[Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars III. Descensum (r)

[C. Matthias]

I suspect folks won't like this bit.

Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx

Pars III: Descensum

(r)


Saturday, May 12, 708 CR

The weather turned gray early that morning and 
remained so throughout the day. While the air did 
not threaten rain, the lack of sun cast 
everything in a sort of pale gloom. The colors on 
all of the flowers, the green of leaf and grass, 
the blue of river and lake, all of it felt muted 
and sallow. All was cast in sky-sent shadow.

This did make it easier to ride across the 
Narrows. They took advantage of the cooler air to 
investigate the meadows which teemed with 
wildflowers, birds, and the occasional bee. 
Charles half-expected to find the shepherd Silvas 
trespassing again, but there was no sign of the 
bull or his flock of sheep. The land was empty.

As is everything without Ladero.

That thought sat uncomfortably in his mind like a 
bit of wood in his belly. He did not share it 
with his pupil but instead focused on exploring 
and learning all there was to learn about the 
Narrows. After their midday meal he bid them 
return to the combe and promontory on which he 
wished to build his keep. They were forced to 
abandon their steeds in order to ascend the 
rock-face but both of them were more comfortable on their paws anyway.

The promontory had a lower tier that encircled 
the upper heights though toward the south the 
lower tier vanished in a steep cliff down to the 
ravine below. Further to the south the ground 
leveled briefly before ascending back up a gentle 
rise that led to more forest before opening up 
into the meadowland they'd explored that morning. 
The eastern edge was also a steep cliff staring 
back up the combe which eventually emptied out in 
the rolling hills that dominated the land before 
the clefts through which the river cut. The 
northern slope was the gentlest, but so thick 
with trees and rocks that no horse, not even a 
pony could hope to fit through. Between this 
tangle of root, branch, and stone the rat and ferret climbed.

Garigan stood arms akimbo and surveyed the wide 
bowl-shaped ravine with an approving nod. “This 
is remarkable. The ravine walls are low enough 
almost everywhere. You won't have to move as much as I feared.”

Charles nodded and gestured to the northern 
slope. “Most of that is good solid rock. We can 
quarry the sections we need for the baileys, and 
reinforce the rest for an outer defense.”

“Might it be better to level the ground at the 
top of this ravine and erect your own walls?”

Charles frowned for a moment and then nodded. “It 
could be. I don't think we'll know until we begin 
to quarry the stone. Of course...”

Garigan turned and titled his head to one side. “Of course what, Charles?”

The rat glanced down at his feet, toe claws 
scrapping at a bit of exposed rock. “I'd like to 
meet the stone before cutting it. I should really 
have their permission to use them in a fort first.”

“Whose permission? The rock?”

“The mountains mostly,” he hooked a thumb over 
his shoulder at the peaks behind him. “But even 
stone like that will have some sort of awareness. 
It is not like you and I, not at all. They aren't 
as we would know it alive. But there is something 
there that I could not so callously destroy.”

Garigan laughed and shook his head. “You alone of 
all that I know would worry so over the feelings 
of stone! What can it matter whether or not the 
stone approves? Can it do anything but crack when the hammer strikes?”

“If it does not approve of the stone cutter, it 
may do more than crack, it may shatter. Or the 
stone that is cut out may be too brittle and will 
not support weight. Any number of things could be the case.”

The ferret shook his head. “But they can be 
anyway; that is always a risk the stonecutter 
takes. The good stone is separated from the bad at the quarry.”

Charles wagged a finger. “But if we have the 
stone's permission, every piece shall be good. I 
promise you that.” He turned and put one hand on 
a birch tree and ran his claws across the jagged 
white back. “These are beautiful trees. We should 
use the wood to make furnishings, perhaps new cradles.”

“Is Lady Kimberly expecting?” Garigan asked with 
sudden excitement. “I have not heard such good news.”

Charles sighed and shook his head. “Not yet. But 
I have hope. We deserve more than four children.”

You deserve Ladero.

“I hope you're right. But you are going to have 
your hands full if she has another litter.”

“Then I am even more fortunate that I have so 
many good and dear friends!” Charles flashed the 
ferret a grin and then started climbing higher 
over rock and root. His claws grasped the stone 
and pulled himself up through the tangling trunks 
and snaring branches. Behind him he heard the 
ferret chuckle before searching for his own way 
up the incline to the higher promontory.

Charles reached the top and spread his arms on 
either side as he walked through the trees. The 
bare patches of rock were few and far between, 
most filled in with hard-packed earth, and the 
turning of seasons upon fallen needles and shed 
leaves. Moss clung to the ground, and lichen to 
the stones. The chattering of birds continued 
above them with only mild retorts when they 
passed beneath. In the distance he could make out 
the towering redwoods of the Glen blocking all 
the northern sky. Charles stared and pondered which of them was his own.

“You do have a good view of the land from here,” 
Garigan noted with a pleased sigh. “I can't quite 
make out Mt. Nuln, but there, you can see the southern face of Mt. Kalegris.”

Charles followed the ferret's finger and smiled 
fondly as he stared at the mountain whose rocky 
peak was low enough to be free from snow. “We'll 
have to visit them again sometime. I don't think 
I've been to either since my first visit to the Glen.”

“What was that, two years ago?”

“Aye. Two years ago. Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago.”

“If not for your arrival,” Garigan pointed out as 
he flexed his arms by grabbing a branch and 
dangling, “I would never have learned to control 
my Sondeck. I would not even understand why I was 
so angry all the time. I confess I am very glad you were exiled to the Glen.”

“I certainly do not complain of it. I would have 
likely spent my days as a Long Scout and not seen 
my family for weeks at a time had I remained in 
Metamor. I do rather wish I could have done more 
patrols with them – I'd never even been assigned 
to a team – but that is all in the past now.”

“The Glen has been good for you. The woodland 
life suits you and your family.” Garigan dropped 
from the birch branch and frowned. “So why do you 
want to build a new castle here?”

“As much as I love the Glen, this part of the 
Valley needs a place of strength to draw the eye 
of our enemies. Hareford may be nearest the 
Giantdowns but it is easily avoided and cannot 
easily come to anyone else's aid.” Garigan 
grunted sourly at the assessment of their 
northern neighbors. “Lake Barnhardt is a place of 
strength, but it cannot reach as far north and 
her people little travel the roads here. And the 
Glen, while we rallied from it, cannot defend the 
Valley. You have no fortifications, only places 
in which to hide and from which to launch hidden 
arrows. That is invaluable. But a keep, here in 
the Narrows, would be a fulcrum on which the 
northern valley could rest. And so long as the 
Narrows are mine to tend I will do my part to make it that fulcrum.”

“Besides,” he added while leaning against the 
lower trunk of an elm, “the construction will 
bring merchants as well as laborers here to the 
north and that will bring wealth too.”

Garigan frowned. “Wealth has its own poisons too. 
I like what the Glen has become. I don't want it 
to become like the other towns again.”

“I had not thought of that,” Charles admitted 
with a frown of his own. He sighed and shook his 
head. “I will try not to let that happen. But I 
still believe a keep here is for the best. You 
know I love the Glen too and hope to spend many 
years yet living beneath her branches.”

The ferret nodded and let a smile play across the 
corners of his snout. “I know, Charles. I just do 
not want to live in a city ever again. Metamor 
Keep is... too large. I need my trees.”

“Oh, if...” Charles stepped away from the tree 
and started moving into the deeper central 
section of the promontory. “If I ever can bring 
you to Sondeshara you might change your mind. To 
hear the Sondlatharos sung from the rooftops at 
night while the stars glisten over head... that 
is something you will never forget. Your heart 
will sing even if your tongue cannot.”

Even hearing the name of the song, he could hear 
the ferret begin to wordlessly intone the ancient 
melody. Charles smiled and kept walking, quieting 
the inborn desire within him to join in the song. 
The further he pressed inward the taller the 
trees became until all of the branches were above 
his head and he could walk easily between the 
trunks. He found an upthrust stone and leaned 
against it, resting one ear against its cool 
touch. Covered in lichen, he nevertheless could 
let the tip of his fingers slip within if he so chose.

Go South.

Charles pushed away from the rock and walked 
toward the southern edge of the promontory. He 
could hear the ferret following after him; the 
ground at their feet was covered in moss, leaves, 
and needles making it near impossible even for a 
Glen scout to move silently. The trees came to an 
abrupt end overlooking a thirty-foot slope down 
to the base of the ravine. Trees filled in the 
base and spread up over the lip along the 
hillside abutting the mountain. If Charles walked 
to the mountain's edge he might be able to 
carefully work his way around to the meadows 
further to the south without having to descend into the ravine.

He peered out across the treetops trying to see 
if Lake Barnhardt was visible as the Glen was 
visible from the northern side, but he could not 
see it past the forests and hills between them. 
He grimaced and cast a glance back at the ferret. 
“Well, I can't quite see the Lakeland from here, 
but I suppose it must be off in that direction.” 
He pointed slightly east of south and then waved 
his hand. His tail snaked around the trunk of a 
nearby elm as the soft earth shifted beneath his paws.

Garigan squinted and stared for several seconds 
before finally shaking his head. “I cannot see 
it. Perhaps on a clear night it can be seen.”

Step closer.

Charles took another step and the ground beneath 
him gave out. He spread out his arms and grabbed 
at tree branches as he tumbled down the slope. 
The Sondeck filled his arms and legs as he fell, 
slowing his descent with each limb he was for a 
moment able to grab. He collapsed in a heap with 
a heavy whump and gasped for breath. Above him he 
could hear the ferret calling down to him.

When the ringing in his ears stopped he could 
make out the ferret's voice. “Charles? Are you all right?”

He pushed himself up, grunting from a few bruises 
he felt, one each on his left side, right arm, 
left leg, and tail. He tilted back his head and 
shouted. “I'm fine! Don't try coming down that 
way. Go around to the north and meet me here. I won't be hard to find.”

Charles could see the ferret nod and then 
disappear back into the wood far above. The rat 
picked some twigs and brambles from his clothes 
and then looked around. A dozen paces to his 
right the ground sloped upward too steeply to 
climb without the proper equipment. To his left 
the ground descended at a measured pace, while in 
front of him it rose gently. Everything was 
shadowed beneath the canopy of fir and birch. He 
stepped through the alternating light and dark 
trunks and stretched his legs and arms, working the tension loose.

His ears caught the sound of something small 
shuffling through the underbrush ahead and his 
hand wrapped itself about the pommel of his sword.

A trespasser!

His eyes narrowed and he stepped in closer, 
setting each paw down carefully, splaying his 
toes through the moss. He eased the sword from 
its scabbard. It made not a sound.

Ahead in the bushes.

Charles lowered his gaze and saw at the top of 
the rise a series of bushes growing where once a 
tree had fallen; what was left of the dead trunk 
lay rotted on the hillside below. Something 
stirred in the bushes. The branches vibrated back 
and forth for a moment and then grew still.

Strike with your blade. Trespassers should not be suffered to live.

He took the remaining steps cautiously but 
swiftly, making only the barest whisper of noise 
through old leaves. He held his breath and tensed his sword arm.

 From out of the bushes sprang the creature, a 
thing of white and gray. A lamb. Charles hesitated.

The shepherd cannot keep his flock under control. 
He must be taught a lesson. Kill it.

But it's just a lamb, he pondered, remembering 
how upset James had become when he scared it.

And many more will die if this one is spared. Kill it now.

And then to Charles' surprised gaze, the lamb 
seemed to distort into something else. For a 
moment he saw it tilt back on its hind legs which 
grew bulbous and green, until that insufferable 
frog, Bertram was there sitting on a hooded rat. 
And then it was the very face of Akkala dragging 
the hooded rat into a dark pit, laughing the 
whole way. The visage continued to laugh, but now 
it was that bull shepherd who paid no respect to 
his land, mocking him; the bull still had his 
precious little one while Charles' was gone.

Kill it now.

Charles thrust his sword. The little lamb – Ewar was his name – bleated once.

He thrust again, the white wool now smeared red.

And again.

And again.

Charles seethed in his fury, and then trembled, 
unable to deliver another blow. He nudged the 
corpse back into the bushes and then wiped his 
blade clean on the ground. He sheathed his sword 
and then stepped back down the hillside through a 
facing wind. After reaching the spot where he'd 
fallen he leaned against one tree and closed his 
eyes, seeking his Calm. All was empty and dark 
behind his eyelids. There was nothing but a 
coldness, a creeping thing of night, that made 
him shiver even in the Spring afternoon.

You did well. It was the right thing to do.

He breathed easier and nodded to himself. The 
lamb was sure to fall into some misfortune. And 
if Silvas had to keep chasing after it, something 
worse might befall the rest of his flock. Best to 
end the temptation now so Silvas could do his duty.

A hard mercy. But a mercy nevertheless.

Very hard indeed. He took several deep breaths 
and forced his eyes to open. He could heard 
Garigan's step approaching from the east.

You are a little dazed from your fall.

“Charles! There you are! Are you all right?” 
Garigan asked as he rushed to meet him.

“I'm still a little dazed. I think it time we got back to the horses.”

“You need to be a little more careful there.” 
Garigan slipped one of the rat's arms over his 
shoulders and helped him walk back down the hill 
toward the east and their steeds. “It doesn't look like you are too injured.”

He nodded and continued to breathe heavily. “I 
should be fine in a few minutes.”

“Good. When we get to the ponies we'll give you 
something to drink and then perhaps we should return to the Glen?”

Charles didn't really want to see his lying wife, 
but hopefully his nocturnal plan would heal 
whatever breach had come between them. He sighed 
and nodded, stumbling along beside the ferret. 
“That sounds like a good plan. Thank you.”

He hoped that stupid shepherd would not find the 
body until they were long gone.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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