcades of the city.  Gardens dominated the 
higher elevations, filled with boisterous flowers 
in such profusion that there must be millions, 
yet he knew also that each one was unique.
         There could be no comparison between 
this city and any other city of the world.  None 
was as beautiful, none was as grand, none was as 
exalted, and from none did flow life as did from Jagoduun.
         Qan-af-årael saw a figure waiting for 
him at the end of the ivory road.  Another Åelf 
with long silvery black hair and ears drawn to 
perfectly shaped points.  He dressed in a simple 
white garment with wide sleeves and skirt whose 
hem undulated only an inch above the ivory 
road.  The garment, though plain, bore no seams 
or stitches.  It seemed illumined not by the sun but by the person wearing it.
         His eyes were a radiant, but deep blue, 
the same blue of a clear day’s sky directly 
overhead.  His thin lips bore a smile of supreme 
pleasure and his bearing told of his unparalleled 
magnanimous spirit.  His skin was smooth but 
mature.  There could be no way to determine this 
Åelf’s age.  With careful deliberation, he 
inclined respectfully, though the depth of his 
bow was not so much that he treated Qan-af-årael 
as a superior.  It was not even clear he treated him as an equal.
         “Lord of Colours, my city brightens with 
your very presence.” His voice was like the 
piping of the finest flutes blended with the 
melancholy cry of the most delicate violin. 
“Allow me to welcome you with open arms and great 
joy to the holy city of Jagoduun.”
         “The city as you imagine it to be, my 
Prince,” Qan-af-årael said without scorn. “For Jagoduun never appeared so.”
         The Prince lifted his face and his eyes 
blossomed with such sublime confidence and 
serenity that it was difficult not to enjoy his 
optimism. “It shall.  This is how it was always 
meant to be.  That which is meant to be will 
be.  Come, see, I shall show you how your very 
stars have come to live and make their 
magnificence known here, Lord of Colours.”
         “No, my Prince.  That which is, is what 
was meant to be.  This is only what you seek.”
         The Prince’s serenity did not waver 
despite Qan-af-årael’s flat refusal to accept 
what was shown him.  Nevertheless, the Prince did 
step toward him and guide him with a hand that 
never touched him, beyond the end of the ivory 
road and onto one of the mid-level arcades.  They 
could see beyond the tops of the many trees for 
miles in any direction.  To either the west and 
east he could see a blue sea flecked with white 
at the forest’s edge.  Mighty vessels that seemed 
ready to sail the air as much as the water bobbed up and down in the froth.
         “What I seek is the same that lies in 
the soul of every Åelf.  In yours as well.  You 
did see the world as it should be.  As it will 
be.  It was humankind which in its foolish 
reaching beyond that sent the world off 
course.  Come see all corrected and set aright!”
         The Prince took Qan-af-årael through the 
streets of the city, up the sloping towers and 
along the arcades.  To the Lord of Colours he 
showed every array of life and every note of 
precision.  The streets themselves followed the 
courses of stars or planets, mapping out the very 
path of existence.  This was no earthly city 
despite its construction from elements found on 
the Earth.  This was a place of transcendent 
peace.  This was a place where the object of 
consideration could be set aside and the self 
could dwell in meditative languor on its own 
subjective identity.  Truly, Qan-af-årael could 
think of no place more perfect in design or execution.
         “If this is how things should be,” 
Qan-af-årael finally asked after an eternity of 
quiet observation, “then why is it that we two 
are the only walking beings here, my Prince?”
         “Do you not hear the music?  You cannot 
see them, but they are there, Lord of Colours.” 
The Prince gestured with a simple wave of his 
hand.  The very air susurrated like a wave of 
heat passing through a winter day.  On the many 
lower arcades and balconies Qan-af-årael could 
now see thousands of younger Åelf gathered in 
musical and meditative worship.  Tens of 
thousands of Keeper-like beings clustered the 
very lowest arcades, all prostrate and 
servile.  Their tails lay behind them, and those 
with wings kept them folded close to their backs.
         “I know you think ill of me, Lord of 
Colours,” the Prince said in softer tones, the 
first to betray a more general sadness. “That 
which has come to pass in your world is 
emblematic of the evil that will be avoided in my 
own.  No more will that evil corrupt minds.  Nor 
will humans destroy our world.  But I am not 
cruel as you perceive me to be.  They have their 
place.  And you can see they have been reshaped to better fill it.”
         Qan-af-årael studied the prostrate 
figures from the high arcade, able only to note 
the broad features of their beastly shapes and 
not any richer details. “You have made them half 
animal like my companions, my Prince?”
         “And your companions will be among 
them.” This last offer was made with a smile of 
purest assurance.  The blue eyes bled a certainty 
granted warmth only by the faint supernatural 
glow of his flesh. “They are the solution to the 
problem of man.  In your world it took far longer 
to discern, and you yourself can attest to the 
destruction wrought by its tardiness, Lord of Colours.”
         Qan-af-årael peered closer and could see 
that the Prince spoke the truth.  In the central 
arcade bowed low were a donkey, a rat, a hawk, a 
skunk, and a pair of kangaroos each blended with 
the form of man. “And you allow them in your city?”
         “They serve in whatever capacities they 
can in their short lives.  It is the way of 
things.  To our race was gifted knowledge of 
deepest secrets of the universe.  Here in my 
city, the holy city of Jagoduun, those secrets 
are laid bare for all to contemplate and 
celebrate.  Arising to each higher arcade can 
only be accomplished by a greater 
understanding.  Thy companions are uniquely 
blessed amongst the beastly castes as they can 
rise nearly to where we stand now.”
         “My Prince, why would you bring them to this world?”
         “Because they are necessary to bring 
about what should be and what was meant to be.” 
The Prince gestured with one hand toward a long 
ramp leading to the next higher arcade. “Come and 
learn the greater secrets, Lord of 
Colours.  Another arcade and you shall know 
things long denied to you.  Know the purpose of 
every race in our world, and know the end for 
which the world itself was created.”
         “It is not for me to know, my Prince.”
         “I am offering it to you.”
         “If I were to learn what you offer, I 
would be compelled to aid you in bringing this 
vision of yours about, my Prince.  I cannot do that.”
         The Prince kept his arm extended, the 
long white sleeve billowing in a gentle breeze 
that carried on it the hymn of all assembled. “It is how things should be.”
         “It is how you wish things to be, my 
Prince.  But it is not how things are.”
         “How things are is corrupted,” the 
Prince replied.  But he did lower his arm, the 
invitation Qan-af-årael refused apparently no more.
         “As you have corrupted the race of man with that of the beast?”
         “They are only a little higher than the 
beasts.  The corruption was to make them appear 
as Åelf, to place them too high above the 
beast.  The tail, the claw, the fur, feathers and 
scales; these meaner things were all meant for 
man.  To take them away and give them our visage 
was a mistake that needed correction.” The 
Prince’s eyes turned to the lower arcade and his 
face glowed with beneficent delight as they 
beheld the tens of thousands of animal men 
prostrate in worship. “They are beautiful now, 
set in their proper place, fully in harmony with 
the universe and its purposes.”
         “Your purposes and your universe only, 
my Prince.  What is real is not what is ideal, but only what is real.”
         “What is real must tend toward a 
purpose, Lord of Colours.  The purpose of all 
reality is toward this.  It is not my reality, 
but reality as it will be.  I merely fulfill my purpose in reality.”
         “To be their god?”
         His laughter was soft and practised. “I 
am not their god in the sense of reality.  I am 
but a creature, created, though my purpose is to 
understand the deepest of mysteries and make them 
manifest in the world.  They worship only because 
they are incapable of rising high enough to see 
me as do you.  To them I am a god.  But it is not 
because of any divinity on my part.  It is 
because of the beastliness on theirs.  And that is how it should be.”
         “No, my Prince.  It is not.”
         The Prince’s face drew ever so slightly 
taut. “Perhaps then you are right, Lord of 
Colours.  You are not ready to ascend to the next 
arcade.  You do not understand reality as 
such.  Your mind sees only that which is and is 
incapable of seeing that which will be.”
         “I see only that which you make.  And I 
see it, as beautiful as it is, a horror.”
         “A horror?”
         Qan-af-årael gestured at the mighty 
edifice that comprised the holy city. “Where is 
the Hall of Unearthly Light?  I see nothing of 
your precious minerals.  Or have you hidden them too from my sight?”
         “Their light shines only in darkness.  I 
need it not anymore.  But why go there?  It is a descent.”
         “Because it is where I must go.  My 
purpose is to be there, my Prince.”
         “Your purpose, Lord of Colours, is to 
aid me.  Consent to what you see, this vision as 
you put it, and you will foster reality as it is 
meant to be.  Contest me, and you side yourself 
with those forces seeking to destroy reality and 
leave it into the hands of the beasts.  They will 
supplant you and drive you even from that pitiful 
refuge you’ve sought.  Their future lies in the 
guise of animals one way or another.  The future of our kind is only here.”
         Qan-af-årael felt a sudden shift as a 
tremor in the earth far below and like a key 
fitting into a lock. “And therein is the lie, my 
Prince.  Therein is the deception that undergirds 
your reality. Your reality is a fundamental 
denial of what is.  You present me with mere 
phantoms of desire.  You tempt me with your 
gestalt in order to prevent me from seeing the 
truth.  You dangle before me the supremacy of our 
race in order to gain my aid in subjugating 
man.  This you will never have, my Prince.  Never.”
         The Prince listened, his pointed ears 
turning ever so slightly forward to capture each 
word.  When Qan-af-årael had finished, he folded 
his hands in the white sleeves of his garment an 
lowered his eyes.  The long silvery-black hair 
coiled down his back.  “I will still draw you 
across the gulf of what is to what should be, 
Lord of Colours.  As I will all whose lives make 
this possible.  But I do not believe you will 
ever ascend to this arcade again.  Go.  The stairs back are behind you.”
         Qan-af-årael bowed his head as he turned 
toward the stairs. “Good-bye, my Prince.  All the 
love of my people are to you and to your father.” 
But the Prince’s mind was as distant as the 
furthest stars and he paid no more heed to the 
Lord of Colours.  Undeterred, Qan-af-årael started down the dark stairwell.

         “It looks like the stairs end just 
ahead,” Kayla said in a soft voice to her 
companions.  The skunk felt James tighten his 
grip on her tail, his hooves clopping on the 
steps behind her.  Below the witchlight danced 
before a circular arch that led into a 
hallway.  The walls were similarly covered in leaden scrollwork.
         The air felt heavy and the skunk knew 
her hackles were raised.  The bracer was warm to 
the touch now, and she knew deep down that 
something very dangerous lay ahead of them.  The 
palpable sense of evil pervaded every step, but 
until now it seemed to wait lizard-like for them 
to approach.  What maw readied to snatch them up?
         Kayla stepped into the hallway then 
paused to let the rest finish their 
descent.  Guernef was the slowest of them, his 
thigh still not healed fully, and the delay 
preyed on her thoughts.  Qan-af-årael had assured 
them that this was the day when all would be 
decided.  Time was of the essence.  But how much 
time had elapsed while they’d been lost in their 
nightmares?  And how long did they have 
left?  Without either the ancient Åelf or the 
prophetic Habakkuk there was no way to know and that made her anxious.
         The hallway ended in a light too bright 
to distinguish.  Jessica snuffed the witchlights 
once they’d cleared the stairs, and those that 
could grasped weapons.  Kayla drew Clymaethera 
from her home and felt the dragon katana throb 
impatiently in her paw.  The serpent yearned to 
spill the blood of the one who had imprisoned 
Rickkter’s soul.  Though she couldn’t see 
anything in the light, a presentiment assured the 
skunk that the Maquis was waiting just ahead.
         With every step, the light began to 
diffuse and shapes became clearer in its 
brilliance.  Something gold stood atop a raised 
platform.  There were pillars along the walls, 
and stanchions of gold on the platform.  A figure 
crouched on the platform moving back and 
forth.  No, two figures.  Kangaroos.  Kayla felt 
her heart tighten as she recognized the russet 
fur of Habakkuk as well as the black scar 
spreading over his side like a splash of 
paint.  He was atop a red-furred kangaroo, and 
she closed her eyes once she realized what it was they were doing.
         Her mind screamed why, but then 
something gripped her body and compelled it 
forward.  All her limbs became stiff, her tongue 
still, and with mechanistic precision, she walked 
into the larger chamber as obedient as a docile 
slave.  She felt James let go of her tail and 
succumb to the Marquis’s control.  A few choked 
voices sounded, and then Kayla heard Jessica cry 
in horror.  A scuffle, and then the hawk 
squawking as her companions dragged the mage forcibly into the room.
         Her eyes dully regarded the golden dais, 
knowing that it was the companion to the censer 
they’d seen in the belfry at Metamor six months 
ago.  Standing nearby with a cloud of cards 
slowly circling his upper body was the Marquis du 
Tournemire.  His eyes were placid and with a wave 
of one hand he gestured at the two kangaroos. 
“That is quite enough.  Your friends are here.  Join them on the ground.”
         The two beasts disengaged and without 
any demonstration of modesty, reverted to morphic 
forms.  Somehow Kayla felt sure the red kangaroo 
was Lindsey.  The fur was the same colour as his 
— no, her — hair.  Somehow the Marquis had 
changed him into a female kangaroo to match 
Habakkuk.  She wondered why he might have done 
that, but the magic of the Marquis’s control 
squelched her thoughts from proceeding any further.
         “Now that you are all here, we may 
begin.” The Marquis crooned and clasped his hands 
together. “This, as you have no doubt already 
guessed, is the Dais of Yajakali.  The third and 
final artifact he crafted eleven thousand years 
ago.  With the death of Krenek Zagrosek, it has 
been tied into the magic flowing into this 
place.  What magic flows here does not return, 
and so, we have a rich deposit to tap and 
control.  The Censer brings all the magic of 
Metamor, the sword has taken the reservoir 
beneath Yesulam and passes through Ahdyojiak.  We 
have enough magical power now to accomplish the 
greatest casting ever conceived by man.”
         He bowed to them and his voice grew 
mocking. “And I have you to thank for it.  As 
your reward, you may now help me choose which 
three of you to kill.  Yes, I fear three more 
deaths are necessary.  The artifacts must be 
activated, and for that life must be taken in 
this place.” He scanned them and noted the 
combination of Jerome, Charles, Andares, and 
James all holding the hawk Jessica in place.  She 
struggled but could not break free.
         The Marquis smiled with such delight 
that Kayla felt her stomach attempt a revolt. 
“Jessica!  Long have you through bitter 
circumstance managed to avoid meeting me.  It is 
a great pleasure to finally make your 
acquaintance.  Now, let us do more and bring you 
into my deck where you belong.”
         He selected a card from the air and 
walked toward her. “But first, perhaps you can 
help me decide which of your friends will 
die.  Andares, you can let go of her beak.” The 
Åelf loosened his grip around her head but still kept one arm around her neck.
         “Kill yourself, Marquis!” Jessica 
squawked. “You’ve caused my friends and I enough pain!”
         “No I assure you I have not done 
that.  I can always cause more.  Witness.” He 
took another card and bent it in half.  Abafouq 
screamed as his body buckled over backward.  The 
Marquis straightened the card and pulled at 
either end.  The Binoq’s short arms stretched out 
on all sides as if he were being drawn and 
quartered.  The agonized wail echoed off the 
walls.  After nearly half a minute, the Marquis 
finally tossed the card aside and let Abafouq collapse on the floor.
         “You’re a monster!”
         “I am a man with great power.  I am 
unconcerned with any invective you have to 
share.  Now, to who will die to bring the 
magnificent artifacts to life.  You have two 
choices for each person I come to.  They can 
either give their lives in my cause, or they can 
suffer pain until my cause has come to 
pass.  Pain from which they will eventually die 
anyway.  So, to be completely honest, whomever 
you decide to kill will be those to whom you show mercy, Jessica.  Mercy.”
         The hawk glared with hard eyes.  Her 
black feathers stood further on end, and she 
struggled against her friends but with two 
Sondeckis holding her she couldn’t move even an 
inch.  The only time Kayla could ever remember 
seeing the hawk angrier was when they hunted Agathe in Breckaris.
         Tournemire didn’t appear the slightest 
concerned with her anger.  He walked to where 
Habakkuk stood, still completely naked and with 
utterly blank expression. “First, the last of the 
Felikaush, Zhypar Habakkuk.  Shall he have 
mercy?” Jessica glared at him and said nothing. 
“Very well, he shall not.” The Marquis took a 
card from the air and tapped it once in the 
middle. Habakkuk lurched forward with his chest 
bruising in the centre.  He gasped like a beast 
as he collapsed into a four-footed stance, long tail thrashing back and forth.
         “His pain will grow worse with 
time.  And now for Lindsey.  Yes, this beautiful 
red-furred beast is the same soul you knew as 
Lindsey.  What of her?  No?  Let there be pain 
then.” He did the same thing to another card and 
a moment later both kangaroos were on all fours hacking and crying in agony.
         “Stop it!” Jessica shouted, her feathers 
trembling with rage. “Just stop it, you 
monster!  I won’t give you anything you want, so 
you may as well do what you want with me.”
         “Very well, Jessica.  Very well.  You 
will be the first to die.” The Marquis glanced at 
the two kangaroos and then smoothed their cards 
over.  Habakkuk and Lindsey gasped as they 
crumpled to the floor, the pain having left their 
bodies.  Slowly, they pushed themselves into 
standing positions.  Lindsey lamely reached for 
the remnants of her attire, but none of it was 
sized for her new shape.  Still she pulled the 
shirt on over her head and though it hung on her 
awkwardly, it still helped cover her 
somewhat.  Habakkuk didn’t bother with his 
garments, though his eyes stole to his dropped knapsack.
         “And Habakkuk,” this he said to the 
kangaroo. “You are going to live through this, 
because I want you to watch all of your 
preparations come to naught.  And with your paw, 
you will kill the third person.  Your Lindsey to 
whom you have just given your love.” He smiled 
again, and his white teeth gleamed like spires of ice, cold and murderous.
         The Marquis turned back to the 
others.  Kayla tried to find someway around his 
vile control.  She tried to twist her arm within 
the bracer, but whatever magic it held seemed 
stunted in the Marquis’s presence.  Somehow, she 
knew if she pressed too hard, the Marquis would 
learn of the bracer and make her remove it.  So 
even as she watched the evil man approach her 
dear friend Jessica, she eased off and hoped a better chance would come later.
         The Marquis lifted a single card, and 
Kayla could see that it was the Queen of 
Hearts.  On it was a black hawk like Jessica. 
“And now here at the end, I finally lay claim to 
you, Jessica,” he said, and there was a hint of 
irritation in his voice.  Jessica struggled this 
way and that as he lowered the card toward her head.
         A sudden gale knocked all of them to the 
ground and scattered the Marquis’s cards about 
the vaulted chamber.  Kayla shook her head and 
felt the soreness in her body where it had struck 
the ground. A few feet away she saw the Marquis 
shaking his head and climbing to his 
feet.  Clymaethera was only inches from her 
paw.  The katana practically leapt into her hand 
and she lifted it to strike, but the control 
clamped down on her and she drew back the swing before it could land.
         The Marquis paid her no more mind than 
to stop her killing blow.  His eyes were on the 
passage way.  Standing in white garments was the 
ancient Åelf.  Qan-af-årael met the Marquis’s 
gaze with an indomitable spirit.  His eyes were 
cold like glass.  He held out one hand, palm 
facing forward, and around him the very air 
swirled with boisterous energy.  His voice rang 
with the clangour of shattering crystal. “You 
will harm them no more, Camille du 
Tournemire.  You will face none of them but me.”
         With a laugh, the Marquis lifted his 
arms and his cards swarmed about him. “Come and 
face me, old man.  It’s about time you revealed your true power.”
         Qan-af-årael said nothing more as he 
strode into the Chamber of Unearthly Light to 
brace the Marquis.  Kayla and the others crawled to get out of their way.

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

Charles Matthias