[Mkguild] Bearing the Wolf-Touched (3 of 4)

[C. Matthias]

I'd like to thank Jack for inspiring the walk-on character in this scene. :-)

Part 3 of 4.

Metamor Keep: Bearing the Wolf-Touched
by Charles Matthias


May 16, 708 CR


Early afternoon was one of Quoddy's favorite 
times to sun himself next to one of the fountains 
in the marketplace. The fountain centerpiece had 
once been of a quartet of rearing horses but had 
been destroyed by Nasoj's army nearly a 
year-and-a-half ago; much of what was lost in the 
assault had been repaired but not the fountain. 
Still, the basin was clean which allowed the gull 
to swim a little if he wanted, and it had been in 
the sun all day long which meant the stones were warm too.

The best part were his fellow Keepers. Beginning 
a little before noon and throughout the rest of 
the day, they would come, usually in threes and 
fours but sometimes alone, to recline by the 
fountain and eat their midday meal; many would 
happily share a scrap with a friendly gull. It 
was a game, and most knew it, teasing him with 
some morsel of bread and cheese – or worse, 
fresh-cooked fish – until Quoddy resumed his more 
human guise and traded a few pleasant words with his friends.

It was there his brothers found him. A blue-red 
speckled tokay newly arrived from Bradanes – and 
one who had not yet realized Quoddy's true nature 
– was tearing off a small morsel of an 
odd-smelling meat for him when two larger forms 
descended from the sky and settled on the rim of the fountain behind him.

“I told you we'd find him here,” his brother 
Machias cawed. The puffin noted the gecko and 
laughed. “He's not really a gull you know.”

Quoddy swelled in size, and lowered his beak 
toward their scaly brother. “Please forgive me the deception.”

The tokay stared with large yellow eyes and then 
emitted a croaking laugh. “I should have known! I 
remember meeting you three at the Fellowship in 
January. You're the ones who spend Summer and 
Fall traveling the coasts of Sathmore. I'd be 
happy to share my meal for a story of your adventures.”

“Life as an animal is boring,” Lubec noted with a 
shrug of his wings. The cormorant stepped 
carefully around the fountain so as not to slip 
and dampen his feathers. “You spend most of your 
day fighting the other birds for every scrap of 
food when you aren't flying. But it does give you 
time to lose yourself in contemplation. Far 
better than most adventures you hear of in stories.”

The tokay cocked his head to one side which made 
his wide-jawed face look as if he were about to 
topple over. “I spent my last few years hidden 
beneath rags because of disease. You speak true, friend.”

“Lubec,” their brother said as he offered the tokay a wing.

He grasped the black feathers gently between two 
thick-fingers. “Wyaert. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Quoddy offered his brothers a beak-grin and then 
extended his wing. “And I am Quoddy.”

“Machias,” the puffin added, though he was too 
far back along the fountain to do more than hop about on webbed feet.

Wyaert tore an extra two chunks of cooked meat 
and offered them to the birds. Lubec appeared 
dubious. “I do not think we all have a story we can tell.”

“Consider it a gift then between new friends! I 
do not have time to sit for a single story 
anyway; I must return to my duties soon. Master 
Dunkirk will chop my tail off if he catches me sun-bathing on a rock again!”

“Isn't Dunkirk one of the stone masons?” Machias 
asked after gulping his morsel down.

“It is what I apprenticed as in Bradanes.” He 
lifted one hand and wiggled his dexterous 
fingers. “I can feel the stone even better now 
than I did back then. Who knows? Perhaps I'll 
even help repair this fountain one day.” He 
lifted his meat and bit through half of it.

“Thank you very much for sharing your meal,” 
Quoddy offered in a conciliatory tone. “I owe you 
a story, Wyaert, and I will deliver. Do you come here often?”

The tokay gulped down the last of his meat and 
stood, stretching arms, legs, and tail. “I think 
I will. The sun is warm, the food is good, and 
the company is rewarding! Eli's blessings, my friends!”

They watched Wyaert disappear back into the 
crowds in the marketplace. Once they lost sight 
of him, Machias cawed a little laugh. “Why are 
you begging for food, Quoddy? We have money aplenty now.”

Quoddy nodded. “I know.” Duke Thomas had named 
them honorary members of the Long Scouts and so 
they received the same generous wages. “But every 
copper I spend on some tasty morsel is one less I 
can give to the Ecclesia or to the Fellowship. 
We've never needed money before and they always 
do.” None of them had even owned a pouch to keep 
coins after their change. They'd carried their 
first donations to Father Hough and Emily in their beaks.

Lubec spread his wings as if to dry them, and 
then settled down next to his older brother. “We 
cannot always be just birds. I cannot just... go back to the way things were.”

“I know. But I'm not sure what else we are suited for.”

“Maybe we aren't,” Machias offered, nudging a bit 
of shed fur off the fountain with a webbed foot. 
“Maybe all we have to offer is three smart birds.”

“We are more than smart birds,” Lubec insisted 
and snapped his beak shut. “But,” he conceded 
with a long exhalation, “maybe it's all we can 
offer now. But I will not go back to living as a 
bird for half the year. I love the sea too and do 
not wish to lose it, but... it feels like we only 
fly from what all our friends here face; we 
abandon them. But I will not spy for Metamor 
again... I cannot... at least... not for now.”

Quoddy nuzzled his brother with his beak and 
rested his wing claws on his back. “We won't. And 
you're right. There must be something more we can 
do. Not all of our winged brothers and sisters 
serve as spies or scouts either. Why don't we ask 
them? Eli will help us find our way. Together.”

Lubec's eyes smiled and he beak-nuzzled his 
brother in return. “Thank you. Now about begging for food.”

“I'm not going to spend money on myself,” Quoddy 
objected with a squawk. “It doesn't...” His eyes 
lifted, along with many other Keepers in the 
market, as a shape flew overhead. Dragons were a 
common sight in Metamor especially after the 
Curses when a few of their own had joined the 
draconic ranks; there were also a few dozen young 
dragons from the mountains who offered their 
services to Metamor so they might have adventures 
to increase their stature among their own kind. 
But even though the passing of a dragon overhead 
was something they expect to see every few days 
or so, for most Keepers their magnificence never lost its luster.

For Quoddy the sight was more than a marvel of a 
mighty dragon; it was the welcome return of a 
friend. “Look! It's Pharcellus!” His brothers 
snapped their heads up to see even as Quoddy 
shrank to his feral size and beat his wings, 
lifting off from the fountain and working his way 
up into the sky. His brothers shifted and chased 
him, eyes locked upon the gray-scaled dragon descending from the northwest.

They had no chance catching up to a dragon in 
full flight especially not when starting from the 
ground. But Pharcellus was descending from the 
upper air, turning in a long circle above the 
mighty fortress at the northern end of the hill 
on which Keeptowne was built. On his second pass 
around they were high enough in the sky to catch 
his attention. Pharcellus's determined expression 
broke into one of delight, long jaws opening and 
golden eyes brightening. His long neck ducked and 
rose, carrying his body in a cavorting dance out 
of his spiral and into their midst. The brothers 
had to beat their wings to keep from being spun 
about in the enthusiastic dragon's wake.

They saved the rest of their greetings for the 
ground. Pharcellus banked to the field north of 
the Keep where the Duke preferred dragons to land 
and the brothers followed. After setting claws to 
earth, Pharcellus's body shrank in on itself 
until a crimson-haired young man was standing in 
his place. He spread wide his arms and with 
buoyant laugh welcomed each of the birds with a firm hug.

“Quoddy! Lubec! Machias! It is a joy to see each 
of you again! I was hoping I would find you on my 
return. How are the heroes of Fjellvidden faring?”

Lubec tensed at the name, but the joy of seeing 
their friend was greater. “We are very happy to 
see you! How was your journey back? Did Lindsey stay behind?”

“How is your wing?” Quoddy asked, remembering the 
scar stretched halfway through the leathery folds.

“And how are the people of Arabarb? Have they 
kicked out the rest of Calephas's troops?” 
Machias squawked, not willing to let his brothers 
be the only ones to ask questions.

Pharcellus waved his arms, tipped back his head 
and laughed, long hair bouncing with each breath. 
“You peck me with such wonderful questions and I 
am eager to tell the tale for each! But I am on 
an errand of utmost importance and must be brief. 
Forgive me so small a token for such dear friends!”

Quoddy laughed inside, though he would have 
enjoyed hearing a dragon's tale for each.

“The journey was uneventful but pleasant. Lindsey 
is much more confident in the air and now hardly 
ever crashes when he lands. My brother has come 
with and we brought Jerome as well. We stopped at 
Glen Avery first and there they remain awaiting 
the word I will bring when my errand here is 
complete. My wing is still weak,” he said with 
lowered his head as if in shame at the admission, 
“but it is good enough for an easy flight; 
another month or two and it will should be fully 
recovered. And all our friends in Arabarb are 
well; they returned triumphant from their first 
sortie to reclaim the mouth of the river. The 
hinterlands and the coasts await but they are 
flush with hope to see the last of the brigands routed by Winter's return.”

He gestured with his chin toward the 
blue-liveried soldiers approaching them from the 
castle. “Doubtless yon Duke will wish to hear 
this news, but I fear it must wait for my errand 
here is too important. Jerome's life hangs in the 
balance!” This last he said with such sudden 
intensity they lifted themselves to stand on the 
tips of their webbed feet in anticipation for the rest of the dragon's tale.

“Is he still... beastly?” Quoddy asked, trying 
not to look at his cormorant brother as he spoke. 
They never mentioned Gmork or Lubec's 
enslavement. Lubec was still haunted by the 
occasional nightmare, though his days were spent 
aiding in any way he could those he loved and 
knew at Metamor. Most of the time there was no 
hint at the wound he suffered except the mottled 
feathers strewn about his nest come morning. Even 
at the word from Quoddy there was no outward sign 
other than a faint tightening at the corners of his yellow eyes.

Pharcellus's lips drew into a serious moue – his 
penchant for exaggeration did not extend to the 
needs of his friends. “I fear it is true. My 
errand is for his benefit so I do not wish to 
delay.” The soldiers were almost upon them and to 
them Pharcellus turned his back. “Tell me, my 
friends, do any of you know where I might find Archduke Malger dae ross Sutt?”

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

Charles Matthias
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