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

[C. Matthias]

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

Pars IV: Infernus

(t)

Saturday, May 12, 708 CR


Despite the choking headiness of wine saturating 
his clothes and fur as they dived within the 
fountain, not even the palest scent of it 
remained when the rat collapsed onto the solid 
gray line that spanned the layers of hell. 
Charles felt neither dampness in his fur nor 
tasted any on his tongue. The necrotic vivacity 
he'd consumed from Loriod brought him to his feet 
a moment after sprawling on the bridge. By the 
time he stood Qan-af-årael appeared beside him, 
his ancient features comforting. But Charles 
would not quickly forget the rat queen's touch, 
nor the mire of the foul lord's desire, and the 
interminable and unknowable aeons spent in their company.

“Master Åelf, why did it take so long for you to 
find and rescue me? I feared I was going to 
surrender to her wiles. I was... afraid I had.” 
This last Charles admitted with a sullen twitch of his whiskers.

The ageless blue eyes regarded him with warmth 
and benevolence. “My conquest of the Lord of Rage 
was but moments after you dived into the bridge 
and fled his realm and his grasp. But the Queen 
of Lust knew of our travels and laid a trap for 
you. The Daedra are vast in power even on our 
world, but here in their realm they are authors 
of almost all that transpires. Those few moments 
we were separated were stretched for you into as 
long as she desired them to be.”

Charles blinked but after pondering those words 
was left shaking his head. “I do not understand.”

Qan-af-årael offered him a wan smile. “You were 
in her realm for only seconds before I found you. 
But our separation allowed her to make it seem 
much, much longer for you. Even though she could 
not persist in this forever, I fear that if we do 
not bind ourselves even more closely than we 
already have...” Charles felt that comforting 
presence touch his mind for a moment, like a 
brisk wind curling over the lip of high, stone 
walls. “If we do not bind ourselves, even the 
smallest separation will leave you at the mercy 
of the two Daedra yet before us.”

The rat trembled from head to tail and leaned 
closer to the Åelf. He could still feel the 
weight of the spiked collar on his neck and the 
crush of coils about his legs and chest. What 
cruel devices and temptations were waiting to 
consume him on the other side of the bridge? He 
lifted his head, swallowing to hide his fear. “What must we do?”

Qan-af-årael lifted his hands to his chin as if 
folded in prayer, eyes momentarily lost in 
thought. And then he nodded as if satisfied with 
whatever solution had come to him. His lips, 
thin, smiled with genuine affection, lifting the 
angular cheek bones and brightening his 
pearl-gray countenance. “She wanted you to call 
on her. The Lord of Rage wanted you to grasp the 
chain. Even Klepnos wanted you to shed blood. 
Acts pregnant with potency and symbol. To bind 
ourselves more fully together, it is necessary for you to make an oath.”

“An oath?” Charles felt his whiskers droop for a 
moment and then lift upward as he gazed at his 
protector. “What sort of oath must I make?”

The Åelf stretched out one hand and gently let it 
rest on the rat's shoulder. His voice was rich 
and full of confidence. “An oath of allegiance, 
fealty, and obedience. Unite yourself to me as a 
vassal to his liege lord. I have already sworn to 
protect you and guide you on your quest to find 
your son. Such an oath now from you will seal us 
together and protect you from the control of the Daedra.”

Charles lifted his ears and stood a little 
taller. “They could no longer tempt me?”

“Temptation will always come. But they will have 
no power over you unless you forswear me.”

The thought made him recoil. “I would never do 
that!” He objected with a hiss in his breath.

The strange light on the Bridge seemed to twist 
about them as they stood staring at each other. 
The boundaries of reality tightened and Charles 
felt immeasurably smaller as if the regard of 
something beyond were laid at this moment. Focus 
was made, emphasis placed, and all thought 
contracted to the exchange of this oath. As if 
caught by an unseen breeze, Qan-af-årael's 
silvery-black hair lifted for a moment before 
settling over his white-garbed shoulders. Deep 
blue eyes ablaze with confidant assurance welcomed him.

“Not long past you made an oath to Baron Avery as 
a knight to his liege. I can see it come now to 
your thoughts. Such an oath is more than we need, 
but it possess the character of nobility that 
will make every infernal being recoil in disgust. 
The final oath will be sufficient. Are you prepared to make it?”

Charles took a deep breath, clasping his fists to 
his chest and nodding. He lowered to one knee. 
Beneath him only the slender expanse of bridge 
existed. Their shadows disappeared off the edge 
of that bridge and were no more. “I am ready, milord.”

The words were not quite the same as Baron Avery 
had used six weeks past to invest him as a knight 
of the Glen. But how could they be when it was 
not the nobly-born squirrel to whom he swore but 
an ancient amongst ancients, a fount of wisdom 
and good counsel, a strength against Daedra and 
all evil, and a veritable Prince amongst the 
Åelves? Qan-af-årael's voice was quiet, serene, 
and gentle as he offered the oath. “Do you swear 
loyalty and fealty to I your guardian and 
protector, and to serve me with all your 
strength, with all your devotion, and with all your life?”

The breath he'd been holding came out in a rush 
with his oath. “I will to my lord be true and 
faithful; I will love all that he loves and shun 
all that he shuns. I so swear!”

Qan-af-årael extended one of his hands and laid 
it palm-down upon the rat's brow, fingers gently 
pressing against his ears on either side. “Then, 
as Lord of Colors, I accept your oaths of fealty, 
loyalty, and obedience, and will treat thee from 
henceforth as one of my own. I name thee Núrodur 
Charles Matthias, servant and knight of the 
Åelf.” His fingers traced a sign upon the rat's 
brow through his fur and then he held out his 
slender hand. “Rise, and seal thy devotion with your kiss.”

Charles took another deep breath, feeling a 
warmth course through him, an excitement that 
hearkened back to that damp March day when he'd 
given his oaths to Baron Avery. Nearly the whole 
of the Glen had assembled to rejoice in his 
investiture. Who had come to witness this giving of oaths, he wondered.

Standing, he bent forward and lowered his snout 
to the powerful hand. Lacking true lips he could 
only press the end of his snout to the pearl-gray 
flesh that seemed to glimmer with life. A rush 
filled him, and he felt Qan-af-årael's presence 
within his mind more deeply than before. Yes, 
this was the noble, lordly one he would gladly 
follow. The oath sealed, he stepped back and for 
a moment marveled at the way their shadows now seemed to lay one atop another.

Qan-af-årael's broad smile lingered for a moment 
and then a graver cast touched the edges of his 
thin lips. “I have protected you as much as is 
possible in this place. I caution you, Núrodur, 
you are not invulnerable. Vast dangers still lay 
before us. Stay close and do as I instruct and we 
shall not falter.” He put one hand on the rat's 
shoulder and squeezed firmly. The touch felt 
endearing to the rat who stood a little taller on his crook-shanked legs.

Charles nodded. “I understand, milord. I will 
follow your instructions. Is there anything else 
we must do before we quit this place?”

The Åelf shook his head and gestured with his 
other hand toward the tapered end of the bridge. 
“Proceed. I am with you, Núrodur.”

Charles turned to face the end of the bridge that 
led into a yet lower pit of the hells. He took a 
deep breath, swallowed, and tightened his arms 
over his chest. He could feel the Sondeshike 
safely tucked into his tunic and briefly wrapped 
his fingers about it through the cloth. Perhaps, 
he hoped, he might not need it this time.

The presence that touched his mind felt so close 
now that he could almost hear his master chuckle. 
He chittered under his breath, lowered his hand, 
and strode forward. The bridge stretched before 
him, all that existed drawn taut along the gray 
line. The distortion lasted but a moment and the darkness snapped around them.

Charles stumbled a moment as his paws found 
themselves on a well maintained road of large, 
close-fitting stones. Each stone was polished to 
crisp perfection so that he could feel no grain 
beneath his toes, and yet his pads gripped it as 
firmly as packed earth. The road stretched ahead 
of him along a broad plain beneath a smoke-filled 
sky that glimmered with the touch of evening 
bronze. Large buildings of stone and metal were 
positioned at regular intervals along the road, 
each of which was covered with chimneys from 
which the smoke belched. They were not castles, 
nor were they manor houses of any sort. If they 
were fortifications, they were the strangest and 
least effective fortifications that the rat had ever witnessed.

In truth, Charles had no idea what they were for 
nor where they found the fuel to burn as the land 
had been scoured clean of any trees. The ground 
did not appear dead, merely covered as if it bore 
a breastplate of its own. To the right and the 
left he saw more strange buildings, but if there 
was any more to the landscape it was lost to the 
haze of cloud and smoke. A few of the buildings 
appeared ornate and bore the suggestion of vast 
wealth, but no lights glimmered within their windows.

Qan-af-årael laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder 
and then fell into step beside him. His lips 
stretched, but no words came from his tongue. 
Instead, his master's thoughts took shape in the 
rat's mind. Do not speak to anyone you meet here. 
They are clever and used to deception. Many 
mortals have been tricked into selling themselves 
into eternal misery for a brief glimpse of 
moth-eaten riches held by those that make this place their home.

Charles nodded as he glanced at the oddly 
unpleasant buildings and the foreboding sky. The 
air did not choke him as the red ash did in the 
Lord of Rage's realm, but the smell turned his 
stomach. It was not the familiar and pleasing 
aroma of wood smoke, nor did it carry the heady 
and pungent flavor of pipe smoke. It lacked the 
foulness of burning refuse and the allure of 
smoldering incense. If there was any one 
particular quality he could ascribe to that smoke 
it would be the merest hint of sulfur. The 
searing from that putrid substance only touched 
the air but did not fill it. Charles still pulled 
his cloak over his snout, though that seemed even 
less effective here than it had been against the red ash.

Together they walked down the road in silence. 
The landscape was still with only the plumes of 
smoke changing as they eddied in winds perceived 
more than felt. From the ominous and depressing 
buildings he could make out the sound of machines 
grinding in an endless drone. Even that sound 
felt dull and perfunctory. The rat had the vague 
sense that he was wandering through a land that 
operated as did a clock. The weights had been 
set, the gears moved, but all those who might 
care what time the hands read had vanished long ago.

The road did not meander but followed a straight 
course though for a time they did not appear to 
make any progress. The black-stoned buildings on 
either side all seemed alike in their drabness 
and perfidious aura. The ground beyond the road 
was, if not covered over in sheets of metal, 
dried and cracked like once fertile earth after a 
decade of famine. Yet despite the aridity and 
banality of the landscape, the road itself was 
fashioned with such precision that Charles felt 
no distinction between any of the close-fit 
stones beneath his paws. What had been made here 
had been made unerringly; all else was left to desiccation.

Just when he thought he would never see anything 
different he noted something that glimmered with 
a luminous brilliance at the side of the road 
beyond the next pair of smoke-reeked buildings. 
Charles felt his eyes drawn to the warm color 
that of all things in view was the only one that 
felt vivacious. It too had a well-proportioned 
shape as it was arranged in a rectangular stack 
wider than tall. The shape itself felt perfect, 
as if no other rectangle was worth looking at; 
this was the rectangular dimensions that all four-sided things aspired to form.

As they walked past the buildings, Charles 
finally recognized the burning glow of that 
perfect rectangle as a stack of bars of pure 
gold. Each bar appeared to be as long as his 
forearm and as wide as his hand. Only with his 
Sondecki strength could he hope to lift even one 
of those bars let alone carry it along. One bar 
of such pure gold would be enough to pay a 
decade's worth of wages to the workmen and 
craftsmen necessary to build his castle in the 
Narrows. Two bars would see the castle finished 
and draw merchants and tradesmen eager to make a 
living to his new home. He would never need worry 
about money again. Wealth beyond the depths of 
avarice was merely the length of an outstretched arm away.

All who touch such things will be their slave, Núrodur.

The rat twitched his whiskers and tightened his 
arm against his chest. His hand had begun to 
reach toward the stack of gold, but now he dug 
his claws into his chest fur and kept it there. 
He flicked his tail and forced his snout to turn 
back to the road. Thank you, milord. All the gold 
in the world does me no good while Ladero is dead.

His thought, sent into the presence of the Åelf 
bound to him by promise and oath and the ravages 
of the passage through six realms beneath the 
misery and depredation of the daedra lords, was 
met with a warm approval, as of a master 
recognizing wisdom gained in their pupil. But a 
warning still came with his thought. Even were it 
not so, all gold in this place is poison. Do not 
look at it again for it will tempt you without 
words and with your own better nature. Your 
responsibility will entice you to grasp it; your 
fidelity and love for your family will encourage you to seek it.

I have been trained since my youth to live with 
whatever I have, be it good fortune or only the 
clothes on my back, milord. I will not give in.

Do not trust in your strength only.

I do not. I also have you, milord.

Qan-af-årael offered him a faint smile at that 
thought but gave him no more reply. The stack of 
gold disappeared behind them, its perfect shape 
and beautiful luster forgotten in the drab, 
smoke-choked air. The road continued to stretch 
before them. Charles felt a sullen emptiness in 
him at the thought of his family and their needs, 
but he did not have any time to ponder it as not 
a minute beyond the gold something else brilliant 
and burnished with that unparalleled hue flashed 
into being a short distance ahead.

His master gripped his shoulder tightly and 
Charles stopped, the hand gripping his chest fur 
reaching down to grasp his Sondeshike. The golden 
light ahead rose in a plume of fiery clouds for a 
moment before resolving into a large shape. To 
Charles' surprise the figure was, like him, a 
walking rat, but this one was not garbed in torn 
cloaks and tattered tunics. The rat before him 
stood even taller than the Åelf and was garbed in 
a resplendent doublet and hose of rich burgundy 
silk decorated with golden filigree, epaulet, and 
sash. He bore soft boots that glimmered with 
rubies and rose to the hocks of his crook-shanked 
legs, while his long tail was accented by a 
crimson sleeve decorated with golden feathers 
that with each twist of his tail gave the 
impression that a bristling fire raged behind 
him. His face was covered in deep, black fur from 
which the brilliant golden eyes seemed to 
protrude. His whiskers were so rich a white 
Charles thought them fashioned with diamonds. His 
snout opened in a smile of serene confidence and charisma.

His regal attire and bearing made Charles feel 
even meaner a peasant than Loriod in all his 
perversity and cruelty ever could. Charles 
swallowed, pulling his cloak more tightly across 
his snout and tightening his grip on his 
Sondeshike. Qan-af-årael's hand never left his 
shoulder. A plume of violet light erupted from 
his left hand and the familiar tree blade 
occupied his grasp. The Åelf's voice was 
unperturbed and echoed with power. “This one is not for you.”

The black rat twitched his whiskers in a familiar 
gesture of amusement and then swept one arm 
outward, encompassing road, strange buildings, 
barren landscape, and smoke-filled twilight sky. 
“I am aware of your journey through the realms of 
my fellow daedra and what you have accomplished. 
While I am without doubt quite capable of 
thwarting your purpose through the death of this 
mortal, I am also aware that it would require the 
expenditure of a vast quantity of my resources in order to accomplish.”

The daedra rat folded his hands before him in a 
gesture that seemed more about what didn't move 
than what did. Charles noted that they were white 
like his whiskers, with claws even longer than 
his already long, bony fingers. His voice felt 
deep and offered with unwavering confidence yet 
spoken with derisive condescension as if to 
inferiors who were rather boring but required his 
attention. Cold eyes stared down along his snout 
with implacable regard. “The satisfaction in 
achieving what my fellow daedra could not is not 
worth so great an expenditure considering that 
the remainder of the benefit accrued to me – the 
acquisition of a single, insignificant mortal 
soul – can be achieved, and is being achieved, in 
much greater quantities and with far less effort all the time.

“Therefore, I have no intention of engaging you 
directly. I have instructed my servants to offer 
no impediment to your progress. You are free to 
go wherever you wish in my realm.” His fingers 
gave a swift, annoyed flick outward, indicating 
the cityscape around them. “You are free to do 
whatever you wish in my realm. Should you prove a 
destructive force within my realm I will respond 
accordingly, but I know that your purpose has 
nothing to do with my realm except as one more 
place through which you must pass.”

Qan-af-årael raised the tree-sword an inch. “You 
are not telling the truth, Agemnos. Your pride 
and vanity would not allow you to give up any 
prize, especially one your fellow daedra could not claim.”

The black rat tilted back his head and laughed, a 
gesture slight in movement but so deep that 
Charles felt the road tremble beneath him. The 
crimson-clad daedra allowed only a moment for 
mirth before turning his head so that they saw 
only his left eye. “I am telling you the truth, 
Åelf. I merely have not finished telling you the 
truth.” He pointed with his right arm down the 
road ahead of them. “You will find the bridge at 
the end of this road. It is the only way you can 
leave this realm without submitting yourselves 
either in worship or in sacrifice to I and my 
fellow daedra. There are no guards on this road 
and at the bridge you will meet a single one of 
my servants. He will instruct you on what must be 
done to break the seal over the bridge.”

Charles lifted his ears in alarm, and the daedra 
met his gaze. He felt in those eyes offers of 
wealth even beyond what the stack of gold could 
give him, beyond all the kingdoms of men. The 
very affairs of all Galendor would be at his whim 
were he to bend knee to this black rat. Charles 
stiffened and leaned closer to the Åelf so that 
he could feel the brush of his master's robes.

“Yes, while you were entertaining yourselves 
helping plague victims in Tallakath's gardens, I 
discerned your purpose and have placed a seal 
upon the bridge that you cannot break. You, 
mortal, have but four choices. You may attempt to 
flee this realm either by the bridge behind you 
or through the Axis; either path will place you 
in our combined power and you will surely die. 
You may call upon me to open the seal and I shall 
do so after you swear your faith to me. You may 
search in vain all the rest of your mortal life 
for another exit which you will never find; on 
your death your soul will be mine. Or, you may 
open the seal yourself; to do so you will become mine anyway.”

Agemnos extended his left arm toward Charles and 
the smile he offered was powerful, full of 
suggestion and confidence. “Your soul will be 
mine, mortal. The only choice you have is what 
way you shall give it to me. Swear to me now and 
you will enjoy plenitude of life, wealth beyond 
measure, and power beyond price. Every moment you 
delay in swearing diminishes this offer. And if 
you don't swear to me, you will suffer and never 
experience the satisfaction my followers enjoy for their faithfulness.”

His smile, accented with incisors that gleamed 
like iron in the forge, held no invitation. 
Charles swallowed, but did not waver his gaze 
from the daedra rat. Beside him Qan-af-årael 
stretched out his arm and the purple blade seemed 
to grow like the tree it resembled, branches of 
light stretching upward and outward, toward the 
gold-limned daedra as they would to the sun. “You 
will not claim his soul. I protect him.”

“Do you think to threaten me with that pathetic 
blade?” Agemnos laughed and shook his head, whiskers standing perfectly still.

“No,” the Åelf replied even as he swept the blade 
to one side, the air sizzling in its wake, “because you are not actually here.”

“Very astute,” Agemnos replied and gave a cursory 
nod of his head as if offering them the barest 
token of approval though falling far short of 
recognizing them as worthy opponents. “And as I 
have said what I came to say, I shall take my 
leave of you. Enjoy your stay in my realm, little 
rat. You will spend aeons here until you are 
nothing but tar.” The words had no more left his 
mouth than the regally attired rat vanished from 
sight. The road before them was clear and the 
golden light that had for a moment suffused 
everything dwindled into the interminable twilight.

For a moment longer they stood there, Charles 
holding his Sondeshike so tightly in his right 
hand that the claws pressed into his palms, and 
Qan-af-årael brandishing the blade that had 
protected them in the Lord of Rage's realm. And 
then the deep purple faded until there was 
nothing left of the tree blade but a memory. The 
Åelf half-turned to regard him with a rueful 
expression. He is arrogant, but he is very, very 
skilled. We must expect deception. Be on your guard, Núrodur.

He slipped the Sondeshike free from his cloak and 
extended it with a nod. The presence within him 
warmed and he felt a surge of approval. Charles 
clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth 
and felt his heart begin to beat again. Together 
the two of them continued down the road, ever 
watchful and, in Charles' case, anxious.

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

Charles Matthias
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