[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (58 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias



Two dragons stood side by side, one much larger than the other, 
beneath the sheltering boughs of pines and fir. Their gray-scaled 
bulks were pressed close together, wings held tightly against their 
backs in the narrow confines of the forest. Their claws were pressed 
firmly into the rocky earth coated with old pine needles and the 
occasional stretch of moss. The air about them was warmed by their 
presence, and they could hear the distant cheers in the city, and the 
cries of birds through the trees, but all the other wildlife had fled 
at their intrusion into their arboreal demesnes.

They stood watch over a third figure whose silvery black fur coated 
his entire body, while he dug deeply into the earth with his 
forepaws, working out a long trench between several trees and behind 
a cairn of stone that shielded it from casual inspection. The 
wolf-like creature shoved mounds of earth behind him, revealing a 
dark, rich loam beneath that was still hard from the winter's frost. 
Yet it proved no impediment to him.

Lindsey felt a great sense of relief in seeing that his friend had 
just come to bury Gmork's body. While he would have much rather seen 
that body dragged through Fjellvidden to be stoned and spat upon, he 
knew that Jerome's sanity was hanging by a knife edge; any 
desecration of the corpse of the one he could not help but think of 
as father might send him fleeing back to the beast for good.

And he was also grateful for Pharcellus's presence and understanding. 
To be able to look in the red-tipped gray-scale and call him brother 
and know that it was really true made his new heart pound with fierce 
pride and joy. Smoke still curled from Pharcellus's nostrils from 
where he'd let loose another burst of fire when they'd been reunited. 
Lindsey craned his neck around and opened his jaws, very carefully 
saying, "I'm glad you're my brother."

The larger dragon rumbled deep inside his chest and his snout broke 
into a reptilian grin. "And I am so glad that you know. I've wanted 
to tell you for so long, but... it wasn't my secret to tell. How did 
this happen? Oh you must tell me. When last I saw you..." his eye 
slipped down to the headless corpse laying in quiet repose next to 
the grave Jerome was digging. Pharcellus brought short his enthusiasm 
and closed him mouth to keep from saying anything more.

"I will," Lindsey promised him. "And you'll have to tell me what 
happened to your wing and how you came back. I'm sure it's a great 
tale of valor."

Pharcellus's easy-going manner seemed to return for a moment and then 
he lowered his snout nearly to the ground. "I fell out of the sky and 
into the trees." He lifted his snout and craned his head back to look 
at the tear, but it was hidden with the folds of flesh pressed to his 
back. "I'm going to have a scar, Lindsey!"

The plaintive way his brother said it, as if a scar was the most 
horrible thing he could imagine happening to himself, made Lindsey 
want to laugh. But he checked himself and returned to watching his 
friend. The hole was a few feet deep already and getting deeper. 
Mounds of dirt rose up on all sides as the wolf moved back and forth 
to dig. When the dirt started to pile up inside the trench he shifted 
into a more man-like guise and would scoop the earth into large 
clawed hands and deposit them very carefully on the ground above.

After scooping out the latest batch of fallen dirt, Jerome surprised 
them both by leaping out of the hole and shaking himself off from 
head to tail in a very canine manner. Specks of dirt splattered 
against their snouts as he did so. His shaggy hide rippled as he 
finished and came to sit down next to his father's body. His eyes 
lifted and seemed to stare vacantly for several seconds, nostrils 
widening, the scent of fresh loam nearly overpowering the pines.

"At least Calephas died and his potions with him," Jerome said in a 
broad, almost neutral fashion. It was as if he were talking to 
somebody who wasn't there. Lindsey glanced through the forest but saw 
nothing, not even a shadow moving in the distance.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Jerome gingerly lifted 
Gmork's body and laid him gently within the hole. He made sure that 
the clawed hands were folded over the breast as if in peaceful 
slumber. Jerome folded his hands before him, his guise still beastly 
with a powerful lupine head; only the set of his shoulders, chest, 
and arms gave any suggestion of his human ancestry.

"Eli, have mercy on his soul. Oh Yahshua, please have mercy." Jerome 
then made the sign of the yew over the body three times, then over 
his own chest, tracing with his thumb and two fingers, the dark claws 
pressed tightly together. Lindsey reflexively lifted one of his 
forepaws to do the same, finding it a little awkward but doable as a 
dragon. Pharcellus out of politeness solemnly closed his eyes.

Jerome then began scooping the dirt and laid it tenderly atop the 
body, covering it slowly with the dark earth, but still covering it. 
It took several long minutes before he had the headless, fur-coated 
hidden beneath a layer of loam; but once he did he started moving the 
earth more quickly. Lindsey and Pharcellus stood between the trees 
watching him and keeping a wary eye on the woods beyond.

But nothing new came near; no scent, no sound, no sight. Jerome 
finished pounding the last of the earth in place, flattening the 
grave site and indenting it with his paws until it looked as if a 
thousand wolves had danced in that one spot. He then took a single 
stone from the cairn and set it where Gmork's head would have been. 
He sat on his haunches leaning over that stone for several breathless 
moments, long claws digging, almost etching into the stone as they 
pressed tightly, golden eyes transfixed on the silent marker. No 
sound echoed in the wood, but what torrents of thought and emotion 
passed in that simple regard, a cacophony that could never be deciphered!

Lindsey wondered if he should reach out and touch his friend to bring 
him back from whatever he contemplated. But before he could lift a 
scaled arm, Jerome sat back and lifted his head so that he stared out 
into the wood. As if he were fighting back the cry inside his chest 
he swung his head from side to side three times in each direction. 
And then he surrendered, tipping back his head and howling with 
bone-chilling anguish.

The wolf's lament echoed and silenced every bird; even the boisterous 
cheering in the city seemed a pale, nervous, tentative thing. 
Jerome's hands dwindled before him until there was nothing left of 
the man. What sat before them weeping was a wolf, a beast, the very 
creature Gmork had sought to make of the Sondecki. His once auburn 
hair had disappeared beneath a hide of a black so rich that it shined 
with silvery radiance. The wordless howl spoke of sorrow and loss and 
a heart broken in twain.

Lindsey knew that pain, but for some reason, the misery did not well 
up in his own heart for his lost kangaroo. Zhypar had truly gone to 
the paradise that they ought all to hope for. Could there even be 
hope for whatever soul had once inhabited the body now buried beneath 
them? And what of Gmork who Jerome said was still alive? How much 
anguish weighed on a heart in love with one so evil as that?

Jerome howled fives times, each one long, descending into a whimper 
that only resumed with plaintive misery. There was no response, and 
after his fifth cry, Jerome lowered his head and trembled. Lindsey 
took a step closer, pine needles crunching beneath his heavy hands 
and feet, and stretched out his neck to nuzzle the wolf with his snout.

But Jerome shifted a bit, lifting one leg to scratch at the back of 
his neck, before he rolled onto his side and shifted back into a more 
human guise. The lupine features melted from his face, arms and chest 
leaving only the ears and yellow eyes behind. The fur on his thighs 
thinned, but his legs seemed permanently locked in a beastly posture 
complete with tail.

He looked to the two dragons and nodded slowly. "We should go 
somewhere that the others won't notice me. Let's... let's cross the 
bridge. I will be less tempted there." His voice was ragged but their 
was conviction in each of his words.

"Tempted?" Lindsey asked as he and Pharcellus began backing up 
through the trees to extricate themselves.

"To go back to him. I'm," Jerome stopped and lowered his eyes. His 
face trembled as if it were trying to turn back to the woods behind 
them. But he squared his jaw and marched toward the dragons. "I'm his 
prodigal."

"You are our friend," Pharcellus said firmly. "Come with us. It will 
be safe across the bridge."

Jerome nodded and followed the two dragons as they made their way 
back out to the sward and the road leading north across the gorge. 
Lindsey cast one glance back into the woods but there was nothing to see.

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Deeper in the woods where the shadows were long and dark, Gmork 
watched his youngest bury his old body while those two vile dragons 
loomed over him. Beside him in the deep lay his other two pups. Both 
were exhausted from their sprint through the woods away from 
Fjellvidden, but at least they had been reunited with their father. 
Nestled between them was the sleeping boy who would soon again love his father.

But for those few minutes Gmork could only stare at his other son, 
proud that he could become a beast in body, but furious that he had 
not come to his side. Something had gone wrong, his risk had not 
worked, and it galled him and made him grind his teeth together to 
sate his rage.

But then, his youngest lifted his head after climbing out of the 
grave and looked directly at his father. Gmork stretched out one arm 
and beckoned him to come to him with his claws. But all his youngest 
did was speak. "At least Calephas died and his potions with him."

He breathed slowly and felt a slight lessening of his anger. The 
words had been meant for him, his pup assuring his father that the 
task he'd been set was accomplished. On some level his youngest still 
belonged to him, still knew him to be Father. His anger abated and 
was replaced by hunger.

Gmork motioned with his outstretched paw again, inviting his son to 
join his brothers and leave this wretched place together. All his 
youngest had to do was to leap forward through the trees and he would 
easily outpace the two dragons. Gmork recognized that larger of them 
as the one they'd chased through the woods the night before. Even in 
human guise he doubted that creature could keep pace with them. The 
other must be the boy that Calephas had been experimenting on, the 
one that had come from Metamor. He was far too young and Gmork would 
not be merciful or patient with him should he take up the chase.

But his pup's eyes turned away and he lowered Gmork's old body into 
the grave. Gmork put his paw back on the ground and took several long 
deep breaths while the old flesh was covered with dirt. His 
youngest's actions were full of reverence and dignity, motivated by 
the love that Gmork had instilled in him. But the agony of waiting 
for him to finish was almost too much for a Father eager to flee this 
land with his pups.

When at last the body had been buried, Jerome lifted his eyes once 
more, bright golden eyes that gleamed with the fire of a beast, his 
form wholly that of the wolf, the last vestiges of the human 
eradicated at long last. Gmork stretched out his paw again, tail 
wagging slightly, ears erect in ravenous need. But then, to his 
horror and rage, his pup swung his head back and forth, so broad and 
so clear that Gmork knew that he had been rejected by one of his own.

It took all of his willpower to keep from growling in fury or from 
throwing fireballs into the pines over their heads. He did growl at 
his other pups when his youngest began to howl in misery. They both 
tilted back their heads to reply in kind, but whimpered softly when 
they saw their father's fierce glare.

Gmork watched the affair, his arm still outstretched, but now the 
claws pulled into his palm. His pup spoke to the dragons, and the 
three of them left the woods. And then one last phrase pierce the 
red, red rage and made the great wolf of the north pause. "I'm his prodigal."

Prodigal. In the end, the prodigal always returned to the father, 
humble and contrite. Gmork lowered back into the brush and let his 
rage seep through his jaws, coursing past his fangs and dancing out 
across his long tongue. With each exhalation his thoughts grew 
clearer and the rage abated into a quiet simmer.

His prodigal pup would return to him one day. And he, the loving 
Father, would forgive him. Gmork's jowls curled ever so faintly into 
a smile, as empty as it was.

But that day was not today. He scooped the boy back into his arms and 
with his other two pups, loped through the forest eastward. It was 
time to leave Arabarb behind. But where could he go? Perhaps he could 
barter services for his mother for any pet mages she might let him 
adopt. And there was Marigund too, if he risked traveling through the 
lands south of the mountains; there was always disgruntled mages in 
Marigund who might be enticed to take a more beastly path.

As plans sprouted and formed in his mind, Gmork and his three 
children fled, leaving the prodigal behind; one day they would be a 
family again.

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

Charles Matthias


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