[Mkguild] Driven by the Wind (2/2)

[C. Matthias]

And here's part 2.  Thanks to Ryx for adding the dream scene.

Part 2 of 2

Metamor Keep: Driven by the Wind
by Charles Matthias and Ryx


“Enjoyed the spoils of fishing?”

Lindsey lifted his head from the hefty platter 
once filled with half-a-dozen cooked fillets. At 
first he'd been careful not to eat any of the 
bones, but the last three he'd given up and the 
final fillet he swallowed in single bite. His stomach still wanted more!

Behind him and just out of reach of his tail was 
his older brother in human guise. He'd tied his 
long red hair with string to keep loose strands 
from catching in the rigging. He combed his 
fingers through the end of the bundle as he smiled.

“I could have eaten twice as many,” Lindsey 
admitted as he scraped his claws across the 
platter. “Could you ask Mogaf to make more? I'll 
eat them cold if I must.” He glared at his 
midsection and then thumped his tail so hard on 
the deck a nearby sailor jumped. “Why am I so 
hungry, Phar? I haven't needed to eat this much since we flew back to Metamor!”

Pharcellus laughed and pressed his hands down 
either side of his spinal ridge. Lindsey felt the 
tension ease with each rub. “You are a dragon, 
dear brother! The more you fly the more you must 
eat. It is why our elders only fly when they 
must. You have been flying a great deal these 
last few weeks. I am surprised it has taken you 
so long to notice the hunger! I will ask Mogaf to 
make you a dozen more fillets. Trust me, you will 
eat every last one. And tomorrow you will have twice as many again!”

Lindsey swung his long neck around, staring down 
his snout at the plate empty but for the bones of 
the first three fish. “Two dozen? Three? Is my stomach so large?”

“You already ate a deer by yourself!” Pharcellus 
laughed as he pressed harder. His hands reached 
the base of Lindsey's wings and they began to 
stretch. “Just wait until you enjoy cow roasted with your own flame!”

The thought of beef flanks seared with his own 
breath made his jaws ache and fangs glisten with 
drool. “I'm hungry enough already and you taunt 
me more! Curse you for having a human form too! 
Tell Mogaf... tell him...” His tongue lolled from 
his snout as his brother's hands worked loose the 
tension in his wing muscles. He laid his head 
atop the plate, tongue licking the taste of fish 
from the last bones. “Tell him... more food... after this!”

Pharcellus laughed again. “Of course brother. 
There are so many wonderful things to enjoy when 
you are a dragon, are there not?”

Lindsey offered no argument as he stretched his 
sore wings and all his limbs. His stomach could wait.

----------

The day waned though the wind did not. Even as 
the sun neared the sea and the sky bronzed as a 
leaf in Autumn the pace aboard Venture Swift 
slackened only to catch its breath. The sailors 
readied lanterns along the decks and masts while 
the first mate took readings of the shoreline for 
the captain while they still could see it. 
Captain Calenti listened to the man with one ear 
while the other and both eyes focused on their guests.

Atop the aft castle the Metamorians gathered in a 
wide circle while Malger played a variety of 
tunes on his flute. He'd passed out hand-made 
instruments to each of the children – a drum made 
from the remnants of a torn sail and scrap, 
finger cymbals made from hammered coins, a tube 
of metal for a whistle, and even a pair of rocks 
– and they played their parts with unbridled 
enthusiasm if not much rhythm. But the marten was 
skilled enough to wend his tune between their 
clanking, banging, and wheezing to bring something enjoyable forth.

Parents and friends clapped hands and paws in a 
boisterous march, while Lindsey provided a bass 
with regular whumps of his tail. Calenti's foot 
tapped in time and eventually his first mate 
grumbled and began muttering the numbers to 
himself. Malger offered him a swift arpeggio as 
he toiled in his evening duties.

A few of the sailors, their duties complete for 
the day, joined Calenti in watching the beastly 
company. One of them produced an old lute with 
two broken strings and sketched a passing 
accompaniment to the marten. Malger danced on his 
feet toward the older sailor, did a pirouette 
without skipping a note, and bobbed his head and 
chest in a way no human could have done to invite 
the unlikely musician to join him on the deck.

Pharcellus stood moments later and gave a third 
melodic voice with a loud whistling both deep and 
energetic despite his human guise. Malger's eyes 
lifted in surprise and the two proceeded to race 
up and down scales as if chasing each other to 
see who was fastest. Pharcellus easily glided 
between notes as his lips pursed and spread, 
tongue clicking against flat teeth to add accents 
with each change. Malger's fingers shimmered 
above his flute like hummingbirds feasting in a garden.

The sailor with the old lute scowled at both of 
them and played several sour notes until marten 
and dragon ended their race with a flourish and 
capped it with boisterous laughter. The children, 
seeing the song was done, started to hit each 
other with their instruments until Kimberly and Misanthe chided them.

“Who else will join us in our song? The night 
begs for music!” Malger declared, throwing his 
arms outward. “Charles, Garigan, Kurgael?”

Kurgael, who had been reclining to the far side 
of the deck, shook his head forcefully. “I've no 
ear for music, your grace. I'll listen happily.”

“If you've anything for us to play, we will!” 
Quoddy announced. He and his brothers perched on 
the gunwale and bobbed back and forth with each 
wave. “I won't promise we'll sound good.”

“Tonight is not about sounding good,” Malger 
assured them. He then offered a wink toward the 
sailor. “Sometimes sounding bad is the best thing 
of all. My good man, if you care to try it, I 
brought my own lute with a full set of strings. 
You have a good ear; would you care to try it?”

“Begging your pardon, your grace, but I've used 
my own for thirty years and could never play 
without it.” His hands ran down the wooden casing with a tender pride.

“Very well then! Quoddy, Lubec, Machais, I've 
nothing for you to play but I imagine you sing 
the spirit of the sea! Charles, Garigan, I know 
both of you can sing so do so even if you have no 
words. And Kurgael, if you are on this deck with 
us then you will do something. Fetch him a boat 
oar! You can drum it against the gunwale and help 
Lindsey keep time. All right now, children are 
you ready to play again?” He received a chorus of 
excited squeaks in reply. “Then let us serenade 
the night!” He laughed in delight as the most awkward sounding serenade began.

Within moments every sailor aboard either stared 
in bemused wonder or fled below decks to try to 
bury their ears beneath their arms.

----------

He had tried to use one of the hammocks the first 
night he slept aboard the Venture Swift, but no 
matter how he laid down, Gmork's Prodigal was not 
comfortable sleeping in a man-like shape. So he 
found a corner in the hold near the stem, and 
laid upon a pile of rumpled blankets as a wolf. 
His nose wrinkled in disgust at the stink of 
man-sweat, fish, tar, and salt. He pushed his 
head into the blanket at his forepaws to muffle 
the stench; his own musky odor pervaded the 
blankets after more than a week of bedding in them and this was comforting.

The snoring of the crew offended his ears but he 
had already learned to ignore the more raucous 
sound of sleeping Keepers and so he folded back 
his ears and put it out of his mind as best he 
could. In an hour or so he would relax enough to 
sleep through the night. The crew knew not to 
venture into his corner – one fellow had stumbled 
over him while drunk and nearly lost a leg when 
Gmork's Prodigal snapped at him with his jaws – so he would not be disturbed.

He sighed into the blankets and stretched his 
hind legs. His time spent practicing with Charles 
had invigorated all of his muscles and for once 
the sedentary life forced on him had not let him 
sore and anxious. Perhaps tonight he wouldn't 
dream of loping through the woods with his father and brothers.

He briefly recalled the young boy, not even quite 
a man, from Fjellvidden, his face pock-marked 
with warts, who he helped deliver to his father. 
A part of him hoped he'd escaped back to his 
master the tanner and his fellow apprentices. 
Another part hoped he had a new brother. He 
trembled and flicked his tail, pressing shut his eyes in horror.

But no matter how he tried, his thoughts always 
circled back to his father. He could imagine his 
scent and the growl of his voice, and after these 
came his golden eyes and gray fur. His heart 
ached from absence and a fury seemed to beat 
within as if imprisoned. Why can I not hate you, father?

But he didn't and couldn't. He whimpered and 
whined for a few minutes, the wolf's only way to 
express his sorrow for what he'd become and what 
he'd done to his friends, to his brothers, and most especially to his father.

It came unbidden but the voice, guttural yet 
gentle, was his father's. I love you, my prodigal.

He lifted his head, ears erect. The snores of the 
crew met him. He offered a plaintive whine.

The prodigal returns to his father.

He whined again, lowering his head. He was 
Gmork's Prodigal. The prodigal never knew peace 
until he returned humbled to his father. He would 
be welcomed back with baying and joy. They would 
hunt and feast upon a mighty buck.

I am here, my pup. You will always know how to find me.

And he did. Gmork's Prodigal could not put a name 
to the place, but he felt the way across the sea 
and back north between the mountains into a deep 
forest on the edge of man's domain. He wagged his 
tail, anxious; he could not cross the seas himself.

I am ready to welcome you home, pup. I am your father. You are mine.

He whined anew and unable to sleep, unable to 
face his father, Gmork's Prodigal stepped out of 
the blankets and loped up the narrow stairs to 
the deck. Starlight blossomed above and the sea 
drowned all other scents. He paced back and forth 
around the fo'c'sle, panting and alert. He no 
longer felt his father's presence, but the terror 
of his near-surrender filled him. What would he 
have done were they on land the next time he felt 
the call? Seven times before he'd felt his 
father's voice come to him in the night, but none 
had been so powerful as this. What was different?

He wanted to sit on his haunches and lose himself 
among the stars, but he was far too anxious to 
sit. He knew the night sailors were watching him. 
Charles was not on duty yet or surely he would 
have come to the wolf's side. Where was Lindsey 
or Pharcellus? At least one of the dragons was usually on deck to sleep?

He lifted his nose and a moment's taste of the 
air told him. Lindsey reclined on the aft castle. 
It also told him of someone else. The pungent flavor of a ferret.

Gmork's Prodigal turned back to the deck stairs 
and came snout to snout with Garigan. It was too 
dim to read the ferret's face, but his posture 
and scent showed worry. “Jerome? Are you all right?”

He wanted to take on a more man-like shape and 
tell him everything he'd just felt, but his paws 
and snout remained. A ripple passed through his 
pelt and nothing more. He whined, ears back, even as he danced on his paws.

Garigan finished climbing the stairs and then sat 
down next to the gunwale, bent over so he almost 
seemed a wolf on his haunches. He tipped back his 
head and began to sing a wisp of melody. His ears 
turned at the music and he felt the anxiety 
draining. Gmork's Prodigal stepped to the 
ferret's side and after the first verse managed 
to sit. He too tipped back his head and howled 
the next verse with his fellow Sondecki.

And for a time, lost within the comforting Song 
of the Sondeck, he remembered the name his father 
stole from him. And he hoped with every beat of 
his heart, every cadence of song, and every mote 
of the ancient power within him their journey to 
Sondeshara would show him the way back to his friends.

His howls turned to song as the fur receded and 
his snout withdrew. Fingers emerged and spread 
wide. His pelt fell down across his shoulders and 
back as a black robe bearing the shield, red 
hand, and white sword. His legs and tail 
remained, but there was enough of the man even 
there he was able to stand upright to finish the 
song. Garigan stood with him, his voice rising with the final refrain.

Only when the echoes in their being faded did he 
turn to his fellow Sondecki and say, “I cannot 
sleep alone. I will lose myself if I do it again.”

“I will not say his name... but can you feel him?”

“He called to me...” He shook his head and cast 
his gaze briefly to the north. “I fear if I am 
separated from you and the others I will run back to him.”

Garigan stood an inch taller. “I will not leave you, Jerome.”

“Thank you, but there are two better for this. 
You need your sleep too, my friend.”

“Who?”

He smiled, though kept his lips close to hide the 
fangs he still had. “The dragons. I do not know 
why, but his voice is always muted when I am near them.”

Garigan nodded and cast a glance at the 
aft-castle. “In sooth? I wonder why... Even so, I 
will stay by your side this night.”

“Thank you. You know, Garigan, you may have only 
known of your Sondecki powers for two years, but 
I feel as if you could have been our teacher. Thank you.”

“Then you and Master Matthias have taught me 
well! Come, let's go wake up some dragons!”

He could not help but bark a laugh.

----------

The ship was sinking, and there was no land in sight.

The mast was a mere splinter of its former self, 
the oars along the port side in a similar state. 
Benches were littered with bodies and water was 
pouring into the shattered hull making them 
float, staining the torrent black with blood.

Bar scrambled away from the flood, hauling 
himself toward the higher starboard benches, but 
as fast as he went the water seemed to be faster, 
lapping at his heels. Despite being crew on ships 
for nearly a decade Bar could not swim and the 
roaring surge of water sent his heart racing.

But there was one thing moving faster even than 
the water turning his fear of drowning into a 
keen edged panic he could not escape. Rats! They 
surged out of the bilge and hold in a squealing, 
hissing mass, their sharp claws clutching and 
skittering across the deck. Rats the size of 
cats, dogs, even men boiled from the dark hidden 
recesses of the ship seeking any buoyancy they 
could find as frantically as Bar did. Chests and 
bags and boards and oars and bodies bobbed about 
in the water, floating away from the stricken 
vessel as the bow tipped down for its final, fateful plunge into the abyss.

Rats! Rats everywhere, piling upon everything, 
sinking every lifeline as quickly as the boat.

Terror boiled in Bar's breast as he slipped, 
falling to the splintered deck, and a wave of 
rats surged over him. Drawing breath to shriek 
out the last exhortation of life Bar suddenly 
found his voice frozen, his eyes gazing upon a 
figure clambering up from the flooded hold below.

It was another rat, but not like the monsters 
darting hither and fro, over and under and upon 
him. No, this rat stood tall, like a man, on two 
legs. One side of his face was burned, likely 
from the fires of spilled lanterns. In one hand 
the rat carried a shattered oar stave which he 
used to prop himself up on the listing deck, seemingly unperturbed at its cant.

The other rats, as well, seemed to take note of 
his presence; they fled from him in a wave of 
suicidal terror, plunging into the water or back 
into the flooding depths below. The man-like rat 
strode toward Bar, who still lay sprawled upon 
the deck now bereft of any but the two of them.

Bracing the broken oar upon the deck the man-rat 
extended a hand as knobby and clawed as the rats 
he had scattered, “Come, it is safe. You need not 
fear me.” All the while ignoring the blood 
blackened water lapping around rodent feet. 
Reflexively Bar reached out for the surcease of 
offered grasp, his terror of the mundane – if 
incredibly large – rats allayed by their apparent 
fear of this rat who was not quite a rat. Strong 
fingers grasped his hand, pulling him upright.

Sunlight gleamed upon the water, lifting the boat 
upon the crest of a wave and settling it gently 
into its trough. Unmanned oars bumped and thunked 
in their locks and the sail snapped confidently 
in the breeze. The boat sat upon an even kill, 
its planks unstained, ready to journey to 
wherever the odd rat and lone oarsman might take 
it. “There is no need to fear us,” The man-rat 
said with a smile of prominent teeth, black eyes 
gleaming. The one side of his face was still 
burnt, the only evidence of the scene which had 
vanished as unexpectedly as the swarming vermin.

Surprisingly, Bar found he did not fear the 
upright rat dressed as a man might dress, a 
gleaming staff held in one hand and Bar's hand 
within the other. With a last glance down at the 
bestial yet strangely human hand within the curl 
of his fingers Bar had a momentary wonder at what 
there was to fear before he slipped into the void between dreams.

Rat, boat, water, and man faded into the half 
images of fading dreams and Malger quirked one 
corner of his muzzle in a rueful smile. Such were 
the fears of men; rats, water, death, and so many 
things manifestly more powerful in the moments of 
their dreams. Or nightmares, as Malger had found the oarsman Bar locked within.

Presented with the strangeness come aboard as 
passengers on their ship Malger had expected 
there to be nightmares, at least at first. For 
some they might crop up throughout their journey, 
and Malger would be there to steady their resolve 
and let them find reassurance in their dreams 
rather than fear, for he well knew fear would 
persist beyond the dream, beyond sleep. Fear 
would fester, and give rise to anger, hatred, and 
danger for all on this journey.

“I do hope you're not going to keep what I seek 
them to know at bay, my Love.” A gentle feminine 
voice reached his ears, metamorphosing the wry 
quirk of his muzzle to a genuine smile. Raising 
his eyes Malger found himself looking rather 
steeply upward at a dragon of black and silver 
equally as large as Charles' scaled friend 
Pharcellus when he took on his natural form. Eyes 
as deep and black as the night sky, and as 
spangled with glimmering starry motes, gazed down at him though not with ire.

“Ahh, Mosha my dearest, I know your touch upon a 
sleeper's Dream even when I am not tenanting it.” 
He assured the large beast with a bow and a sweep 
of one arm. “I am merely smoothing choppy waters 
to ensure a pleasant journey for all.”

“And a safe one.” The dragoness rumbled amiably.

“For all.” Malger's gaze flicked momentarily to 
one side though his furry, bewhiskered muzzle did 
not turn. “Even the most inquisitive.” Stepping 
forward he raised a hand to touch lightly upon 
the dragon's lowered snout. “He finds me so easily.”

“He does,” The dragon observed with a subtle hint 
of humor, “More easily at his age than even you, 
or any other, has for many an age.”

“Well, I've been told they do mature at a much 
swifter rate than I did as a child.” Turning 
slightly, tracing his fingers along the jawline 
of the dragon to her neck, he gazed toward the 
shadowy half-real gangway of a boat only half 
remembered. “Come now, did I not say you could 
approach, Charlie?” Though his given name was 
Charles like his father, Malger had decided not 
long after the ship set sail to call him Charlie 
instead. From the depths of the gangway two dark 
eyes peered out, whiskers that were mere pale 
hints against the darkness twitching. “Yes, my 
boy, we see you. There is no need to fear, 
Nocturna is merely
 being as she chooses to be, 
this night.” He glanced up at the large reptilian 
head hovering over his own to peer at the owner 
of those dark, gleaming little eyes.

“He certainly is most curious of you, Malger. And I, though he knows not why.”

“Nock...” A quavering voice issued from the 
gangway, “Nockurna? Bad dream lady?”

Squatting to put himself at closer to eye level 
Malger nodded, then shrugged one shoulder. “Yes, 
and no.” He held out a hand and flexed his claw 
tipped fingers beckoningly. “Come forth, lad. 
Your father will not be angry with you, and I am not, nor is Nocturna.”

Creeping up the last couple of steps from the 
gangway, now more concrete about them as Malger 
and Charlie's memories created it as one would 
the props of a dream, Charlie crept out into the 
open. He was no different in the Dream than he 
was in the waking world; a young rat who stood upon two legs as a man might.

He had no memories of being a human as he had 
been born a rat. He would ever see himself as 
such in the Dream, unless there was a requirement 
he appear in a different guise for Nocturna's needs.

The young rat looked cautiously up at Nocturna's 
draconic visage but did not quail from it. His 
experiences with dragons had not, heretofore, 
been ones to engender the expected developed as 
one grows, hears stories, and learns just how 
deadly dangerous a roused dragon could be. 
Lowering her head even with Malger's shoulders 
she huffed a puff of silvery steam from her nostrils.

Charlie giggled despite himself as the waft of 
steam knocked Malger's forward onto his muzzle.

“Dragon lady is bird lady too?” Charlie asked as 
he approached, rounded ears pricked forward.

“Bird?” Nocturna rumbled gently, though Malger 
sensed a sudden tension beneath the smooth scales 
under his fingers. He pushed his hat back up with 
his free hand. Charlie nodded cautiously.

“Black bird lady talk with Daddy.” He offered, 
standing bravely before the very creature who 
presented itself, in the form of a black raven, 
to his father Charles in a different dream. “And 
Daddy go
 away. To a bad place, with a dark, bad 
person.” Wringing his hands Charlie glanced down 
at the night shadowed deck beneath his paws and 
then looked back up. “But Daddy came back, 
without the bad person.” One hand raised slightly 
to point at Nocturna. “You bad dream bird lady? Nockurna.”

“He is astute.” Nocturna puffed with incredulous humor.

Malger heaved a sigh, but could only nod. 
“Nocturna is she, Charlie, yes. Your father 
wanted – needed something. One who lied to him 
made him seek Nocturna, Charlie, but she is not bad.”

“Nor good.” Nocturna observed laconically, “Not exactly.”

“He
” Charlie paused, casting about for words 
that he had yet to learn to explain himself. 
Despite being only a shade older than one year 
Malger was mightily impressed at his ability to 
speak at all, much less enter the Dream. But 
Charles had told him their children, those of 
many animal-cursed keepers, matured many times 
faster than human children, slowing only after a 
year or three. “He fears black bird lady.” 
Charlie finally managed to blurt. “She is not of 
The Father and the Yew, but Daddy went to her 
anyway.” He looked up and boldly met Nocturna's reptilian stare. “Went to you.”

“He did.” Nocturna offered with a slow nod. The 
young rat did not flinch from the dragon's head, 
equally as large as his entire body, or the 
momentary flashes of long ivory fangs as she 
spoke. “And I am not of Eli's realm, no.”

“Am I?” Charlie asked, showing for the first time a tiny crack of fear.

“Yes, if you choose.” Nocturna continued, 
stretching out her long silver and black scaled 
form to rest her huge head upon the wooden deck. 
“But you are also of this realm.” One wing lifted 
to sweep in a short arc toward the sea and night 
sky beyond the dream-created boat only they occupied.

“Bad dream place?”

“No. A dream place.” The dragon assured him. 
“Good and bad. You know Malger, is he bad?”

“No.” Charlie shook his head.

“The Dream is not bad, Charlie; the story the 
Dream brings is – sometimes – bad. Because we 
remember bad more easily than good. But it is not 
a thing you should be scared of.”

“Bad dreams scary, though!”

Nocturna's teeth gleamed in a brilliant, though 
unsettling, dragon grin. “They are meant to be. So you remember them.”

“But they make bad sleep. Erick has bad dream of 
not being home. Boat makes noise, moves, makes bad sleep for Erick. But I fix!”

“You fix?” Malger raised an eyebrow, head tilted in a curious stare.

“Tell Erick to remember wagon. No bad sleep in wagon, even moving.”

“Before you went to bed?”

Charlie shook his head, “No, here, when I see him 
in bad dream place. Make him think of wagons, bad place go away.”

“Already he does this.” Nocturna grunted, though 
quietly for Malger's ears before speaking more 
loudly, “Charlie, what has your father said of Nocturna?”

“Bad dream lady. But Daddy not say, I hear from 
others at stone house when we stay there. They 
say big dog lady talks to many that are not of 
the Yew, and bad dream lady is one she does not like to talk to.”

“Lothanassa Raven.” Malger offered with a 
sidelong glance down at the huge head resting on 
the deck near his crossed legs. “Children at the castle say this?”

The young rat nodded, finally crossing his legs 
and sitting down as well, his muscular rat tail 
flicking around to drape across his lap. “Some. 
Bigger kids say mean things. Some are like us, go 
to Ecclesia. Some are not, go to other house, 
where bid dog lady talks to different 
 spirits?” 
He looked confused at the last word, not 
understanding the full concept of the Pantheon.

“Aedra.” Malger offered. “Like the Ecclesia, but with different gods.”

“I guess.” Charlie shrugged.

“Charlie, this place, were we are, is a place 
only you can reach, and I can reach. It is the place of dreams.”

“I know. I'm asleep next to Erick. This is a dream.”

Malger shared a momentary glance with the 
dragoness sprawled next to him, her bulk curled 
around behind him to dominate much of the boat's 
unoccupied deck. “Yes, this is a dream. I would 
like to talk to you, about the dream. Here, in 
the dream. Maybe later, when we are awake, but 
don't tell anyone except your Daddy, okay?”

“Why?”

“I do not know the answer, Charlie. And your 
brother and sisters won't know, either, or your 
mother. Your father knows. He has seen Nocturna. He understands.”

“A secret?”

“Yes, Charlie, our secret, between you, your father, and me.”

“And her.” Charlie nodded toward the dragoness.

“She lives here.” Malger chuckled, “The secret can't be hidden from her.”

“Oh.” Charlie mulled this over for a few seconds, “Cheater.”

With a burring chuff Malger laughed and even the 
huge black and silver beast filling the deck rumbled humorously.

----------

The wind slackened enough to give Charles a brief 
respite from his duties as early morning twilight 
graced the sky. Dandelo assured him it was only a 
lull and the wind would return as sure as a dog 
to its vomit. The moon was a sliver low in the 
eastern sky. Tomorrow it would be nothing at all. 
The nights were not as short as at Metamor, but 
it would be several hours yet before he could 
sink into well-earned rest in his family's bed.

He took his short rest upon the fo'c'sle next to 
the bow-spirit. He peered down at the leaping 
dolphin when his eyes tired of the last stars. 
The soft lapping of waves upon the prow lulled 
his senses. He blinked a wisp of sleep away and 
clasped his hands in prayer. Words murmured from 
his tongue, words he could not recall after they 
were uttered. A prayer? A plea? Something of the sort.

Loud footfalls woke him from his stupor. He 
half-turned and smiled. The young dragon Lindsey 
approached, wings tucked in tight, head lifted as 
high as his neck could reach. A fang-filled smile 
touched his face and bright purple-flecked golden 
eyes greeted him. “Good morning, Charles. How was your night?”

“Busy,” he admitted, rubbing soreness from his 
muscles. “But good. We've added a few more 
leagues. Sutthaivasse cannot be far now. And 
after her, Whales! And then Boreaux. And then...”

“Sondeshara!” Lindsey hissed the name as he came 
to the rat's side. “You know, I had never heard 
of the place until you spoke of it on our journey to Marzac last year.”

“And I had never heard of Metamor or even Arabarb 
until I journeyed north into the Midlands a 
decade ago.” Charles turned and leaned against 
the gunwale. “Yet here we are together. I hope 
one day I can come with you to visit your 
homeland. I hope... “ He grimaced and turned back to the sea.

Lindsey stepped out onto the bow-spirit and lay 
across it, tail dangling over the side to wrap 
around the leaping dolphin. He spread his wings 
over Charles's head like an awning. He gave out 
to the sea and a long hiss escaped his throat. 
“It is the land across the sea; the land Zhypar was born in.”

Charles chuffed and lifted his whiskers. “It is.” 
He stepped up and put one paw upon the 
bow-spirit, dark eyes fixed upon the dark-blue 
southern horizon. “It's a beautiful land, 
Lindsey. I do miss it. I will miss Metamor even more.”

“We all will. We do.” Lindsey sighed and Charles 
felt the wood shift beneath his feet. “Do you 
think you will never see it again?”

“I don't know,” Charles lowered his snout for a 
moment, hands balled into fists. “I fear it. 
But... this is what we must do. For Jerome. For Garigan. For my family.”

“For you,” Lindsey finished. “I had to return to 
my homeland. I learned something about myself I 
never would have thought possible.” He belched a 
gust of flame and hissed a laugh. “You need to 
return for yourself more than any of the others, Charles.”

The rat favored him with an amused grin. His ears 
perked, and a measure of confidence filled him. 
“Perhaps... no. You are right, my friend. You are 
right. I won't be a dragon! But...”

“But you'll have more peace in your heart than you have ever had.”

He blinked and stared to the south for several 
seconds. In only the few minutes they'd been 
talking the horizon had brightened to a pale 
blue. The wind pressed at his back and he heard 
the sail snapping taut. He leaned forward and 
rested his hand upon his knee. “Lindsey... I... I 
envy you. You're right again. I don't know what 
the future holds or where it will take us, but 
its a chance for us to right the wrongs of our past.”

“And it is coming fast! We'll be there before we know it.”

“Aye!” Neither said anything more as they watched 
the southern skies. Dawn of a new day aboard the 
Venture Swift was nearly there.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.integral.org/archives/mkguild/attachments/20171119/c7e9f906/attachment-0001.html>