[Mkguild] First Day on Patrol (2/3)

[C. Matthias]

Metamor Keep: First Day on Patrol
by Charles Matthias

2/3

An old granite wall surrounded most of the central town of Lorland 
and its castle. The castle was a mishmash of styles and turrets many 
of them decorative in nature which at one time might have been 
pleasing to view from certain angles but which looked lopsided and 
garish now. Some basic defensive capabilities like arrow slits and 
choke points had been neglected if not obscured by every new 
addition. Even Elvmere felt a wince in his gut as they approached.

Scaffolding climbed one of the outer towers and he could see workers 
removing one of the excess turrets. Some of the stone was being 
delivered to the outer wall to repair sections which the years had 
not treated kindly, while the rest was being used to build new homes 
or rebuild others. Apart from the workers the town was full of people 
going every direction, shouting of vegetables for sale, displaying 
tanned hides, advertising newly fashioned buckles for plowhorses and 
oxen, and bartering for grain and fruits of all kinds. Elvmere's nose 
turned him toward a merchant hawking deep discounts on the last of 
Autumn's salted meats, but Dallar's pace and the tight formation of 
the soldiers kept him walking.

When they reached the inner bailey wall of the castle, Dallar stopped 
and turned toward the red-feathered hawk following close behind. 
"Weyden, while Elvmere and I report in, I want you to lead the patrol 
toward the city's western gate. We'll rejoin you there."

The hawk bobbed his head before lifting one wing and calling for the 
others to follow him. Tamsin flashed the raccoon a smile as he 
followed the rest of the patrol around the right side of the castle. 
Elvmere wanted to watch them, but Dallar grunted, the sound of cloven 
hooves on stone rattling his attention free.

As they stepped toward the large gatehouse with raised portcullis at 
either end, Elvmere adjusted his buckler and sword, tugging the 
straps until they were tight against his chest and back. He flexed 
his toes against the cool stone, ripping up a blade of grass growing 
between the cracks. He chuffed and said, "Sir, can I have a moment to 
get the boots on?"

Dallar stopped and turned. "Why now?"

Elvmere slipped his pack down to his knees and unwound the strap. His 
boots were nestled on top. "Well, you're right about it. I could hurt 
myself in battle or even just walking in the woods. Best to have the 
boots on. Besides, I wouldn't want the barracks commander to think 
your men are unprepared."

Dallar said nothing in response, and Elvmere was too focused on 
slipping his foot-like paws into the boots to see if he smiled or 
not. The leather boots felt a little tight around his toes and the 
back of his heel, but they were the best to be found in the armory. 
Elvmere took a few steps to make sure he had them on right, then 
latched his pack and slung it over his shoulder again. He tightened 
those straps too before following Dallar through the gatehouse.

Inside the inner bailey was the castle proper flanked by stables and 
barracks. A central courtyard before the castle housed a beautiful 
garden of flowers and fruit trees framing a crystal blue pond and 
several smaller ponds all connected at different levels so the 
delicate sound of trickling water could always be heard. Elvmere 
twitched his nose and whiskers in admiration and at the sight of 
colorful fish swimming within. His stomach growled.

Dallar led them toward the barracks, a squat structure abutting the 
bailey walls near the gatehouse with wide doors facing the courtyard. 
Soldiers of Lorland stood guard at both sides of the gatehouse, along 
the bailey walls, and at the doors of the barracks. They nodded to 
the Metamor patrol as they passed but otherwise said nothing. All of 
them were large men or carnivores; a legacy of the late Lord Loriod perhaps?

Inside, the barracks reeked of oil, metal, sweat, and animal musk. 
Elvmere wrinkled his snout at the intensity and even sneezed. Both he 
and Dallar's ears stood on end at the abundance of different 
predators who walked this way before them. The most prevalent was the 
earthen mustiness of a bear, though the familiar burning of a skunk 
was a close second.

Their eyes found the bear seconds after their noses. Black of fur 
with a lighter brown snout, he hunched behind an old oak desk too 
small for him on the left wall of the entrance hall reviewing notes. 
His snout lifted so they could see his dark nose taking in their 
scents above the curl of parchment. One meaty paw with claws as long 
as his fingers pressed tight upon a feather quill dipped into an 
inkwell before lifting it out and scribbling notes without even 
looking upon a second sheet.

Heavy doors occupied three walls, all of them closed. An old map of 
Lorland still bearing Lord Alvarez Loriod's insignia was hung from 
the right wall between weapon stands with half-a-dozen swords and 
spears. A wolf and a burly man were crouched on the hay-strewn wooden 
floor near the door in the rear tossing dice. The wolf gnawed upon a 
bone like any dog might. Their faces lifted from the dice to note the 
ram and raccoon, before turning back to their game.

Dallar and Elvmere walked the few steps to the table. The bear's eyes 
followed them, but his posture did not change. His voice was gruff 
but also, Elvmere judged, bored. "Metamor soldier, identify yourself 
and your mission in Lorland."

"Captain Dallar of the Metamor Scouts. This is Elvmere, reservist. 
We're going to be patrolling the western reaches of Lorland for the 
next three days. Is there any news to report or any dangers we should 
watch for?"

The bear looked down at his desk and rifled through the stack of 
parchment, before selecting one and scrutinizing it where Elvmere 
couldn't see. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the wolf and 
man cast glances at them between rolls. He could hear the grinding of 
the wolf's fangs against the bone and smell the already eaten cooked 
meat lingering in the air. The bear tapped one foot on the floor, 
claws ticking on the wood.

"Everything seems in order then, Captain," the bear grunted after 
several seconds. He set the parchment down and scribbled something 
Elvmere couldn't read. "The fields to the west have been quiet these 
last few weeks. We think there might be some poachers in the woods 
between us and Ellingham, so keep your eyes open for them. If you 
catch them bring them here and we'll see they are punished."

Dallar's eyes widened. "What makes you think there are poachers?"

The bear continued scribbling, stopping only to move the quill to a 
new line or to dip it in ink. "We usually have to chase the deer off 
the western farms most days this time of year. With the merchants for 
the Solstice leaving, I should be able to send soldiers in to flush 
them out in a week. Catch them first and your men will share in the bounty."

"Bounty, eh?" Dallar's lips stretched in amusement. "How much?"

The bear glanced from ram to raccoon, then for the first time looked 
down at what he was writing. "Ten gold for your patrol. Split it how you like."

Dallar offered a small nod. "Fair. We shall keep alert for any signs 
of poachers and will report or hand over anything or anyone we find 
before we leave Lorland."

The bear lifted his eyes and noted the way Elvmere held the pommel of 
his sword. "Did you run into any trouble in the north?"

Dallar laughed, "The roads were as clear as the sky! I'm more worried 
my reservists will be too bored; going to have to start drilling them more."

"You should find another patrol out there and stage some games. It's 
what we do during the Summer."

"I'm considering it. Is there anything else we should know about the 
western wood?"

"Well, if you're crossing the river, you may want to keep to the 
bridges. The water is still high and fast from the thaw."

"Thank you, Sergeant. If there is nothing else, we shall be on our way."

The bear shook his head briefly and grunted, "Nothing. May Dokorath 
guide your swords."

Elvmere flicked his tail in sudden delight. "May Dokorath guide your 
sword too, Sergeant."

The bear offered them nothing more, making it clear he had work to 
attend to and the Metamor scouts had best be on their way. Dallar did 
not linger, and Elvmere was quick to follow. They left both barracks 
and inner bailey without further word and soon were walking down the 
road around the castle walls toward the west. Elvmere could faintly 
smell Tamsin. And more food for sale.

His stomach growled.

----------

They rejoined Tamsin and the rest at the western gate which had much 
the same appearance as the northern gate. Beyond lay more clustered 
homes while the road took on a definite downward slant. It cut a 
weaving path through fields for wheat and pastures for cattle and 
sheep as it eased down to the river. At one such gentle curve they 
found a wide shelf of granite smoothed down from the passage of feet, 
paws, and hooves overlooking a fallow grassland and in the distance 
the sparkling blue shimmer of the river. Here they stopped for a 
modest meal of dried meat and fruit washed down with the lukewarm 
water they carried. Distant farmers and shepherds paused in their 
tasks to peer at them for a few moments before resuming their daily work.

When they had finished, Weyden gestured with a wing toward Jessica 
his wife and the woodpecker Myrwyn. "Captain, should we fly on ahead 
to the woods and begin looking for signs of these poachers?"

Dallar shook his head. "Nay. There will be time later. For now I want 
to continue training our reservists. This area looks large enough. 
Let's have several bouts at once and see what we see. Weyden, you 
take Myrwyn and see how well he can handle a weapon. For the rest, 
Tamsin against Wyaert, and Elvmere against Sedric. Use the flat of 
your blades. Larssen, Van, Maud make sure nobody kills each other. 
Jessica, I trust you'll be able to mend any wounds?"

The black hawk tilted back her head and swallowed down the last of 
her meat before spreading her wings and jumping closer. "Of course 
I'll do my best."

Tamsin flashed Elvmere a grin before turning toward the tokay who 
fumbled to draw his sword. The raccoon put one hand on the Dokorath 
medallion and murmured a quick prayer before following Dallar's 
instructions. He moved to the side of the rocky promontory furthest 
from the road and nodded toward the young brown-furred ram who was 
testing his stance on the uneven ground.

"Okay, Elvmere, you ready?" Sedric asked with an excited bleat in his 
voice. The young man who had still been human when Elvmere became a 
Lothanasi acolyte was tensing his legs to find his balance. The lobes 
of his cloven hooves seemed to grip at the rocks before loosening 
with each step.

Elvmere drew his blade, the weight familiar if not comforting in his 
paw. "I am." He noted the cursed youth Van stand akimbo watching them 
with a sardonic grin. "Can we?"

The boy nodded. "Just here to give pointers when you're done; and to 
see if Sedric listened this morning."

"I did! I did! I'll show you!" The ram bleated and gripped his blade 
in both hands. Elvmere saw he had two-fingered hands like the 
captain, but then drew his eyes back up to the ram's shoulders like 
Tamsin and DeMule had taught him.

"Then have at it! Flat of blade only; don't want to kill each other. 
Yet." Van almost laughed the last word.

Sedric stepped forward and swung at the raccoon from both sides. 
Elvmere took a step back, raising his blade to parry. He put force 
behind the second blow, rocking the ram backward and off-balance. His 
heart pounded and a heat filled him as he lunged forward, swinging 
the flat of his blade back in. Sedric stumbled back another pace, 
swinging his sword to knock Elvmere's away. The tip brushed across 
the ram's tunic but no more.

Elvmere felt the heat in him grow like a hunger pent up. His eyes 
fixed on the ram in a way he knew Tamsin had wanted him to learn. He 
saw the way Sedric shifted his shoulders and chest, saw the blade 
moving from one side to the other. He knew before he saw it the ram 
was getting his hooves beneath him again and the blade would come at 
him from the right before Elvmere, whose own sword had swung too far 
to the right, could ever hope to parry.

He pushed down with his feet and charged to his left around the ram's 
right side, sliding their blades with a metallic hiss. Sedric stepped 
backward in surprise and was able to bring his sword up before the 
raccoon could take advantage of it. He felt the flat smack him square 
in the back, sending him further sprawling across the ground. Rock 
and grass thrust against his snout and chest, and he gasped for 
breath as he tried to roll over and get back to his feet.

Van grinned and nodded toward the ram. "Good one, Sedric. Looks like 
you did remember some of it. Elvmere, nice try with the dodge. Work 
on your feints. Get up and try again!"

Elvmere brushed a bit of grass and dirt off his snout, rolled the 
sword around in his other hand, and chuffed. "Good move, Sedric. I'm ready."

The ram, heady with delight at landing a blow, rushed in moving his 
sword back and forth even faster this time. Elvmere focused on 
parrying each blow. His arms rung with each clang and his chest 
tensed. He did his best to remember all of what Tamsin and DeMule 
showed him, even while he tried to ignore the bruise on his back. His 
tail lashed in frustration as the ram pressed him back step by step.

And then he swung left when he should have swung right and received a 
blow on the shoulder as a reward. Elvmere hissed between his teeth as 
he reeled away, paw gripping his throbbing right shoulder. His sword 
arm dangled and the blade almost slipped from his grip. Van clapped 
his hands once. "Good one, Sedric. Elvmere, can you still fight?"

To his surprise, he felt indignant at the question. He tightened his 
grip, straightened, and drew his left fingers over the Dokorath 
medallion. Dokorath, I give you my blade. Help me! I will not stop 
until I land a blow no matter how much I am hurt. I offer this 
sacrifice to you!

Elvmere wrapped both hands around the pommel of his blade and nodded. 
"I can and will!" He did not wait for Sedric this time, lunging 
forward, hissing between his fangs, hackles raised and fur spiked 
down his neck and back. He spat as he swung, back and shoulder 
stinging, chest ringing with fire. His muscles burned with memory 
from all of his training, and with the reverberations from each blow. 
Sedric parried and backed off, stunned by the raccoon's ferocity.

He beat up and down, side to side, eyes never leaving the ram's 
shoulders or sword, forcing him backward to where the ground shifted 
suddenly. But them ram's eyes saw more than Elvmere expected and he 
turned aside before tripping there, bringing his blade up from below, 
catching the raccoon in the stomach. Sedric, satisfied with his third 
strike, backed up and relaxed.

Elvmere did not. He grunted from the pain but allowed himself no more 
pause before feinting his blade to the left and swinging it back from 
the right. Sedric did trip this time, falling fast enough to avoid 
the blade. The ram clattered his hooves as he rolled, sword against 
himself, until he could get back up. The raccoon hissed, frustrated 
at how this young ram could keep away from him so well.

Sedric got back on his hooves and rushed a few steps away before 
turning to face him again. Elvmere, stung from the pain of his 
bruises, charged after him. And then his boots slipped on some loose 
stones; stone his bare paws and claws would never have slipped on. He 
fell toward his right, letting go of the sword with his right hand to 
steady himself. A lance of pain shot down his shoulder and into his 
fingers as he pushed himself up. Sedric battered at his sword three 
times before pushing it down enough to land another blow against the 
raccoon's left arm.

He hissed in pain from the blow, before kicking at the ram's legs. 
One boot landed and Sedric bounced back several steps, long enough 
for the raccoon to get back on his feet. Dokorath, please!

Both arms throbbed as he stood and readied his blade. Sedric had been 
lucky with his last blow, but the other three were well-earned. The 
ram may be Elvmere's junior by about six years in apparent age, but 
Sedric had likely never had inhibitions about pretend fights with his 
boyhood friends. Elvmere felt a sudden shame at his own reluctance 
and offered one more prayer from his heart. Dokorath, forgive me for 
hating battle. I will bear arms without hesitation however I am asked 
and I will practice and learn.

While Van shouted encouragement to both ram and raccoon, Sedric eased 
forward, smiling at the edge of his snout toward the raccoon. He 
weaved his sword back and forth, simple practice moves Elvmere had 
also trained with. Elvmere's eyes followed the tip of the blade as it 
wove a pattern in the air. He recalled the more intricate and 
beautiful way in which his master Malger had danced with his blades, 
each as much a performance as one of his songs. The tassels on his 
blades would draw the eye and distract allowing the marten to draw 
blood and death with ease and grace.

Several times the raccoon had watched his master practice his deadly 
dance. Years of training in both dance and the blades, and a life 
lived ever on the edge of ruin and death, had perfected Malger's art. 
Elvmere had neither.

And yet, as he raised his blade, he felt his muscles remember his 
master's dance, the curling arc of each tang a song as much as a 
battle. To his surprise his blade careened upward in those same arcs 
as he deftly spun on the tips of his boots.

Van whistled even as the ram took two steps back, bracing himself 
against the rock, sword before him, bright eyes uncertain. Elvmere 
let the dance step carry him forward, blade turning around his body, 
trusting in his muscles and the way some other force seemed to drive 
him. His chest burned and his heart thrilled. The pain lanced through 
his body but he let his muscles move as they willed. He offered each 
burst of agony to Dokorath.

Sedric gathered his courage and stuck his sword into the dance to try 
and break it apart. Elvmere glided inward, let go long enough to wrap 
his hand about the ram's wrist and bent it backward. Sedric bleated 
and tried to yank himself backward, but Elvmere's blade, now swung by 
his left hand, came around behind him and the flat swept through the 
back of Sedric's knees. The ram toppled over, his sword clattering 
against the stone. Elvmere let the arc carry his blade up and then 
down so the point was at the ram's chest.

He gasped between his fangs, the fire burning bright, every hackle 
lifted, every fur standing on end. His claws dug at the confines of 
his boots seeking ground to tear. He hissed in victory, and grinned 
from ear to ear. "Hah! I did it!" Thank you, Dokorath. Thank you!

"Well done, Elvmere!" Van applauded. "Pretty risky, but you did it 
this time. We need to work on your basics still. You can let Sedric up now."

Elvmere blinked and lifted his sword away. He offered the ram a hand 
to help him up. The ram bleated and laughed, "Nice, Elvmere! I'm so 
glad you kept going. I hope I didn't hurt you too much there."

Elvmere sheathed his sword and rubbed down his arms and shoulders. 
"No worse than DeMule has been giving me these last few weeks. And you?"

"Had the wind knocked out of me. We're going to do great on this 
patrol, aren't we?"

"I hope so."

Van clapped his hands one more time. "All right, enough talk. Let's 
discuss what you did wrong and do some more practice on the basics."

Elvmere cast a glance at the rest of the patrol and saw the other 
bouts were finished. Wyaert was clutching his arm while Tamsin eased 
him over to Jessica, and Myrwyn was practicing moves with a spear 
alongside Weyden. Larssen reclined on the ground while Maud stood on 
a stone behind him currying his long neck and the mane of thick brown 
hair running down its length. Dallar watched all with his pipe 
between his lips.

Elvmere smiled as he watched the others, hoping and knowing they 
would all be friends soon. He reached his hand to the Dokorath 
medallion, lifted it from his tunic and pressed it to his sore snout. 
He breathed deep of the metal, feeling the circle and arrow thrust up 
from it with his nose. For a moment the excitement of the battle 
returned to his muscles and he skipped forward, hungry for another 
bout. He tucked the medallion beneath his tunic one more time, 
letting his breath out between his fangs.

Before Van and beside Sedric he stepped. At the boy's instruction he 
drew out his sword again, ready for practice.

----------

Elvmere was grateful for the hours of practice Mistress Celine had 
bidden him take in the last month by the time Captain Dallar called 
an end to the drills. Van had led Sedric and he through a dozen 
different practice moves at least thirty or forty times each. A month 
ago his muscles would have been stiff and his body in agony. Now he 
felt sore where he'd been struck, a little tired from all the 
exertion, but otherwise invigorated. His muscles were used to 
swinging a weapon now, and the practice moves came easily with only 
the occasional mistake Van was quick to note.

Sedric gushed with questions about how he did and what Van thought of 
his moves during the combat. The boy who was really a man greeted 
them at first with aplomb, but as the stream continued made a curt 
gesture, hopped off the wall, and walked away. The young ram bleated 
and started to follow before Elvmere put a hand to his shoulder to 
stop him. "I think it's time to assemble. No more time for questions 
now, Sedric."

"But I'm just trying to do my best!"

"So am I. Van knows it too, but you're not going to become a great 
soldier in a day. We've two weeks. There will be another time for questions."

The ram pulled away from Elvmere and shook his head, tone sour, 
"Always later. Everything's always later!" He did not wait for the 
raccoon to say anything else but kicked at the stones as he walked 
toward Dallar and the rest of the patrol. Elvmere chuffed under his 
breath, faintly smiled, and followed after.

----------

As everyone assembled, Elvmere managed to find Tamsin and stand at 
his side. "Tamsin, is Wyaert going to be okay?"

The tapir blinked and lifted his snout. "Oh, aye, he'll be fine. He 
surprised me with a really bad move, ended up breaking his arm. 
Jessica's already mended the break; it'll be sore for a couple days 
more. How'd your fight go?"

Elvmere shrugged. "I've a few new bruises as well, but Sedric has some too."

Tamsin grinned wider and patted him on the shoulder. "You're getting 
better every day, Elvmere. Maybe Captain Dallar will let us do a 
little of our own practice later."

"I'd like to, aye. Ah, he's waving to us."

Tamsin and Elvmere, along with the rest of the patrol, turned toward 
Dallar. The ram had his still smoking pipe cradled in one hand as he 
stood with the river and pastureland behind him. His hooves scrapped 
against the granite block exposed from beneath the otherwise grassy 
knoll. Weyden stood at his side while Larssen and Maud finished 
putting their supplies back into the saddlebags. Van and Jessica 
stood with the rest of the Metamorians on their annual patrol.

Dallar lifted the pipe to his lips and sucked one last breath before 
turning it and dumping the burnt leaves out. "I want to commend each 
of you on doing your best. We will be practicing like this every day 
we are out on patrol. I will change who you are partnered with, but 
you will be practicing the basics and I expect each of you to be 
competent with your swords or spears. By the time our two weeks are 
done each of you will be strong enough and capable enough of joining 
Metamor's patrols full-time if you wish. But before we continue, I 
want to discuss what I was told at Lorland castle."

He nodded to the hawk at his side but kept his gaze on the rest of 
them. "You've all heard there are poachers in the western woods 
between Lorland and Ellingham. We have been asked to keep an eye open 
during our three days here. If we capture any poachers we can turn 
them into the Lorland constabulary and receive a reward of ten gold. 
Not each, just ten gold. If we do, there's eleven of us, so I'll give 
one to each of you. Catching poachers is one of the tasks of a 
Metamor patrol. We enforce the Duke's law here in the lands between 
city and village. But if we hope to catch these poachers we must be 
smart and observant. We must be able to hunt like they do. Now, my 
patrol has caught poachers during our time together; we found several 
patrolling the forests of Lake Barnhardt this past Spring. What I 
need to know now is what hunting experience any of you have had. Have 
you ever been out in these woods before? Have you ever killed your 
own game? Tamsin?"

The tapir blinked in surprise at the question, but took only a moment 
to find his voice. "My family lives in Ellingham, Sir. I learned to 
hunt as a boy and have taken many pheasants and ducks. I have hunted 
a stag before. I have only hunted small game in the last five years."

Dallar nodded. "Good. As with combat I expect you to assist in 
helping teach the others. Now, Elvmere, what of you?"

The raccoon shook his head. "I have fished many times, and I have had 
to move quietly through the woods, but I've never hunted before, Sir."

Dallar appeared surprised by the answer. "Not even when you journeyed 
south with the minstrel?"

"Nay. Fished aplenty, but we hunted for our food in taverns and inns; 
our weapons were lute and song."

"Neither deer nor poachers will be felled by the slings and arrows of 
your ballads. But we might all enjoy your craft around the evening 
meal. Myrwyn, what about you?"

The woodpecker flexed his wings and tilted his head to one side. The 
red crest of feathers atop his head seemed to lower as he cracked 
open his beak to speak. "I've lived my entire life in Keeptowne, Sir. 
This is the first time I've been beyond its walls. So I don't know 
anything about hunting or poachers."

"You will learn, young man, you will learn. Sedric?"

Elvmere's enthusiastic combatant stood taller and bleated as he 
spoke, "My father is on the timber crews and so he'd take me out into 
the woods when I was young. I've done a little hunting."

Dallar narrowed his eyes. "What were you hunting, and did you catch 
and kill anything?"

Sedric frowned and tore up the grass with one hoof. "Rabbits and 
pheasants and the like, Sir. And no, none of my arrows ever hit 
anything, but I did see some."

"And you, Wyaert, what of you?"

The tokay had been stretching his mended arm but snapped up his head 
as soon as he heard his name. "Ah," he croaked in a raspy voice, "I 
did a little hunting back before I joined the Stone Masons, Sir. Have 
not done any in several years. But I did catch some small game in my youth."

Dallar nodded and started to clean the bowl of his pipe with one 
finger. "The only real way to learn is to do. We will spent the next 
two days hunting in the woods to the west. We will not kill anything 
since we are not poachers ourselves. But to the south where game is 
more plentiful this time of year it is permitted we will hunt and 
kill for our own food, and each of you will do so. For now, as we 
continue our patrol, I will pair you up wish someone with more 
experience. You will listen to them and do whatever they ask; we will 
teach you and remind you how to track game, how to flush out 
pheasants and other small game, and how to see the signs of others 
hunting and poaching.

"Now, we're almost to the river and we've a few more miles to walk 
this day to reach the woods. So let's keep moving. Myrwyn, you are 
with me. Weyden, arrange the rest as you think best." Dallar did not 
wait another moment before slipping his pipe back into the pouch at 
his side and walking to the road. The woodpecker bobbed his head back 
and forth as he rushed to catch up.

----------

Elvmere had little trouble listening to Tamsin and following his 
friend's instructions as they continued their walk westward through 
the seemingly endless expanse of cultivated fields, fallow fields, 
and grazing lands for another hour. The land descended gently toward 
the river. The main road crossed over a wooden bridge built near the 
site of an old stone bridge long-since collapsed. They stopped at the 
bridge long enough to refill their waterskins before turning north.

The only road was a footpath beaten through the long grasses a 
stone's throw from the river. Wagon wheels had forged divots in the 
track, with grasses peeking up in the middle. Tamsin and Elvmere 
walked side by side, the tapir's warm voice brushing the air from 
time to time, helping the raccoon see things in the grasses and along 
the river he would never have noticed. There was a place where the 
grasses had been pushed aside as a small animal had come down to get 
a drink. Over by those stones were bird tracks. And one of the fern 
fronds has been broken by a passing animal.

And of course, as only possible in Metamor, Tamsin instructed Elvmere 
on using his nose. In between looking for the signs Tamsin had shown 
him, he drew deep breaths of the air and attempted to catalog each of 
the scents. He turned his head from side to side like Tamsin showed 
him. The scents changed as he did so, helping him sense the direction 
each of the birds and beasts were coming from.

But more than learning about hunting, and both thanking and 
beseeching Artela in prayer, Elvmere felt at ease and happy as he 
walked with his friend. Tamsin was convivial and in many ways more 
natural here in the wilderness than he ever was at the Temple. While 
Dallar and the soldiers in the group gave him confidence they would 
not suffer ill during their two week patrol, Tamsin's familiar 
presence assured the raccoon he would earn Dallar's commendation by 
patrol's end.

The road north followed the river but unlike the rest of Lorland, the 
first hour's journey took them through uncultivated land. The river 
was wide enough to support docks here and there and they saw 
fishermen plying their trade in the estuaries formed by natural walls 
of granite cutting across the water's path. The grasses swayed in the 
midday breeze, the air very warm on Elvmere's fur. Flowers blossomed 
where the grasses were short, while only the ferns and occasional 
bush prospered in the tall grass. Small pine trees dotted the fields, 
their fallen needles suffocating the earth beneath their branches.

When Elvmere asked why this land was so different from the rest of 
Lorland, Tamsin could only shrug. "Looks like this part has been left 
fallow for a few years. Four or five is my guess. Perhaps nobody has 
come to farm it since Three Gates. With all the folks from Bradanes 
settling the valley," Tamsin gave a nod toward the tokay walking in 
front of them next to Maud, "I'm sure in another year or two this 
place will be cleared out and crops will grow here again. Or sheep 
graze. Wonder if Dallar and Sedric get hungry just looking at all this grass."

Elvmere blinked at the suggestion before chuckling under his breath. 
He shook his head, tightened his buckler, and kept walking, looking, 
and smelling.

----------

After two hours of trekking through the wild grasses along the old 
wagon trail Dallar called for a short rest. They drank a little but 
ate no more than a bite from their bread. A group of otter keepers 
were down by the river bank sorting a haul of fish and the scent made 
Elvmere drool. He could not help but keep turning his head and wiping 
his snout.

When they resumed walking, Elvmere's tongue and stomach still craving 
his beloved fish, he found himself next to the pack horses upon one 
of which perched their mage Jessica. The black hawk had assumed a 
form halfway between an animal and the half-human form every beastly 
Keeper could take. He'd seen the black hawk in the Temple from time 
to time and had heard her name spoken as one of the most promising 
and capable young magicians at Metamor. He remembered singing with 
the musicians at her and Weyden's marriage feast in the Spring. But 
until this day he'd never before spoken with her.

"So, Mistress Jessica, what about hunting are you going to teach me?"

The black hawk turned her piercing golden eyes on him, more intense 
set in a field of midnight black. Her hooked beak cracked as she 
peered down at him from her perch, and a croaking voice emerged from 
her throat. "Hunting? I don't think there's anything I can teach you. 
I can see almost everything from up high, but you cannot fly."

Elvmere spread his arms wide and shrugged. "No, I suppose not. Is 
there anything you can teach me?"

Jessica tilted her head to one side. "You are an acolyte in the 
Temple. What are you learning there?"

"The history of the Lothanasi and the gods, helping with the prayers 
and keeping the Temple clean and in order. I'm assigned to tend to 
the instruments and keep them in tune. For the last month I've been 
training for this patrol and have been serving as a Temple guard. I'm 
going to be working with Master Weiland to learn the Stories of 
Sakkan and Samekkh after we return from Patrol. Oh, and Priestess 
Merai promises me I'll begin training on magic with Christopher come 
the Autumn. I do anything and everything I am asked in service to the gods."

Jessica blinked once and shuffled her wings against her back as she 
rocked with the slow pace of the horse beneath her. "I heard you 
accompanied Murikeer and the Dreamwalker to Silvassa last year. Did 
Murikeer not teach you anything? He is a most remarkable mage. I wish 
he and I had more time to teach each other."

Elvmere shook his head. "I was... not ready to learn magic back then. 
Learning harp, lyre, and song was more than enough." He remember all 
of the illusions and the incantations and the earnest goodness of the 
skunk mage and could not help but smile. Warmth filled his chest, 
even as the sun warmed his fur.

He had pondered the coming of the fall and training with the bear. 
Never before in his life had he seriously considered the possibility 
he too might be able to craft spells and bend the flows of magical 
force filling their world. Vinsah would have rejected the idea 
outright as sinful, but Elvmere knew the Patildor rejected it out of 
misunderstanding and then not even all magic. How many southern mage 
clans had been given exceptions to the magic prohibition? He would 
need to use more than two hands to count them.

Samekkh, if I am to use magic, give me the wisdom I need to use it 
properly. Help me not be afraid.

Jessica continued to stare at him as only a bird could. "If you wish, 
I could try to teach you a little. I fear there is not much time to 
learn here on the trail, but maybe I can help you do something 
simple, or even see the flow of magic. Would you care to learn?"

His heart tensed inside of him. For a moment Elvmere had no voice. He 
put one foot before the other, toes nestled inside his boots, claws 
digging at the soles beneath. He could see the feline Merai's 
assuring smile as she spoke of his training. How was it wisdom had 
been given to a girl so young, and he with all of his years still 
felt so paralyzed and so tied in knots?

He hoped his philosophical speculations would provide him an avenue 
through his confusion, but so far he'd barely begun to establish even 
the principles on which he could hope to judge each conundrum. 
Question after question besieged him. What were the Lothanasi gods? 
Were Yahshua and Eli merely other examples like them of this class of 
being he sought to understand? Who was he supposed to worship in 
truth? Which faith was truly right? How would he ever know what was 
right and what was wrong again in morals, faith, action, and belief?

Were the gods even something he could understand as a what? It seemed 
from the Lothanasi histories and legends he'd transcribed and read 
they must be so in some sense. But they were also beings with 
identity, purpose, and characters. They controlled and directed 
various aspects of reality according to who they were. Who was he, 
Elvmere a man and raccoon, to doubt them? Who were the Patildor to 
assert they were wrong?They were wrong about the gods. They were 
wrong about magic and the Canticles.

Elvmere had to learn to defend himself and bear arms for the Temple 
if he was to give proper service to Dokorath. Dokorath was a god. 
Elvmere was not. If the gods had given him an affinity for magic, 
then did he not have a responsibility to learn those arts too?

He sighed, heart still tense, but made himself nod toward the hawk. 
"Aye, I really should try, if you think we'll have time for it. Will 
Captain Dallar mind?"

"Not at all. I've tried teaching my husband and the rest of the 
patrol, but none of them has so much as made a smoldering ember glow. 
But it does take time to learn. Few manage anything on their first 
lesson, but if you are ready I can begin."

Elvmere nodded. He had to try. He had to learn. "Aye. What do I need to do?"

----------

For two hours as they continued north along the river Elvmere did his 
best to focus his mind and follow the hawk's instructions. Weyden 
landed next to her twice, but she begged him off both times and he 
obediently returned to the skies. Myrwyn also came down for a rest 
now and again, which neither Jessica nor the horses seemed to mind, 
but after a few minutes the woodpecker would also flap his wings and 
leave hawk and raccoon to their training.

Elvmere did his best to clear his mind of distractions but found 
himself offering prayers to various gods whenever his long-held 
inhibitions got the better of him. Other times he remembered the 
tightly held anguish of Murikeer as he sought to channel the flow of 
magic for their benefit. In the balance Elvmere's distractions and 
defunct compunctions were of little account.

Since they were walking, Jessica had Elvmere put his hand on the 
horse's neck. He closed his eyes and trusted the beast would not lead 
him astray. The ground was mostly level this near the river and so 
Elvmere found it easy to relax into the pace. His ears turned and his 
nose breathed deep of the grass, the river and his companions. Other 
than the rise and fall of his boots they were sufficient for him to 
know where he was. The coarse-hair of the horse's hide beneath his 
hand, and the strong muscles beneath were a steady guide.

The flow of magic was all around them, an invisible river that gently 
brushed from one thing to the next. Mage sight was the ability to see 
this ever-flowing river. It was not necessary for him to be able to 
master this skill in order to use magic, but if he could open himself 
enough to glimpse the pearly resplendence then it would not be long 
before he could craft the simple enchantments with but a thought.

Still, as those two hours progressed, Elvmere found the only thing he 
sensed were the brief flashes of light when his eyes flickered open 
in response to hearing fish splash in the river, an unexpected scent 
coming to him, or his boots striking a stone or upthrust root. The 
world of sound and scent became as powerful to him in those two hours 
as they were when he explored as a normal-sized raccoon. The patrol 
before and behind him existed as a combination of many beastly scents 
mixed with oil and leather, and the unique sounds of each breathing, 
walking, and talking. They filled his mind, laid out in a line 
stretching along the level path, the river tumbling along beside, 
while on either side whispers of scent and sound, bird calls, 
brushing leaves, rustling grass, the scamper of field mice, rabbits, 
and the soft paws of a fox at hunt, brought to his mind an ever 
shifting tapestry of light without sight.

And he also grew more and more comfortable listening and smelling and 
touching his way along. Jessica's occasional words of encouragement 
and suggestions for seeing the flow of magic faded from his awareness 
as meaning, but became merely another element of the tapestry shaping 
the world around him. Finally, the weight of the gear shifted on his 
body and he felt the horse's muscles sliding upward against his paw. 
Everything began to stretch up and away from him, his head tilted 
toward the invisible sky. Faint wisps, nimbus of shadow, and sweet of 
scent, seemed to percolate through his tapestry, dancing from breath 
to breath, even through his own.

And then a loud clattering startled him and he chittered in surprise, 
eyes opening to dash out to one side beneath the horse's hooves, only 
to be yanked backward by something wrapped around his chest. A large 
black hawk dropped down beside him in the brilliant afternoon 
radiance like the heavy shadow of night. Elvmere glanced at what held 
him and the tapestry ripped asunder.

He was caught by his own clothing and gear after shrinking into his 
animal form without realizing it. Elvmere willed himself to grow 
toward human, trying to wriggle his legs and tail back into his 
clothing and only tangling himself more.

"Elvmere? What happened to you?" Jessica asked as she dug her talons 
into the ground, wings outstretched to surround him. He could hear 
two pairs of boots rushing up from behind to reach them. A moment 
later Tamsin and Wyaert were there peering in over the lip of her wings.

Elvmere, as human as he could make himself, worked his arms back 
through the sleeves of his tunic and armor, then fought with his 
breaches and leather greaves. "I don't know... I just... I just 
changed into my animal shape. I was so attuned to the sound and scent 
around me I just... changed."

Jessica lifted her wings higher to block tapir and tokay. "Has this 
ever happened to you before?"

Elvmere chittered in irritation, the tapestry of sound and scent 
utterly wiped clean, as he managed to get both greaves back on. The 
boots were next. His sword hilt jabbed him in the side. "I have spent 
a lot of time exploring as a normal raccoon, but not out here in the 
wilderness. I've never wandered around with my eyes closed all 
afternoon either."

The hawk lowered her wings, allowing Tamsin and Wyaert to approach 
and help Elvmere get set aright before the rest of the patrol came 
running. With their aid the raccoon was on his feet and straightening 
his pack and buckler in seconds.

"I am sorry, Elvmere, I didn't think this would happen." Elvmere 
could hear the contrition in Jessica's voice, but other than the bite 
of embarrassment he directed at himself, he had no anger to assuage. 
Forgiveness came immediately.

"How could you have known, Mistress? I didn't expect it either! All 
is forgiven."

Tamsin brushed down his tunic and gave Elvmere a bemused look while 
the tokay stepped back and lifted his head toward the sun to bask for 
a moment. "Just what were you doing anyway?"

"Mistress Jessica was trying to teach me how to use, what was it... 
mage sight. Instead I think I started seeing the world as beasts do 
and well... changed."

Jessica stepped closer, brushing a bit of dirt from his shoulder with 
the tip of her wing. "Did you see anything? Did you see the rivers of 
magic flowing through you?"

Elvmere blinked and narrowed his eyes, tongue running across the back 
of his fangs as he pondered. After a moment he chittered and 
shrugged. "I don't know. I experienced something. I'm not sure what."

"I've been studying magic incantations at Temple the last few 
months," Tamsin noted, "and it took one month before I saw anything. 
Still can't get a witchlight to last for long. Keep at it, Elvmere. 
Imagine how thrilled the Lothanasa will be if you come back to Temple 
able to make them dance!"

Elvmere chuffed and offered his friend a guarded smile. "Well, I 
would like to try again, but this time, not while we're walking."

Jessica bobbed her head and lowered her wings. "There will not be 
much time for it, but I will speak to Captain Dallar about it. We've 
two weeks together. I'm sure we will find a few more chances to try. 
The Temple could use more spellcasters and if you saw anything at all 
then you could have the gift."

Elvmere felt a hesitation touch his heart. "If it was magic."

"If it was magic," Jessica agreed. "Now, get back to your places. 
Captain Dallar will reprimand you if he sees you elsewhere."

Tamsin and Wyaert fell back a few paces while Jessica shrank and flew 
to her perch on the horse. Elvmere gave the reins a quick tug and the 
animal resumed its easy pace. The raccoon kept his hand on the 
horse's neck, and let his eyes narrow some, listening and smelling to 
the world around him, hoping for some strands of the tapestry. A 
wordless prayer drifted up from his heart toward Artela, grateful and hopeful.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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