[Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars IV. Infernus (o)

[C. Matthias]

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

Pars IV: Infernus

(o)

Saturday, May 12, 708 CR

They climbed back up to the base of the 
escarpment where the ground was level and moved 
swiftly along the path. The towering cliffs 
diminished as the seconds turned to long minutes. 
The chasm narrowed enough that he could make out 
creatures moving on the other side, but the 
depths remained impenetrable and there was no 
sign of any way to cross short of sprouting 
wings. And every way that he turned he saw that 
vile shade of red covering everything.

Red. Red. Red! Even that poisonous green on the 
spade of the beast that had ruined his ear had 
been a delight to savor in comparison to the 
never-ending panorama of baleful red. What words 
could he use to bring it some vitality, some 
inkling of interest to assuage his disquiet? 
Scarlet brought to mine a fire which this place 
kindled only in the heart. Crimson reminded him 
of the spilling of blood which came all too 
often. Rouge suggested the anger searing his 
cheeks. Cardinal? For him that had always been 
associated with the Ecclesia and this place 
rejected such holiness. Roseate? That was an 
outpouring of love and there was none to be found 
here. Damask? A product of luxury and here all but brutality was spurned.

The chain he saw in his mind was not red. It 
seemed to be a shimmering steel alloy, glistening 
with chrome so that in the oddly tilting light a 
veritable panoply of colors limned each link. He 
pondered it as they walked, each step stretching 
their legs as far as they could. The strength he 
felt in each link was not one of flesh and blood, 
nor did it depend on the sinews for its vitality. 
It was the strength of a current, rising and 
falling with the tide, impossible to resist, and 
all of it offered into his hands.

Would he not need a strength beyond the ken of 
men if he were to reclaim the son stolen from 
him? Did he truly know what awaited them on the 
levels beneath where things were even more 
dangerous and vile than he witnessed here? Could 
he possibly imagine the Beyond and what he must 
fight through there? Strength awaited him in that 
chain, a strength beyond even what the Sondeck was capable of.

But there was something unsettling about that 
strength as well, something the clarity in his 
mind noted now that he'd had a few minutes free 
from combat to consider. Although the links in 
the chain were clear and shone with a brilliant 
luster, he could not see either end of it. It was 
not that the end stretched out beyond his sight, 
but that he could not bring either end into view. 
It was as if the end nearer him came to some 
place on his flesh that no matter how he twisted 
would not reveal itself. And the other was lost 
in a darkness that would not lift.

Charles pushed the chain from his thoughts and 
focused on the barren landscape around him. The 
escarpment had dwindled until it was no more than 
a tall bluff. The chasm had also narrowed. There 
were no more volcanoes on the other side, only a 
line of ridges across which he could not see. A 
group of men and deformed beasts claws and fought 
each other there, their attention lost on each 
other. Charles winced at the sound of bones 
crushing, violent screams, and hideous laughter 
all mingled together so tightly that he could not discern one from the others.

The path ahead was lost behind another turn to 
the right about the escarpment. Charles peered 
backward and turned his good ear. The baying 
sounded from time to time, always closer but 
never in sight. But now there was nothing behind 
them to give their hunters away. Charles 
grimaced, rubbed his snout with the back of his 
hand to clear it of the blood dust, and resumed their relentless march.

Step back!

The alarm nearly came too late. Reflexes drove 
the rat backward at the urgent command. A split 
second later a huge boulder crushed into the spot 
where he'd stood. He glanced upward and saw 
arranged at the cusp of the bluff a quartet of 
vaguely man-shaped creatures whose scaly skin was 
dusky red and who had horns protruding from their 
flesh at random. These lifted boulders as large 
as themselves and hurled them down the side of bluff toward rat and Åelf.

Charles pressed himself against the bluff and 
gasped for breath. The second boulder struck, 
shattering into a thousand fragments that bit 
into his flesh. Qan-af-årael also took refuge 
against the bluff, but he stretched out one hand, 
spreading a green nimbus around them. The third 
boulder careened off the shield to scatter down the defile harmlessly.

Charles trembled, gritting his incisors as he 
pulled a sliver of stone from the side of his 
leg. Blood oozed between his fingers as he 
pressed down on the wound. The pain lanced into 
his mind and with it a fire that trapped his 
thoughts. The chain lifted before him and he knew 
he only had to stretch out his hand for it. 
Instead he lifted his eyes to the top of the 
bluff and hissed between his teeth. Saturated by 
the blood of countless aeons, the stone before 
him was still, at its heart, stone.

With a glint in his eye and fire in his veins, 
Charles drove his right arm into the bluff, 
merged it with the stone, and reached upward the 
hundred feet or so that separated them. He could 
feel the rage of a million murders pouring 
through him. He swam through the strangulation 
and gouging of throats. He waltzed with 
disembowelment and performed a pirouette with 
dismemberment. He gorged on a thousand severed 
heads and slurped their entrails. He bathed in 
the blood of his enemies, countless enemies for 
whom he felt nothing but hate which burned as a fire that consumed even him.

And through all of that horror he felt the feet 
of the quartet of monsters stomping about atop 
the bluff. With a heave of his will and Sondeck, 
he shattered the rock on which they stood. Their 
laughter turned to screams as they upended and 
hurtled through the air, limbs flailing but 
catching nothing. One of them was cast into the 
chasm and continued to scream as he fell. The 
other three all smashed into the defile, crushing 
their bodies before they too slipped into the abyss.

Charles withdrew his arm and fell to his knees, 
gasping, with tears pouring from his eyes. A 
heavy weight bound his neck and he felt something 
tugging him to the ground. The chain. One hand 
still pressing down on the wound at his neck, he 
lifted his other hand to pull the chain away, but 
it passed through as if the metal links were as insubstantial as fog.

He vomited, disgorging everything that he could. 
Blood splattered from his jaws and seeped into 
the stones beneath him. He trembled, gasping for 
any breath he could take. Something was wrapped 
about his neck and every gasp made him flinch 
from it. Yet his searching paw found nothing. 
With each second the memory of all the death 
faded, though the enormity of it lingered with 
him, and the burning sensation still filled him and licked at him.

A hand rested on his back and then beneath his 
arm, lifting him to his feet. Charles grimaced at 
the pain in his leg but still managed to stand. 
The chain no longer dragged him down. He focused 
his thoughts on the presence that lingered at his side. Can you heal my leg?

I can, but that is not your most pressing need. A 
little more and you will belong to the master of this realm.

Help me!

I am.

Even as those two words ricocheted through the 
rat's mind, the ancient one lowered his hand to 
the wound at his side and touched it with a faint 
blue glimmer of light. For a blissful moment 
Charles could feel a renewal of energy and a 
dimming of the flames that burned and made him 
tremble with a rage that he could not put aside.

In that moment he cast his thoughts beyond the 
misery of the damned to another soul. He saw her 
face, with gentle tan fur, soft pink ears, 
slender whiskers, and deep black eyes of such 
elegant softness and warmth that they could only 
belong to his beloved. He ached for her touch. 
Her name hovered at the edge of his thoughts but 
it was too blessed to be uttered in so 
blasphemous a place. The chain before him and the 
weight upon his neck faded as he pondered his 
wife. His strength dimmed, but still he managed to stand.

It is too late! Run!

The hands upon him pulled him forward. Charles, 
snapped from his reverie, felt his revulsion and 
the weight of anger bear him down again. Turning, 
he cast his glance backward and felt his body 
stiffen in alarm. Coming around the last turn a 
few hundred paces back was a pack of eight 
blood-red hounds like the ones they slaughtered 
on entering the realm. Cavorting above them in 
the air were little winged gremlins bearing short 
spears and wicked yellow eyes. Behind them, and 
holding the chains of the hounds was a gargantuan 
creature that filled him with immense terror.

The creature was vaguely man-shaped at first 
glance, with a bristling golden countenance, a 
head full of wavy auburn hair, and a chest 
rippling with muscle and glimmering as if smeared 
in oil. But the expression was filled with a 
malice beyond mortal ken, and from its side 
sprung six arms, five of which brandished 
scimitars taller than the Åelf. It possessed no 
legs. Where the torso ended a serpent's body 
began, thick and wide with iridescent vermillion 
and violet scales that glimmered with the 
vibrancy of coral. Stones were crushed to dust 
beneath the undulating scales as it traversed the 
defile. The end of its tail was lost to sight.

Charles gasped and started to run. His thoughts 
frantically turned to his protector. What is it?

The most dangerous thing you could face in this 
realm apart from its masters. A marilith. They 
command the armies of the daedra lords and are utterly without mercy or honor.

Both of them ran. Charles felt a small tremble in 
his left leg where the stone had bit, but 
whatever healing Qan-af-årael had provided kept 
him moving. The hounds bayed, unleashed from 
their chains, they closed fast. Charles felt 
Qan-af-årael slow beside him but he kept moving. 
Yet in his heart he felt the anger swell. Where could they possibly go?

The question answered itself as he rounded the 
bend. The bluff came to an abrupt stop as the 
chasm bent around at a sharp angle. The defile 
came a single pointed outcropping overlooking the 
abyss which had narrowed considerably. Across 
that span stretched a stone bridge in the shape 
of a single shallow arch. The width was not even 
two paces wide, and its length was greater than 
the distance that separated them from the hounds. 
One wrong step would drop him into depths he could not fathom.

But there was nowhere else to go. Grinding his 
teeth the rat ran, tail flashing behind him as he 
pushed with his Sondeck to gain every mote of 
speed he could. Even the spectral chain seemed to 
draw him forward. His feet ached from the biting 
stones beneath him but still he ran. Behind him 
he heard the snarling of the hounds, vicious and 
ravenous, growing ever closer. The slithering and 
grinding of the marilith followed with inexorable doom.

Charles slowed as he reached the narrow bridge to 
cast one last glance backward. Qan-af-årael had 
stopped as well thirty paces behind him wielding 
the brilliant tree blades in either arm. The 
hounds were snapping at him in an attempt to find 
a way around him. These knew not to come within 
reach of the blades. Bearing ever closer was the 
marilith, his expression one of malicious triumph 
as of a giant ready to crush a fly. The coterie 
of gremlins was nowhere to be seen.

Charles glanced down at the bridge, peered over 
the edge once, and instantly regretted it. 
Whereas the bridge between realms was impossible 
to fall off because there was literally no 
reality beyond into which one could fall, here 
the nothing was quite real and from that abyss he 
knew there was no hope of rescue.

He stepped onto the bridge, crouching as he did 
so. Slinking in a posture more suited to his 
feral form, the rat scurried across that narrow 
strip of rock as fast as he dared. Where the air 
next to the escarpment had been stagnant without 
even a slight breeze to give them some relief, 
the bridge was buffeted by sudden gusts of wind 
that made him sink his hands and feet into the 
stone to anchor himself. Every inch of immersion 
bathed him in the screams of myriads caught upon 
the bridge, crushed against its span, and then 
cast into the darkness below. The rage, 
insatiable in its fiery presence, devoured him.

The chain at his neck glimmered to life, both 
frightening him but giving him strength to 
counter the wind. The clasp about his neck bit 
into his shoulders and forced his head upward. 
Before him the links in the chain grew taut, 
lifting off the surface of the bridge, pulling 
him forward. Charles gasped and with one hand 
tried to claw at the chain. Its substance was 
immaterial, but there was a slight resistance as 
his claws passed through the chrome, as if it 
were gaining in strength with every hateful 
thought and blasphemous emotion fed into him through the stone.

Charles pulled all of his limbs from the bridge 
and collapsed against its surface. The wind 
ripped at his back, tugging him toward the abyss 
at his right. His tail lashed to the side, and he 
felt himself sliding against the surface of the 
rock. He dug his claws into any crevice he could 
find. His right leg scratched at the stone, 
slipped, and then spilled over the edge. He 
gasped and pressed down harder with his left, and 
felt the tear in his flesh break open again. A 
lance of agony raced up his leg and made his arms 
tremble as if palsied. The wind pounded, tugging 
at the cowl of his cloak as the darkness, an 
almost conscious thing, hungrily growled below.

A thought permeated that fear, clear and 
brilliant in its simplicity. Take the chain and 
you will cross the bridge alive.

He could feel it now, and not just something he 
perceived. His snout rested atop the links, warm 
to the touch and stronger than the stone beneath 
him. It stretched across the bridge and in 
between the cleft of rock at its end. In the 
distance he could see a figure at the other end. 
Clad in dark mail and burnished an infernal red 
between each of the chinks in the plate, there 
was an aura of dread and a celebration of anger 
in his countenance. Strength unchallengeable was 
in that chain, and an offer of safe passage 
across the bridge was certain in it.

But the chain was not the only thing which he 
could now feel against his flesh. About his neck 
latched a collar of steel from which protruded 
spikes that gouged the bridge where they touched. 
Strength beyond measure was being offered to him 
as was an assurance that he would not die on this 
bridge. But whose will would guide that strength? 
And whose will would direct that life?

Charles knew in that moment that if he took the 
chain he would be a slave to the master of this 
realm, to the lord of rage and hate. And he knew 
that if he joined with the stone of spilled blood 
again he would be so consumed by aeons of hate 
that he would gladly enslave himself. What of 
Kimberly then? What of Ladero? All would be lost to him.

Charles closed his eyes and scrabbled with his 
right leg at the stone, focusing his Sondeck, 
even as he mouthed the words to its Song. The 
wind battered, but did not dislodge. Charles felt 
it ebb and he scrambled back into place, gasping 
for breath, claws digging deep into the stone in 
case the wind returned. The chain remained as did 
the collar but for the moment they were faded. 
They were a promise; the lord of this realm had 
not yet attempted his final gambit to claim him.

The rat chanced a glance behind him and saw that 
Qan-af-årael had backed onto the bridge. Three of 
the eight hounds lay in pieces on the defile. A 
fourth was missing entirely. The other four 
snapped at the Åelf, snarling in rage at their 
inability to get around him. One of them leaped 
across the span toward where the rat was pinned 
only to scatter into chunks of flesh as his 
protector stretched out the tree blade to meet him.

The marilith coiled where the bluff came to an 
end and drove two of its swords into the rock. 
Hands with bronzed fingers stretched outward, a 
darkness spinning between them as of a thousand 
pieces of thread weaving together in a net. 
Charles swallowed at the sight of it and risked 
crawling across the surface of the bridge. He 
managed no more than six paces before the wind 
struck him again and his hindquarters slipped off 
the side. He kicked and clawed at the stone, but 
with the wind pressing into his face, he 
continued to slide. One foot passed the bottom of 
the bridge and kicked at the empty air. He 
screamed in a panic, only to have his voice cut 
short when the collar dug into the side of the 
bridge as his chest was pressed over the side. 
Choking for breath, his arms grasped for any purchase at all.

The chain glimmered solid and sure.

The black mailed monster holding the other end 
seemed to smirk across the distance. Perhaps your 
protector can break the chain? If he survives. 
Wouldn't you like the strength to defeat your enemies?

Charles grunted, staring at the chain for only a 
moment longer before casting his gaze back at 
Qan-af-årael. The Åelf summoned a giant blue 
shield that stood at the end of the bridge, and 
then brilliant plumes of yellow light cascaded 
from his body to circle the air. The wind fell 
silent as they coursed around the bridge. 
Charles, eyes blurring from lack of breath, 
finally found purchase for his claws and pulled 
himself back onto the bridge. The links rattled 
against each other as he heaved his legs and tail to safety.

He turned back to thank the Åelf when he saw 
something hurtling through the shield at them. 
All three of the remaining hounds bayed as they 
tumbled end over end through the air, thrown by 
the marilith in its fury. “Look out!” Charles 
shouted, voice so ragged that the sound was barely a whisper.

But the Åelf understood, spun, and with two 
swipes sent the last remnants of the hounds to 
the darkness below. And then the shield shattered 
with a titanic roar that knocked the rat back 
against the bridge, the spikes in his collar 
digging into the stone so that for a moment he could not move at all.

The marilith slithered forward, wreathed in black 
light, four scimitars waving about through the 
air, his other two hands crafting another series 
of obnubilating ribbons that snaked out to 
strangle the yellow efflorescence. Qan-af-årael 
half turned, brandishing his tree blade, while 
the other lowered to kiss the bridge. Trails of 
light coursed across the bridge, and then down beneath it.

Charles tugged at the collar until he loosed the 
spike from the stone, and resumed crawling. A 
volley of spells bounced back and forth between 
the marilith and his protector, spells against 
which Charles had no defense that would not damn 
him as well. He glared at the chain and felt the 
links grow heavier and the collar tighter against 
his neck. He winced and narrowed his eyes, 
whiskers drooping, and forced himself to look 
away from it. Rage was only going to make a slave 
of him. It had almost done so already.

Yes. I am your master now. Come, little rat. Come to me.

To his horror, he felt a compulsion to obey. He 
could not stop on the bridge, there was nowhere 
to go. But every step brought him closer to the 
being at the other end of the chain. Charles 
allowed himself no measure of defiance as he 
stepped forward, but neither was it obedience to 
that voice. It was his will that led him onward. His alone.

Charles! Above you!

The more familiar voice, that of his protector, 
resounded in his mind. The rat glanced upward, 
and then felt the chain yank him back down. From 
out of red-smeared sky descended more than a 
dozen little gremlins with their nasty spears. 
Charles forced himself to spin onto his back, 
swinging out the Sondeshike as he did. He struck 
the first of the gremlins on the side of its 
head. The skull caved in and the creature 
spiraled out of sight beneath him. Three more he 
dislodged with those first spins of his staff 
before the others banked away out of reach.

He counted ten gremlins left but these were 
banking and swirling so quickly that even with 
his widely spaced eyes he had trouble watching 
all of them. Two dove for his left, but only one 
of them was able to avoid the crushing blow of 
his staff. Another three came from his left and 
none of them escaped, two with severed wings and 
the third whose snarl-faced head bounced across 
Charles' belly before falling off the other side of the bridge.

Two more flew toward his legs and he angled the 
Sondeshike to intercept hem when he felt the 
chain yank him forward again. He gagged and 
nearly lost his grip on the spinning staff. As he 
tightened his grip, he felt a lance of pain in 
his tail. He kicked with his right leg, caught 
the gremlin square in the back, and sent it 
hurtling off the edge of the bridge. The second 
drove its spear deep into the flesh of his tail, 
severing the bone and flesh in twain. A horrified 
squeak erupted from his throat as the bottom half 
of his tail rolled off the bridge, blood pouring from the wound.

The laughing gremlin was silenced when his left 
leg caved in its chest. But the chain continued 
to draw him backward. The spikes dug into the 
stone leaving a trio of gouges behind that the 
blood from his tail filled as they passed. The 
last four gremlins flew just out of range, laughing and mocking him.

Charles felt the flare of rage return, pricking 
and pounding on the door of his heart for 
admittance. He stared past his severed tail 
instead at the Åelf. His thoughts hurtled 
outward, a plea simple and immediate. Help me!

Qan-af-årael appeared to be bending under the 
onslaught of the marilith's dark ribbons. He had 
fallen to one knee, the tree blade between them 
the only thing keeping him from being consumed by the obsidian plasma.

Another voice replied to his cry. He cannot help 
you. I can. Take the chain or the gremlins will!

And they did. The four gremlins, as if hearing 
the same command, flew further along the bridge 
and grasped the links of the chain. Charles no 
longer felt drawn along and was able to stand. 
The gremlins, weak though they were individually, 
were pushing the chain toward the edge of the 
bridge. In horror Charles raised his arms and 
then flung them downward. The Longfugos rush of 
air knocked all of them from their feet. They 
scattered into the air, flapped their wings, and 
then settled further along the bridge to try again.

And then all of them were knocked to their feet 
as a titanic bloom of green light engulfed the 
other end of the bridge. The marilith screamed in 
an agony so piercing that Charles felt his ribs 
turn brittle in his chest. He collapsed to his 
knees, wincing as he brushed the severed tip of 
his tail, and gasped in awe at the sight of the 
six-limbed monstrosity wreathed in verdant light 
so encompassing that all other light faded. For 
the first time since they arrived, Charles did not see any red at all.

The marilith launched into the air as if flung 
from a catapult. The fire consuming him dwindled 
his flesh, shrinking him inward. Yet his momentum 
carried him forward, fury incalculable writ 
unending in his face. By the time he reached the 
rat, he was no larger than his gremlins. Arms 
lashed out, and he felt a spasm in his flesh. A 
moment more and the being of terror was swallowed 
by the green light and winked out.

Behind him the gremlins dropped the chain and 
fled as fast as their wings could carry them. 
Before him Qan-af-årael walked across the bridge, 
hands empty but for a fading green light. 
Something slick began to slide into his hands. 
Charles glanced down and stared uncomprehending 
as his entrails slipped from his belly into his 
arms and down across his Sondeshike.

He collapsed on the bridge a moment later, the 
fiery red all around him fading into a nightmare. 
The collar on his neck tightened and he could 
feel himself being dragged away. All of his limbs 
went cold and numb. He tried to think of his wife 
and son, but there was only the darkness come to 
envelop him. Charles saw nothing but smears of red dwindling away.

Into the void appeared a figure bathed in a 
divine white light. Around him all things seemed 
to brighten, and Charles felt himself immersed in 
that vivifying warmth. A soft voice echoed around 
him, speaking beautiful words he could not 
comprehend. All stilled in that moment of 
renewal. Pain did not return, but a sense of 
wholeness and purpose resumed in his flesh. 
Charles felt motion imbued in his limbs, and with 
it a tingling sensation as if he were waking from a deep sleep.

In his vision, he glimpsed a world of beauty 
surrounding the figure of white light. His 
protector and guardian, the ageless power, did 
not seem to be a figure of antiquity but one of 
endless youth and vitality. Radiant blue eyes 
regarded him from the folds of white cascading 
one over another. Thin lips bore a smile of 
supreme pleasure and unparalleled magnanimity. 
The words of power uttered were sweeter in his 
ears than the song of the most delicate violin. 
All was rightly ordered in his presence.

Charles blinked and the vision faded. His hands 
stretched to touch his stomach and found it 
whole. He blinked, reached to his neck and found 
it free. His hand climbed higher but his left ear 
was still torn. Shifting his tail he still felt 
where it had been shorn in two. But he was alive, and the chain was gone.

He turned about, and saw that they stood 
uncontested in the center span of the bridge. His 
protector knelt before him, smiling, the power 
fading from his countenance. As the red returned 
to his field of view, his thoughts scattered, but 
the question reached its goal. What happened to me?

You received a mortal wound. The marilith was 
powerful in its death. But that wound opened the 
doorway to break the chain you wove for yourself. 
You are now free to leave this place with me.

My ear and tail?

They will be restored when you leave. Healing 
magic in this place must be used with care. Only 
to save your life would I extend it as I have. In 
this place, healing can poison you. Only the 
nature of your wound allowed me to work.

Charles lifted the severed stump that remained of 
his tail, reduced to half its length. But my tail!

Qan-af-årael's smile broadened in bemusement. It 
will return. No Rat should be without his tail. 
But it is best to leave it as is for now.

Charles was certain he did not understand and 
knew no matter how many questions he asked he 
would never understand. Instead he choose 
gratitude. Thank you, Master Qan-af-årael. Are we 
ready to leave this place yet?

Not yet. There is but a little further to go 
first. Come. We must enter the spectacle of rage.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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