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

[C. Matthias]

Sorry I forgot to post yesterday.  It was a crazy day.

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

Pars VI: Acceptio

(h)

Saturday, May 12, 708 CR


Charles opened his eyes to a vista of branches 
flush with broad green leaves and weighed down by 
plump, purple figs. His nostrils were filled with 
a panorama of fruits, flowers, and the subtle 
hints of people beyond counting. A warm light 
bathed him and he felt a gentle breeze rushing 
across his fur and whiskers. Blades of grass 
provided soft cushion and they tickled the edge 
of his scalloped ears and along the length of his 
tail as they bent in the wind.

A familiar voice speaking in the southern tongue 
reached his ears. “Rise, my dear friend and 
brother. You are not yet finished here.”

It had been nearly ten years since he had last 
hard that Eaven accent. Yet he knew it better 
than he knew his tail. “La... Ladero?” He climbed 
to his feet, toes splaying in the grass, and saw 
before him a black-robed man with olive-skinned 
complexion, short, dark hair, wide nose and 
cheeks and large brown eyes. His hands were 
crossed at the waist, but on his chest was a 
shield with a white palm in which was inscribed a 
red sword. No stubble touched his chin even 
though he was clearly in his late twenties.

The man smiled, and there was a assured beauty 
there. A glow encased him as if he himself were 
the source of the light that brightened the 
garden. “It is I, Charles. Do not be afraid.”

“Ladero...” Charles stared at the man in 
dumfounded awe. When he was only seven years old, 
on the final journey crossing the Darkündlicht 
mountains on his way to Sondeshara for the first 
time, he had met three other boys: Krenek 
Zagrosek, Jerome Krabbe, and Ladero Alenez. They 
had lived together, trained together, learned 
together, ate together, prayed together, and 
schemed together. Inseparable friends from the 
very first, their skills progressed at the same 
rate, each of them raised from Yellow to Green, 
Green to Blue, Blue to Red, Red to Purple, and 
Purple to Black always at the same time. Such 
synchronized advancement was rare in any of the 
mage clans of the Southlands, and it further 
united them in ways that no other friend amongst the Sondecki could hope.

Of all of them, it had been Ladero who had taught 
them of Eli and Yahshua and what it meant to be a 
prayerful and faithful Follower. It had been 
Ladero who had once considered a vocation to the 
priesthood amongst the Sondeckis. And it had been 
this Ladero for whom he had named his youngest 
son born with the power of the Sondeck.

His snout broke into a smile and he stumbled 
toward his friend, arms extended. “Ladero! I... I 
never thought I would see you again!”

Ladero lifted one hand and slowly shook his head. 
“You cannot touch me yet, Charles.”

The rat stopped, bewildered and blinking. “Why not?”

“You are still in the shadow.”

That one word woke in his mind a chain of 
memories stretching backward through nightmare. 
He felt anew the fire and pain that scoured him 
of his identity. He remembered the anguish that 
each deeper pit of the Daedra's realm had 
inflicted. He felt the terror of Lilith's 
midnight forest and plain. He quivered from the 
suffering endured by the prisoners of Tallakath. 
His stomach turned from the insanity of Klepnos. 
His flesh trembled at the memory of Oblineth's 
ice. His Sondeck tensed at the merest taste of 
the rage of Revonos. His body threatened betrayal 
at the recollection of the temptation of Suspira. 
He yearned to weep at what Agemnos forced him to 
do to Baldwin. And he was overwhelmed by horror at the very presence of Ba'al.

But all of it was there merest whisper of emotion 
compared to the total recollection of all that he 
had done and had done to him beneath the guidance 
of 'his Master', the ancient Åelf Yajakali. 
Charles collapsed on the grass, heaving as he 
stared down his snout at his black arms. The 
stain he'd received from Baldwin's spirit 
remained there. His eyes burned as he sobbed. 
Nothing coherent came from his tongue though he desperately tried to speak.

A little voice called to him. “Dada. It will be okay.”

His heart tightened at that sound and he turned 
on his hands and knees. Standing in the patch of 
clover in the midst of brilliant rays of light 
descending from a small cleft in the clouds above 
was his youngest son. The black cape of fur that 
draped his head and shoulders shimmered in the 
gentle breeze, while the white fur of his chest 
and legs glimmered a white so full and 
resplendent that his eyes hurt just gazing at 
him. “My son... Oh, my son... I have done terrible things...”

“Why not embrace him?”

He knew the voice. It startled him to hear it 
after witnessing the two Laderos, one of his 
closest friends and the son he'd lost, but it was 
present just the same. He turned his head even 
further, and saw a smear of black crossing the 
grass toward a tall figure. The alabaster robe 
was now tattered and threadbare as if it had been 
used as a funerary cloak for centuries. The 
silvery-black hair was disheveled and full of 
tangles. Little scars marred the once pristine 
flesh as if he'd been raked across a field of 
rock. The majesty and power that had once 
belonged to that figure and that had led Charles 
through the hells and up the mountain was gone.

But the voice remained. Compelling and 
reasonable, he felt a deep urge to listen. His 
legs shifted and he turned once more toward his son.

He is false!

Charles stopped, straightened himself and shook 
his head. “My friend bids me not to touch. You 
bid me do so, Yajakali. That is reason enough. I will obey you no more.”

“Charles,” the battered Åelf said with an 
imploring sweep of his bruised and bloodied arms. 
“We want the same thing, you and I. We want our 
families, our very people whole. This child was 
stolen from you. My entire people were stolen 
from me. I have sought these many years to bring 
them back. I have sought it with all my being. 
Everything we have experienced together... was to 
bring you here. Have I not done what I said I would do?”

He nearly fell to his knees again at the mere 
suggestion of what he'd endured. “You brought me 
here, aye. But in what condition? Look at me!” He 
lifted his arms and felt a fury build within 
them. His fingers curled and his claws raked the 
air as if rending flesh. “You are a liar! You did 
not bring me here for my sake! You brought me 
here for your own! Go back to hell where you belong!”

“Dada!”

“Charles!”

Both Laderos shouted as one, their voices 
stricken as if Charles had condemned them. He 
shrank back, pressing his black hands to his face 
and feeling his claws dig against his soft flesh. 
He wanted to rip the black from his fur, but all 
he could do, his rage struck dumb, was to continue to weep.

“Please, Charles,” Yajakali pressed when neither 
Ladero spoke. “You must take your son. You must! 
I am Yajakali! I am the purpose for our being! I 
am the reason we are here at all! You must take 
him or all that is will be undone and the very 
creation itself will be thwarted! I must have 
them back! I must have them, Charles! You must do 
as I command you! Now! There is no more time!”

Charles tightened his grip until he felt pain in his face. “No!”

He felt the presence touch the edge of his mind 
but where he once could slip inside and reshape 
the rat's thoughts, now there was no opening. 
That door had truly been shut and in that moment 
Charles was grateful for it. Instead he saw deep 
within the face of his wife gazing back at him. 
Could he ever stand again if she did not hold him up?

Rebuffed, Yajakali bent down to grab him by the 
shoulders. He felt the Åelf's touch but there was 
no supernatural strength to his grip. Misha had a 
stronger hand that this dethroned prince. Still 
he shook the rat , trying to pull his hands from 
his face and to pull his knees from the grass. 
“You must come claim your son! You must! You 
must! I need you to do this! I cannot go on if 
you do not! Do it! Do it! Do it!”

Charles shrugged his shoulders and with one elbow 
pushed him aside. There was nothing more Yajakali 
could do. Impotent, he tilted back his head and 
screamed toward the clouds above. “I was Prince 
of Jagoduun! I was promised everything! I was 
promised! Why will you not give it to me! Why!”

Ladero, Sondecki of the Black, killed five years 
ago by a Shrieker's dread touch, stepped forward 
and placed a hand upon Yajakali's shoulder. “Oh 
Prince of Jagoduun, your time is finished. A 
grace beyond measure has been given you to 
persist as long as you have. But it is finished. 
All have rejected you. None more remain through whom you can act.”

Yajakali would not look at the Sondecki, but kept 
his blue eyes, harried and bloodshot, focused on 
the black rat. “Charles, you can give me everything back. You can.”

Ladero pressed lightly upon the Åelf's shoulder 
and he stumbled backward toward the child who had 
not moved from the patch of clover at the edge of 
the garden. “Charles is no longer yours. He has 
rejected you several times already. Nothing you 
say or do now will change his mind. Look at 
yourself, Prince, see what is left. You have 
nothing to offer him or anyone else. Nothing.”

“No!” Yajakali tried to squirm from Ladero's grip 
but the Sondecki could not be shaken. “you... you 
humans destroyed everything! You invaded my home 
and slaughtered my people! You! You should all be 
animals like him! You should all serve me!”

“Prince Yajakali,” the little voice of Charles' 
son stilled the torrent of hate erupting from the 
frail Åelf more surely than the Sondecki's grip 
stilled his body. In that moment even the wind 
seemed to keep still. Not a leaf, branch, or 
blade of grass stirred as they waited for that 
voice to continue. “I am so sorry to hear what 
happened to your people. It was terrible. But 
please, Prince Yajakali, take heart. Your family faced their death bravely.”

His boy smiled and for a moment Charles could see 
a strange, jagged red line that ran from the top 
of his head down his chest and abdomen. The 
rupture disappeared as soon as the boy spoke 
again. “But my Dada and everyone else now had 
nothing to do with it. They are innocent. Please 
do not hate them, Prince Yajakali. Please forgive.”

“Forgive?” Yajakali coughed the word, but nothing 
else came forth. He spluttered incoherently for a 
moment and then cast his gaze toward the prone 
rat. Charles turned his head aside to gaze at his son.

Little Ladero had not even been two months old 
when Charles had been forced to leave for Marzac. 
He, like his litter-mates, had begun to crawl 
about but nothing more. Kimberly had told him 
that they had begun to speak by late Summer and 
had a mastery of words that would be the envy of 
a two-year old at only five months. His little 
Sondecki child had asked for him even as he lay dying in his crib.

Yet now he looked to be as old as the rest of his 
children, though with a wisdom and comprehension 
beyond even their advanced abilities. This child 
whom he had boasted of on the terrible journey to 
Marzac, of whom he spoke with such love and hope, 
had been snatched by death and yet now stood 
before him speaking with such gentleness to the 
very creature who was responsible for atrocities 
committed across the span of eleven thousand years.

Charles would have strangled Yajakali and torn 
him to pieces were he able. His dead son sought 
to console him. Charles lowered his head to the 
vibrant grass and felt nothing but shame. In a 
whisper he made his tongue work. “Listen to him, Yajakali... listen to him.”

The elder Ladero twisted Yajakali's shoulder, 
forcing him to turn toward the boy standing in 
the clover patch. The clouds billowed downward 
from above, circling that side of the garden so 
closely that the little rat's tail danced in its 
mist. The light was brilliant as if the sun 
itself were veiled inches behind the soft mass. 
Both Charles and Yajakali averted their eyes as 
the child was wreathed by that light, a light 
that burnished within his fur as well. But the 
dead Sondecki smiled and gazed into it without pain.

“The extraordinary grace given you is almost 
spent, Prince Yajakali.” Ladero's voice thundered 
and each tree in the garden and every vine laden 
with grapes seemed to thrum with it. “The time 
for your choosing is at hand. The little saint, 
beloved Ladero, will guide you. Go with him now 
and you may yet avoid the damnation you sought for the world of men.”

Charles's son stepped from the clover patch and 
held out a paw, his nose quivering and whiskers 
twitching with a rat's smile. “Please come, your 
highness. I have so much to show you. Come. Take my hand.”

His heart held still in that moment. He could 
only watch Ladero his son stretching forth a 
glowing arm covered in fur and a hand tipped with 
little claws toward the creature that had caused 
Charles and his friends such misery and loss. In 
turn he saw Yajakali's aged and beaten blue eyes 
stare at that hand with an incomprehensible 
expression. No more did the Åelf look back at the 
rat who he'd nearly conquered. He only stared at 
the child and the clouds of light behind him.

And then, impossibly, Yajakali lifted one arm. 
His fingers, bruised and swollen with calluses, 
rested upon his son's outstretched paw. Little 
fingers curled upward and the smile on his son's 
face stretched with beauty. Charles felt his 
heart swell so that his ribs groaned. The 
Sondecki released his grip and the Prince of 
Jagoduun stood, slow and unsteady. Ladero guided 
him toward the patch of clover and the clouds. 
The light splintered in a million scintillating 
rays, parting the clouds before them. Only radiance shone within.

The little rat called toward them in a sweet 
voice that knew only joy. “I love you, Dada!”

“I love you, my son!” he cried out, his voice 
barely a whisper in the chorus of light that 
thronged them. His son's eyes sparkled even as he 
stepped into the clouds. Yajakali's face was 
lost, shadowed by so much light, but he too 
stepped from clover to firmament. The clouds 
closed behind them and they were gone.

As he took one breath after another, the clouds 
dispersed from the edge of the garden and 
returned to their place far above. Charles lifted 
a black arm before finally crumpling against the 
ground, overwhelmed and unable to speak. He wept, the only thing he could do.

The grass bent near him and a black cloak swept 
over it. Ladero sat cross-legged beside him and 
offered him a smile. “Your son, Charles, has been 
tasked with something you will spend the rest of 
your life in vain trying to comprehend. He is 
offering redemption. A single tear of contrition 
is all it will take; Yahshua died even for that 
one. Bear him no ill will for his fate is no 
longer the concern of any living creature below.”

Charles managed to still the racking in his 
chest. He brushed the tears from his eyes and 
forced himself to a kneeling position a few feet 
from his friend. Lifting his arms he stared at 
them, confused. “Why am I still covered in soul 
tar? Am I to be like Jessica, stained black as shadow all my days?”

“The black is not upon your flesh; about this 
Yajakali did not lie. When you wake from the 
dream you will be as you were before. But the 
shadow is no longer beneath you. Look.”

Charles glanced down at his knees and saw that he 
crouched upon bright green grass and even the 
root of a fig tree. He climbed to his feet, 
lifted one paw after another, and marveled in a 
relief too great for anything but an exhalation. 
“It's gone. The shadow is gone!”

“His hold over you has been completely broken. 
When he took your son's hand he relinquished his 
claim on all mortal flesh. Now all that remains 
to see is if he will repent of any of the sins he 
has perpetrated in all the ages of his being. I 
cannot describe to you the contest that is taking 
place for his soul. Your son will offer him every 
love for more ages than man can recount.”

Charles lifted his head and nearly bumped his 
nose into a heavy fig. He stretched out one hand, 
felt the rough bark of the tree, and then leaned 
against it. Despite its pits and irregular shape, 
he felt no discomfort. “I feel as if I have been 
in this dream for countless ages of men already! 
How long, Ladero. How long has it been since I 
last looked upon my wife? How long has it been 
since I made that dread bargain with Nocturna? 
The bargain! Oh no! Charles! My little Charles!”

He fell back to the ground and beat at the grass 
with his fists. “Oh, Ladero I have been a fool. I 
have been worse than a fool! I traded my boy, my 
precious boy, to nearly be Yajakali's shadow! My 
boy, my boy!” He wept anew, seeing clearly the 
stone tor, the frightful raven, and his little 
child stretched out on the cold table with her 
talons draped over his chest. His heart, a moment 
before swollen with love, now shattered with that memory.

Ladero's voice was soft and gentle. There was no 
doubt in his words. “He is safe, Charles. Your 
son is safe. Nocturna cannot lay any claim on his 
soul by your hand. He has already been Immersed 
and that is a touch that cannot be erased. Love 
him dearly. You have not sold him.”

“But...” he murmured, even as he tried to gather 
his composure. It took all his strength to force 
himself to lean against the tree. “But, what if Nocturna tries to claim him?”

“She will not. But, your son will know her 
regardless. This much you must know, Charles, for 
your son's sake. Understand first that this was 
not the doing of Nocturna. Her power, frightful 
as it can be, and soothing as it can be, is 
limited nevertheless. But this she knew as now so 
will you. Your eldest son can Dream.”

Charles blinked. “I do not understand.”

“He can enter the dreams of others, touch them, 
reshape them, and speak in them. He has already been in yours.”

He swallowed and knew it to be true. Only a few 
days earlier he'd been woken by his eldest from a 
nightmare. Little Charles had not been scared by 
a dream of his own, but had been frightened by 
the dream of his father. He slumped against the tree. “What shall I do?”

“You and I were born with the Sondeck. You will 
know what to do for his sake.” Ladero lifted his 
eyes to the clouds and a small smile played at 
the edges of his lips. He said nothing and yet an 
entire conversation seemed to take place in that 
moment. The smile broadened to cross his entire 
face until an expression of profound and complete 
gratitude filled it. “And whatever happens, do 
not be afraid for him. He will be protected.”

“Ladero, why is this so? Two of my children given 
such gifts. The one taken by death, and the other 
a gift I do not understand? What gifts do the 
other three possess? Will other children my 
Kimberly bears for me also be gifted?”

But his Sondecki friend only shook his head. 
“That is not something I can tell you. Only four 
things remain for me to say to you. First, you 
asked how long you have been on this journey. 
When you wake from the dream it will be only a 
short time since you laid down and slept beneath 
the minstrel's flute. Time is one more creation 
of Eli's and it passes here as He wills it to 
pass. You are on the cusp of eternity here, 
Charles. You should not expect it to be like a journey by foot, horse, or sea!”

“Then I haven't truly abandoned my family at 
least,” Charles said with a sigh. “What else must 
I know, Ladero? I know so much now that I wish I did not.”

“These last things will be a comfort, my friend. 
You did not ask, but I know it is in your heart. 
This solace I can give; you did not destroy any 
of the souls you sought to harm on your journey. 
Our old friend the seller of ancient books did 
not suffer from your touch; even now he enjoys 
the beautiful vision denied him in life and the 
company of family long lost. Lay no blame on yourself on their account.

“But very soon you will have the chance to aid 
two who suffer greatly. One of those you have 
already met on your journey. The other is a dear 
friend we both know. When he comes to you, the 
time will have arrived for you to set aright the 
wound that broke us all. You will know it, never fear.”

Charles grimaced but nodded. “I trust you, 
Ladero. I do not understand but I trust you.” He 
lifted his eyes to the trees, the fruits, and the 
bountiful clouds above that gleamed with a golden 
light. “Will... will I see this place again?”

Ladero stood and offered him an enigmatic smile. 
“That is for you to decide, Charles.” He turned 
his head to one side and a distant cast came to 
his eyes. “It is done. The choice is made. It is 
now time for you to return. But first, a grace is 
granted you, one of infinite worth. Look to the 
heavens, my friend. Behold it is she!”

Charles lifted his gaze and beheld love itself.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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