[Mkguild] Gauging Loyalty (3/3)

[cokane8116 at aol.com]

 Very Cool story my friend!
 
 
-----Original Message-----
From: C. Matthias <jagille3 at vt.edu>
To: Metamor Keep <MKGuild at lists.integral.org>
Sent: Sun, Sep 1, 2019 4:52 am
Subject: [Mkguild] Gauging Loyalty (3/3)

3 of 3

Metamor Keep: Gauging Loyalty
By Charles Matthias

July 14, 708 CR

To George's chagrin, Sir William led him and a 
small group of soldiers back through the thick 
forests west of Truskmore more quickly than he 
had managed the evening before without snagging 
brushes or ducking branches. They left shortly 
after sunrise and were outside the walls of 
Hareford by mid-morning. George was left to his 
own devices until the noon hour as William met 
with Nestorious and made quick arrangements for a 
larger contingent of soldiers to accompany them to the Dike.

George used his time to sample the wares of the 
Starven merchants. The bear pelts were thick and 
soft to the touch and he knew any Keeper would 
easily keep warm within them. He found several 
arms and legs separated for use in lining winter 
garments, while there were a few full body pelts 
sure to decorate the bedspread of a noble or rich 
merchant. George pondered buying some of the 
smaller pelts for the winter patrols, but he 
didn't have nearly enough money. In the end he 
bought two arms; he'd let Misha try them with the 
Long Scouts to see if it was worth buying more.

It was easier deciding to buy some of the salted 
meats and fish the merchants had brought, at 
least those few they were already cooking to help 
draw buyers. The tang of the salt was distinctive 
to the Giantdowns, cultivated as it was from the 
fatty sinews of wild beasts common to the 
forbidding and cold forests and the bitter tundra 
fields of their land. The meat came from every 
type of wild beast found there and George enjoyed 
cutlets from elk, bear, and even the tangy, 
almost cinnamon flavored, roast of Galumph. Each 
was an easy sell and when William found him again 
ready to ride, the jackal's stomach was full and 
his tongue heady with every flavor.

They rode at a steady but comfortable pace toward 
the Dike. The last time George had been this far 
north the trails were forged beneath boughs of 
elm, alder, and pine. Now a broad swath had been 
opened in the forest canopy for the sapphire blue 
sky. The earth was hard and dry, crunching 
beneath hoof and boot, while grasses and 
wildflowers thrived between the stumps remaining. 
The nearest trees were marked with sashes or with 
letters carved in their trunks. William, who sat 
comfortably in the saddle, gestured to various 
landmarks as they rode, outcroppings of granite 
or clefts in a hillside where a stream cut 
through, and explained his plans for each. Rocks 
would provide natural fortifications for his 
road; a stream would be diverted into a culvert or siphoned for irrigation.

George listened and often nodded, shifting his 
tail from one horse flank to the other on their 
journey. They left the cleared land after an hour 
and the verdant shade of the forest cooled him. 
The midsummer's warmth was muted by mountain 
airs. William fell into silence, only 
occasionally gesturing wordlessly at some feature 
of the land. His attempts to use patrol sign were 
hampered by only having two fingers on each hand, 
but the jackal usually understood.

The entered the darkly forested combe after the 
second hour and George felt the hackles on the 
back of his neck lift. The air blowing down from 
the southeastern ridge carried a sultry and 
bitter tang, like loam and dead trees covered in 
toadstools. He rubbed his snout several times 
while they rode in silence beneath the 
thousand-shade arbor of trees choking out the 
sky. Green of every kind above and below; even 
the remnants of a Spring stream running down the 
middle of the combe was coated with algae.

The combe shallowed the further north they 
traveled until at last they emerged onto a ridge 
climbing up into the mountains. The trees, now 
mostly pine and fir with stands of birch, thinned 
as they ascended the rocky slope. Boulders of 
granite thrust up through the ground and in every 
hillside, forcing them to curve round or pass 
single-file. George knew William was not leading 
him the easiest way to the Dike, but up the more 
challenging pass toward Eagle Tower. When they 
reached a break in the trees and could see down 
into the woods where the Dike once stood, hazy 
with the last remnants of morning fog, he asked the ram about it.

“Aye, I'm taking you to Eagle Tower first. 
There's no better place to appreciate my plans 
than there. You'll be able to see almost the 
whole northern mouth of the valley from the 
tower. We'll visit the site of the Dike this evening or tomorrow.”

“Even with this fog?” George swatted at a mosquito buzzing his ear.

“We'll be able to see enough. It'll be worse in 
the forest.” William flicked his ears to avoid 
another insect. “As will the mosquitoes. And black flies.”

George swatted another as it landed on his snout. 
He winced and wrinkled his nose and jowls. “Now I 
remember why I don't like coming up here. Sea of 
Souls breeds these damn things and who knows what else.”

“They don't usually bother us at the Eagle, or so the Hareford scouts say.”

George grunted but said nothing more as they 
ascended the defile past the last stand of pine. 
The granite blocks of the Eagle tower were hazy 
and gray in the noon day sun, with the occasional 
glint of color where the haze had burned off. 
Behind it an uninterrupted blue sky hung over the 
Giantdowns, while the last peaks of the Dragon mountains loomed to its right.

When they reached the top of the defile William 
and his soldiers dismounted, walking their horses 
toward the oaken doors in the southern face of 
the tower. George remained atop his mount for a 
minute more gazing out across the thick forest 
covering what had once been the Dike. He tried to 
imagine a massive wall of stone stretching from 
the cliff at the tower's feet to the far east 
lost in the clinging fog. The trees for hundreds 
of paces in every direction would have been 
cleared with bare earth and wooden fortifications 
in their place, each pressed close to the stone 
like suckling pigs to a sow. Deep ditches would 
carve the land beyond the wall, traversed only by 
heavily guarded bridges. Towers and banners would 
snap in the wind, each wind a cool breeze 
drifting down from snow-locked mountains on 
either side. Merchant caravans would funnel 
through the gatehouses on either side of the 
valley mouth, and the cries of people, cattle, 
and the clank of wagon wheel and iron would fill every ear.

His own heard only the groan of trees in wind, 
the whistling of breeze across distant snow, the 
chirping and squawking of birds seeking nests, 
and the occasional buzzing of a pioneering insect 
braving the heights. George whistled, tongue 
pressed between his fangs, and shook his head. 
Not in his life time would they see it. He 
climbed down from his horse and followed the others inside the tower.

The lower floor was covered in wooden planks and 
hay and broken off into stalls for their horses 
on three sides. Stairs rose to the next floor in 
the northeastern corner. William stood with a 
hoof on the first step and waved toward the 
jackal. “My men will take care of your horse. Follow me.”

Each landing was punctuated by a jutting wall 
forcing them to enter the main chamber. They 
found a few soldiers sleeping on the first 
landing and another pair playing a game of dice. 
The players saluted William before returning to 
their game. The next landing smelled of food but 
the doors to the larders were all closed. The 
third and final landing before the eyrie had a 
broad table in addition to four sleeping chambers 
for William and the watch commanders; the sound 
of snoring came from behind one door. At this the 
ram stopped. He took a scroll case from his 
saddlebag and drew several papers from within. 
These he spread across the table and bid George come see.

“Here are some of the drawings I've already made. 
This one I had a copy sent to Metamor with my 
request. Here you can see the wall stretching 
from Eagle tower to the Barrier Range. It's half 
a mile north of the Haunted Woods so we'll be 
able to reinforce from the south if need be.” 
William drew a finger across the map and the 
jackal nodded. “There are signal towers along the 
entire length, each one should be visible to 
their neighbor in the worst fog. Twelve to 
fifteen altogether; it depends on how accurate 
our maps are of the eastern edge of the valley mouth.”

“We'll have to clear out the raiders there 
first,” George noted. “There's a small village of 
thieves and brigands there, just outside the range of the Curses.”

“I know. I am curious why you haven't sent enough soldiers to roust them out.”

“Draconia is a nuisance but with the Haunted 
woods between us and them, the only approach is 
from here, and any force we sent would be too 
exposed on their northern flank to make it worth 
the risk. Besides, without a wall, it's not 
strategically important enough. Your idea makes 
it important. So I suppose we'll have to do 
something about it sooner rather than later.”

William tapped the eagle-head mark for the tower. 
“We can begin work on the western flank before we 
deal with the brigands. Shoring up the defenses 
here will give us the rallying point we need to 
mount such an offensive. Unless the Haunted Woods 
are cleansed, there's no reason to rush to claim the northeast.”

“I agree.” George glanced at the other plans and 
saw detailed drawings of the signal towers with 
their balustrades and cupolas to protect from the 
elements and flying things, and another drawing 
of a massive gate and fortress in the wall. He 
tapped the latter. “Is this what you want to build first?”

“There will have to be a gatehouse to allow 
merchants and travelers through. We want to 
protect the valley not blockade the Giantdowns. I 
intend for the gatehouse and the fortress to be 
built at the base of this mountain. Having the 
fortress here allows us to cultivate the lands 
along the road to Hareford and protect the stone 
masons and engineers as they work to extend the 
wall. Eagle tower is enough to start the work, 
but a fortress provides supplies and a rally point in case of trouble.”

“Stepping Rock was once such a fortress for 
Metamor,” George noted, tilting his head to stare 
at the drawing. “But she's north of the valley 
mouth and not much more than a glorified ruin now.”

William blinked and flicked his ears against his 
horns. “I have not ventured so far north yet. 
Perhaps someday. Either way, I have not counted it in my plans.”

George tapped his snout with a claw. “This 
fortress is impressive, if I am judging sizes 
correctly. It alone will take many years to build.”

William pushed another drawing across the table 
and the jackal saw a much less imposing fortress, 
one with only a pair of towers and a single 
curtain wall and barracks. “In sooth. We will 
start with this. With enough men and stone we 
could build this in a year; two at most. It will 
not be very strong against attack, but strong 
enough to begin the larger fortifications, 
especially the western edge of the wall. I'd like 
to begin work on this once the road to Hareford is complete.”

George barked in surprise. “In Winter?”

“Nay, nay, the ground will be too hard for it. 
But we can begin the quarries and assembling the 
supplies. And we can begin tearing down what is 
left of the Dike and clearing trees. But mostly 
Winter is the time to prepare the men. The cold 
will harden them; when the thaw comes and the 
ground is ready, we'll be able to lay the first 
foundations. If I've the men and the material, we 
can have the fortress wall and at least one tower 
if not both built before harvest.”

The sound of boots climbing the stairs made the 
jackal's ears turn. He shuffled some of the pages 
together, glancing across each, a sense of 
confidence building with each new schematic he 
saw. He laid one hand atop them when the 
green-mottled monitor lizard and a black-furred 
dog emerged around the corner. The lizard's long, 
forked tongue slipped out of his mouth and back 
in again before he said, “Sir Dupré, the gear and 
horses have been tended. What are you orders?”

“We're not here to relieve anyone; but check with 
Captain Becket about the duty rotation. We'll be 
doing some sweeps of the Dike on hoof and paw 
while we're here for the next few days.”

“I think Captain Becket is sleeping,” the dog 
replied, nodding his head to the door through 
which they could still hear snoring.

William's snout spread into a caprine grin. “Then 
relax until he wakes! Hah! Nay, Alexander see if 
you can make something to break our fast before 
we ride this evening. Sebastian, join the other 
scouts in the eyrie for now. I'll want both of 
you with me when we head for the Dike.”

The two soldiers went their separate ways. George 
cast a glance at the snoring door and shook his 
head. “Do all your commanders snore so loudly?”

“Becket is a boar; he cannot help it any more 
than you can keep your tail from wagging.” George 
grimaced and put a paw on his tail to still it. 
“Now, you don't need to hide my plans from my 
trusted soldiers. If there are any spies here they work for the bat.”

George pushed the pages across the table toward 
the ram. “We have had our share of traitors, 
William. I do not take chances. Did you draw 
these yourselves? If so your two fingers are better than my four.”

William traced his thick fingers across the 
intricate lines of his wall design. “The initial 
sketches were all mine, but to bring out these 
details I've had help from the surveyors. They 
have the tools and experience for this sort of 
work. Sebastian is one of the best; most of these are his.”

George glanced at the stairs up to the eyrie and 
then whispered, “How does he handle the cold? We 
don't like assigning reptile Keepers to the 
northern patrols because it's usually too cool for them even in Summer.”

“He has a talisman Nestorius crafted for him to 
help. He grew up in Truskmore; this is his home.”

“And yours now? I can smell your wool here in 
this room.” George nodded to one of the middle 
doors. “If I'm not mistaken, you have slept many 
days and nights in yonder room.”

“Aye, I have. I would be a poor commander if I 
did not learn all there is to know about the 
defenses at my disposal. And you only learn them 
by spending time serving them.”

George tilted his head to one side. “Your scent 
is stronger here than at Hareford.”

The ram's snout tightened. Narrowed eyes regarded 
the jackal for a few seconds before he spoke 
again, quiet and firm. “I have no doubt you know 
Nestorius and I had a falling out a few months 
back. We have begun rebuilding our friendship and 
now I am spending more time at Hareford again 
when I am not about seeing to my plans. Surely 
you have heard all of this already.”

“Hearing and seeing are different. You do not like these questions, do you?”

William did not raise his voice nor soften his 
tone. “Metamor has every right to gauge my 
loyalty. Duke Thomas would be a fool not to have 
his doubts. But you, George, should know better. 
What are you here for, to study these plans or to study me?”

The jackal tilted his head further, tail wagging 
once. “To study the plans for the most part. But 
I am also going to provide my thoughts on how you 
are performing as commander of Hareford's 
military. As you say, Duke Thomas would be a fool not to do so.”

“Then let us waste no more time.” William slipped 
another parchment across the table and tapped one 
thick finger atop it. “Here, this fortress plans 
shows what the interior could look like, 
including how we'll store water and food.”

George huffed and smiled as he cast his eyes down.

----------

Emerald light cascaded through the treetops upon 
William, George, and the sextet of soldiers 
accompanying them. The ground was soft beneath 
his hooves, mostly loam and pine needles with 
only the occasional bramble or twig to avoid. The 
tracks of animals, men, and those in between 
littered the grounds near the Dike ruins, 
disappearing only where the ancient stone thrust 
through the clinging roots and garlands of ivy 
and moss. Dig but a few hands anywhere and they 
would find the tombs of those ancient stones interred by the passing of ages.

William chewed on cud as he led the jackal onto a 
broad avenue of stone and tree roots stretching 
beneath the summer boughs for thirty paces. Like 
the grass he'd begun eating, he'd at first been 
uncertain how he truly felt about having to chew 
his food, swallow, and then chew it again when it 
came back up. The taste was not as unpleasant as 
he once feared, and after seven months he'd found 
certain spices and grains which kept a savory 
flavor every time it touched his tongue.

It also meant he had an excuse to keep silent when he did not wish to speak.

George followed, eyes, ears, and nose turned in 
all directions as they reached the ruins of the 
Dike. The jackal had said almost nothing since 
they left Eagle tower, for which William offered 
him grudging respect. George knew how to behave on Metamor's frontier.

And George had been eager to learn more of his 
plans, but the jackal could not help but continue 
to ask questions or make observations about 
William. Each left the ram wondering just what 
anyone in Metamor thought of him. He did not 
expect to be trusted right away, but he resented 
the dance this old mercenary kept trying to play. 
Surely the bat knew everything there was to know 
about William's habits and surely he'd shared 
some details already. George's questions and 
observations were too pointed to be otherwise.

But to be out at the Dike, to feel the ancient 
stone beneath his hooves, and to smell the 
moldering granite was balm for these wounds. Here 
he trod when Suielman soldiers had once served a 
thousand years past, defending for centuries the 
greatest empire man had ever built. Here he 
walked in the footprints of legends.

And their hoof, paw, and boots stamped the 
beginning of new legends into the ancient stone.

They made their way through the woods beneath the 
watchful eye of the Eagle, afternoon sun having 
finally burned off the fog rolling down from the 
north, and after an hour reached the Dike and the 
site of one of the last standing sentinels in the 
west. The stacked stones were covered in ivy, 
with bushes and pine trees growing out of every 
crack. Needles carpeted the stone and swaths of 
loam. Wildflowers rippled through the underbrush 
where the sun shone through, little blue and 
purple blossoms bobbing up and down in a 
northerly breeze like gentle ocean surf. Swarms 
of black flies danced around them, dispersed by 
waving arms and swatting tails, only to reform and redouble their efforts.

William and George walked only a few paces apart, 
while the other six soldiers surrounded them ten 
to fifteen paces away. But once William stepped 
toward the sentinel, beckoning George to stand at 
his side, they each closed to five paces, eyes 
and ears fixed upon the surrounding wood. They 
moved their hands from their weapons only to brush away the mosquitoes.

William set one hand upon a bare spot of the 
ancient stone and swallowed his cud. “How often have you come this far north?”

“More often in my first years at Metamor,” George 
admitted. He stared up at the stacked blocks of 
stone. The highest was more than twice their 
height. The few trees growing from the top 
stretched dozens more hands into the canopy. “I 
was here a few more times after Winter Assault; 
it took a lot of time clearing out the last 
straggling bands of Lutins who'd attacked. Once 
we were confidant the Hareford garrison and other 
northern defenses were restored I haven't had a reason to return until now.”

The jackal's snout spread in a canine grin, fangs 
visible beneath his nose. “I must say I am glad 
you gave me a reason. It's good to stretch my 
legs here in the hinterlands again.” A fly landed 
on his nose and he brushed it off. “I don't miss 
these pests.” A few of the soldiers chuckled under their breaths.

“Sebastian,” William bleated in a low voice. 
“Show the Patrol Master our plans for this site.”

The monitor approached, long, forked tongue 
slipping in and out of his mouth as he rifled 
through his satchel. After a moment's search he 
withdrew a parchment stretched on a thin wooden 
board and offered it to the jackal. Sebastian's 
dark eyes fixed upon the many lines already 
etched upon the page. William stood at George's 
side so they could study the plans together.

The page showed four drawings, one in each 
quarter. William pointed to the upper left 
corner. “You can see this is what this area looks 
like now. Here's the old sentinel stones we're 
standing next to. Here's the trees circling 
around. Off to this side in the distance is Eagle 
Tower. This direction is north into the Giantdowns.”

“I see it, very well done. Sebastian, you are quite the artist.”

Sebastian bobbed his head and wrapped his long 
fingers around one another. “Thank you, Sir. The 
ideas come from Sir William, I just draw them.”

“So what do we have here?”

William gestured at the other three pictures. 
“These are the first stages in what we want to 
do. Here we'll be clearing out the trees. You see 
the sentinel here by itself. Then we'll use the 
wood we've harvested to erect barricades and a 
small watchtower. Once done, we'll have some 
defenses while we tear down the sentinel and clear the tumbled stones.”

“And ditches?”

William nodded and pointed to lines near where 
the trees remained. “There's too much stone 
foundation to have ditches where we stand, but 
we'll have small ones out at the northern edge to start.”

George nodded, taking a few seconds to study the 
diagrams before glancing up at the massive 
stacked stone sentinel at their side and the 
forest surrounding them. The morning's gentle 
breeze was now a steady wind rattling the 
branches and knocking loose pine needles. The 
jackal grimaced as he brushed a needle from the fur between his ears.

“Wind's from the north and the air is moist. We 
might have a storm coming tonight or tomorrow.”

Sebastian nodded, rubbing his hand along the back 
of his long, arched neck. “We usually do, but it 
shouldn't be until dawn. Wind's not strong enough 
yet. We'll know its coming when the flies go.”

“Do you still want to stay out here?” William asked.

George shrugged “I've been rained on before. And 
my fur could use a good soaking. So, aye, let's 
stay here tonight and tomorrow. If the storm is 
bad enough, I'd rather wait it out in Eagle Tower anyway.”

“In sooth.”

George tapped the drawings with one claw and then 
gestured at the forest and sentinel. “How long do 
you expect this to take? And how many men do you need?”

William took a step away from the sentinel and 
pointed at the nearest trees. “With all the stone 
beneath the ground the trees are thinner here 
than the rest of the forest. Clearing them out to 
thirty paces in every direction will take two or 
three weeks with a dozen men. Half if we can 
spare two dozen and if we do it during Autumn 
when the weather is at its best. It'll take 
another few weeks to put together all the 
defenses, assuming the wood is of good quality. 
The watchtower will require the engineers to 
help, but my soldiers are competent enough to do the rest.”

George's expression and voice grew solemn. 
“Before you begin, there is one thing to know. A 
lot of Legionnaires died defending the old wall. Some of them are still here.”

The ram nodded. “Any we find will be treated with 
care and respect. Graves of honor will be given them next to our dead.”

George licked his nose and offered a faint smile. 
“And remember, the engineers have to return to 
Metamor by Harvest; there is a lot of other work the Valley needs.”

“So you have said. I hope to convince you 
otherwise and I hope you convince Duke Thomas 
otherwise. The sooner we can begin the better.”

“I thought you said you hoped only for thorough 
plans to be drawn up for your wall?”

“For the wall, aye, but these are tasks we must 
do regardless. It makes little sense to wait 
until next year to begin. The plans I mentioned 
are for the quarries, manpower, supply lines, 
soldiers to protect them all, and funds to pay 
for it. Those we must spend months in planning. 
This is paltry and can be done before the first ink is spilled.”

George shook his head, barked a laugh and leaned 
against the sentinel, wagging tail making a long 
strand of ivy bounce against the rock. “Just how 
many of these plans do you think you can 
accomplish before the winter buries you behind Hareford's walls?”

William took a few more steps away from the 
sentinel, the monitor lizard at his side and 
still carrying the schematics. He kept his head 
turned so one eye could see the schematics and 
the other George. “The road to Eagle tower and 
the watchtowers are my first priority. With those 
same men we could easily clear the woods here and 
begin the fortifications. Unless Winter comes 
early. I am told it can snow in October.”

“And September, but only once during my time, and 
it was gone by the afternoon.”

“Then barring an early Winter, we can accomplish 
everything I have said. If anything is to be left 
undone this year, then let it be tearing down those rocks.”

George glanced at the rocks, and then up at the 
sky between the trees. The afternoon blue had 
become a leaden gray with clouds from the north. 
“So long as you can keep the engineers until 
Winter. Who will man the defenses in the cold 
winter months? Without a proper fort, even those 
fortifications will avail you nothing. They'll be 
overrun in a Lutin's breath. Even drunk Lutins 
could take them. You'd be wasting your time building them even in the Autumn.”

William ground his teeth together, but made a 
show of turning to study the plans. Sebastian 
flicked out his tongue with a grimace suggesting 
he agreed with the jackal. And, the ram had to 
admit, there was a very real chance he was right.

“Quite possibly. We'd need a constant rotation of 
soldiers here, far more than we should need to 
defend this place. But with the road in place we 
are not so vulnerable. It will be far easier to 
move troops in and out. The defenses are only to 
protect this area while we begin work on the 
fortress I showed you a few hours ago.”

George crossed his arms as he leaned against the 
sentinel. “So why not build it after the Spring 
thaw when there is a chance we might be able to 
spare the men and resources to begin building the 
fortress? Otherwise you're sending squad after 
squad to defend a blight of land with nothing 
worth defending in the worst of winter stinging 
their cheeks with ice and enemy arrows.”

William rubbed his lips with one hand. “Perhaps 
you are right; it does seem a waste. But,” he 
turned toward the jackal and now crossed his 
arms, “we can still build the fortifications. The 
plans call for them to be built with the wood we 
cull from these trees, but they don't need to 
remain here. We can build them in pieces and keep 
them in Hareford. Then when Spring comes we can 
cart them here and erect them in a day or two. We 
could begin work on the fortress in May instead 
of June or July. But only if I have engineers; to 
make fortifications we can assemble and 
disassemble... it is not an easy thing.”

The jackal snorted, and for a moment it seemed 
he'd tip his head back and laugh even louder, but 
then remembered where he was. “Same old William 
Dupré. Even when I do find a flaw in your plan 
you turn it around into another reason to do what 
you want. Again, I won't promise you the men, but 
I will explain your reasons to Duke Thomas.”

William kept back the bleat of pleasure. “Thank 
you. Now, let us turn to the plans for the first 
fortress. I want to build it near this very 
spot.” As he spoke Sebastian returned the first 
set of plans to his knapsack and began rummaging 
about for the next set of drawings. George ran 
his hand down the side of the stone sentinel and 
nodded, before lifting his ears and eyes. William 
followed the jackal's gaze and saw a long-legged 
white bird with black-tipped wings descending into the canopy of trees.

The stork beat his wings several times before 
settling on the sentinel. It was Walpole, one of 
Hareford's messenger birds; he'd even delivered a 
few messages for the ram. The bird bowed his head 
toward William and cawed with his long beak. “Sir 
William. I have a message for Patrol Master George.”

“Down here,” George called, waving up to the bird 
who had managed to land above him, before 
slapping at another fly. The bird spread his 
wings backward and peered down the edge of the 
stone, eyes and beak widening in delight. He 
jumped down, landed beside the jackal, and 
swelled in size as he assumed a more human-like shape.

The stork brushed his feathers down and then 
leaned in closer to the jackal's ear. William 
knew the poor fellow was trying to whisper but 
some voices were simply not suited to it. He 
uttered only two words, “String carrion.”

The impact of those two oddly paired words was 
immediate. George's ears and tail fell, his 
shoulders tensed, his eyes cast about furtively, 
and his jaw slackened, nose swelling to sniff at 
the air. He didn't even try to dislodge a pair of 
flies upon his brow. Had he been human, William 
would have thought his face turned white.

George composed himself after a few seconds, 
though the swagger of the mercenary was gone. 
There was determination in his voice, a 
determination covering over all else. “I 
apologize for dragging you out here, William. I 
must return to Metamor at once. With all haste. 
No questions. Return to Hareford, and if you are smart, stay there.”

William did not hesitate. “Everyone, fall back to 
Eagle Tower. We're riding for Hareford as soon as 
we return. Walpole, fly on ahead and tell them to 
have our horses ready for a hard ride.” The stork 
nodded, shrank back down to normal bird size and launched himself into the air.

George said nothing the entire way back. From the 
north the sky began to rumble.

----------

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

Charles Matthias

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