[Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars V. Ascensum (m)

[C. Matthias]

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

Pars V: Ascensum

(m)

Saturday, May 12, 708 CR


But when they reached the next terrace, Charles 
only opened his eyes a moment before shutting 
them tight again in pain. A choking smoke filled 
the air of the terrace, leaving all a vast plain 
of rock. The acrid smoke made his nose squirm and 
so clouded the air that it seemed darker than 
night. Yet the scratching pain the roughness had 
inflicted on Charles seemed to matter not a whit 
to his Master who kept his eyes open and gazed 
with unrivaled calm upon the scene. They had 
arrived at the third terrace and its environment 
was only one more through which they must pass. 
His Master did not slow his pace and Charles, 
after rubbing his hands across his face and 
pressing his eye lids firmly down across his eyes 
to keep out the least particle of smoke, hastened to follow him.

Yet even the indeterminate window of barren rock 
beneath the choking blanket was only one vision 
that came to him. Slipping into his consciousness 
with an even greater vivacity was a scene set in 
a massive temple with intricate stone-work below, 
columns as wide as a horse was long, and a heavy 
ceiling far overhead. A group of men with long 
beards and flowing robes argued with a young 
child not yet entering into maturity who was 
dressed in the garb of a commoner. There was 
nothing about the child's physical appearance 
that distinguished him – though all had the 
bronzed skin of desert life that Charles himself 
had once borne – and yet there was something 
indescribably beautiful about him. He glowed with 
this inner glory as he dealt with the incredulous 
and sometimes ill-tempered men.

Charles felt a strange sense of loss as his mind 
was captured by the vision, a seeing that was 
error but not false. Who was this child? Had he not known?

Into the vision another two figures stepped, a 
woman and a man, both also dressed in common 
clothes that seemed poor compared to the 
beautiful robes garbing the bearded men who 
disputed with the child. The mother and father, 
Charles knew, but there was more. He had seen the 
woman before. Her beauty was deeper than her sun 
and sand-roughed skin. In regarding her the rat 
felt a measure of the comfort and simplicity he'd 
experienced when stepping upon the white step just before the gate.

Her voice was the first to join the images with 
sound. Fili quid fecisti nobis sic ecce pater 
tuus et ego dolentes quaerebamus te.

There was anguish in the voice, but no anger. No 
recrimination in the question. Merely a desire to 
understand. The response was offered with a love 
that made the child seem the wiser and the one 
with authority. Quid est quod me quaerebatis 
nesciebatis quia in his quae Patris mei sunt oportet me esse.

The boy then stood and took his mother's hand and 
left the bearded men to argue amongst themselves. 
And with that the vision faded leaving him alone 
with his Master's gaze of smoke. Charles 
tightened his grip on the cloak and followed 
after, gasping for breath, his voice wheezing 
through the choking fume. Though the taste was 
bitter and made him yearn to cough, he seemed 
able to breath it in anyway. He lifted his head 
toward his master though the view that filled his mind did not change.

Did you see it too?

I did, Núrodur. It is an example for those 
dwelling in this place. There are many others 
that they continue to see. Were we to remain here 
for a time we would see them and also the reason 
why they must pass through this place of smoke. It pains you, Núrodur?

It does, Master. Even as the admission came to 
him he felt the fire in his flesh simmer.

His Master's presence soothed the pain from the 
heat though the heat remained. You know this 
place, Núrodur, for you have crafted it of your 
own. It is a heritage that you share with many 
others. Through my eyes you may see them again 
ere we leave here for the terrace above. Do not 
be afraid. Do not waver. The light will return. 
In my shadow you remain. No harm can come to you.

Together they walked across the stony path. 
Unlike the previous two terraces where the grass 
sward had smoothed out the path so that they made 
a gentle climb even when the road became steep, 
here the rock was jagged with numerous faces so 
that they would be climbing up one moment and 
then crossing level ground the next. Charles 
briefly attempted to slip his feet into the 
stones but the soul tar permeating his flesh 
prevented him from even wiggling a claw through its substance.

Though even with his Master's vision they could 
only see a short distance ahead before the smoke 
became too thick to penetrate, they still began 
to glimpse other people in the murk. They 
witnessed mostly men but women too wandering and 
blindly groping about the stones, their faces 
contorted both from the pain without and some 
interior anguish that Charles assumed came from 
some vision they experienced but which they were 
spared. Their attire was a mix of styles from 
tunic and breeches to robes to heavy fur-lined 
cloaks. Some wore the ruins of bronze armor and others dented plate.

The first whose shape captured his attention was 
a Keeper in the shape of a squat thistle-furred 
boar. His snout was twisted and wrinkled with a 
sullen fury as he cupped one arm over his belly. 
He stumbled toward them and so in the few moments 
before they continued past he could see that the 
flesh was split there as if he'd been 
disemboweled. Charles wished he could remember the boar soldier's name.

Nor was he the only Keeper or fantastic creature 
they passed as they struggled through the smoke 
and up the disjointed face of rock. A bear Keeper 
also stumbled by them, though his back was to 
them so Charles saw only his outline. And then he 
glimpsed as a silhouette in the form of a falcon 
spreading his wings and tilting back his head to 
offer a screeching lament. Crawling across their 
path was a man cursed into the shape of a lizard 
with a mottled brown scales and a blunt snout; 
across his back, completely stripped of any 
garments so that he more resembled a beast than a 
man, were several cuts from a blade that seared 
deep and exposed pearl-white bone. Chasing after 
him was a child of no more than twelve who waved 
his arm about as if he were swinging a sword; he 
tripped over the lizard's tail, smashed his face 
into the stone, and then climbed back up and ran off into the darkness.

It was only as they stepped past a strange 
creature with long tail, sharp claws, and hunched 
posture that was covered in both scales and 
feathers who cried a chittering wail as it beat 
its head against the stone that Charles first 
noticed men in tattered robes bearing a heraldry 
he remembered. Though there robes were of various 
colors and most were shredded and hung in strips, 
the symbol they bore on their breast appeared 
untouched by the ravages they had suffered. He 
saw a red shield in which had been inscribed a 
upturned hand; nestled with the palm was an 
alabaster sword whose tip reached into the fingers.

Sondeckis.

Charles felt his heart pound in his chest and 
warmth filled not just his skin but his whole 
being at the sight. Through his Master's eyes he 
noted their faces, hoping to find some hew 
recognized. But the Sondeckis order had lasted 
for millennia and every year a dozen or more 
would suffer violent deaths. In times of war 
there would be hundreds who would fall in battle. 
How many of them still walked this terrace, 
stumbling in the smoke of rage that choked them 
and kept them here? None of those he saw were of 
the Sondeckis of his day. All of them were 
brothers in the order but strangers still.

Their faces were set in a rictus of pain as they 
clenched shut their eyes. Scowls of fierce anger 
as of a Sondecki untrained were frozen there, and 
he felt a terrible pity for them. Could they not 
find their Calm? For a moment Charles thought to 
seek his own but could not remember what it had 
been. A wave of frustration filled him and his 
flesh simmered; he could feel the scorch marks 
beneath his Master's shadow left behind by his every step.

Do you wish to feel as they?

His Master's thought was curious, or so Charles 
sensed. He wanted to take a deep breath to help 
still the torrent of his own Sondeck denied 
peace, but hacked on the smoke as soon as he 
tried. He swept one arm before his face to clear 
the air but there was nothing to clear. The very 
air and smoke were one and the same.

When he finally stopped coughing he willed his 
thought to be clear. They are of my order. They 
are family to me. They are Sondeckis! Like my son! Why are they here?

Because they must be here. Do you see all Sondeckis here?

No. But there are so many!

There is one you know. See.

Charles almost blinked open his eyes but allowed 
himself to sink deeper into the window through 
his Master's gaze. Ahead of them along the path, 
just visible through the smoke and darkened 
subtly by the lay of his Master's shadow, stood a 
man garbed in a tattered black robe. Disheveled 
hair just as black hung down to his neck and fell 
across his ears. Long-fingered hands were pressed 
to his chin as he bowed his face, lips moving as 
if he were praying. His broad face, marked by the 
letter “P” five times, brought back memory after 
memory to the rat and tears tried to force their way through his eye lids.

“Krenek!” He cried, his voice piercing the thick 
cloud and echoing back to him from the 
mountainside. His fellow Sondecki lowered his 
hands and lifted his head though he did not turn 
toward them. Charles stretched out an arm beyond 
his Master, stepping so close that his face brushed his robes.

This one you love, do you not, Núrodur?

There is no greater pain I received from Marzac 
than having to fight this man, Master.

We shall wait while you speak to him. Say what 
you must. But we cannot bring him with us nor 
move him a step closer to the next terrace until it is his time.

Charles waited until they had reached his 
childhood friend and dearest brother among the 
Sondeckis. His Master turned slightly so that 
Charles could Zagrosek full in the face through 
his Master's eyes, but he could not see himself 
in that gaze. Zagrosek's eyes were pressed shut 
but there were no lines of pain as there had been 
in the others. It was not peace but a strange 
resignation that lurked there behind his friend's 
countenance. “Krenek! Can you hear me?”

“Charles.” Krenek almost seemed to smile as he 
lowered his fingers from his chin and folded one 
hand into a fist and wrapped the other about it. 
“Charles, how I wish I could have found you before... before...”

“It wasn't your fault,” Charles assured, trying 
to reach out an arm to console him but only able 
to see through his Master's eyes he could not 
find him. “You had no idea that the Marquis had 
been corrupted by so terrible a force. You could 
never have suspected it. What happened after was not your fault!”

“Oh, Charles. There is so much we have done. 
There is so much that we were wrong about. How I wish I could tell you.”

“I am here, Krenek. There is nothing for you to 
tell. We are Sondeckis. We did our duty.”

Krenek tilted his head forward as if he were 
looking down at the rat with fondness. His voice 
was soft beneath the choking smoke; it did not 
seem to have the same stifling effect on him as 
it had on the others they had passed. “Charles, 
we thought we were servants of justice. We turned 
our rage to that end. We did, oh we did. But did 
we? Oh Charles, did we truly serve justice?”

“Of course we did, Krenek! We feel it in our 
bones. Every injustice makes our blood boil and 
our Sondeck fill with indignation!” Even 
mentioning it made the rat's body swell. He could 
almost feel himself sinking into the stone as his feet burned them.

“Justice... justice..” Krenek struck his chest 
three times with his fist and shook his head. 
“How strange it appears the same as vengeance 
when our gorge rises and our ire blossoms. 
Charles, do you remember when we sought Totzesond for Soud?”

The scene returned to his mind as if he had been 
transported back to that moment. Still garbed in 
Red, he and seven other Reds, his friends 
Zagrosek, Ladero, and Jerome amongst them, had 
been on a training mission south of the 
Darkündlicht mountains guided by two blacks. On 
their return journey they had become aware that 
they were being followed by an unseen group. For 
a week they had slept but two hours each night in 
a vain attempt to outdistance whoever pursued 
them. Exhausted and miserable from uncertainty, 
they continued onward to the mountain pass that 
would lead them back to the Sondesharan desert and the safety of home.

“I remember it,” Charles replied with a nod. His 
words hissed through his teeth like steam from a kettle. “Kankoran!”

“Oh, Charles, do you remember our wrath against the Kankoran?”

The day before they entered the mountains it 
became clear that they would not escape those who 
chased them. One of the two blacks who had guided 
and protected them on their journey through the 
fields of Makor, Soud, volunteered to remain 
behind to learn who followed them and promised, 
if it was innocent to rejoin them later, and if 
it was not to provide them as much time as he 
could. They never saw Soud again but heard the 
clamor of his battle from the treacherous 
mountain pass.. The other black, Brothus, urged 
them to continue on. Zagrosek felt the sting of 
Soud's death for their sake more deeply than the rest.

“I remember it, Krenek. I remember that night 
about the fire. I remember your passion, your 
thirst for justice for Soud's sake. I remember 
you calling for Totzesand! My heart burned with 
fire to hear it. I stood by your side and joined 
you in the call even when Brothus, the coward, told us we went to our deaths.”

Zagrosek shook his head and unleashed a long 
sigh, his dark hair falling into his face and 
obscuring his features. “Charles, Charles, I 
cannot believe that I let myself be guided by 
such wrath. I called for Totzesand, but why did I 
do so? Justice? Soud gave his life that we might 
escape. I destroyed his death.”

“You destroyed his murderers!”

Though they failed to convince Brothus the black 
to seek the justice of death for Soud's murder, 
all eight of the Reds agreed and they backtracked 
to an outcropping to prepare an ambush for the 
Kankoran who'd killed him. Five Purples followed 
them, one bearing Soud's Sondeshike as a trophy. 
The very sight of a Kankoran brandishing a 
Sondeshike made his flesh burn deep into his 
bones. The rat clenched his hands and gaped his 
jaw, his words coming not in even tones but in cries.

“You destroyed those thieves and murderers! They needed to die!”

“I put all of our lives at risk for the sake of 
bloodlust. For the sake of wrath. Oh Charles, 
what evil I did to you to convince you to join me in that fight!”

The first of the Kankoran was thrust from the 
ledge before they even realized the Sondeckis 
were there. The other four fought with a 
ferocious tenacity matched only by the zeal of 
Zagrosek. Charles had yearned to watch his friend 
grapple with the Kankoran wielding the Sondeshike 
but he had his own life to defend. One of the 
Kankoran had forced him to the edge of a deep 
chasm and with another series of punches and 
kicks or blows of magic would have sent him 
hurtling to his death. But Ladero had come and 
struck from behind, saving Charles from the fall. 
A few moments longer and they had been victorious 
in the fight, and every Kankraon lay dead at 
their feet or at the bottom of the chasm. Even 
Brothus, assuring them that they went to their 
death and refusing to join them in the call for 
Totzesand, was there to help protect them as was 
his duty, but no fire of justice burned in his veins.

“They were going to kill us, Krenek! They were 
murderers and would have killed us too.”

But his friend could only shake his head. He beat 
his chest with his fists and wept. “My dear 
Charles. I thought I loved justice. I did. I know 
I did. But that day I let it become vengeance. I 
let justice be led by wrath. I celebrated by 
taking Soud's Sondeshike for my own. What other 
evils have I done with it? How much blood has it shed?”

“No, Krenek! You saved our lives! I will not believe this about you!”

“I hated the idea of a Kankoran holding our weapons...”

Charles saw in his mind a image of a raccoon 
holding a long staff. He snarled, slashing with 
his arms until the image was torn apart.

“I hated it so much..” Zagrosek lifted his head 
and for a moment it seemed as if he would open 
his eyes. But though the muscles in his face 
shifted, his eye lids never lifted. “And taking 
that Sondeshike... what did it do to me? Oh 
Charles, what did it do to you whom I loved more 
than any other as my dearest brother! Have you learned yet? Have you?”

“Learned what, Krenek?”

But he turned his face away and pressed his hands 
against his cheeks. His fingers trembled and dug 
at the skin of his forehead as if he would tear 
it free. But the flesh remained intact. Charles 
stretched out his arm but could not find where to place it to touch his friend.

“What do I need to learn, Krenek? Why are you 
speaking like this? You were a good man and a great Sondecki!”

When he lifted his gaze there was a look of peace 
on his features, though one filled with 
melancholy. “Oh Agathe. Despite what it made us 
do, I did love you. I wish you would have accepted that.”

“Krenek! It's me, Charles Matthias. Talk to me 
here! That... that... woman cannot help you!”

“Agathe, forgive me for not doing better. I wish 
I had been stronger. I wish... it is past now. 
All of it. All of it gone from us. I only hope you have a little love for me.”

“Krenek Zagrosek! Listen to me!” Charles slashed 
his arms in front of him but could not find 
purchase. Had he even been talking to his friend 
at all? Had anything he said been heard? He 
screamed in protest and blinked open his eyes, determined to find him.

The smear and touch of smoke lanced into his 
brain and he gasped from the pain. The only 
glimpse he had before he fell down to the ground 
scratching at his face was of Zagrosek several 
feet in front of him turning and walking away at 
an angle from their path. Even his Master's 
vision could not penetrate the cloud of ash that 
obscured him after a mere five paces.

Charles continued to scream and beat at the 
ground with his hands and arms when he wasn't 
clawing at his face. The pain in his eyes was 
more than just having a gust of smoke blown into 
them. He felt as if a handful of still hot ash 
had been smeared into his eyes and even now 
sizzled away the delicate flesh. A brief memory 
of something hotter than a forge striking his 
face and marring it forever ran through his mind.

A gentle touch rested upon his back and he felt a 
wall settle down in his mind between him and the 
pain in his eyes. The pain did not diminish, but 
no longer did it control him. He remembered his 
Master and his purpose, and though his 
frustration at being duped by his friend and this 
place through which they journeyed remained, his 
thoughts regained their clarity.

He did not know you. He hears only the voices of 
this place. Hear my voice, Núrodur. It is time we continued our journey.

But why can they not see me? Why can I not speak 
to them? And, Master, why does he say such things?

Because you are not here in the way that he or 
any of the others are, Núrodur. I have let you 
speak to them only so that you could understand 
this. That is the only thing you need to learn 
from them. This is not your place, Núrodur. We 
come only to claim your son. Do you understand?

Aye, Master.

We are near the passage to the next terrace. Come.

Charles lifted one hand to find his Master's robe 
and felt a small relief when his fingers curled 
about the soft fabric. He stepped from the small 
hole his rage had rent in the rocks and followed 
blindly after his Master, seeing only that which 
his Master's eyes provided. But there was nothing 
but smoke and ash choking the air and so he lost 
interest, allowing even that window to dim in his 
mind. He breathed in and out, feeling the little 
pinpricks of flame catching in his lungs. The 
heat suffusing his limbs swelled and receded the same.

Somewhere in the distance he heard a familiar 
song. He listened for a time but could not 
remember any of the words. Eventually he glimpsed 
another being of light filled with eyes and a 
cleft in the mountainside. He moved his legs and 
followed into that cleft, allowing nothing to 
come into his mind to disturb him. The journey would go faster that way.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.integral.org/archives/mkguild/attachments/20150603/f422f819/attachment-0001.html>