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

[cokane8116 at aol.com]

 Cool story my friend!
Chris
 
 
-----Original Message-----
From: C. Matthias <jagille3 at vt.edu>
To: Metamor Keep <MKGuild at lists.integral.org>
Sent: Fri, May 15, 2020 10:11 am
Subject: [Mkguild] First Day on Patrol (3/3)

Metamor Keep: First Day on Patrol
by Charles Matthias

3/3

By mid-afternoon the old wagon-trail turned into a more obvious road asthe grasses were cleared and they entered cultivated fields again. Thesefields, more distant from Lorland, were haphazard and maintained by thepoorest farmers, clearly bitten through by birds and field mice. Battlesores and the weariness of walking all day long also bit at theirmuscles. A touch of surliness at the pace Dallar set gripped Elvmere andthe others on their annual duty as the afternoon wore on.

As they continued north the sun beat down on their backs and theyfrequently paused in their steps for a few moments to squeeze a quickslurp of water. Elvmere remembered days traveling with Malger andMurikeer where he'd walked more miles, burdened with a pack on his backand equipment for the road on his buckler. But those days were not yet ayear gone and the months of Temple life, rigorous as they were, had letsome of his old stamina falter. It would return after a few days of themartial life, but for now the return of the familiar pains was notwelcome. Prayers and pondering all he'd done already comforted somewhat,but he still found himself pondering more when the ram would allow themanother break or better yet a place to camp for the night.

He was also disappointed when after a rest long enough only to stiffenhis muscles he was moved away from the hawks and paired next to the tokaybehind Dallar and the other ram. He was grateful to Jessica for her brieflesson in magic, something he was sure would help when the time came forhim to receive proper tutelage at the Temple, but he'd hoped to spendsome of his time talking with Weyden and learning more about the hawk'sdevotion to Dokorath. Now he'd have to wait for another day. There wouldbe other days, but the thought was not as comforting as he'dhoped.

Wyaert was in no better shape. The blue-red speckled tokay kept hisbright yellow eyes fixed forward along the path, long fingers of one handwrapped about the hilt of his sword as if he were dragging it behind him.After a few words when they were paired, both settled into silence.Wyaert's eyes flickered only to bare patches of rock as they walked, asif all he wanted to do was to stretch out and bask in the sun's warmrays. Elvmere found himself eyeing grassy patches with much the samethought.

The trail followed the river north, but the hills and slope forced themfurther and further away as the hours slipped past. It was still in sightexcept for when they cut around the western side of a low ridge orcluster of homes. Farmers did not even pause in their work to watch themtroop past, and Elvmere was too absorbed in his own discomfort to noticethem either. 

Elvmere took to drumming his claws across the impression of the Dokorathmedallion beneath his tunic, timing the clicks with each of his steps. Hetried to recall the few stories he knew about the god of battle. Part ofbeing a warrior was the physical endurance; Dokorath surely understoodwhat Elvmere needed. Between each click of his claws and step of hisboots he prayed one word of a simple prayer, and repeated it over andover to focus his mind and heart.

Dokorath. I. Trust. In. You.

As he continued to repeat the prayer, an image coalesced in his mindof a tall man in a black suit of armor, garbed with a black cape bearinga massive silver sword standing amid a smoky gray fog. His helmet wasmounted by two ram horns and only had slits for his eyes and mouth,through which incandescent red and white radiance shimmered. He did notmove, but Elvmere knew the deity's gaze lingered upon him.

The image remained with him for some minutes, sometimes very clear to hisimagination, other times, obscured and only dimly seen. Elvmere, even ashe thought on the visage of the god of battle, honor, and valor, was notsure if this was a true vision granted him or if this was merely hisimagination bringing to mind what his studies in the Temple archives hadtold him. He felt both gratitude and a deep sense of his ownunworthiness. How much of his life had he denied Dokorath and the rest ofthe pantheon? He felt a burning shame and lifted the medallion from histunic to kiss it.

The sound of grunting voices up ahead caught his ears and cleared hismind. They could see a good distance in the farmlands of western Lorland,but there were still hills and clefts of rock framing the road. He sawDallar put his hand on the pommel of his sword and both Elvmere andWyaert did the same a moment later after putting his medallion back. Theydid not slacken their pace as the road wound around to the right of a lowhill.

On the other side of the hill they saw a group of four men grasping at alarge boulder in the middle of the field. Two of them were human anddressed as farmers; the third, a dog of some sort, was dressed as asoldier. The fourth was large with heavy dark gray skin and awide-mouthed head with small ears dressed in black. As they neared,Elvmere felt his chest tighten and the fur on the back of his neck andtail bristle. The black-clad creature was a Patildor priest.

Dallar waved to the men and called out. “Good afternoon! Do you need anyhelp?”

The gray-skinned priest lifted his large head and waved back with stubbyfingers. “Good afternoon, and aye! A few extra strong backs should getthis boulder rolling. Can you spare a few minutes to help?”

“Aye, we can.” He then turned and waved toward the rest of their patrolbefore starting into the field. Sedric followed at his side, and Elvmereand Wyaert did the same a moment later when they caught up. Elvmerelifted his hand from the pommel of his sword and pressed it atop theDokorath medal. The other three men disappeared from his sight; his eyesfixed on the large priest.

When they were halfway across the field his eyes focused enough he wasable to recognize what sort of animal this priest had become. It had beena very long time since he had seen a hippopotamus; they were native tothe rivers near Eavey in Sonngefilde and though they looked peaceful theywere often times more dangerous than the alligators. The shape of ahippopotamus melded with a man was comical, jovial, and unsettling all atonce. Knowing this was a priest made it all the stranger.

Elvmere kept behind Dallar and Sedric as they tracked through the grassyfield filled with rocks and divots. It did not seem they had used thispart of the land in years. Nor, if they were only beginning to clear thefield now, would they use it this year. The time for turning the earthand sowing was a month or two ago. Perhaps they intended it for sheep orcattle?

The boulder was the only one in the field and must have rolled down fromthe distant mountains a long time ago. It was wider than all four menstanding abreast but only a few hands taller than the hippo. All fourwere trying to push it toward the road, though what they hoped to do withit there Elvmere couldn't imagine. Dallar and Sedric reached it firstwith the raccoon and tokay close behind. The hippo priest heaved with hisshoulder, thick lips split open with huge teeth visible between them.“Where do you want this, Father?”

Those large jaws opened wide as did Elvmere's eyes on seeing fourtusk-like teeth within. He could not recall having ever seen larger teethor a larger mouth on any of the Keepers he'd ever met. Yet despite havinga mouth large enough for Elvmere to fit his head and shoulders inside,the priest's manner was affable and the rumbling chuckle beneath hiswords almost set him at ease. “Oh, anywhere along the side of the roadwill do, Captain. We'll break it apart to start a new wall nextweek.”

“Larssen! Tamsin! Get over here and help us move this stone. Sedric,Wyaert, I want you on the sides. Elvmere, can you slide in beneathFather?”

“Purvis,” the hippo added, lifting one arm so the raccoon could squeezebeneath him. “Come, son, every paw will help.”

Elvmere chuffed at being called 'son' and had to brush down his neck furwith one hand. He offered another quick prayer to Dokorath for strength,brought the medallion to his snout for another kiss, then crouched lowerand slid beneath the hippo's bulk. He put his hands against the largestone, digging his claws into the hard earth thrust through by grasspatched with wildflowers and little stones. Dallar heaved his shoulderinto the stone on the other side, and for a moment Elvmere was trappedbetween the stone and three animal men, with only a few shafts of lightpeering through.

He could hear Dallar shouting to Sedric, Wyaert, and the others, and thegrunting of the men as they shoved, as well as his own breath as hepushed, the stone digging against the sensitive skin on his palms andfingers. He felt the dirt underneath his feet crumble and his toes andheels sank into the loam.

And then he felt a jolt through his arms as the boulder lurched away.Elvmere almost fell onto his snout, but the thought of the hippo priestalso falling made him leap forward, a beastly chitter rattling across histongue and teeth. The boulder rolled, and it carried his paws up with it,until he reached down lower and pushed more. Huge tracts of earth wereripped apart with each turn, and his feet dragged through the earth,including through a few patches muddier than the rest. He could feel thegrime clinging to his fur and burrowing between his claws.

His heart beat faster, ever mindful of the huge stone before him and theweighty hippo ever one moment away from collapsing on top of him. Yet hefelt excitement and a firm determination to keep as close to the stone ashe could, and a kindled flame in his chest. His strength alone was notenough, but together with the farmers and his patrol the boulder rolledlike a pebble tossed by a child. Elvmere chuffed a harsh laugh betweenbreaths.

“Larssen! Tamsin! Slow it down!” Dallar's shout was loud even over thegrunting animal noises and grinding stones.

Elvmere stopped pushing at the stone, only moving forward to keep up withit and keep his paws against it. The granite and muck clinging to itslowed with each passing step. Elvmere felt the hulking shape presscloser against his back and so he pressed closer to the stone. Grimesplattered against his legs and chest, and he even felt some flickagainst his whiskers and cheeks. The raccoon narrowed his eyes and hissedin a strange satisfaction.

And then just as abruptly as the boulder began to move it stopped with aheavy thunk. Elvmere smashed against the surface, snout turning to theside to keep from bruising his nose. The hippo backed off and Elvmere wasgrateful the brute didn't crush him into a raccoon-fur pulp. The priestlet out a booming laugh. “Ah, thank you, Captain! Thank you all! Son, areyou all right?”

Elvmere pushed off the boulder and blinked as the light flooded his eyes.He felt the mud dripping in clumps off his tunic and breeches. He wavedhis hands back and forth to get the filth free and then clawed at hischeeks to straightened out his fur. It didn't do much good.

“Just muddy is all.” The raccoon turned partway to offer the hippo atoothy scowl, before stepping out of the large ditch gouged out by theboulder's passage to find his friends. He flicked his tail from side toside and was grateful at least one part of him wasn't a gunk-smearedwreck.

The farmers and the dog soldier also had a bit of mud on them up to theirchests, while Dallar, Sedric, Wyaert, and Tamsin only had it on theirlegs. Larssen was the only one who appeared to have avoided the mess.Tamsin lifted his snout in a boisterous laugh on seeing the raccoon.Wyaert, who'd been brushing the mud from his breeches, stared with wideyellow eyes at Elvmere for several seconds before resuming his owncleansing.

“Let me help you, son,” Purvis offered, stretching out a meaty hand tobrush the mud off of the raccoon's chest.

Elvmere felt his tail fur bristle again and he shook his head, “No need.I can manage.” Dallar's ears lifted in surprise and Elvmere felt chagrinrealizing how he'd bitten each word. In more measured tones, he added, “Ididn't know there was another Patildor priest in Metamor.”

The hippos short ears flicked around toward the raccoon, handoutstretched with his offer to clean the mud from the raccoon's tunic. Ifhe had noticed the anger in Elvmere's voice he gave no sign of it. “Whata marvelous home you have, son. 'Twas a shame only Father Hough couldenjoy these wonders. I was happily assigned here a few months ago. Areyou from the Keep?”

“Aye, Father,” Dallar replied, waving Elvmere back. “On patrol in Lorlandfor a few days. We may cross paths again. For now, is there any otherhelp we can offer you and your friends?”

The hippo lowered his arm as the raccoon stepped away, snorted upwardthrough his nostrils, and then smiled in his affable way. “Nay, goodCaptain, we can manage the rest here. You are far from Lorland here andgoing the wrong way I fear! I will be offering Liturgy at the ninth belltomorrow morning; you and your men are welcome; I would be honored tobless you and your men.”

Elvmere pulled the Dokorath medallion from his tunic and pressed it tohis snout as he backed away. Dallar bleated, “We will not be near yourparish tomorrow morning so we will not be joining you. And most of my menare Lothanasi, including two acolytes of Temple, but thank you for theoffer, Father. Larssen, if you, Maud, and Van would care for a blessing,you may do so now. We'll be waiting for you.”

“And I,” Wyaert the tokay announced. He stepped toward the hippo whichgave Elvmere the excuse to step further away around the boulder. “I haveheard many good things about you, Father, from my fellows ofBradanes.”

“Ah, you were of Bradanes as well? Terrible what you have suffered. Iwill gladly give you my blessing, young man.” The hippo lifted one handover the lizard's head to trace the familiar yew.

Elvmere walked back onto the road and bent over to brush the mud off histrousers. He ended up smearing it across the few clean spots instead.“Ach! I'm a mess.”

Tamsin patted him on the shoulder. “You should keep wiping, I think youmissed a spot there.”

The raccoon hissed and straightened before he made himself fit fornothing better than being chucked into the river. He probably should doit himself; it wasn't far away. “We're bound to get filthy on patrolanyway.”

“On your first day of patrol no less! I'm surprised the large one backthere didn't crush you.”

“Indeed!”

Tamsin stepped closer and flicked a bit of mud from the raccoon'sshoulder. “Do not much care for Patildor priests, eh?”

“I... It's been a while since I have seen any. I have not always beentreated well at their hands.” Elvmere took a deep breath, claws tracingthe contours of the circle and arrow Dokorath claimed for his own. Heoffered a prayer for strength and another to Samekkh forunderstanding.

Tamsin nodded and snorted, casting a glance at the hippo before turningback to Elvmere with a bright laugh in his eyes. “Perhaps you can tell meabout it later. Time to go; Dallar's coming.”

Elvmere put his medallion back beneath his tunic where it restedcomfortably against his chest. He rested his palm on the pommel of hissword and dug the claws of his other hand against his side and the mudclinging to him. Dallar nodded once to him as the ram rejoined the roadand without a word Elvmere fell in behind him next to the now beamingWyaert; Elvmere refused to look at the lizard.

----------

For more minutes than Elvmere could count they continued on the road,most of the rest of the patrol laughing about the experience. Wyaert wassilent for which Elvmere was grateful. Apart from the growing discomfortof the sticky and hardening mud caking most of his clothes and exposedfur, he found it difficult to focus on anything be it the fields andfarms surrounding them, the sound of the other soldiers in their patrolfollowing him, or even the thoughts darting about his mind. A sullendisquiet filled him. 

He wished he could walk beside Tamsin. The tapir and fellow acolyte washis friend. Wyaert was a stranger to him and only here because ofMetamor's annual levy. He wasn't sure what he could say to Tamsin, but itwas a lot more than he wished to admit to the Patildor lizard.

Elvmere was not even sure what he dared admit to himself. The mere sightof a Patildor priest had set him on edge. The Patildor... the Ecclesia.For so long he'd been part of them, even rising to the rank of Bishop, aBishop who'd been confidant of the Patriarch and thought by many to bethe next Patriarch. 

He well remembered the horrible night in the rain-soaked fields south ofLorland when the Sondecki slaughtered the Patriarch's camp including hismentor and friend for over a dozen years. Elvmere covered the surge ofanger by scratching at the mud on his tunic, rubbing his fingers andclaws against the impression where the medallion lay. It had not been Eliwho'd cried out a warning to him but his Lady. She had come to him andtold him precisely what to do to save himself. The blow had cracked hisribs, but the Curse of Metamor had healed him, and given him the mask hisLady had presented to him a few nights before.

I was always meant to be a raccoon. I was always meant to beElvmere.

He trudged ahead, lowering his hand to wrap about his sword hilt. Theroad had widened from a pair of ruts in the ground to a hard-packedavenue two wagons could ride abreast. They passed farms clusteredtogether and filled by thatch-roofed homes with wooden walls. His earsturned at the sounds of horses and donkeys at work in the fields as wellas the crank of wheels. There were even a few wagons filled with bales ofhay, casks of foodstuffs, or barrels of wine heading south toward thebridge to Lorland. Elvmere barely saw them.

Both times he'd ventured south from Metamor they'd skirted Lorland ontheir way. The first time he'd been Vinsah, and the second time he'd onlybegrudgingly accepted his real name. Vinsah had not been a bad man, norwas it a bad name. But he felt an idiot as he thought on both of thosejourneys. The first time his Lady had warned him not to leave Metamor;she'd even appeared in Akabaieth's dreams to ask him to leave Elvmerebehind. Why had he been such a fool? He'd trusted his own judgment andsought to flee her. In the end he returned to Metamor anyway.

At least he'd learned to trust his Lady and when she bid him leaveMetamor six months later he did so. But it took the wisdom of Malger andMurikeer to keep him alive and to convince him to take a new name. Onlythe name Elvmere could suffice.

Elvmere ground his fangs together for a moment and kept on walking.Wyaert did not seem to notice. His name and his past journeys throughLorland were not what had inflamed him nor what kept his heart seething.Even the Dokorath medallion throbbed in his chest fur.

It was the hippopotamus. The Patildor priest.

He'd known from the first moment he set foot in the Lothanasi temple toserve the gods as an acolyte six months ago he would one day see Patildorpriests again. He still thought fondly on Father Hough from time to timeand hoped the boy was managing well enough. Nor had he forgotten how theQuestioners spirited him away from Yesulam when evil men from BishopJothay came to kill him. 

But he would never forget the hammer blows. Excommunicated. Cast out. Hisyew shattered. The Bishops approving and in his miserable recollection,chanting the words in time to the blows with the Patriarch. Corrupt menworshiping only their own power. Many of them he had called friend foryears. Once clad in fur he had become the pariah.

Is not this a grief even to death? But a companion and a friend shallbe turned to an enemy.

Elvmere ground his fangs together. He had served the Patildor fordecades, first as an altar server as a boy, then a priest for much of hislife, and finally a Bishop, traveling in the inner circle of thePatriarch himself. Whispers and rumors abounded through his ears for thelast few years when Akabaieth passed on to his eternal reward it would beVinsah elevated as Yahshua's vicar. 

The bitter anger softened in sorrow at the memory of his kind and patientmentor. Akabaieth, whose own thoughts had guided and comforted Elvmere inhis hour of need, had ever been reserved and quiet in managing theEcclesia's hierarchy. So much of what the raccoon had read in hisjournals had never been voiced before, thoughts the dead man had likelyseen as too difficult for the Bishops. Elvmere, reading those journals,living for a short time at Metamor as a raccoon, and traveling withMalger and Murikeer, had his eyes opened to many things he'd neverconsidered before. Akabaieth already had made his peace with them, and bythe time Elvmere had arrived in Yesulam he had accepted them aswell.

And for these things he was cast out. Akabaieth had seen it in sorrow. Hehad mused upon the Lothanasi, a people he had once zealously persecuted,attempting to convert them with sword and suffering, and had granted thegods a place. They were real and it was not wrong to belong to them. AndElvmere was meant to belong to them; Akabaieth had in some way seen ittoo. He pressed his hand on his tunic, rubbing his claws along the edgesof the medallion beneath.

The Patildor were wrong about magic being evil. They knew it too withtheir multiple carved out exceptions for the Sondeckis and some of theother Southern mage clans. The Lothanasi had no such inhibitions aboutmagic; his friend Tamsin was receiving instruction in its usage and soonhe would as well. Jessica's lesson was but the first step of many hewould take; the gods willing he would craft spells one day.

And if they were wrong about this, what else were they wrong about? Whatelse had Elvmere been wrong about? Were they wrong about Eli and Yahshuatoo?

Elvmere recalled what he'd read in the archives, of the ancient goddessof the arts Sakkan swearing fealty to Kammoloth. For a moment he burnedwith a desire to see those proud Bishops falling on their knees beforeRaven in honor of Kammoloth and the Pantheon. 

He ground his fangs together and tightened his grip on the medallion.These thoughts were not like him. This anger was not who he wanted to be.Elvmere had to think clearly and see truth for what it was. Emotionscould help, but they were not the arbiter of truth. And in truth, theBishops had not kindled this anger, but the smiling face of thehippopotamus priest and how he'd called Elvmere 'son'. This Purvis may bea kindly man, may in fact be genuine in his desire to help and to usewhat the curses gave him to help, but he was still the face of thoseBishops here in Metamor. A smile before a hammer. Just as the hammer hadcrushed his yew, the hippo had almost crushed his body against theboulder. 

Dark eyes cast toward the lizard, and his ears backed. The tokay hissedout through his fangs the melody of a Patildor hymn! 

Think clearly! Anger only darkens everything!

Elvmere narrowed his eyes, focused on breathing in and out, steppingone foot before the other, and brought to mind the prayers he'd learnedfrom his beautiful Nylene on his voyage home and of the many more he'dlearned as an acolyte. He repeated them one by one, slowly and at length,beseeching Samekkh for wisdom, Dokorath for courage, Velena for love forhis friends and enemies, Akkala for mending the bitterness in his heart,Artela for sure senses on the patrol, Yajiit for warmth in the night,Dvalin for good weather, Wvelkim for safe passage upon the waters, andKammoloth for humility to listen and learn.

His heart burned, but he still prayed and still walked. And ignored thePatildor lizard.

----------

They reached the crossroads to Ellingham in the west and Lyme Regis inthe east by late afternoon. An old stone bridge spanned the river andthere they stopped long enough for Tamsin, Larssen, and Dallar to throw asurprised and mud-smeared raccoon into the cold water and then drag himback out again a hundred paces downstream.

Elvmere dripped from clothes and fur for another hour as they continuedtheir patrol northward, leaving the main road behind and trekking oncemore along wagon tracks and footpaths beaten through the grass and brush.The unexpected soaking actually improved his mood and he was soonlaughing about his bedraggled state with the other soldiers. Theafternoon sun warmed him and with so few trees in the western reaches ofLorland he was able to keep himself in its brilliant rays until eveningwhen the sun fell behind a swath of low clouds creeping over the Dragonmountains.

All of them, levies and soldiers alike, were showing weariness in littleways. Everyone's steps were a little slower and they took short breaksmore often. Elvmere winced at the soreness in his legs and shoulders andgasped in relief every time he could sling the pack off his back. Myrwynspent most of his time perched on the supply horse stretching andpreening his wings. Sedric groaned and made pathetic bleating noises fromtime to time. Wyaert looked lethargic the moment the sun hid behind theclouds and kept fiddling with an amulet he otherwise kept hidden beneathhis tunic. Tamsin and the soldiers gave no outward sign of theirexhaustion, but Elvmere recognized their slowness and the sullen droopingof their eyes having seen it many times in Malger and Murikeerbefore.

Dallar turned them westward away from the river as the day began to wane.The foot path meandered through mostly fallow fields and pastures upthrough rising hills. Small pines pock-marked the land, nestled in cleftsand among rocks where the hills folded over. Up ahead the grassessurrendered to the edge of a dark wood filled with grown pines, beech,alder, and oak. Everyone grew quiet, trudging along, eyes wary andtired.

Elvmere's clothes were still damp in places and stank of the river, andwith the sun behind the clouds and soon the mountains a slight chillcrept into his fur and skin despite the general warmth of the Summerevening. He wished the sun had been able to warm his front as well as hisback, but he thanked Yajiit all the same for what sun hereceived.

The day was nearly spent by the time they reached the wood. Alreadytwilight gloom covered the eastern mountains and the clouds beganspreading across the valley to the south, promising a cool night andperhaps even a midnight sprinkle. They paused only long enough onentering the woods for Dallar to reorder them one last time, remind themto keep watch for signs of poachers, and assurances they would bebreaking for camp in another two candlemarks.

Elvmere found himself up front with the ram once again. The ram gesturedto various bushes and trees and bits of dirt and rock all about. The footpath had all but disappeared to the raccoon's eyes and even though he sawbetter in the twilight gloom than he did in full daylight, he had onlythe vaguest of notions what the ram meant with each gesture. He found hismood souring from the exhaustion and the dampness in his chest whichseemed colder with every step.

When ground descended into a small dell with a stream trickling through,Dallar flashed a signal Elvmere didn't recognize to the soldiers behindthem, and then stepped off the path along the stream, waving the raccoonto follow. The brush was thick and Elvmere kept bumping into clingingbranches. Dallar's hooves sunk into the ground along the stream, leavinga trail even Elvmere could see; his boots did the same, though the brokenstems left in his wake were just as telling.

After a minute of following the stream, presumably for clues to thepoachers, Dallar turned around and fixed Elvmere with a hard stare. Theraccoon averted his gaze, looking around for some evidence of thepoachers. All he could see were the tracks they were leaving and hechittered to himself in annoyance, tail flicking back and forth andfingers working over his tunic and and sword hilt.

“I, uh, am not sure what I'm looking for, Sir.”

Dallar crossed his arms and shook his head, his voice low. “There'snothing here, Acolyte. You've been out of sorts since we helped thepriest. Have you calmed yourself down?”

Elvmere chuffed, his tail pulling up around his legs. “I... you couldtell?”

“I've been a patrol captain and a gaoler. I have seen all manner ofbeasts in anger.”

The flare in his heart made him tighten his claws into his palms. Justthinking of the hippo made him burn inside. He thought of Nylene and herhands brushing through the fur of his chest and back and managed torelax. “Aye, I am calm.”

Dallar rolled his tongue along his teeth as he stared at the raccoon. “Isit the Patildor you do not like, or merely their priests?”

Elvmere hunched his shoulders. How could he answer the questions withoutrevealing who he'd once been, something he was forbidden to do? Liesoffended Samekkh and they were dishonorable to Dokorath. He sighed. “Idon't think it is all Patildor priests. I... I know what it is to servethe gods. During my travels... I encountered many who did terriblethings. I saw those things again when I saw the hippopotamus.” He triedto say the priest's name, but bile filled him. He closed his jaws beforeany spilled.

Dallar let him stew in silence for more seconds than he dared count. Theram's gaze penetrated and the raccoon, filled with shame, could not meetthem. He looked down at the hoof and boot prints in the soft earth, thetrickle of water in the stream as it burbled over rocks and roots,tearing away at the soil on its way toward the river. He fiddled with theDokorath medallion at his neck. The scents of Tamsin and the others intheir patrol grew stronger in the air.

The ram broke the silence when they could hear the muffled bleat ofSedric through the trees. Dallar's voice was firm, a commander's voice.“You don't have to see Patildor while in the Temple. Hate them all youwant then. Like you I grew up in this valley. I am Lothanasi and faithfulto the Light. But half my men are Patildor and they are fine soldiers andvery good men; they are my friends. And now they are your brothers inarms... and sisters. You will keep your anger in check and you will cometo their aid without hesitation. I am not going to repeat this. Do youunderstand?”

Elvmere nodded. His behavior was not his alone, it reflected on theTemple and Lothanasa Raven and Priestess Merai. His gritted his fangs andnodded again, saying, “I understand, Captain. I will not let my anger atthe Patildor get the better of me again.” And if he did, he knew there'dbe months of serving in the Dove room and stinking of poop in his future.He could already seen Raven's stern lupine glare, Merai's disappointedeyes, Celine's trust broken, and Weiland's constant reprimands. He knewthe lectures of how rage was the domain of Revonos and the destruction italways caused.

Oh Dokorath help me control my anger. Help me be a good brother inarms. I offer you all my training and all my service. Grant me this,Dokorath! 

Dallar waited several more seconds before nodding. “Good. Now, let'srejoin our friends. It is almost time to make camp.” The ram offered hima firm grin and patted him on the shoulder.

Elvmere forced a smile for his commanding officer as they walked backalong the stream.

----------

They selected a level stretch of forest for their camp and cleared someof the brush in the center to make a fire began as the long day finallydwindled to twilight. Even the experienced soldiers appeared worn outfrom the long hours trekking from Metamor and across Lorland. WhileDallar and Maud kindled a fire Larssen cleared the nearby trees of deadbranches for fuel and the rest pitched camp.

Tamsin and Elvmere had their lean-to steady a few minutes afterretrieving the supplies from their packs. The tapir grinned and gruntedin approval. “Great work! Now let's get this canvas secured and we canrelax. Long day, eh?”

“Aye,” Elvmere agreed, offering his friend a toothy grin, “and it's notquite over yet”. The heavy pack he'd carried along with the boots he'dworn were already sitting atop his blanket. His grateful toes stretchedthrough the moss and dried leaves. He desperately wanted to shift to amore feral form and meditate on Artela and the wonders of her forests,but the weight of the sword still buckled to his side reminded him he wasnot here for himself but for Metamor. He had to keep his promise toDokorath.

“Not quite,” Tamsin stretched his arms and shoulders, before handing theraccoon one end of the broad canvas. It was thin and would serve only tokeep rain and most of the wind off while they slept. It was not unusualfor many Summer nights to feature gentle rains and after his journeyswith Malger and Murikeer he knew how miserable it was to sleep in therain.

Elvmere took his end and between them they stretched it out across thebeams of wood they'd built. He used a pair of hooked nails and threadedthem through the loops at the corners, pushing them into the ground withhis hands until they could go no further. He gave each a whack with oneof his boots for good measure.

When he stood, he saw Tamsin nodding his head in approval and wiping hishands. “Ah, good, good. Should be warm and dry tonight. Let's get a linestretched out near the fire and hang your clothes to dry.”

Elvmere nodded and undid the buckler over his shoulder, easing it and thesword down to the ground so he could remove his tunic. “I'm not takingthe breeches off until later. But I do want this shirt off.” Tamsinlaughed, a comforting sound, as he undid the lacing of his tunic andshimmied free. The medallion bounced against his chest and his gray furshimmered in the dance of firelight. 

A few minutes later and they secured a line of rope between two treespassing near enough to the fire to warm their wet clothes. Elvmere drapedhis tunic across the line and sighed. On the other side of the fire hecould see Wyaert and Sedric working on their lean-to with Van standingcross-armed giving them directions. The hawks were showing Myrwyn how tospread a small canvas between branches so they could sleep dry in a perchabove the camp. Larssen and Maud, with the fire crackling, were sortingtheir food to cook. Dallar started working on his lean-to, ears lifted,eyes ever scanning the trees around them. The pack horses grazed flowersand weeds, relieved to be free of their burdens.

“Two weeks of this... I miss the evening sacrifice.” Elvmere was almostsurprised at his own words. He'd been a Lothanasi acolyte for six monthsnow. Other than the nights he'd been assigned guard duty at the Templeentrance, he had always taken part in the sacred ritual spilling of doveblood upon the altar. The Patildor did not believe in animal sacrifices.Yet now they were a part of him too; he had cared for and cleaned upafter the birds for three months, and even though he had a wider range ofduties, he still had to tend them at least once a week. His own prayersand devotion was joined to the sacrifice; he belonged to the Pantheon. Hehad to live up to them.

“Aye, I know but we'll have time to pray at least. We can start bythanking Dvalin for the good weather and Yajiit for the warm sun and thiswarm fire.”

“And asking Dvalin to give us good weather tonight and tomorrow too,”Elvmere replied. “Is this what your life was like before you wereinjured?”

Tamsin nodded and stretched his legs out. “Aye, mostly. Builds goodmuscles at least.”

“Will you ever go back to it?”

The tapir seemed to stare beyond the forest for a second. “If anyone elsein my unit had survived, probably. Bonds of blood are strong, Elvmere.You'll understand if we have to fight. I think you'll do fine. I doubtCaptain Dallar will have us practice any more tonight, but tomorrowdefinitely.”

Elvmere rubbed at one of his bruises and then stretched. “Good. I needit. I'm sure this won't be my last patrol. So, what do we donow?”

“See what the Captain wants us to do.”

Dallar, after inspecting their lean-to, had them finish setting up hisown and then had them set one up for Larssen and Maud. Elvmere enjoyedthe simple work. It settled his mind and heart and cheered him. Even hissore muscles felt good at the activity. The Dokorath medallion leadedforward whenever he did, then bounced against his chest fur when hestraightened.

When they finished Dallar allowed them to relax by the fire while Maudand the giraffe cooked up sausages. Elvmere stretched his toes andreclined, claws of one hand drawing through his tail fur, the otherrubbing over the medallion. Tamsin elected to check on the birds and sofor a short time the raccoon was left alone.

He stared into the flames and did as Tamsin suggested, offering a prayerof thanks to Yajiit for the fire and the warm sun they'd enjoyed. Hefollowed it with a prayer to Dvalin thanking him for the good weather andbeseeching him to keep it good on the morrow.

As his body relaxed he found his mind wandering across the many thingshe'd done since rising early in the Temple. He chittered a laugh as heremembered zooming down the line from the watchtower, and at being tossedinto the river by his friends. He felt a bit of pride at the way he'dcomported himself when checking in with the Lorland city guard and in howhe'd sent Sedric sprawling in battle. He wondered in awe at the lessonJessica had tried to teach him and pondered whether he would ever be ableto cast any magic. And he felt a simmering disquiet at the memory of thesmiling hippo priest and Dallar's stern warning.

I don't really hate the Patildor, do I? 

No. No I don't. Just... they've hurt me. The Bishops lied, schemed, anddestroyed my faith and would have killed me too.

Wyaert hasn't. Dokorath wants me to treat him as a brother in arms.Kammoloth must surely want me to show him the Light.

Elvmere lifted the medallion and stared down his snout at it. Thefire burned behind it, giving it a bronze brilliance. This was real andits teachings a sure guide in his life. He'd been given a new life atMetamor in both body, age, and mind by the curses and his Lady. It wastime to stop being ashamed of it. He would serve the true gods of theLothanasi. For now it meant he would serve with arms in Artela's land.Perhaps he would unlock secret mystic arts within himself.

His nostrils swelled and his chest filled with warmth and excitement atthe thought. Elvmere chittered, kissed the medallion and set it back uponhis chest. He let his eyes narrow as one hand wrapped itself about thehilt of his sword. His ears heard all his companions did, from thesizzling of the delectable sausages, to the laughter of Tamsin and Vanhelping poor Wyaert and Sedric fix their lean-to. 

And in his mind he sought beyond himself for the magic the black hawkpromised was there. Two weeks was a long time. Only the gods knew what hewould find.

----------

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

Charles Matthias 
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