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

[C. Matthias]

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

Pars V: Ascensum

(c)


Wednesday, May 9, 708 CR


The children well knew that when the skunk came 
by to visit their mother that it was a time that 
the two were not to be disturbed. Even though the 
lessons had usually taken place in the somewhat 
confined environs of the tree house common room 
the children knew that the studies were a time 
they had best take their play up to their own rooms.

But not so this day for, upon arriving to visit 
the young mage had requested a private audience 
with his student on one of the balconies of the 
Mountain's Hearth Inn. While they had from time 
to time met in the cellars of the Brewery now 
that Kozaithy had joined them, never before had 
he asked her to meet him at the Inn and the 
atypical request left the Lady Kimberly pensive 
with worry. Charles was away for the day, 
exploring the Narrows with James and Gibson that 
they might settle on a plan of construction for 
his envisioned Keep for their fief. Baerle was 
with the children while they napped giving 
Kimberly a couple of hours respite from their rambunctiousness.

Thus Kimberly found herself alone with the 
unusually somber skunk for the first time since 
the two had bumped into each other in a hallway 
at Metamor Keep some years before. Only two, it 
was, but it seemed like so many more at times. At 
other times it seemed like only yesterday.

Leaning against the heavy door of stout oarwood 
that opened onto the balcony perched astride the 
peak of the Heaths steeply pitched shale and 
thatch roof Kimberly pushed it open with a slight 
struggle despite the oiled hinges. But, where she 
had expected a flat, wind-swept platform she 
found a complete room beyond that weighty door. 
It was bright with sunshine and it stung her eyes 
that had become accustomed to the gloom of 
forest. Three of four walls were made up almost 
entirely of hand poured glass heavy with waves 
and warps that distorted the view beyond the 
solar; or any view inside from without. The 
ceiling, likewise, was mostly glass. It was 
before the far windows that the mage Murikeer 
stood, his hands laced behind his back above the 
voluminous plume of his white slashed black tail. 
His finery was simple; if well crafted; mere 
trews of buttery soft leather and a light shirt 
of deep gray broadcloth as a peasant might wear. 
His lower legs and feet were unshod, as was his 
wont, for his legs were shaped like those of a 
dog rather than flat as a skunk's normally would be.

Such were the vagaries of Metamor's curse, but 
none had thought much of it in the years she had known him.

“I am here, Muri,” the young magician's 
apprentice intoned quietly at the back-turned 
ears of the taller youth. “What – what is this 
place?” She craned her head to look around, 
amazed at the incongruity of the ornate castle 
room hidden atop the Inn. Murikeer turned around 
and made a small motion with one hand. Behind the 
lady rat a quiet whisper ending in a weighty thud 
heralded the heavy door sweeping closed. His one 
good eye gazed down upon her, his apprentice and 
friend, without his customary smile but retaining 
his usual warmth, though his expression was somber.

Kimberly tilted her head slightly, whiskers and 
ears backing at the sudden sensation of feeling 
trapped by the weight of that heavy portal. “Muri?”

“Welcome, milady.” He bowed his head slowly and 
then let his gaze cast about the brightly lit 
room. “This is but an illusion. A recreation of 
one of the many rooms I've found in my new 
home... or, rather, what it may look like once 
I've repaired it sufficiently.” He shook his head 
and chuffed a quiet, soft laugh. “Lord Avery was 
certainly generous, but the old house has been 
sorely left to the elements the past few years. 
Luckily it was overlooked by the invaders in the 
winter and escaped complete destruction. No one 
without will see aught but an empty balcony.” His 
gaze came in time back around to settle upon her. 
“It has been busy, of late. I am sorry to have 
left you without tutelage in the nonce.” He 
churred warmly with a deeper bow of apology and 
sweep of one arm toward one of the many large 
chairs. “You are well in your house?”

Kimberly tittered softly and let out a deep sigh. 
“Well, yes, but like you, ever so frightfully 
busy with so many energetic young rats running about getting into everything.”

“Such is the curse of the change, a new 
lifestyle. Please, take your ease, milady.” He 
waited while Kimberly settled into one of the 
massive chairs. For a moment she was timid about 
the massive throne of age polished wood and 
brocade, but when her hand touched the arm she 
felt that it was real enough beneath the 
illusion. To her surprise Murikeer approached and 
settled onto the ottoman at its foot rather than 
another chair nearby. She found her hands 
clutching the long tail she swept around to drape across her lap.

“What brings you with such a look of seriousness 
about you today, Muri?” she asked in her quiet, rodentine voice.

“All is well, milady.” He sat forward on the 
ottoman, the long plume of his tail relaxed in an 
arc behind him like some shadow of fur trying to 
steal upon him unawares. “But I come with 
concerns, such as for your ears alone. You may be 
the only shield standing before a darkness incomprehensible.”

Kimberly blinked, her pulse quickening in alarm 
and her fingers clutching her tail all the more 
tightly, and then she scowled. “Master Murikeer, 
you are trying to frighten me?”

The skunk shook his head slowly, raising one hand 
and extending it, palm up, toward her. Kimberly 
gazed down upon it, but found nothing amiss the 
black pads and stark monochromatic fur. It was 
not that she did not trust him; he was ever the 
gentleman around her and never acted athwart her 
or Charles in the years they had been friends. 
Tentatively she raised one of her own small hands 
reached out to her palm down upon his own. “I am 
most contrite, milady, but the weight of my words 
must strike true, like the unquiet omens offered 
by Nocturna, that they might be remembered upon 
waking.” No sooner had her palm come to rest upon 
his own than his free hand raised and swiftly, 
like a viper espying a mouse, darted down to tap 
the back of her hand with the stout claw of his 
middle finger. The sound of claw striking flesh 
through fur was surprisingly sharp in the quietude of the solar.

Kimberly yelped in surprise at the painful prick 
of that sharp claw and snatched her hand back, 
clutching it defensively at her breast. He made 
no attempt to restrain her paw, now capture it to 
offer up another painful strike. “Muri!” she 
snapped angrily, holding her assaulted paw close.

Murikeer bowed his head before her in contrition. 
“Again, my apologies, milday. Others may have 
done so well with a light touch as that, had I 
but known. Kayla, James, Jessica. Lindsey before 
them. Each has been touched by the lingering 
shadow of Marzac, a subtle and deep seeded taint 
of evil. It is that against much I must warn, and gird you, milady; my friend.”

“You needn't strike me, Muri!” She snapped at 
him, raising her hand to press her thin lips 
against the stricken back, tasting the blood that 
welled through the short fur. “What is this you 
speak of with such frightful solemnity? I know 
well what happened to them, but they were all saved!”

“By whom, milady?” Murikeer raised his head and 
gazed into her eyes with his own. Upon the 
intricately tooled leather which covered the 
gaping rent where his right eye had been small 
gems winked in the spring sunshine through the 
windows. Upon the end of his claw a single drop of dark red blood glistened.

“By whom?” she asked, confused. “By you? You, and 
Charles and that raccoon and others.”

Murikeer shook his head slowly, dipping his free 
hand into a pouch at his hip and drawing out a 
small object. Kimberly's gaze twitched to it 
distrustfully, her whiskers lying flat back along 
her muzzle and her round rat ears flattering back 
upon her hand. It turned out to be nothing more 
sinister than a rather shapeless roundel of 
amethyst worn to a smooth polish by time and 
water. He held it in his palm and shook his head. 
“Nay, milady. T'were not us, alone, that brought 
to bay and vanquished those whom were seduced by 
Marzac's lingering evil. It was those who were 
closer than we, those alone who could prize their 
way beyond its power and wrest away those who they loved.”

“Loved?” Kimberly found her gaze fixed upon the 
unremarkable purple lump of stone. Murikeer's 
claw descended to touch it, moving slowly to 
trace a line of crimson across the smooth surface 
as fine as a spider's thread. With surprising 
finesse the skunk traced a complex pattern upon the stone with her own blood.

“Rickkter, Baerle, Weyden, Habakkuk. To each of 
those they came, their own love the only shield 
between them and the darkness, but each suffered, 
some more than others, in standing between Love 
and Shadow when the shadow was so powerful.” His 
fingertip circled and slashed, dotted and 
swirled, covering the stone in a filigree as fine 
as any embroidery Kimberly had ever seen. “But 
here is one more over whom we fear the shadow 
lurks, awaiting. And between that shadow and 
victory, but one small, frail shield. And it is 
the nature of a shield to take the strikes levied 
against its bearer, and to that end the shield must be hardened.”

“Whom?” Kimberly found herself both entranced by 
the apocalyptic portent of his words and the work 
of that one fingertip. How was it that her blood 
went so far, and covered so much of that stone, 
when all he had prized from her was but a single drop?

“Charles.”

Kimberly's eyes snapped up to find him gazing up 
at her through the thick white of his brow, the 
skunk's dark eye warm but alarmingly intense in 
its regard. “Charles? You're telling me that he 
is touched by evil? He is not! I would know! He 
has been naught but gentle and loving since that harrowing journey!”

The skunk looked down once more and nodded. “As 
were all of the others. Jessica, herself, wrought 
wondrous miracles with that shadow upon her. She 
sought only to do good, but in the end it nearly 
claimed her. It did claim Berchem, the archer, 
for a time that was almost forever. She sought to 
change the curse, milady. She turned me into a 
child, as she did with Charles, as you well know. 
But it was for the purpose of evil that she 
performed saintly tasks, or so she thought.” He 
sat up slowly and leaned back, gazing down at the 
stone in his hands. “But only Weyden was able to 
win through that darkness and its seductive touch 
to reach her heart and open her eyes.” He raised 
his gaze. “As it was Baerle convincing James to 
surrender the song of the Bell, and Rickkter 
wrest Kayla away from becoming a deadly dragon.”

“But what does this have to do with me, and Charles?”

“You, milady, are... in danger. The shadow 
convinces those to whom it whispers that they do 
good, though they do evil beneath the 
beneficence.” He raised his hand, bearing the 
purple stone toward her, “You, and your children, 
are in the most danger. For Charles is mighty, 
and in the grasp of darkness I fear for the 
frailty of your flesh, though never your spirit.” 
Kimberly leaned back in the chair as if to 
distance herself from the sorcerous stone 
enwrapped in the complex filigree of her blood. 
“Breathe upon the stone, milady Kimberly. When 
you release your breath, think of Charles, and your love for him.”

Fearfully Kimberly gazed back down at the stone 
not an arm's length away. Between the spider 
thread fine lines of Murikeer's work she could 
see her face gazing back at her in reflection, 
undistorted despite the craze of occlusions and 
cracks which rendered the crystal all but opaque. 
Leaning forward slightly, timorously stretching 
her neck toward it, Kimberly glanced up into 
Murikeer's dark eye once before back down at her 
reflection. Taking a slow breath, she pursed her lips.

She remembered. The first time she met Charles 
was in his office at the Writer's Guild. She was 
newly arrived at Metamor, fleeing from... it 
didn't matter now. She had been mostly human but 
for the fully grown rat tail. She feared she was 
becoming a hideous thing. Vermin. A thing that 
skulked in dark places and ate the foulest 
leavings of man. A Rat. Charles called her beautiful.

He introduced her to other rodents. He brought 
her food and bought her new clothes which fit her 
new body. He took her to watch the sun set over 
the mountains and for strolls through the castle 
gardens. He held her in his strong arms and 
comforted her when she felt she could never be 
loved. At first she had thought it all a 
chivalrous act to help a lady in distress, but 
nothing more. But, the look in his eyes turned 
day by day, some times hour by hour, from worry, 
concern, and uncertainty, to gentleness, devotion, and love.

Charles, ever seeking her good, never failing to 
compliment her on her appearance, offered himself 
and all that was he to her. He sought her hand in 
marriage. He endured the long cold nights on 
patrol to provide for her. He went to Marzac 
because he loved her and his family more than his 
own life. That was her Charles Matthias, her rat, 
her knight, and her husband. That was the man she loved with all her being.

Letting out a slow breath, she blew softly across 
the stone. “Eli,” she offered in silent prayer 
even as her breath left her lips, “protect the 
man I love, be he a rat as he is, from the evil 
that hunts him!” As her breath wafted across the 
polished rock the fire lines drawn in her blood 
faded, like breath fog on a window, until they 
were gone. Only when she leaned back did 
Murikeer's fingers curl about the stone.

“What will that do?” she asked softly.

“Nothing and, I hope, everything.” He extended 
his hand and turned it over, holding it steady 
until Kimberly raised her hand. Opening his 
fingers he pressed the cool pebble into her palm. 
It was small enough that even her own small hand 
was able to fold over it utterly. “Your blood and 
his are now mixed upon the stone. Yours with your 
breath, his.. by other means. It will allow you 
to speak to him. No matter where he is, how far 
away or how deeply enthralled, no matter how 
deafened by the shadow, he will hear you.” He 
drew his hand back and touched his ear with one 
long, stout claw. “Not here,” his touched moved 
to his brow, “nor here.” His hand then dropped to 
rest over his breast above his heart. “But here; 
heart to heart. Soul to soul.” He leaned back and 
rested his hands upon his knees. “It was the 
words of those whom loved the stricken that won 
through, always. That is our most potent weapon. 
But the shadow is sly, and may bring him to 
deafen his ears to you, and harden his heart to 
the words his ears might hear.” He nodded toward 
the stone she held. “But not against the words 
that pierce the heart and speak truly. But, that 
is not the least it can do, but I hope that it will be all that is needed.”

She opened her fingers and gazed down at the 
stone, now appearing as nothing more than a 
polished river pebble. “What else does it do?”

“If he should take his hand up against you, if he 
should turn his Sondeck upon you, it will 
shatter. In so doing it will unleash the curse of 
Metamor unalloyed upon him, reducing him to a rat 
true, in mind and body.” He held up a finger and 
raised his gaze to meet hers. “For a time, only, 
as the magic will fade. But hopefully time enough 
for you to escape, or restrain him for us to act 
more directly against the dark touch. Also, if 
you should take up a hammer and smash it, the 
spell will be unleashed and take him no matter how far removed he is.”

“But what of my children!?” she quailed 
fearfully. She had seen the power of his Sondeck 
unleashed in the past, as she had that of Charles' friend Jerome.

Murikeer smiled, though there was no joy in it, 
“I have giften them with baubles which they will 
find themselves holding most dear and close to 
them. If he should strike them the magic will be 
unleashed. I did not prick them as I did you, 
however, for the spell I placed therein is one 
that was exhaustive in its creation. He will see 
what he expects, should he strike them. An 
illusion most detailed to his eyes of their fate 
at his hands, but the baubles I have crafted will shield them from harm.”

Kimberly dropped her gaze to the stone and 
swallowed. “You frighten me, Murikeer, but – I 
will keep this close, and hope that I should never find use for it.”

“Would that I could but hope the same, milady, 
but I act in fear for you should these events 
come full circle for him as they have for the 
others who took up that terrible quest. I could 
only hope to have been as strong as they. For 
you, for him, and for your children I cannot 
stand idly by and simply wait with watchful eyes. 
I choose to act in preparation, though none of 
the others who also watch have knowledge of what 
I have done. I desire that none do, so tell not a 
soul lest the shadow hear, and gird itself 
against my wards. The others may also make their 
precautions. If they bring such to you, accept, please.”

Kimberly clutched the stone close and heaved an 
unsteady sigh, “I will, Murikeer. And – thank 
you, for all that you have done, and still do, for my family. For me.”

Murikeer smiled warmly, and for once the pleasure 
of his smile reached his good eye, lifting his 
whiskers as the shadow of his tail swept slowly 
from side to side behind him. “You are my 
student, milady, as well my tutor. As much a 
mother as the one I lost so long ago. To speak 
the love you have for him, merely hold the stone 
close to your heart and speak of it. He will hear 
though may not be aware of what it is he hears, 
but he will feel that touch within his own heart.”

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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