[Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars VI. Acceptio (e)

[C. Matthias]

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

Pars VI: Acceptio

(e)


Saturday, May 12, 708 CR


The beast-man spoke toward his Master; because he 
too stood in the shadow, the words were 
comprehensible even if their import was beyond 
his ability to understand. That his Master 
understood was sufficient for him. Still, curious 
and hoping that the images he felt drawn forth by 
the long-tailed beast-man would coalesce, he listened as they spoke.

“I have passed the terraces of purgation and 
stand in wait of the glory prepared for me. You 
will not pass without my leave,” the beast 
uttered levelly, not moving from their path.

“Will I not? Neither Nocturna nor Lilith even 
knew I walked in their realms! Tallakath thought 
me a mere mortal to experiment upon and was left 
standing like a fool in the wake of my passage. 
Klepnos sought to deceive us with his madness and 
yet it was he who deceived himself; unable to 
even speak my name. Oblineth learned of my coming 
too late to even hinder me. Revonos tested my 
strength in all of his rage within his arena of 
blood and was whipped like a dog for his 
arrogance. Suspira sought to stretch time itself 
to delay my coming and still I came and stole her 
quarry from her coils. Agemnos boasted he could 
defeat me and yet was too craven to even appear 
before me in his substance. Ba'al used every 
temptation he could muster to thwart my advance and yet still I reached Beyond.

“Against such foes you would have been trampled 
under foot. Yet you now stand to bar my way?”

The beast-man appeared undaunted by the 
recitation. “I spent and gave my life to bar your 
way. Why should I in the dawn of glory do any less?”

“You gave all of that to bar my way and yet here 
I am. Can you truly count yourself amongst the 
most august of my foes? I can brush you aside as 
effortlessly as I might pluck a fallen leaf from my robes.”

“And yet,” the beast-man noted with a bemused 
tilt to his snout and ears, “you have not done 
so.” He braced his long feet against either side 
of the narrow fissure and spread his fingers. 
“You are not as powerful as you believe yourself to be.”

His Master folded his hands before him and shook 
his head ever so slightly. “You mistake my lack 
of action for evidence that I cannot carry 
through on what I intend. Rather, I have not 
swept you aside because you abide in my shadow. 
You are mine. You belong to me.”

“I belong only to - - now. Your shadow has no 
hold over me.” The beast had uttered a name and, 
with it, Núrodur Nuruhuinë felt dread in the 
countenance of the bearer of that name, but it 
slid past his hearing as nothing more than a 
sibilance of tongue and lips. The music, muted 
but ever-present in the depths of his heart, soared in exaltation at the name.

“It always does. The stewards of this place, your 
Master's servants, have done nothing to hinder me 
despite their power. They understand that I am 
not their concern. So too is it that all those 
who abide in my shadow are my concern. That alone 
has allowed you to stretch forth your paw as if 
you mean to thwart me. But you are mine. You 
will, when I have come into my kingdom, be loyal 
and true. And you will be a part of my kingdom. 
The only choice that is left to you is what 
degree of glory you will share in it.”

“I want nothing to do with your glory.”

“It is the only glory you can receive. You will 
leave this place in my company or you will be 
scattered. Neither Heaven nor Oblivion will 
reclaim you. I have given you every opportunity 
to follow me and yet you have refused. This is 
the final opportunity you have to make this choice again and make it wisely.”

The beast-man bent forward slightly, large ears 
lifting over his head and turned toward them as 
if trying to capture some small voice well out of 
sight. His snout opened and a long sigh drifted 
forth, his body seeming to shrink with it and 
gain an even greater resemblance to a mere 
animal. The moment was brief and with his next 
inhalation he stood straighter again and regained 
a semblance of human stature. There was a 
distance to his voice and a subtle weight that 
left Núrodur Nuruhuinë uneasy. “There are only 
two choices that remain to be made. Neither of 
them belongs to me. I have made my choices. I 
have died. I cannot change them nor can I make 
any that are new. You cannot tempt me to follow 
you. You do not have that power anymore.”

“You abide in my shadow; therefore you abide in 
my power. In that you are completely mistaken. 
But you are correct in one regard; two choices 
await us. The first choice belongs to you. Will 
you abandon your foolish contumacy and follow me 
as is your purpose in being? The second choice 
abides in me; it is this: how much time will I 
offer you to make this decision before I utterly destroy you for your refusal?”

The unease he felt at the beast-man's words only 
multiplied with each declaration against his 
Master. He tried to take solace in what his 
Master said, but for a reason he could not name 
it also left him in that bewildering unease. He 
turned within trying not to hear any of the words 
bandied back and forth, cryptic and threatening, 
and discovered that there was something that he 
could listen to without discomfort. It was a 
delicate line of melody that at first seemed 
discordant but the more he listened the more he 
realized that had only been an illusion. The song 
unfolded as he listened, and the overlapping 
notes were spread apart so that each one sounded 
on its own. Together, the song gave him a sense 
of calm and stilled the unease. It drew him 
deeper within and further from the confrontation 
between his Master and the beast-man.

A warm light that did not hurt opened like a 
flower and he saw the woman in lace again. Her 
blue eyes glimmered as they held him, her long 
whiskers glistened, and her soft ears were turned 
to hear whatever reply he had to offer. She was a 
rat in guise and human in stature. She was beautiful.

The song came from her throat. He listened and 
gazed for one moment forgetting all else that 
was. She stood garbed in white lace that tumbled 
from her like cascading waterfalls. Her hands, 
delicate with short, neatly-trimmed claws, were 
extended toward him. In the hollow of her throat 
a glistening light shone with a vibrant purple 
hue. A light that did not sear but offered 
surcease from the agony, if but stepped from the 
shadow and into those outstretched arms. There 
was an invitation in that gesture, one both 
simple and eternal. It was an offering of self. 
She was offering herself to him.

Who was she to make such an offer? He felt an 
ache inside; a part of him knew that he should 
know her face and know her voice. But there was 
no name to come to him. There was no name for 
anything left inside him. The question of 'who' 
was a question he could no longer answer; that 
had already been purified from him by his Master. 
But could he ask the question 'what'?

In appearance she was both rat and lady, garbed 
for a great celebration, and bearing forth in 
song and light that was pleasing to experience. 
She was physically mortal bound together with an 
immortal soul. But that was her in isolation. 
There was so much more there to understand; she 
was intertwined with other immortal souls and 
this too defined her. In her glamor he could see 
little creatures so like her but each distinct. 
There were five of them holding close to her, and 
hints of many others not yet brought into being.

And her offered hand, a rat's paw with thumb like 
a man, showed her bound together with him as 
well. He stood as she did, and extended hands of 
a similar guise to claim hers, something vast and 
fantastic beyond his ability to comprehend 
welling within him at the nearness of their 
touch. No other state of being was as exalted as that.

Her voice, indistinct beneath the song, became 
clear when their flesh was a breath apart. “Charles, beware! He is false!”

Attend to me, Núrodur Nuruhuinë.

His Master's summons dew him out of that well of 
song and light and back to the top of the terrace 
reaching into the sky filled with golden clouds. 
The beast-man stood with arms outstretched and 
tail pressed against the ground, barring entry 
into the final cleft. Both he and the beast-man 
abode within his Master's shadow. Neither face 
showed defiance in their contest of wills. There 
was only opposition and nothing more.

His Master's voice was assured and he felt its 
resonance cool the simmering pain that coated his 
substance. “You cannot remain against the purpose 
of your being. Whether willingly or not you will 
complete your purpose.” But, even with his focus 
once more upon his Master and warder, Núrodur 
Nuruhuinë felt the touch of that steady purple 
light, the reach of those paws so close.

So close, he felt he turn and grasp her fingers, 
but he could not bring himself to.

“And I willingly do so. But my purpose is not as 
you imagine. I am Felikaush, the very last of my 
kind to walk the face of our world.”

“The final prophet of your line,” his Master said 
with an ever so slight nod of his head. “In this 
we concur. But you have badly misused your 
talents. You fought to preserve the broken world. 
I invite you now to do as you should have done at 
the beginning; cooperate with me to build and 
guide the world as it was meant to be. All your 
former transgressions will be forgiven. You can 
be a Steward to the world as it should be, 
guiding and foreseeing all that must be as the 
Felikaush who persists. Your founder was shackled 
in chains all his days because he refused me. Is 
that what you truly wish of yourself?”

“I am already free. You offer me, and can offer me, nothing.”

“On the contrary, you abide in my shadow. I am 
the ultimate arbiter of your fate.”

The beast-man shook his head, long ears falling 
to the side to flop there. “You have no power 
over me and you never did.” He lowered one hand 
to touch the black shadow scar that touched his 
side. “This is all you ever had on me; injury. In 
life with my guidance and actions, and even after 
death with my letters I have thwarted you.”

Letters.

A kangaroo reached into a satchel and yanked out 
a fist full of letters and thrust them into a 
cast-iron stove where they caught flame. Tears 
streamed from the kangaroo's eyes and a mournful 
wail echoed from her tongue. A lady skunk leaped 
toward her with hands gripping the hilts of 
swords at her sides, but only bumped off the 
kangaroo's back. She was rewarded for her efforts 
with a firm kick that sent the skunk across the 
tilting bedchamber where she crashed against the wall.

He rushed forward with a human at his side. The 
human grabbed the kangaroo about the back and 
hoisted her into the air. The kangaroo shrieked 
and kicked its legs at the ceiling, tail flailing 
up and down. He thrust granite arms into the 
flames and yanked the burning parchment from the 
stove. He tossed them to the side and then dashed 
handfuls of sand across them to douse the flames. 
Words were visible there in that moment that 
would with the gasp of a breath be charred beyond all recognition.


“Charles, when you return to Metamor... greeted 
by... I know you will suffer terrible pain from 
this most unspeakable loss. It pains me to have 
to tell you this after all the years we have 
known each other. But there is hope... will learn 
anyway... was once court musician will aid you if 
you ask but this is the first time you should 
turn... if you do not refuse her, there is but one other...

“When you have finished... belonging to... find 
your final opportunity to... all reckoning. If 
you fail to take... unleash... once infested... 
called forth in the cataclysm wrought by... will 
be the very last that this power seeks to... its last remaining vessel...

“...listen to the words of your wife and the 
mother... You must not let her go... listen to 
her song and hold to her no matter... do not 
touch your son... will abandon everything to 
become... will doom him... the very monster that 
seared your eye... will become the first new... made manifest here.

“Listen to me now as you have never listened 
before, Charles. Love your wife and never...”


Charles.

It was a name he knew.

His Master's voice cut through his thoughts and 
the strange image that seemed memory. “You have 
been very astute in the use of your talents, but 
you have put them to poor use. There is now no 
more time offered you. Your last chance is before 
you. Núrodur Nuruhuinë, rise.”

He lifted himself up from the pool of shadow at 
his Master's feet. His body was lanky and long 
arms descended from his shoulders. The mass of 
shadow split into legs that pressed him further 
upward from his safety against the exterior 
light. His attention was riveted upon the 
beast-man who let dark eyes shift from his Master to settle on him.

“Oh, Charles! What have you...”

Destroy him!

The order was obeyed.

He thrust forward at the beast-man, ever in the 
shadow, and within six paces reached the pitiful 
creature. Searing heat encased his substance and 
the shadow-flesh it not exhibited. His mouth 
agape, he wrapped his arms about the beast-man 
who had not moved from his place before the 
fissure. His fur was soft and would have been 
comforting to run fingers through had it not 
scorched the moment he touched it. The flesh 
beneath sizzled, blistered, and cooked within the 
first second of his grip. The beast-man could 
only stare with eyes filled with a profound sadness.

He tightened his grip and stamped his feet atop 
the beast-man's. The fire burned through the 
sinews and shattered the bone. Another twist and 
he pulled the beast-man from its place and sent 
both of them toppling into the pool of shadow at 
his Master's feet. All of the fur was incinerated 
and the flesh burst into bright orange flame for 
a moment as the body curled inward. The skin 
stretched and gave way, pulling apart and 
scattering as ash. The bones cracked from the 
heat he poured forth, while the internal organs 
sizzled, sending up beacons of smoke blinding as incense.

Through it all the beast-man never screamed. He 
did. His mouth opened wide and from within, with 
all the protest of metal aflame, he screamed. He 
screamed so loud that the crackle of bones and 
the whistling of super-heated air escaping the 
carcass could not be heard. His scream bent the 
grasses he had not burned. His scream made his Master smile.

His scream. His shriek.

Of the beast-man there was nothing but a 
blackened husk around the few bones that had not 
cracked open. All of the flesh was baked into 
those remaining pieces. The skull was no more, 
shattered along with both arms, most of the legs, 
and the tail. Unsatisfied by this, his fire 
swelled even more, burning everything beyond and 
touching even that which was deep inside. As more 
and more of the body was reduced to clumps of 
ash, he could see within the letter held in a 
rat's paws charring, words disappearing forever 
into black dust. All of it began to fade as if 
slipping beyond the edge of a great tunnel.

And then there was no more beast-man. His scream 
ended, and he settled back in the shadow, the 
extreme of heat passing and settling to a sizzle 
in his flesh. The path through the fissure was clear.

Very good, Núrodur Nuruhuinë. Your Son awaits us 
ahead. Come. Nothing remains between us.

He followed at his Master's heels.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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