[Mkguild] Delivering a Friend (1/1)

[C. Matthias]

Merry Christmas everyone!  My present to you all 
is my latest tale of Metamor Keep!

Part 1 of 1

Metamor Keep: Delivering a Friend
By Charles Matthias

Wednesday, June 6, 708 CR

“Earl Tarkas Kardair reports the Kestrel's Wing 
is more than adequate for their needs in Salinon 
and Lady Deya Thores is confidant they have found 
all the listening enchantments and spy-holes; 
she's left a few active so Otakar thinks he can 
spy on them. Jaime Verdane should now have over a 
dozen pieces of the message, though they suspect 
Otakar knows the jackdaw is from Metamor. Tarkas 
is requesting advice on how to proceed.”

Kayla lowered the parchment on which she had 
condensed the last week's worth of reports from 
the ambassador to Salinon and lifted her gaze to 
Metamor's chief spy. Andwyn the bat dangled from 
an iron grill affixed to the ceiling, a 
half-eaten peach gripped in the claws on his 
right wing. He narrowed his eyes and in his 
high-pitched but quiet voice replied, “We knew 
Otakar would have mages observing the Verdane 
heir in his donjon; our spy's secret could not be 
kept forever. If Otakar is taking no action 
against him then they should continue providing 
the message pieces. Make sure the jackdaw knows 
to find as many different approaches as he can; a 
swift arrow can be excused as a soldier trying to 
feed his family. We have no other way to protect him.”

The skunk scribbled the bat's words on the same 
parchment. Her hand reached toward the ink pot 
and paused, “How long will it be before they have 
given Jaime all of the message? And what then?” 
Andwyn did not share all his secrets with her, 
but he rarely demurred when she asked. She had 
served Prince Phil as assistant for a few years 
before the rabbit returned to Whales, and had 
never once betrayed a confidence. Andwyn knew she could be trusted.

“A few months more,” the bat replied. He took a 
bite from the peach and stared past the skunk as 
he chewed. “The message will be complete by early 
next year at the latest. After will depend on 
Jaime and to a certain extent on Otakar. Earl 
Tarkas's negotiations are not merely a front and 
who knows what might come of them. And there's 
always Duke Verdane; I doubt he will act, but a 
desperate father is capable of desperate things.”

Kayla nodded. She knew of both Midlands dukes 
only by what she had read from first Phil and now 
Andwyn's spies. Both were good men in certain 
ways, and she suspected each would put the good 
of their people before their personal ambitions. 
But they were ambitious; Verdane had nearly 
swayed Giftum to his side, while Otakar had 
snatched Bozojo and Jaime in a single stroke, all 
the while playing friend to Metamor. Neither 
would hesitate to strike at Metamor if they thought it would benefit them.

She finished writing down Andwyn's instructions 
and set the parchment aside. Another waited in 
her hands. “Next we have news from Arabarb. The 
southern coasts are still controlled by the last 
of Calephas's men. One of the commanders has 
organized the forces and is proving difficult to 
rout; they've taken refuge in fortresses along 
the coast and have pressed the fishermen into 
their makeshift navy. Our friends in Fjellvidden 
control the Arabas river and have freed the lands 
to the north and east, but with Summer, many of 
the men want to protect those lands, herds and 
crops. They may not move until Winter or next Spring.”

“What of the mountain pass?”

“Our forces should be arriving in a week to help 
clear out any of Calephas or Nasoj's men still 
holding the pass.” Kayla felt her heart flutter; 
Rickkter was one of the Keepers leading soldiers 
and scouts to the northern mountain pass. It 
would be many months before he returned home, but 
after all he'd suffered she would never have 
tried to stop him. “No word on whether Fjellvidden has marshaled their forces.”

Andwyn took another bite and frowned. “We will 
need to send more men. It takes too long for word 
to reach us from Arabarb. I must...” he turned 
his head and then gestured with his free wing for 
Kayla to set the parchment aside. When the Curses 
turned her into a skunk she had marveled at how 
much better her hearing and sense of smell had 
become. She felt deaf compared to the bat.

He walked two steps along the grill and with his 
free wing pulled a lever set in the ceiling. The 
shutters to the single window folded open 
allowing the warm midday air to flow. Kayla set a 
hand on the parchment to keep it from fluttering 
in the sudden breeze. A few seconds later a white 
barn owl landed upon the casement and grew in 
size until small hands and a human quality touched its face.

“Alban,” Andwyn greeted his spy. His voice was 
neutral, but his small eyes regarded the owl with 
what Kayla had come to recognize as fondness. “What have you seen?”

The owl tilted his head on its side – Kayla tried 
not to cringe – and hooted, “All is well in 
Metamor. Two creatures are coming down from the 
Barrier Range toward us. A white gryphon and a little man upon his back.”

Kayla's heart leaped in her chest and she sat up 
straight. She yearned to ask for more details.

Andwyn bobbed his head. “How far away are they?”

“They are following the road from Lyme Regis so perhaps an hour or two.”

“Thank you, Alban. Continue your watch and your 
payment will be in the usual place. Worry not 
about these two; they are friends to Metamor.”

“Oh, I remember them,” Alban assured him before 
shrinking back to his smaller form and leaping 
from the casement. Andwyn stared after the owl 
for a moment before pulling the lever. The 
shutter closed with a heavy metal clank.

“This is unexpected,” Andwyn noted as he turned 
back to Kayla. “Go. I'll review the summaries 
myself. I'm sure your friend Jessica will want to know too.”

“Thank you, Master Andwyn!” Kayla took only a few 
seconds to finish organizing the parchments 
before leaving the bat's office. She started 
running once the door closed behind her.

----------

After months of flying, Abafouq felt he was an 
extra lump of feathers and fur on Guernef's back. 
His fingers cramped as they clutched the leather 
strap wound about the Nauh-kaee's neck and chest. 
His short legs were bruised from bracing against 
the inside of flapping wings. But it was not 
those wounds which hurt most. What had he nearly done? What had Guernef!

They followed the ridge of mountains northwest 
from the cliffs, descending out of the cold 
glacial air he'd braced for the last three months 
and many years before. He savored the touches of 
warmth it brought and dared to lift his head to 
peer through his master's ear tufts. Where the 
valley narrowed he could see the resplendent 
spires of Metamor Keep. Spread before those 
towers like an elegant gown was the city on the 
ridge and on the hill below down to the river and 
small lake. For a month they dwelt there with 
their friends. Abafouq had longed to return one 
day, but he never thought it would be so soon. He 
felt excitement and a sullen dread, but mostly excitement.

With the last ridge of mountains at their right, 
the castle and its town seemed a small jewel 
nestled within the folds of a magnificent 
formation. But once they passed the mountains and 
there was nothing but forest between them and the 
Keep he felt its immensity. His eyes alighted 
upon the central tower and its belfry. He 
shuddered at the barest memory of the Shriekers, 
the Marquis and his allies, and the dread Censor 
bound within. Even their final victory could not efface the fear.

A dark speck moved toward them from the Keep. 
Abafouq only saw it when Guernef tucked his wings 
and dove to the same height. Once Guernef 
returned to a glide he loosened his fingers and 
stared at the speck. It took almost a minute 
before he saw it was a black-feathered bird. 
Another minute and he recognized her.

“It's Jessica!” he shouted. Guernef flicked an ear but did not turn his head.

The hawk flew toward them for another minute 
before circling in wide arcs. When they reached 
her she swooped in beside them, screeched into 
the wind, and then dove a little ahead and toward 
the Keep. Guernef followed, banking his wings 
every few seconds so as not to overtake her.

Jessica guided them to one of the grassy fields 
on the northern side of the Keep near the 
fortifications overlooking the edge of the ridge 
and the forest beyond. Waiting below them was 
another familiar face, a lady skunk reclining 
against a hand cart. Jessica landed next to her 
and swelled in size. Guernef swept past, beat his 
wings several times, and then settled down. 
Abafouq waited for the Nauh-kaee to fold his 
wings before letting go of the leather strap; he 
stretched his legs to work out a cramp and then 
climbed down. He bent forward and ran his fingers 
through the soft grass and felt a laugh burble from his throat.

Looking up he saw Jessica and Kayla crouching 
over him. His laugh erupted and he thrust himself 
into their arms and wings, savoring the touch of 
the skunk's soft fur and the hawk's gentle feathers.

“Welcome back to Metamor, dear friends,” Jessica cawed.

----------

Kayla had brought fresh food and drink in the 
hand cart. In addition to bread, cheese, and 
fruit, there were strips of jerky and even a hunk 
of salted but uncooked mutton Guernef devoured. 
For drink she brought a pitcher of milk and a 
small bottle of wine. Abafouq accepted the milk 
at first but knew the wine would be gone before he dared stand up again.

“It is so good to see you both again,” Jessica 
said, sharp eyes capturing both Binoq and 
Nauh-kaee without moving. “We did not expect to see you again so soon.

“Nor did we,” Abafouq admitted as he reclined in 
the grass. Free from the mountains, he'd stripped 
the heaviest furs from his chest and legs and 
piled them behind him for a pillow. He tore a 
chunk of bread but did not eat it. “Where be the rest?”

Kayla sipped her wine and gestured toward the 
northwest with her snout. “James is at the Glen; 
he will be very happy to hear you've returned. 
Charles, Lindsey, and Jerome left for Sondeshara almost two weeks ago.”

“Sondeshara? Why?”

“One of Nasoj's mages, a creature called Gmork, 
cast a terrible spell on Jerome. I tried my best 
but could not remove it. Charles believes his 
only hope is to return to Sondeshara. What Gmork 
did touched the very core of his being, his 
Sondeck. I could see it but nothing more.” 
Jessica fluttered her wings as she spoke. Kayla 
felt the frustration in her voice; it was all too common in the last month.

“Then may the bears guide them,” Abafouq 
murmured. “Let me then say one thing we all know 
to be true. We have each thrown off the corruption of Marzac.”

“You felt it too?” Kayla asked.

Both Binoq and Nauh-kaee nodded, but it was 
Guernef who answered them in his screeching 
voice. “We had already begun our journey back 
here when we were roused in the early hours 
before dawn by a gasping. The wind lifted us 
without wing. A harshness to its touch we had not 
even noticed was gone. We both knew Marzac's final hold on us was defeated.”

“How did it affect you?” Kayla asked. “You saw what it did to me.”

“And I,” Jessica added, “tried to use what 
remained of Yonson's hyacinth to change the 
curses. It wanted me to use them to control all of Metamor.”

“Yajakali did wish to make the human race into 
beasts like yourselves,” Abafouq mused. “I am 
thinking all of our temptations were about subjugating others.”

“They each had a focus. Mine was the hyacinth.”

“And mine the dragon swords.”

Jessica nodded to the skunk and continued. “James 
had his bell, Charles his son, and Lindsey had 
the memory of Zhypar. We never learned what tempted Jerome. And now...”

“We may never learn.”

Abafouq frowned and finished off the loaf of 
bread. He eyed the array of fruits on the platter 
in the grass between them. “I faced my corruption 
not long after we left Metamor three months ago. 
He was being in my dreams and in my wakefulness 
too. No matter where I turned I kept seeing him 
stand next to the Sentinel of Forgiveness in 
Qorfuu. My effaced name he showed me, taunting me 
with it. He assured me my people would never 
accept me. I... I was tempted to prove him wrong. 
I would make my people take me back.”

He leaned against his furs and gazed at the 
towers. “Two months ago I could no longer tell 
dream from waking. I fell from Guernef's back and 
didn't even notice. All I could see was Qorfuu. I 
had a hammer in my hand, and with it I pounded 
Kifqunan's head into the Sentinel of Forgiveness 
until his bone filled all the cracks of my name.”

Kayla blinked, a bit of peach half-way to her muzzle. “Kifqunan?”

“One of the elders of my people. It was he who 
arranged for my banishment seven years ago and 
who ensured I would be marked as unforgivable by 
my people last year.” Abafouq closed his eyes, 
hands balled into fists. His short but stout 
frame trembled. Jessica stretched out her wing 
and brushed her feathers across his shoulder.

“We are your friends, Abafouq. You are safe now.”

The tension eased from the Binoq's shoulders and 
a moment later from his arms. “Thank you, 
Jessica. I will not say all else of what I saw. 
After my tumble, Guernef helped me wake from the 
corruption. To free myself I had to give up. I 
hope a way can open to see my family again, but I 
have no more hope to see Qorfuu. It is not my 
place to change my people... I am not so wise.”

Kayla reached across the platter and gripped his 
other arm. “You are wise. And you are a better 
man – Binoq – than those who cast you out.”

“I thank you both again.” Abafouq took a deep 
breath and sat up; both skunk and hawk returned 
to where they had been. “I thought I would return 
to Guernef's cave high in the Tabinoq, but even there I could not go. Guernef?”

The Nauh-kaee stepped forward and sat on his 
haunches. His wings draped across his back and 
his black beak and golden eyes regarded them with 
both majesty and shame. “I too was tempted. Not 
with taunts but thanks. The old crow came to me 
and thanked me for freeing him from Marzac.”

“The old crow?” Kayla asked.

“The one coated in fire; the one we defeated 
outside the Chateau. The old crow.”

Jessica bobbed her head and Kayla sucked in her 
breath. “Vissarion came to me and said the same.”

Guernef nodded to the skunk. “The old crow knew 
me as the wind, and he knew the wind as himself. 
I listened. Abafouq had no home and the time had 
come for a choice. The old crow urged me to keep 
Abafouq and make him walk the Paths of the Sky. 
But he advised me not to tell him. If not for the 
scrap of the prophet's words drifting from ash I 
would have obeyed. And so we returned here.”

Kayla blinked as she picked up a piece of cheese. 
“I... I do not understand any better what the 
corruption did to you than I did before you 
spoke! Guernef, what are the paths of the sky?”

But the Nauh-kaee turned his face away and said nothing.

Abafouq finished a strawberry and shook his head. 
“I only understand it in part. I am thinking I 
would not be as you see me if I had walked them. 
What I know is when we reached the plateau, the 
same plateau where Guernef rescued us with 
Nak-Tegehki, he told me what I must do to remain 
with him. My place is with stone, not with sky, 
and so we returned here instead.” The little man 
cast a quick glance at the Nauh-kaee. Both Kayla 
and Jessica felt sure there was far more to the tale.

Jessica cawed. “Are you both here to stay?”

“I am,” Abafouq replied. “Guernef must return to 
his people. He is the Kakikagiget and has already 
been gone too long from them.”

The Nauh-kaee did not turn back, but he did 
speak. “I will stay long enough. I will not leave 
until I know you will be well.”

Abafouq smiled to the Nauh-kaee so widely it 
seemed his entire body was smiling. “Then I know I will be well!”

“What will you do?” Jessica asked.

“I be a mage. A different sort than those living 
at Metamor, I am thinking. I will do as your 
people do and trade my skills for food and a place to sleep.”

“You can stay with me for now,” Kayla offered. 
“Rickkter is away and I would enjoy the company.”

His smile for the skunk was not as large, but no 
less happy. “Thank you! Being we have settled 
such matters, you must tell us more of how you, 
our friends, fare. Where has Rickkter gone? And 
have you wed your lovely hawk? Please, tell us all!”

For the rest of the afternoon the four friends 
reclined in peace, eating the pleasant morsels, 
drinking the milk and wine, speaking of the happier times ahead.

----------

With the days of the solstice near, by the time 
afternoon led to evening all of the friends were 
exhausted and ready for sleep. Moreso Abafouq 
after so many months of journey; the last hour of 
conversation was already a mystery to him. Kayla 
offered him a place to stay in her quarters until 
he could find one of his own, and Jessica offered 
Guernef a place warm and comfortable while he was 
visiting. But the Nauh-kaee demurred and so they 
left him in the field to tend to himself. After 
returning the hand cart and the empty platter 
she'd borrowed from the Deaf Mule, Kayla escorted 
Abafouq to her modest quarters inside the Keep. 
She only had the one bed, but she arranged a 
sleeping pallet in one corner with an array of 
cushions and quilts she only used in the Winter. “It is not much, but...”

“It is more comfortable than anything I have 
enjoyed since I left Metamor three months ago.” 
Abafouq thanked her and after another bit of wine 
to relax themselves they retired for sleep.

But sleep was something the Binoq found he could not have.

Up to the moment he laid down he was certain he 
would fall asleep right away. But when he 
snuggled into the quilts his eyes opened and 
stayed open. Light slipped around the edges of 
the tapestry covering the window, and it was 
enough for his eyes to count the stones and 
wooden beams in the ceiling and trace the path of 
the mortar holding it all together. He attempted 
to lose himself in the network of lines, turns, 
and crevices, but no matter how far he wandered 
his eyes always returned to the spot above his 
head where two cross-beams neared but never quite met.

It was not the smell. Every animal-morphed Keeper 
had some sort of unusual smell about them, but 
Kayla's musk was particularly unpleasant; or it 
would have been if a little spell didn't mask the 
worst of it. He had enjoyed her company for many 
months and had grown used to the way her 
particular tang made his nose itch. And though it 
was stronger within her quarter than he'd ever 
experienced before, it was all the more 
comforting for its unpleasantness because it meant his friend was near.

But there was something missing.

After an hour staring at the ceiling, and after 
he could hear Kayla's churring slumber, Abafouq 
slipped from the quilts and quietly eased out of 
her quarters. The hallway beyond was narrow and 
straight; it had been a broad intersection when 
they arrived. He shook off his disorientation at 
the Keep's peculiar magic and began walking.

After a few minutes of halls marked by the 
occasional tapestry, banner, or decorative statue 
of some ancient king, Abafouq reached a long 
spiral staircase twisting up into darkness. The 
darkness alone caught his attention; the subtle, 
quiet magic of Kyia always had lanterns or 
torches every twenty to thirty paces in the rest of the Keep. Why not here?

He produced a witchlight behind his head and 
started up. The stairs turned to the right and 
were broad enough three grown men could stand 
abreast. Having spent his entire life in the 
mountains, Abafouq found them an easy climb. 
After he settled into a rhythm they became 
relaxing. Every step led him up. Lift one knee. 
Set down one foot. Lift other knee. Again and 
again. On all sides was cold, gray stone. A Binoq could savor it.

The stairs, after many minutes of climbing, ended 
in a wooden hatch which he pushed upward. He 
gasped when he saw the four brass bells around 
the central pillar of stone and the open air of 
night through the four large gaps in the tower 
walls. He blinked and shook his head. Where else 
but the belfry did he think he had been going?

He walked toward the opening nearest the hatch 
and stood, flexing his fingers. A year ago he had 
braced himself in the same spot, weaving a 
magical construct to pierce the vortex of magic 
Yonson had erected to trap them within. He could 
hear the echoes of his friends grunting and 
crying out as they battled the Shriekers and 
Marzac's dread wizards. He shuddered at the 
memory of the Marquis's laugh. He could still 
feel the pain from the card he'd been forced to touch.

Abafouq walked around the bells, a part of him 
afraid of what he would find on the other side of 
the belfry. He trembled with each step, a part 
certain he would see a golden censer dripping 
with malice. Instead he gasped in relief when he saw his friend.

“Guernef! Why are you in this place?”

The Nauh-kaee glanced at him, blinked hard avian 
eyes, and then turned his resolute stare upon the 
bells larger even than he. “The same as you. Remembering.”

Abafouq came to his friend's side and rested a 
hand on his shoulder where the feathers met the 
fur. “I am being glad to see you here. I... I do not wish you to leave.”

Guernef said nothing. This would not be the first 
time in their journey they had spoken of parting 
ways. It had been the rock upon which all of 
their words had rested in the days since throwing 
off Marzac. Almost seven years ago he was 
banished from Qorfuu; it was then he had sought 
the Nauh-Kaee out at Qan-af-årael's command and 
after nearly freezing atop the mountains was 
rescued by them. Guernef became his protector and 
brought him food and taught him to survive on the 
forbidding peaks. At times he felt a colleague to 
the white gryphon, but at others he felt more a 
servant and even at others a kept animal. And yet 
Guernef was his friend, no matter his beastly 
guise or manner. When Guernef left Metamor he 
would be taking a part of Abafouq with him.

The Binoq's gaze followed his friend's. The brass 
bells were broader than the Nauh-kaee and even 
when a sudden wind coursed through the belfry the 
bells were unmoved. He could not help but recall 
the carillon James had dropped on Zagrosek in the 
Chateau. But were they had oozed a conscious 
malevolence, these merely carried the taint of memory.

“What do you see?” Abafouq asked. With so little 
light even the brass appeared dull. Other than 
their shape the Binoq could see nothing in them.

Guernef stretched out his wing and brushed it 
across the top of Abafouq's head. “I see the 
place where ancient winds sought to drive the 
clouds yet to come back to the sea. Those winds 
are gone, their touch only in the whispers of 
memory. New winds will come, a breeze, a 
blizzard, they will come. I listen to the winds, 
and am carried by them. You are strong; they 
buffet you but as the mountain you do not move.”

The avian beak and eyes turned, capturing Abafouq 
with his characteristic intensity. “I see a Binoq 
who must remain so. The Path of the Sky is mine 
and I have walked it. The wind may shelter the 
stone for a time, and even may wish to abide and 
be as stone for a time, but it must go and return 
as it will. You are my friend, Abafouq. This 
parting will not be our last. But you have 
friends here too. Stone is never alone.”

Abafouq rested his hand on Guernef's beak and 
then leaned his face in. He laughed, chest 
tensing, eyes closed tight to keep from crying. 
The surface of the beak was hard and though 
smooth in appearance, was crisscrossed with 
subtle cracks. Never before had he clutched the 
Nauh-kaee's head so. Guernef spread his wing 
across the Binoq like an awning. Despite the cool 
mountain breeze the two friends felt nothing but warmth.

And together they stayed until the first light of 
an early Summer's dawn made the bells glisten 
with radiance, pure and bright with Metamor's pride.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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