[Mkguild] Inchoate Carillon, Inconstant Cuckold (13 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold
By Charles Matthias



March 6, 708 CR


James reported to the brewery as soon as he rose 
the next morning. The donkey had not slept well 
the night before, strange dreams of vaulted 
ceilings occluded by thick, oppressive shadow 
waking him several times during the middle of the 
night. Still, his anxiety was born not of the 
nightmares, but of the mountains they would 
traverse; and most especially who he would be traversing them with.

Charles was one of the few people he knew cared 
about him and in the year they had known each 
other, James felt that their friendship was more 
than just comrades in arms, or from shared 
interest. They were brothers in a way that defied lineage.

But, to James's continual frustration, he was the 
younger brother. As much as he admired and cared 
for Charles, whenever the two of them were placed 
together, everyone preferred to be with the rat.

And then there was Angus. The badger was a good 
teacher and had convinced James that he could 
actually swing a sword. Yet, he always felt like 
a student in his presence, as if the badger were 
always evaluating him and pondering what next he 
needed to learn. James would always be his inferior.

These misgivings gnawed at his heart and darkened 
his dreams like banners blackened with soot 
flying low to the ground. Yet it was the opossum 
Baerle that twisted him and drove him mad. Every 
time he awoke with her face in his eyes he 
frantically searched for his bell, hands 
trembling until thick fingers wrapped about its 
handle and gave it a swing. The sweet note would 
sooth his nerves and allow to return to sleep.

He wanted to have a chance for Baerle to see what 
he was capable of. But with Angus schooling him, 
and Charles outshining him, there would never be 
a chance for the opossum to notice a foolish donkey like him.

But, as he rushed into the brewery to volunteer 
himself for scouting duty, he had a few days 
before the trek into the mountains with which to 
approach her. To his surprise, he found that 
there were only a dozen or so people in the 
brewery waiting. Amongst them was Angus who was 
busy discussing assignments with the others 
assembled. The collected miasma of animal scents 
from last night blended with the ever present 
wine and ale that permeated the bear's 
establishment made James's nostrils twitch, but 
of those that were fresh, he did not smell the opossum.

“Ah, James,” Angus said as he approached, “We've 
got something easy for you today. Just a simple 
scouting patrol south of the Glen. Berchem here 
will be guiding you through the forests.” The 
badger gestured to a stocky skunk standing to his 
left conversing with a pair of shorter Keepers, a 
vole and arctic fox that James recognized.

His heart tightened and his hand wound about the 
handle of his bell. “I was hoping to join Baerle 
on her rounds today.” He couldn't believe he'd 
said it, but there it was out for all of the 
others in the Glen to know. The skunk's eyes 
narrowed a moment and then he shook his head and 
turned back to the other two to whisper something James couldn't hear.

Angus shook his head. “She's up in the trees the 
next few days. Now I know you have mountain 
experience, but trees are different. Hooves do 
not belong in trees. Don't worry, she's one of 
our most experienced, she'll be fine. And so will 
you. Now, we hope that plague doesn't get up 
here, and to make sure it doesn't, the southern 
borders need to be watched carefully. Anybody 
trying to slip through, well.” The badger folded 
his paws under his chin and narrowed his small, 
dark eyes. “I don't need to explain, do I?”

James's long tail fell still between his legs and 
his ears lowered in disappointment. Glumly, he 
began to shake his head. “I understand. I'm ready 
to go as soon as everyone else is.”

The badger half-grinned and patted him on the 
shoulder. “Good. I'm glad we've got you with us again, James.”

But as his hoof-like fingers stroked the silent 
surface of the bell, the imagined tolling that he 
could hear drowned out the compliment.

----------

Despite the weariness in his heart, Charles had 
to admit that it felt good to be in the saddle 
and doing something. He would have surely lost 
what composure he still had and destroyed his 
furnishings as he used to do when the anger of 
the Sondeck grew too powerful had he been left to 
his own devices. As Saulius's squire, it was 
simple enough to slip into the subservient role 
and allow another to direct his actions.

Only a few days ago the routine grated on him 
because he wanted to hurry back to his wife and 
children. Now they were out of reach and the 
equestrian life was a welcome escape from the 
fear that he might never see them again. And to 
his immense relief, Saulius informed him that 
morning that they would be riding north along the 
road toward the border with Hareford to patrol 
there. So far from Metamor as that, any 
temptation he might suffer to sneak off and find 
some way to breach the Keep's defenses could be easily kept at bay.

It also amused him that his friend and knight, 
Sir Erick Saulius, had seen fit to decide their 
patrol route with Angus and Lord Avery before 
consulting with Charles. In fact, the Sondecki 
turned squire had not been consulted at all. It 
made Charles realize that for however many days 
it took before the woodpecker had completed his 
preparations, Saulius would be taking charge of 
all of his affairs. There was solace in that.

So after rising and eating a brief meal of eggs 
and biscuits, Charles attired himself in his mail 
and tabard, then tended both his steed Malicon 
and Saulius's mount Armivest. He cleaned their 
hooves, combed their hides and manes as he had 
been taught, then secured their saddles and 
reins. He brought both out to the knight rat who 
studied them with a critical eye before nodding his approval.

And a few minutes after that, they were in the 
saddle and heading north at a slow trot along the 
road. They rode side by side, tails dangling over 
the hindquarters of their steeds and occasionally 
being tickled by the long, coarse hairs of their 
pony's tails. Their ears and eyes were alert as 
they listened to the rhythmic clopping of hooves 
on the hard-packed earth, and the weight of their 
swords rested against their thighs. And yet for 
all that, they relaxed as they rode, allowing the 
peaceful serenity of the cool winter woods around them to sooth their nerves.

The road took a northeasterly course for roughly 
half an hour before turning northward along a 
slight ridge that sloped down sharply to the 
east. From there they could look out over the 
tops of the trees and see the Valley through a 
faint morning mist. Folds and folds of hills, 
tree tops mostly barren but some still cluttered 
with white, and little sign of habitation. To the 
northeast they could glimpse the squat towers of 
Hareford, but only if they stood up in the saddle in just the right place.

They slowed their pace at that point and what 
should have taken only a half hour ended up 
taking a full hour. The air was crisp but a 
slight wind coming from the south suggested the 
warmth they'd felt a few days earlier in Jetta. A 
few birds were already beginning to claim 
territory and their bright songs echoed on either 
side. Some of the larger woodland creatures 
darted across the road only to disappear within 
the underbrush; Charles spotted a fox, a badger, 
and two groundhogs amongst them; there were 
several others that moved too quickly for him to recognize.

The eastern bank of the road leveled out ten 
minutes before they reached the bridge. Charles 
smiled as he saw it. The stone bridge crossing 
the cleft through the earth was new, built only a 
year ago after the former wooden structure had 
been toppled to the ground by the rat and his 
fellow Sondeckis as part of their plan to keep 
Baron Calephas from reinforcing Nasoj's army 
assaulting Metamor. And it had worked, even if 
falling timbers had wounded him seriously enough 
that he'd had to spend the rest of the fighting 
laying in bed. He even rubbed his cheek where 
Baerle had slapped him a few days later when she found out about Kimberly.

And in a few days time, he would be in her 
company again while separated from his wife, 
wandering through cold mountains on a perilous 
mission to protect Metamor. At least she wouldn't be pining for him this time.

A short distance past the ravine and bridge the 
road intersected an East-West road cutting along 
another ridge overlooking a shallow defile. The 
Dragon mountains jutted in a narrow finger 
eastward half-a-mile ahead blocking all passage 
north. The eastern road headed past Hareford and toward the Giant's Dike.

“And the western,” Sir Saulius mused as he gazed 
down the winding track that disappeared through 
the forest of white, brown and green, “dost lead 
into the mountains where thou shalt venture a few 
days hence. Shouldst we explore a little ere thou goest that way thyself?”

Charles flicked his tail from one side of 
Malicon's rump to the other as he gazed down the 
western track shadowed by overhanging elms. “It 
seems as good as any other. I haven't been that way yet myself.”

Saulius spread his jowls wide, revealing his long 
incisors as he grinned. “The let us...” but both 
their ears twitched and their heads turned to the eastern road as one.

“Horsemen,” Charles muttered as he quickly and 
silently drew his sword. “At least six.”

“Aye,” Saulius agreed. They gingerly backed their 
steeds down the southern road toward the Glen and 
then into the forest until they were well out of 
sight. Both Armivest and Malicon were well 
trained, neither grunted in protest, nor did they 
stomp their hooves for the strangers to hear.

They waited in silence for a little over a minute 
before they glimpsed the six horses and their 
riders come down the road from Hareford. They 
were Metamorians, led by a black and 
orange-furred stocky dog, followed by a 
black-haired woman wearing Captain's regalia, a 
black-faced, white-furred ram with knightly blue 
tabard, two youths, while a tall raven-haired 
woman with bow slung over her shoulders took up the rear.

They slowed to a stop as they reached the 
intersection. The dog's flopped ears lifted and 
his nostrils flared and he spun his head around. 
His eyes fell to the hard earth, and then slowly 
raised until they were staring into the woods 
directly at the two rats. Beside him, the ram 
crossed his arms and bleated, “You two can come out now.”

Saulius chuckled as he led Armivest out of the 
concealing brush. Charles followed after with a 
curious moue crossing his snout. “Thy nose is 
masterful indeed to scent us on a day like this, good sir!”

The dog scratched behind his left ear with one 
paw. “I smelled your ponies,” he admitted with a 
confidant bark. “But I can smell you both now.”

“And if I'm not mistaken,” the ram said, still 
with arms crossed, “then you, my good sir, are 
Steppeborn. One of the western horse tribes that 
range from the Herstel forest to the river too to judge by your accent.”

Sir Saulius's dark eyes widened in genuine 
surprise as they trotted onto the road only a few 
paces from the six horsemen. “Thy ears art most 
astute! I hath ere met none in Metamor that hath 
recognized my lineage. From thy heraldry and thy 
own accent, as well as thy new shape, I judge thee to be Sir William Dupré.”

The ram's thick lips broke into a faint smile. 
“The same. You are Sir Erick Saulius, knight 
errant of Metamor, and winner of the golden lance 
these last two Summers. And your squire Charles 
Matthias I believe. Your reputations precede you; 
it is an honor to meet such exalted warriors as yourselves.”

Charles and Erick glanced at each other before 
allowing their snouts to break into genuine 
smiles. “And an honor to meet thee,” Saulius said 
at last with a warmth that pierced the cold air. 
“Thou art on a similar mission, to patrol the roads in this dark time?”

Dupré nodded and uncrossed his arms, resting them 
on his thighs, hooves stretching the stirrups for 
a moment as he relaxed. “Indeed. Allow me to 
introduce my companions. Captain Isabelle Sobol,” 
he gestured to the black-haired woman. She was 
dressed in a riding uniform of a dark red 
feathered by a blend of gray and white with an 
insignia of a horseshoe and human foot.

“Ah, Captain Sobol,” Saulius showed his incisors 
with his grin, “thou wert a delight to watch in 
last year's joust. How unfortunate that we ne'er had the pleasure of a tilt.”

“Perhaps this year,” she said with a lop-sided 
smirk. “I've been watching you too.”

“For the rest,” Dupré intoned, gesturing first to 
the dog, “this is Alexander,” and then two the 
two youths, “Martin and Anthony,” and then to the 
raven-haired woman, “and Samantha, one of 
Hareford's chief scouts and tower commanders.”

The woman almost blushed as she bowed her head, 
braided hair falling across one shoulder. “Not 
nearly so much as that, but thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

Captain Sobol studied the rats critically. “Are 
you patrolling for the Glen? I didn't think they had horsemen.”

“They do not,” Saulius admitted. “But 'tis the 
home of my squire, and for now 'tis where we 
serve. We did not expect to see any riders of Hareford come south.”

“It is good that we have,” Dupré interjected 
before Sobol could speak. “It gives us one more 
opportunity to confer with our brothers in the 
Glen. How are the people there taking the news from Metamor?”

“Frightened and determined both. They hath a 
strong spirit and wilt do whate'er is necessary to keep the Valley safe.”

“So it is at Hareford. We've fifty men patrolling 
the pass where it is safe. I'll be out there 
myself for the next two weeks. But first, I 
wanted to cover the southwestern road; there may yet be other passes to guard.”

“These lands art the Glen's responsibility, Sir William.”

“And yet they send only two where we could spare 
six.” Dupré lifted a two fingered hand to ward 
off the rat's objection. “I do not doubt the 
Glen's commitment, far from it. And certainly I 
would never question the bravery of her people. I 
merely wonder if she has enough men to see to all the lands she protects.”

Charles put a paw on his knight's arm and said 
softly, “May I?” Saulius nodded without hesitation.

“Sir William, two years ago Nasoj sent one of his 
generals, Baron Calephas, to set up a staging 
ground in the Dragon mountains just northwest of 
the Glen. Calephas, as disgusting and loathsome 
as he is, is no fool. His encampments were well 
guarded and well disguised. Misha Brightleaf and 
I were assigned the task of coordinating with the 
Glen scouts, finding him, and driving him out. 
And that we did with almost no loss of life. 
They've never come back that way again.

“That is what the Glen can do,” Charles's 
whiskers quivered as if an exclamation point.

The ram crossed his arms again and nodded several 
times, his ears laying back against the inside of 
his curling horns. He snorted when the rat had 
finished his explanation and his eyes brightened. 
“I like to know these things firsthand myself, 
but your reputation has reached even my ears, and 
I have lived here in Metamor not even three 
months. Perhaps you would join us as we ride. I 
want to see the land west of here, and your company would be most welcome.”

He uncrossed his arms, cast Captain Sobol a brief 
glance, before returning his gaze to the two 
rats. “So what say you, Sir Saulius. Shall we ride together for a time?”

His knight accepted without delay. “We art 
honored to accompany thee and thy valiant companions.”

Dupré waved his shaggy arm and laughed. “Then 
come join us. We can speak more when we pause in 
a couple hours. Or reach the mountains, whichever 
comes first.” The two youths grinned knowingly, 
and the dog wagged his tail. The two women 
glanced at each other and shared an unreadable 
moment before turning to the rats with welcoming smiles.

Saulius and Charles nudged their ponies into line 
just behind the ram. Together, the eight of them 
continued down the western road, the white-peaked 
mountains rising above the tops of the long swaths of elm and pine before them.


----------

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

Charles Matthias


!DSPAM:4e7f644b294005315134984!
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.integral.org/archives/mkguild/attachments/20110925/59c62f5d/attachment-0001.html>