[Mkguild] Dream's Aria: Repudiation (1 of 4)

[Ryx]

Due to the first part of my initial attempt bouncing on the 90k barrier I'm 
reposting the entire piece.

Ryx
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Dream’s Aria: Repudiation
November 3, 706 CR
 
The autumn sun felt pleasant on Egland’s shoulders as he sat upon the one bench 
placed near the doors of the infirmary.  Lush greenery filled the stone planters 
at each corner of the atrium and on the many intricate levels of the central 
fountain.  A light breeze wended its way through the walls of Metamor Keep to 
rustle the plants with a cool autumn touch and pluck at Egland’s cervine coat.
It was new, this atrium, having not been through the similarly new glass-paneled 
french doors when he awoke that morning.  None of the night nurses knew when the 
doors appeared or when the rooms had been shifted to give the atrium room to be 
where it was.
            That alone gave Egland pause when he stepped from his recovery room 
that morning to visit the privy.  Sunlight near blinded him after the weeks 
spent in the rush-lit gloom of the infirmary, but it was welcome light.  After 
being assured that it would not suddenly vanish in a crush of castle stone he 
went out to enjoy the fresh air and light.
            Coe instructed Angton to move Egland’s exercise rig, a frame with a 
rope and single pulley, out onto the atrium.  The rope had a bucket, now full of 
weighty stones, at one end and a leather pocket at the other for Egland’s hoof.  
With the simple apparatus the elk was able to exercise his legs with variable 
weight in the bucket.  Through use of the simple apparatus Egland was able to 
strengthen his legs and escape the constrained travel of his crutches.  Now his 
ability to get around was limited only by the stamina of his atrophied muscles 
and not the discomfort of cumbersome crutches as he was able to get around now 
by use of a cane.
            Those strenuous exercises had been completed some hours ago but the 
sun and breeze felt too comfortable for him to abandon them.  The world, for 
such a brief time, expanded around him in an inverted sea of sky blue and shoals 
of cloud supported by gray granite pillars and rustling greenery.  The surf of 
the upside-down sea was the distant roar of life; hammers at work, the joyous 
chorus of children at play, the muffled squeak of wagons pulling their loads, 
and the background din of nature that lived amongst all of those sounds.
            So like Yesulam.
            Wood smoke and sealing pitch, the smells cleaving closely to the 
surrounding castle walls to escape the breeze, came to his sensitive nose.  As 
well scents he had never experienced so clearly; evergreen boughs and ivy vines, 
late season blooming Snowcaps, freshly reaped autumn wheat, and the pervasive 
stink of a living city underlying it all.
            “Will that be all, Your Grace?” Egland’s acute ear caught the 
purring female voice as it swiveled quite without the elk’s conscious 
direction.  Your Grace, that voice said, lancing through Egland’s contemplation 
of peacefulness with the speed of a loosed arrow.  Of all those who sent prayer 
to Eli in this heathen northern fastness only one would be addressed by such 
term.
            Egland’s head snapped around, both ears pinning toward the owner of 
that purring voice.  One of the atrium doors was slightly ajar and through the 
glass panes sunlight spilled into the common room.  Egland could both hear and 
see the starkly white, lushly furred feline backing out of Bishop Vinsah’s 
room.  In one arm she carried a tray laden with dinnerware and two books while 
with her other she drew the door to the Bishop’s room shut.
            “Yes, Your Grace, I will see what my husband can find for you.”
            Egland grabbed up his cane and lurched to his hooves with a spasming 
protest from his legs as he returned hastily to the infirmary.  He recognized 
the white-furred feline as Irene the cook who prepared meals for the patients.  
Her husband was an archivist in Metamor’s extensive libraries so she was often 
able to bring them books to read as well as meals.  When he barged in through 
the atrium doors she flinched, fur bushing under her simple dress in startlement 
making her appear considerably more full-bodied for a moment.
            “Milord!” she rasped in feline surprise, “I did not see –“
            “He has awakened?” Egland interrupted with a glance at the two 
books.  Both were texts concerning interpretations of differing translations of 
the Canticles.
            “Milord?”
            “The Bishop, he has awakened?”
            The cook looked confused and frowned with a droop of whiskers and 
backing of ears.  “Y – yes, milord.”
            Egland tried not to loom.  “How long ago?”
            “Not long after yourself, milord.  Some two, near three weeks now?”
            A hissing snort of irritation escaped the young elk knight’s 
nostrils and his ears backed in ire.  The serving woman tried to shrink away 
from his overbearing presence, tail tucked low against the back of her dress.  
“And he has been in there ever since?” Egland demanded sharply.
            “To my knowledge, milord, yes!” She explained hastily and retreated 
a pace.
            “In all that time no one had thought to tell me? “ Egland fumed 
angrily, “Why?”
            “Because, sir, he asked that no one be told.” Interjected the Master 
physician Coe upon coming from the room from another patient with a stack of 
soiled dressing in the crook of one arm.  “Irene, you may go.”  Coe dumped the 
stained dressings into a basket and set his medical kit upon a table.  The 
feline sketched a hasty curtsy and retreated toward the door.  “Sir Egland, I am 
little pleased having my staff berated for things not within their control.” 
Said the raccoon healer levelly once Irene had closed the outer door.
            Egland scowled down at Coe, “He and I are all that remain here of 
the Patriarch’s entire retinue, and I am left ignorant of his status?”  Egland 
paced in irritation with only the control drilled into him by years of 
discipline keeping him from lashing out in frustration.  “The Bishop is all I 
have left, I’ve no one else to serve!”
            “You are still a Knight of your Church, Sir, you still serve that.  
You are a Knight in, and of, Metamor and Duke Thomas, you serve him as well.” 
Coe pointed out flatly while washing his hands from a basin.  “Father Hough has 
come to you, he could use your aid, and Sir Saulius as well.  The Bishop has his 
own reasons to desire solitude at the moment.”
            “From me?” Egland moaned and thumped his broad cervine chest in 
frustrated desperation.
            “From everyone, Sir. “  Coe took up a clean towel to dry his nimble 
hand paws, still remarkably human for his having become a raccoon.  Egland was 
left with hands that were more like hooves, with two thick fingers and a stout 
thumb that lacked much of the dexterity he had once enjoyed.  “From you, from 
the Lothonassa Raven who has asked after him, even Father Hough.  Not even our 
Duke knows more than the fact that he is recovering from his injuries.”
            Egland looked toward the featureless hardwood door separating Vinsah 
from the world around him.  “I do not even know what injuries he suffered.”  He 
walked toward the door leaning heavily on his cane and Coe paced him, moving to 
stand before the door.  “You still say ‘he’, which I guess is some comfort.  How 
has he been touched by Metamor?”  The elk knight stopped a pace away from the 
raccoon and the door he warded.
            “That is his counsel to keep as well, Sir.”
            Reaching over the healer’s head Egland rapped upon the stout wood 
with his knuckles.  “Your Grace, it is I, Yacoub.” Coe did not move at the reach 
behind his warding presence and continued to block the door from more than a 
reaching knock by the elk.  Only silence returned from the room beyond the door.
            “He has asked to be given peace, Sir Egland.” The raccoon scolded 
warningly.  Egland glowered down at him.
            “He is the only Master I have left, healer.  I would speak with 
him.”  He rapped the door again.  “Your Grace, I wish to speak.  It is your 
knight, Sir Egland.”  Once again he was greeted with several seconds of silence.
            “As I said, Sir, he does not – “
            “Besilent, healer.” Egland hissed furiously with backed ears and his 
voice pitched low.
            “I hear you, young Yacoub.” Came a weary and muffled voice through 
the door.  Egland’s ears raised back up to pin forward at the door and he 
completely ignored the raccoon’s affronted hiss.  “I – I am not desirous of 
company, lad, but your concern is well received.”
            “Are you well, Your Grace?  Can you not open your door that we might 
speak face to face?”  Egland made to reach for the door latch but it was still 
blocked by the angry raccoon.
            “I am well, lad, I am well.  I do not wish audience, though, if you 
could grant me that peace.”
            Egland blinked in surprise.  Did not wish audience?  He spoke as if 
Egland were merely a petitioner.  “I am your retainer, the only other left in 
this place, Your Grace!”
            “Peace, young Yacoub, peace.  I am pleased to know you are well but 
I – I desire solitude for the nonce.”  Vinsah’s muffled voice was weary and 
rough edged through the thick barrier of wood that stood between them.  “I need 
time yet to – to come to grips with all that has happened.”  The voice fell into 
silence for some long moments and was much more quiet when it spoke again, as if 
the speaker had turned away from the door.  “Please, lad, allow me this peace.  
Your service is not needed for the time being.”
            “Your Grace?”  Egland asked at the door with a sinking heart at his 
unexpected dismissal.  He tried to swallow the lump constraining his throat and 
the un-knightly tears burning in his eyes. “Your Grace?  Bishop?”  The elk 
fought to maintain his fast eroding composure as the last shred of his existence 
was torn away and dashed.  Of all that he had known since he was but a boy of 
twelve the Bishop was all that remained and now even that was slipping away.  
“Vinsah?”  Only silence was returned at his query.
            “He has asked to be left in peace, Sir knight.” Coe said levelly 
from somewhere below the tall elk’s chin.  “Please retire to your own room, or 
the atrium if you wish.”  Egland took a step back, anguish flashing to anger in 
the span of a single heartbeat, and glanced down at the raccoon.



      

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