[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (1 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

This story begins in January, but most of the 
action will take place in April of 708 CR.  This 
is not technically the next story in my arc, but 
it's the one my muse wants me to finish first.

I am not yet finished writing the tale, so I'm 
going to post it in smaller sections for now, one a day.


Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias


January 18, 708 CR


Ice clung to the granite rocks abutting the mouth 
of the Metamor river as well as the many shoals 
rising above the waves to greet the fresh 
mountain waters flowing from the cursed valley. A 
wintry mist sloughed the Sea of Stars and the 
small rocky islands whose backsides were covered 
in so many pine, larch, spruce, and fir that they 
resembled porcupines nudging their snouts into 
the ground for roots and acorns to eat. Flocks of 
gull, tern, cormorant, and puffins gathered on 
the rocky coastline, most to the west of the 
river mouth where the forbidding slopes of the 
Dragon mountains reached into the brackish waters 
with broad defiles in cascades of granite and basalt.

Around the mouth of the river was a small village 
cloaked in snow. Ancient stone wharves jutted 
into the sea but it was only the newer barnacle 
covered wooden docks that were in use. Fishermen 
in seal-skin coats tended flat-bottom boats and 
wooden cages. In brass basins fires burned to 
ward off the chill and to cook the crustaceans 
their traps had captured. Not a single ship 
moored in this little village could have carried 
more than six men, nor were any suited to the 
ravages of the ocean and her many storms. But 
only they could navigate the rocky shallows at 
the river mouth and the waters nearby.

To the east of the river was a rocky promontory 
that dropped to a shelf of granite rising above 
the crash of waves on which rose a lighthouse. 
The spire had flat sides whose corners marked the 
compass, while the northeastern edge had a small 
bridge to the promontory about twenty feet high. 
At the base a sea door led to a house of stone 
with lanterns burning brightly and smoke curling 
from a chimney. Another smaller pier housed a boat crusted with ice.

At the top of the lighthouse was a cupola freshly 
brushed clean of snow, and the bright brazier and 
ancient lens that magnified the light. It was 
strong enough to pierce the light fog and be seen 
for many miles. All sailors knew to turn 
southeast when they saw this light for the safe 
harbor of Menth. There was no safe passage here.

Descending from the sky was a single gull. His 
gray wings and white body were almost lost in the 
fog, but as it emerged, the yellow bill and 
webbed feet made it impossible to miss. A slight 
updraft from the cool waters turned its wings 
back as it slowed, banking from side to side for 
a few minutes before it finally came to rest on 
the lip of the lighthouse cupola. Focused yellow 
eyes regarded the bearded lighthouse keeper who 
was busy prying the meat from a lobster claw.

The man glanced up from his meal and chuckled, 
“Good afternoon, Quoddy. You’re a little late 
this year. I expected you and your brothers a few hours ago.”

The gull tensed his body, black tail tip wiggling 
in the air, and then he hopped down to the floor 
of the lighthouse and shook his feathers out. His 
body grew larger in seconds until he was nearly 
the size of the man. He crouched on his legs and 
sat much like a bird, claws at his wing tips 
scratching at his breast. “There was a squall 
near Brathas I had to sit out. I guess my 
brothers did too. How has the winter been so far, Davitt?”

The lighthouse keeper shrugged and chewed a bit 
of meat. “About the same as last year. One wreck 
and lots of snow and ice. Mild today, praise Eli. How was your flight?”

“Exhilarating!” Quoddy replied with a caw. His 
eyes brightened, the usual intensity of his 
species muted by his excitement. “Almost none of 
the flocks wanted to go as far south as Whales 
this year. They stopped just south of 
Sutthaivasse; Lubec and I went a little further, 
but there was a terrible scent in the air so we 
turned back. We heard talk of war from the 
fishermen and I believe it. Sutthaivasse was 
massing her fleets. We’d never seen so many ships 
in her ports at once! Ah, what a sight!”

Davitt laughed as he chewed more lobster meat. 
The crustacean’s claws had been ripped off and 
now he bent the animal in half until the tail 
section came free. This he bent in half again 
until the meat was exposed. “There’s always war 
somewhere,” he mused, eyes turned to both sky and 
the beacon. “At least it isn’t here.”

“Praise Eli!” Quoddy agreed with a nod of his 
head. “I’m still ashamed that I missed what came 
to pass last year at Metamor. But,” he turned his 
head and glanced over the cupola’s rim at the fog 
shrouded sea, “I just can’t stay away from the sea. Oh, I think I see Machias.”

Davitt turned to the west and sure enough a flock 
of puffins skimmed the air. One broke off and 
turned to the lighthouse while the rest settled 
on a rocky shoal rising up from the waves. Black 
wings steadied him, while his orange, webbed feet 
extended to meet the lighthouse. Both bird and 
man watched as the wings flapped vigorously 
several times before the second bird had managed 
a landing on the lighthouse. He hopped down with 
the same acuity and then enlarged into a half-man 
shape. His orange and black beak opened and his 
dark eyes widened amidst his white cheeks at the 
sight and smell of the freshly boiled lobster.

The puffin practically drove his head into the 
crustacean. “Oh, Davitt! I haven’t had a cooked meal in a week.”

The lighthouse keeper drew his meal back and then 
laughed. “I’ve another two in the tank 
downstairs. I was going to cook them up once your brother arrives.”

“And a hail and well met to you too, little 
brother,” Quoddy said with a mock sternness that only older brothers can use.

Machias the puffin blinked and then his beak and 
bright cheeks framed a smile. “Quoddy! And here I 
thought for sure I was going to be the first to arrive after that squall.”

“Almost, I’ve only been here a few minutes.”

The brothers gave each other a quick hug and 
touched beaks together. “So, how were the nesting 
grounds in Sathmore?” Quoddy asked.

Machias shrugged. “Same as last year. A lot of 
territorial puffins, some seals, and great views 
of whales out at sea. The fishermen and some of 
the Sathmore merchants had lots of gossip to 
share. Nothing too interesting though. The Empire 
still thinks its an empire.” He chirped a laugh 
and then shook his head. “I did hear that the 
leper colony on the north shore is almost 
evacuated. Somebody told them they could get 
cured by going to Metamor. Imagine that!”

Quoddy nodded. “I heard that too. I didn’t have 
time to check and see if it was true.”

“It’s true,” Davitt added with a wary glance to 
the north. Even on a clear day the valley mouth 
and the edge of the curse’s transformative touch 
were lost behind thick forest and low mountains. 
“Quite a few came up the coast from Menth and 
walked north along the river bank. All cloaked in 
rags so that not a single bit of flesh was 
visible. Nobody wanted to go near them.”

“Did Metamor heal them?” Machias asked eagerly. 
His youthful enthusiasm was impossible to hide as 
he hopped back and forth from one webbed foot to the other.

“Oh aye,” Davitt nodded, scooping the tail meat 
free at last. “Or so the Fish say.”

The Fish were a dozen or so aquatic Keepers who 
plied the waters of the Metamor river nearly all 
year long. Quoddy knew most of them and could 
honestly say they were some of the nicest fellows 
he’d ever met. They had to be to keep their 
spirits in so trying of circumstances. Metamor 
demanded great sacrifices from them all. The 
lepers would soon learn they had traded one trial 
for another ­ one that hopefully wouldn’t be as fatal or foul!

“So we’re just waiting for Lubec,” Machias 
surmised after a moment’s pause. “I thought he was with you.”

“We were, but you know Lubec. He had to go 
fishing.” Both birds laughed, a raucous cawing 
that almost certainly made any visitors to the 
lighthouse very curious. Davitt who’d known them 
ever since they’d started flying across the sea laughed with them.

While they waited for their brother to arrive, 
Quoddy and Machias traded stories of their flight 
the last few months down the coastlines and back. 
Davitt filled them in on what news he’d heard 
from the Midlands in their absence. Almost all of 
the news was of dark deeds and wars.

Machias ruffled his feathers at each new horror. 
Quoddy understood his younger brother’s fears 
only too well; the puffin had only just turned 
thirteen at Three Gates. Quoddy had been sixteen 
and had been given two year’s of training with a 
sword and shield prior to that awful day, and 
Lubec had just started his training. But their 
youngest brother had none when Nasoj’s armies 
crushed Euper and stormed Keeptowne, driving as 
far as the gates where the last defence was mounted.

All were called to fight to defend Metamor that 
day. Machias had a sword too heavy for him placed 
in his hands. Somewhere along the walls their 
father was lost amongst the defenders. Their 
mother tended the wounded and dead behind them. 
Machias, frightened and young, stayed close to 
his older brothers that day. When the Curses were 
cast, all three were clustered together behind 
the second gate swords in hand. They had never been able to lift a sword since.

Their father was killed in the fighting even 
before the curses were cast, and a Lutin arrow 
dipped in refuse festered in their mother’s thigh 
for two weeks before she succumbed. So many dead 
and dying in the aftermath that not all could be 
healed in time. Orphaned, the three sea birds 
took to the sky and followed the sea seeking 
solace in its salty, turbulent embrace.

But Quoddy could see the tremble in his brother’s 
many black and white feathers and knew that this 
scar still lingered. A few years ago he’d have 
wrapped a wing around his back. But now they had to be men as well as brothers.

Davitt gestured to the sky as he licked the 
fingers of his other hand clean. “Looks... 
shlurp... like Lubec... shupp... is here.”

Both Quoddy and Machias stood up to peer over the 
rim of the lighthouse cupola. Descending from the 
clouds was a black bird with long wings, webbed 
feet, and black beak brightening to gold just 
beneath his eyes. He banked around the lighthouse 
in a long arc before settling on the other end. 
He kept his wings stretched out and waddled into 
the inner chamber with Davitt, waving his wings 
back and forth near the fiery brand.

Machias laughed brightly at seeing his brother 
the cormorant trying to dry himself. “Why do you 
always go fishing, brother? You know you just have to dry yourself off!”

Lubec grew enough in size as he stood with wings 
outstretched so that he looked like a gigantic 
bat. His voice was raspy and a bit curt. “I like 
fish! And don’t you rub it in! Your feathers don’t get wet like mine.”

Davitt chuckled and turned to the staircase down 
inside the lighthouse column. “I’ll get those 
lobsters boiling. You boys watch the seas for me would you?”

“Hail, Master Davitt,” Lubec said with a bow of 
his black head. “How is your family?”

The lighthouse keeper paused and ran one hand 
through his scraggly beard. “Little Mary’s in bed 
with the cold, but she’s already doing better. My 
boys are begging me to let them watch the light 
by themselves. And Louie is begging me to go into 
town and buy her another bear skin blanket. 
They’re good.” He frowned at himself for saying 
so much and then disappeared below.

Quoddy shook his head and let his chest swell 
with the crisp sea air. “Was the fish good?”

Lubec stretched his wings forward, the feathers 
beginning to dry in the warmth of the lighthouse 
brand. He cawed and waggled his tail feathers. 
“Always. It would’ve been better cooked though. 
We need to stash some cooking gear along the coast one of these years.”

“And let the seas corrode it away?” Machias asked 
as he shook a bit of ice from one of his orange 
webbed feet. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea to me.”

“We could stay in Metamor too,” Lubec retorted. “I’d love to see you try.”

Machias lowered his beak with eyes narrowed in 
consternation, which was the best frown any of 
them could manage. “We stay there for the Summer.”

“And every fall head south along the sea again,” 
Lubec shot in. “I’m surprised more of the birds don’t do that.”

“Maybe it isn’t that we’re birds,” Quoddy 
suggested, offering a thought that had been 
pecking at his mind ever since they’d taken wing 
last September. “Maybe it’s just us. What do we have to hold us to Metamor?”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Emily,” 
Machias chortled. Lubec nodded and then turned 
around to put his back to the light. “Next you’ll 
be telling us we should find mates and make nests.”

“I wouldn’t mind flying south with a lady Keeper 
cormorant,” Lubec mused through half-closed beak.

“Nor I a lady gull,” Quoddy admitted. “We aren’t boys anymore.”

Machias folded his wings along his back, dark 
eyes growing shadowed in his white-feathered 
face. “We aren’t men either,” he grumbled while 
scuffing his webbed feet on the lighthouse floor.

“Yes we are,” Quoddy replied with sudden force. 
“Maybe not like Davitt, but we are men. We’re just birds too.”

“Sea birds,” Lubec added. “And I think that’s why 
we keep doing this. I know... it’s why I do. I 
just... I just cannot live without the sea air. 
Metamor is always home, and has such memories for 
me... but the sea...” The cormorant’s beak turned 
to the grey, overcast sky and his eyes filled with leagues of rippling waves.

The gull and puffin also turned their beaks, each 
of them staring into the sky, nostrils drinking 
in the sea salt air, and their wings stretched of 
their own accord. Beyond the lighthouse cupola 
lay the bay shrouded in fog, little fishermen out 
plying their trade, rocks rising and standing 
against the endless onslaught of the waves. And 
beyond them a vast and limitless sea, wave and 
wave, squall after squall, and vista curving away 
with a horizon meeting the sky in a nuptial kiss. 
Their hearts beat with the waves.

“Oh,” Quoddy said, turning his long beak away 
from the sea and giving his wings and feathers a 
shake. “We just got back. The sea will wait for 
another season. We have to go back to Metamor. You know that.”

Machias lowered his orange and black beak and 
then nodded. “Aye, I’m sorry, brother.” He lifted 
his face and met the gull’s concerned stare with 
one of anxious hope. “I just don’t want anything 
to change. I like the way things are!”

“I do too,” Quoddy admitted with a little bob of 
his head. Lubec nodded too. “But things are going 
to change whether we like it or not. And almost 
certainly when we don’t want them too.”

Lubec turned his head at the ladder and then 
cawed, “I think I hear Davitt coming back. We can 
worry about this another time.”

The three brothers agreed quickly, and when the 
lighthouse keeper returned with news that their 
lobsters were boiling away, they were their usual 
cheerful and playful selves again.

----------

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

Charles Matthias


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