[Mkguild] Faithful Battles (7/7)

[C. Matthias]

Part 7

Metamor Keep: Faithful Battles
By Charles Matthias

Felsah had hoped for a little time to peruse 
Patriarch Akabaieth's journals, but all he 
managed before Richard arrived was a brief prayer 
for Elvmere's soul. Felsah let the open journal 
cover drop when he heard the soft scuffling of 
Richard's paws outside his door. “Come in, Richard.”

The mouse opened the door and gingerly shut it. 
He then got down on all fours and stared at the 
bottom of the door. “What are you doing?”

“I'm checking to see if there's enough space for 
us to squeeze under your door, Father. Looks like 
there is. We can leave it shut.” He stood back up 
and rubbed his hands over his jowls, 
straightening his whiskers. “You'll probably want 
to disrobe first, Father. I'm going to do so 
too.” So saying, Richard turned away from Felsah 
and began to shimmy out of his brown robe. Felsah 
chittered to himself, hopped once and turned in 
mid-air, then began to pull his black Questioner 
robe over his head. Underneath he had white 
linens; the shirt he also removed, but the 
trousers, hooked over his tail with a button, he 
left on. He folded the white shirt and set it on 
his pallet, and then tenderly folded his robe 
until the red cross filled the top. He lifted it 
to the end of his snout and pressed his jowls and 
incisors against it in what remained to him of a kiss.

“Are you ready?” Richard asked.

“Aye. What do I need to do?”

“It's really quite easy, Father. Just imagine 
yourself as a normal jerboa. Will yourself to be 
a jerboa and the Curses will respond to make you 
so. And when you are ready to become a man again, 
just imagine the shape and will yourself to become it again.”

Felsah took a deep breath and set his robe on his 
pallet. Eyes filled with the beautiful red cross 
of his order, Felsah remembered the nights of his 
boyhood, resting upon the roof tiles still warm 
from the day, and watching the desert mice 
hopping around the scrub outside their village. 
He thought on their shape and size, large feet, 
tail and ears, with small head and body to carry 
them. He had shared part of their size for the 
last three months and would the remainder of his 
life. With a still plea, a quiet aspiration, he 
asked to share it even more. The request was 
directed only within, to his depths and to the boundaries of his flesh.

He squeaked in surprise when his flesh responded.

The red cross and the cell about him swelled in 
size. His hands tingled and he saw his thumbs 
shrink within the changing form until they were 
indistinguishable from the nubs on his palms. His 
breeches were impossibly too large for his hips 
and tail and stayed on a moment longer only 
because they were buttoned. Within seconds the 
world loomed over him and his tail and hips were 
small enough the linens fell to the floor a 
moment sooner than he shrank into them.

Felsah blinked a few times, forepaws on the floor 
before him to steady himself. His neck and head 
stuck straight out and he could see a panorama of 
his crumpled linens around him, the writing desk 
and his chest of clothes and the small bookshelf 
with the journals and prayerbooks towering above 
him. Richard was a giant mouse whose dizzying 
height briefly terrified his heart. He scuttled 
against one corner of his trousers and almost 
started burrowing underneath when he caught 
himself. Felsah took a deep breath and marshaled his thoughts.

I may be in the body of a jerboa; but it is my 
will whether I act as the jerboa instincts guide 
or my own thoughts command. This is just one more 
thing I must understand. A Questioner keeps his 
fear behind his mask and leaves it for Eli to tend.

Composed, Felsah hopped out from under his 
trousers and then onto the top of them. The 
fabric barely dented from his weight, and he 
found the sensation of balancing on flimsy fabric 
otherworldly. He leaned back on his haunches and 
tried to wave his paws before him, but they only 
wanted to go up and down, not side to side.

Richard chittered a laugh as he set his bundled 
robe down against the wall, “Pretty easy, isn't 
it? Now my turn.” Felsah watched as the 
three-foot tall mouse dwindled in size, his tunic 
and trousers crumpling around him, until a 
three-inch long mouse emerged from the remains. 
The mouse ran along the lines of mortar in the 
stone floor, turning with each, until he reached 
the edge of Felsah's trousers. Richard leaned 
back on his haunches and brushed his paws over 
his face, tail stiff and straight behind him.

Felsah hopped down from his trousers and together 
they made their way to the door. What would have 
been a single hop or step now took a few seconds 
of scurrying. The door loomed overhead like 
everything else, Felsah's own cell seemed to be 
the largest most cavernous cathedral ever 
constructed. Between the door and the stones was 
a small gap shorter even than they. Into this 
Richard turned his head and plunged within. His 
skull bulged for a moment and then it was his 
chest which bent. A few seconds of scratching and 
pushing and the little mouse was through.

Felsah flicked out his ears and peered into the 
gap. Warm candle light illumined the hall beyond; 
Richard was still on the other side of the door 
straightening his fur. The gap seemed too small, 
but their bones were flexible. Felsah chittered, 
closed his eyes, and shoved himself into the gap. 
The wood and stone squeezed him tight and he felt 
his eye balls nearly explode from his head. The 
rough wood scraped at his fur and his ears, the 
air was pressed tight in his lungs. He clawed at 
wood and stone, kicking with his legs at the 
stone and air behind him. Little by little his 
body wedged through the gap. His eyes popped open 
when he felt the pressure squishing his head from 
ear to ear together and he saw he'd started to 
emerge into an even more spacious hallway. A 
moment later he pried his haunches from the gap 
and his tail tuft flicked upward in victory.

Richard ran his paws across his jowls and then 
lifted his head, sniffing at the air. Felsah 
leaned back on his haunches and sniffed. The 
sweet scent of apples from Hough's last batch 
lingered in the air, as well as the heady scent 
of Rakka, the dry aroma of Patric's scales, and 
the familiar bouquet of the other seminarians 
each of who had all walked this hall but a day or 
week ago. The strongest odor was melted candle 
wax and it would have been about the only thing 
the human Felsah would have noted. As a 
half-jerboa he could pick out the others no 
matter how strong the wax. But now as a true 
jerboa each scent seemed to arrive as a distinct 
and separate sensation as well as part of a 
whole. He did not picture each of the people or 
objects as he smelled them but recalled the scent 
in his mind on its own. In fact, to his shock, he 
found trying to picture any of the seminarians 
difficult; their scent came first and to go beyond required concentrating.

Even as Richard crept away from the door, Felsah 
stood, staring down either passage. To his 
surprise he realized he could not see where the 
hall ended. Even the ceiling, which was just tall 
enough for Zachary to walk without bending over, 
disappeared into a bronze haze. The other side of 
the hall was fuzzy, the individual stones 
blending into their neighbors to form a solid 
edifice. Where Hough – or the Keep – had arranged 
religious banners he could see them, but the 
colors were muted or missing, and it took a 
minute to recall what each depicted, even though 
he had admired each many times in his three months service.

Yet he could hear the scratching of Richard's 
claws against the stone, the sputtering of the 
candles, and the rasp of scale against scale as 
Patric readied himself for sleep in the cell to 
his right. While everything close to him was 
clear and crisp to his eyes – and brighter than 
he expected – beyond the next door down 
everything faded to an indistinguishable blur and 
only the scents and sounds made any impression.

Little wonder then the jerboa brain he now used 
recalled all things by their scent first and only with great effort an image.

Felsah hopped after Richard alongside the wall 
lined with oaken doors. The candles were arrayed 
on the opposite wall and their shadows were 
hidden beneath them. When they reached the end of 
the hall, they crept along the wall toward the 
more decorative door on the other side leading 
into the sanctuary. They squeezed under this as well.

The sanctuary rose upward beyond imagining. He 
could not even see the arched ceiling; beyond the 
clerestory windows everything faded into a 
darkness his eyes could not penetrate. But he 
knew where the thurifer had swayed casting clouds 
of bitter incense, and the panoply of animal 
scents of all who had visited in the last few 
days were there. He smelled men, dogs, cats, 
deer, cows, swine, rats, mice, weasels, foxes, 
and owls – these last three put a tenebrous chill 
in his heart. There were more and more he could 
identify and to his delight there were many he 
could name not just by species but by their human names.

Richard sat on his haunches and gestured with his 
head toward the exit neither of them could see. 
Felsah waved his paws to signal his assent. 
Together then ran along the wall and then behind 
a tapestry. To the jerboa's surprise, Richard 
jumped onto the back of the tapestry and began 
scurrying up the fabric. Felsah grabbed at the 
fabric and found his little claws gave him a good 
hold. He tensed his hind legs beneath him and 
hopped upward. He spread all of his legs and his 
claws caught the fabric. The tapestry was so 
heavy it did not even stir from his weight.

Felsah chittered to himself and glanced up after 
Richard. The mouse was gone from his sight but 
not his scent. He climbed upward and marveled as 
his claws held his weight and his nose showed him 
the path to follow. The tapestry brought him up 
to a narrow ledge of stone where his friend waited.

Richard sniffed at him and then immediately 
scampered along the ridge. Felsah followed, 
finding it easier than he expected to hop along 
so narrow a path. The ridge ran toward the front 
of the sanctuary and along alcoves where murals 
of saints and apostles were arranged in scenes 
form their lives and from the Canticles. They 
passed toes and sandals larger than them; Felsah 
could not even make out their faces as he passed, 
though a subtle radiance still filled his gaze as he looked at each.

The ridge turned to the right when they reached 
the side altars. The walls opened up and the 
narrow ridge became a broad path no longer stone 
but decorated with cedar paneling and art carved 
into the stone above and wood below. They 
threaded their bodies through curling granite 
vines and grapes, and brass stalks of wheat, 
before scampering across fish with scales 
smelling of sweet forests and tender boughs. Dust 
clung to each despite the best efforts of the 
Followers who came to help clean.

When they reached the back of the side altar they 
found themselves behind a statue of St. Kephas 
overlooking the tabernacle. Richard stopped next 
to the painted feet and sat on his haunches. 
Felsah hopped to his side and made the sign of 
the yew with his paw. He gazed downward at the 
golden copula atop the tabernacle; the altar 
itself was adorned with candles and a bright 
green cloth. Where the cloth did not cover the 
stone it seemed a smear of pink and gray. The 
individual steps leading up to the altar were 
indistinguishable. The scent of wax and incense 
was very strong and he could hear memories of 
chant and a hundred other scents of the prayers 
offered in the two years the altar had seen use.

Felsah leaned his paws on the side of the nearest 
of St. Kephas's feet and tilted his head back. He 
sniffed the air, blinking once as he peered 
upward along his robes to the vastness of his 
height. From his position the face was lost amid 
the beard, and the key held out in his right hand 
was partly obscured by the Canticles carried in 
his left. A giant of the Ecclesia across whose feet scampered two mice.

The brown-furred mouse scooted to the other side 
of the feet before turning to gaze as Felsah did. 
He rubbed his paws across his whiskers before 
folding them one over another as if trying to 
clasp them in prayer. Felsah did the same and 
offered the sweet smell of praise and the bitter 
scent of contrition toward the saint to carry to Eli.

Little claws scratched on the wooden inlay as the 
other mouse scampered along the side altar toward 
the far wall. Felsah laid his paws on St. 
Kephas's toes for a moment more before following. 
Together they slipped between the twisting wooden 
figures and then squeezed into a crack in the 
design into a shadowed and dusty alcove where 
only the scent of his friend touched. The other 
mouse disappeared down into a hole in the mortar 
between the stones and Felsah paused only a 
moment before pushing himself inside. The hole 
was small enough his ears were squished against 
the sides of his head, but not so small as to deform his whole body.

The hole widened somewhat a few steps within, but 
other than the light coming in behind them 
limning their shapes, he had to rely on the brush 
of stone against his whiskers – and the 
occasional bump of his snout against a mouse tail 
– and the familiar scent of his fellow mouse 
ahead of him to find his way. The passage turned 
around a few blocks of stone and descended in a 
long slope, before suddenly emerging onto a 
shadowed shelf between a wall of stone and of 
wood. Beneath them was darkness, while faint 
light stretched around the edge of the wood on 
the left and right. The scent of bread, nuts, 
vegetables, meat, and cheese filled the air and made his belly tighten.

The two mice climbed down a slat of wood jutting 
out of the wall and into a small hole gnawed into 
the oaken wall. Both mice gnawed at the hole as 
they climbed through, widening it just a little 
bit more on their way. The hole was dark but for 
a sliver of light at the far end, and smelled 
strongly of bread and potatoes. Their whiskers 
guided them to the bread wrapped in a rough, 
bristly sack. Felsah sat back on his haunches 
while the other mouse rummaged around the sack. 
Were they trying to scavenge their own larder?

Something tumbled across the floor toward him and 
Felsah returned to all fours sniffing and turning 
his snout back and forth to feel with his 
whiskers. Both nose and whiskers found a hard 
crust of bread, some missed crumb, nudged to his 
side. He flicked out his ears and could hear the 
other mouse gnawing on something. He crept closer 
and back on his haunches, reaching down with his 
paws to pick up the morsel. It slipped from his 
hands the first few times before he tried cupping 
it and pushing it together. He bit into the crust 
with his incisors and pulled in each piece with 
his tongue as he turned it over and over in his paws.

The bread was hard and old but satisfied the 
twitch in his belly. And gnawing felt good, 
comforting the dull ache always in his mouth. He 
listened in the darkness, the little light coming 
through the front of the cupboard drawer faintly 
illuminating the edges of the sack of bread and 
potatoes as well as his friend who also sat on 
his haunches gnawing. He could smell his friend's 
pawprints across the chamber almost as strong as 
the food; how often had he come here for a midnight rodent repast?

He tried to think while eating and found scents 
and sounds distracting him from words at every 
turn. There were so many delectable odors of 
different sorts of good tasting foods throughout 
the larder and his belly drew him in the 
direction of those most pleasing. To his dismay, 
he found he could not even recite a Pater Noster 
before the scent of food or the memory of incense 
intruded. Was scent and particular sounds how 
mice thought? He seemed to retain his reason and 
will, but the former was balked by all things 
particular to the needs and senses of the jerboa.

Before he quite realized it, the morsel of bread 
was gone and he was brushing the tiny crumbs from 
his jowls and paws. He scampered around the 
cupboard, sniffing for any other morsels, and for 
the delectable scents in the air. The other mouse 
was still gnawing, and so he turned to the hole 
and climbed back out and down the slat of wood. 
His claws gave him good purchase and he crawled 
downward until he reached the stone floor. He 
then hopped between the two walls and out into the light.

A single candle had been left lit in the middle 
of the massive table, but it was enough for his 
eyes. His nose was better and he followed it up 
the table leg, his claws digging into the wood 
where it was too high to jump. Before he quite 
realized it he was crawling across the top of the 
table darting from one crumb to the next wedged 
into the wood, digging at them with his paws, and 
then gnawing each in turn to find the tasty ones.

He was surprised by how many crumbs he could 
find; he thought they had cleaned the table after 
they'd eaten their evening meal. But a mouse, 
even a jerboa, needed very little. Eli watches 
over all His creatures, even the smallest.

He finished what he could and then hopped from 
the table to the bench and then the bench to the 
floor. He felt a terrible anxiety being out in 
the middle of such a huge space with nowhere to 
hide. He scurried back to the cupboard and 
followed the scent of his pawprints back up to 
the hole where the other mouse waited.

His friend was still there and just finishing a 
small hunk of potato. They nosed each other and 
he felt his friend's paws brush across his 
whiskers. He flicked out his ears but held back 
the squeak of surprise. The other mouse lowered 
his paws and then squirmed past him and out the 
hole toward the gap in the stone. The jerboa, his belly full, followed.


The two mice scampered into a few other rooms 
through little tunnels through the stone walls 
before finally returned to the sanctuary and 
making their way back into the hall with their 
cells. One by one they squeezed under the door 
which had their paw-print scent and made their 
way back to the piles of clothes which smelled 
like them but not quite. The jerboa nosed the 
rumpled pile of linens for a moment before he 
heard an odd scraping of claw to his side. 
Turning, he saw the other mouse growing impossibly large.

The large mouse picked up some of the clothing 
and held it across his haunches. Words erupted 
from his snout. “Father Felsah, you can change 
back now. Just imagine yourself large again.”

He blinked and rubbed his paws over his snout, 
ears standing wide, before the words managed to 
take shape inside him. It was only a moment's 
delay, before he imagined the world around him 
shrinking and scents fading with them. A sudden 
vertigo struck him as he swelled and he grew to 
see the other mouse eye to eye again.

“Father?”

He blinked, half-turned so his side faced the 
other mouse – Richard he recalled – and picked up 
his crumpled linens. He opened his jaws and 
worked his tongue around until the words came 
out. “I am here. Is it always so? I was... more 
beastly in mind than I anticipated.”

He could see Richard shimmy into his robes and he 
did the same with his linens. His eyes spied a 
black robe folded on his pallet with a red cross 
emblazoned on the front. The Questioner robes. 
His robes. He picked them up and hugged them to his chest.

“Everyone is different, Father, when it comes to 
our beast forms. You seemed yourself to me. 
Adventurous and unafraid. I would never climb 
onto the table to search for crumbs like you did! 
How much... like a beast did you feel?”

“I don't quite know.” He rubbed his forehead with 
one paw and folded his ears back. “I don't think 
I did at first. At some point I started having 
trouble keeping words straight. And I wasn't 
thinking much at all when I left the cupboard to 
find more food. I was hungry and something 
smelled delicious out there. I followed my nose. 
At least I had enough presence of mind to find my 
way back to you.” He grimaced and added, “Richard.”

He gave his head a quick shake. He – Felsah – 
rubbed his ears with the same paw – hand – and 
the flexed his thumb back and forth. “I think it 
is taking me a moment to regain myself. How long were we mice?”

“Four or five candlemarks, I think.” Richard 
straightened his robe and then looked at the 
jerboa with worry in his dark eyes. “Are you all right, Father?”

“I will be,” Felsah replied and turned back, one 
hand pressing his robe tight to his chest, the 
other rubbing the edge of one ear between thumb 
and fingers. He lowered his arm and grabbed his 
tail, flicking it back around behind him. 
“Perhaps it struck me so hard as it was my first 
time. We should do this again, Richard. But let 
us not spend quite so much time in animal form 
until I am used to it and can control it better. 
I'm already thinking in words and not scents 
again. Thank you for this; it is one more thing Eli has for us to understand.”

“It is,” Richard admitted with a touch of 
resignation. “Well, I suppose if we are to have 
any sleep tonight I should return to my cell. 
Good Night, Father Felsah. Eli be with you.”

“And with your spirit, Richard. Good Night.”

----------

After Richard left Felsah spent a short time on 
his haunches in prayer. Exhaustion was beginning 
to set in as the midnight hour neared. Felsah 
blinked several times to keep himself awake long 
enough for the one last task he intended for 
himself. Already the neighboring cells were quiet 
and in the distance he could hear Rakka 
whimpering in his sleep. He could hear Patric's 
measured breath and the scuffling of Richard as 
he settled in to sleep. Only the flickering of 
candles remained and the occasional distant 
footfall in the sanctuary as a penitent came to 
pray and keep watch in the dark, still hours.

Felsah had spent a good amount of time studying 
Akabaieth's journals for himself. He'd checked 
for dog-eared or smudged pages to see what parts 
Elvmere had read many times, but the raccoon had 
been fastidious even in his anguish and left the 
books in nearly pristine shape. He'd even smelled 
them before to try and find where the scent of 
the excommunicated bishop was strongest. But they 
had so long been in his company the books stank 
of both sea and raccoon, and now his own sandy, 
desert scent lingered on the pages. His nose as 
it was could not distinguish enough to be sure he was reading the right pages.

He arrayed the journals in a semi-circle on the 
floor and opened the covers of each. The first 
few pages lifted with them. Once satisfied, 
Felsah removed his linens and willed himself to 
shrink back down into his beastly form. He felt 
his flesh and bones shift as the room swelled 
around him. Scents filled his nose and mind 
again. Felsah took a moment to offer a Pater 
Noster and felt comforted when he reached the end without distraction.

The little jerboa hopped to the first book and 
sniffed the two corners where Elvmere would have 
gripped the pages between the thick pads on his 
fingers to turn. There were little places where 
the scent of raccoon was stronger. He climbed 
onto the book and pushed the pages over and over 
with the top of his head, running from one end to 
the middle and then back again to snare the next 
page. He did this for a dozen pages before 
stopping and sniffing again. The journals were 
thick enough his scurrying barely brought him any 
closer to passages Elvmere must have read time and time again.

Felsah lowered himself to all fours and crawled 
along the side of the book; the pages were taller 
than his back but not his ears. Perhaps there was 
some way he could measure the height where the 
raccoon scent was strongest? Then he could retake 
his half-way human shape and open the book closer 
to the right place first before he attempted to 
find the right pages in the beast shape.

He could not think of anything in his cell to use 
just then, so settled for sniffing each book in 
turn to find the ones with the strongest scents. 
Seven of the books stood out more than the rest 
and on the covers of each he rubbed his paws 
several times so it would be easier to find them 
later. Once he was finished he imagined the room 
shrinking again and words returning to his mind.

Felsah donned his linens again and then collected 
the journals, stacking them on his small 
bookshelf for the night. The battle for Elvmere's 
soul was not going to be won in a single night. 
If nothing else, Eli had given him a shape 
well-suited to one part of the battle.

He extinguished the flame in his lamp and with 
the last dying embers, slipped beneath the quilts 
on his pallet. In a soft whisper, one last prayer 
came to his tongue. “O Yahshua, thank you for 
changing me into a jerboa. Help me not be afraid 
of what you can help me do. Help Richard not be 
afraid and help him see what he can do too. And 
help Elvmere; keep him safe as he goes on patrol. 
Help me understand him. Help Patric and all those 
covered in feathers and scales know your love and 
help us understand the Covenant Stone. Help Troud 
be a good example for those you have placed in 
his care. And help the knight know your will and 
follow it so he may truly repent. Help Father 
Hough come to the aid of the people of Bradanes 
and Iron Mine. And help Father Akaleth on his 
journeys, and all my friends in Yesulam. On You 
we depend and trust. I love You, Yahshua. Amen.”

His hand traced the sign of the yew and closed his eyes to welcome sleep.

As his thoughts and all sensation of the world 
drifted away in the warmth of his bed, he 
wondered what might happen in the jerboa village next.

----------

THE END

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

Charles Matthias