<html> <body> Part 3 The second sketch Dark Natasha drew with both Charles and Kimberly is set during this section. Metamor Keep: Keeper's Return By Charles Matthias Feb 9, 708 CR <x-tab>        </x-tab>At the southern edge of the valley the winter sun rose over rolling hills instead of the mighty peaks of the Barrier Mountains.  It was one of the few places to see shadows that stretched three to four times the height of a man.  It was not often that Michael of the timber crews had a chance to see such a dawn and he basked in it as long as their road allowed them.  Chief Tathom led them to one of the forests along the river’s edge not half a mile from where it emptied into the sea.  It had been four years since they had harvested wood so far south, and the first time in nearly two years since Michael himself could look upon the mouth of the Metamor Valley and ponder the lands beyond. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Two years before he’d made his fateful voyage that led him into the Metamor Valley.  Waylaid and injured, he’d woken from his wounds too late to stave off the transforming power of the Curse.  A little over a month later and he’d become a five and a half foot tall beaver with a tail that weighed more than some children.  If that hadn’t been bad enough, he’d then fallen into the first of his many dalliances with Pascal the Keep’s alchemist.  The eccentric porcupine had experimented on him without his consent, and now he was covered in plaid black and red fur with cream coloured skin beneath. <x-tab>        </x-tab>In the many months since, he’d grown used to it and even to appreciate his unique appearance.  And he’d even spent more time with Pascal.  They saw each other frequently, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was fetching in her own way.  But there was always some fight or other that would drive them apart for months at a time.  In his heart, he hoped one day they could reconcile for good.  But his mind assured him that they had quite a bit more reconciling to do before that happened. <x-tab>        </x-tab>The others on the timber crews were supportive of him and wore plaid shirts of the same red and black checkered pattern to make sure he didn’t feel alone.  At first it had galled him, but now it was as common place as anything else he saw in Metamor. <x-tab>        </x-tab>But what he saw coming up the road from the south was anything but commonplace; six heavily laden wagons led by weary horses and men draped in woolen blankets was not unusual in the more kind weather of other season, and not terribly out of place even in winter, bringing supplies or travellers.  Bearing trade goods in lieu of foodstuffs and other much needed supplies in the depths of mid-winter was odd enough for him to pause and take notice.  A wariness clutched at his stomach, for trade wagons did not bandy about in such weather without some reason of worthwhile profit.  These did not appear to be the wagons of yet more refugees making their way north toward Metamor as had streamed in through the late summer and to the first snows, or otherwise fleeing some calamity, but the oddness of their appearance put Michael on edge.  He gave a thwack upon the snow with his broad, stout tail to bring attention from the other woodcutters nearby and rested his axe upon his shoulder to watch the wagons approach.  As they drew nearer he was able to pick out the individual drivers and guards who walked with alert but dogged boredom alongside.  His attention came back to the lead wagon and drifted across the driver and another seated beside him, dismissing them initially but snapping back a moment later.  The man who satin the lead wagon could never have been ignored or missed. <x-tab>        </x-tab>The timber crews had already begun moving their equipment into the forest when the wagons came around the bend in the road through a line of hills that delved eastward and pushed the river on its course to the sea.  But Michael stood at the rear of their column marshalling the horses and so had a clear view of the wagons.  The figure he knew so well recognized him immediately too. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Lindsey!” Michael shouted in incredulous delight. “Is it really you?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The red-bearded northerner smiled and leapt from the wagon.  He ran toward the beaver, waving one arm. “Ho, Michael!  Are you a welcome sight!” <x-tab>        </x-tab>From out of the wagons popped several more Keepers, including a very familiar rat that Michael hadn’t seen in a very long time either.  Michael rushed to Lindsey’s side and clasped him in a firm hug, and then waved to the rat. “Charles!  You’re back!” <x-tab>        </x-tab> “Michael!  It’s good to see you again!  Good to see any of you again!” Charles hugged him as well, his grip firm and overflowing with excitement.  And, to Michael’s astonishment, he seemed to have a vine of ivy wrapped about his chest and back.  But the beaver couldn’t bring himself to ask about it; there were too many other surprises at hand to question them all! <x-tab>        </x-tab>By now the rest of the timber crews had noticed that something was happening and all came out of the forest to see.  Their faces flashed from confusion to delight in seconds.  Even Tathom the bull lowed in delight. “Lindsey you barbarian!  Welcome home!  Grab your axe and help us fell some trees.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Lindsey shook his head as the wagons drew to a stop, the other Keepers remaining where they sat watching these old friends reunited. “I’ll have to give a report to his grace, but you can expect me back soon.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Where by Eli have you been?” Lance the moose asked. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Far, far to the south.  It is a long tale, but I will tell you soon.” Lindsey replied, his eyes taking on a faraway cast. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Michael glanced over the others in their company, noted a brilliant white gryphon, a black hawk, and a donkey whom he didn’t recognize, a skunk whose name escaped him, a short man who appeared neither midget nor child, a strange man-like creature with pearlescent grey skin, long black hair, and pointed ears, and over a dozen men, some of whom looked distinctly foreign even for the Midlands.  What mysteries this group held! <x-tab>        </x-tab>But there was somebody missing. “Lindsey.  Where’s Zhypar?  I thought he went with you.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Lindsey’s smile vanished, and a look of profound melancholy came over him. “Zhypar sacrificed himself to save us.  He... he has been gone for six weeks now.  I pray each day for his soul.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>All who heard lowered their heads.  Michael felt the blow hard, as it had been the kangaroo who’d introduced him to Lindsey and helped him land a position with the timber crews.  The beaver pressed his tongue against the back of his incisors for a moment and then said very softly, “I’ll pray for him too.  Are you all right?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“I... I will be.  Now that I’m home again.” Lindsey gripped Michael’s right bicep firmly, and then nodded in approval. “You’re even stronger than last I saw you.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“A steady seven months of timber work will do that,” Michael agreed without much enthusiasm. “At least you are all home now.  Are you going to Metamor direct?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Yes,” Lindsey replied, eyes turning north.  Though it wasn’t visible at the Valley mouth, the Keep lay a little less than half a day’s ride ahead. “I’m surprised the Longs haven’t spotted us yet.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“It won’t be long,” Charles agreed. “Misha’s probably out here himself somewhere.” The rat’s eyes widened. “Michael, do you know if my family has moved back to Metamor, or are they still living at the Glen?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The beaver frowned. “I heard your family came for the Duke’s wedding, but I’m pretty sure they returned to the Glen afterward.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“I thought as much,” the rat sighed, and then laughed. “Well, I think I will go there first.  But I promise I’ll be back to share a drink with you all and tell you what I know of the tale!”   Charles dashed back to the wagons and pulled something from his tunic and handed it to the skunk. “Kayla, can you give this to Rickkter for me?  Let him know that I am very grateful for the loan.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Kayla put the compact Sondeshike into her travel pouch and nodded. “Of course.  He’ll be glad to have it back.  But how are you going to get to the Glen?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles merely smiled at her, and then stood before the gryphon with a needful gaze. “Guernef, can you fly me north to my family?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The gryphon squawked harshly in no language Michael or the others knew, but the rat and his companions all seemed to understand.  He scrambled onto the giant beast’s back, and with a powerful thrust of legs and wings, the gryphon launched into the air and began beating its way north over the trees. <x-tab>        </x-tab>They watched the pair disappear to the north for a few seconds.  Lindsey turned back to his old friends and asked, “How long will you be out here chopping?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“A few days,” Tathom replied as he chewed on some cud. “We should be back at Metamor in a week.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Lindsey began patting them on the shoulder one by one.  His smile was genuine, though forced, “I will see you all then.  I should have matters settled by then and I’ll be ready to take my old place with the crews.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“You always have a place with us, Lindsey,” Tathom said, a brief smile creasing his bovine snout. “Now get back to the Keep.  I don’t know where you’ve been, but if it’s taken you this long, and cost a damn fine man and friend his life, then it must have been very important.  We’ll see you in a week.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Lindsey grunted and nodded. “In a week then.” Lindsey looked as if he wanted to hug each of them one last time, but made himself turn and climb back onto the wagons.  Despite their passengers decamping to greet the first of their kind they had seen in many months the column had not slowed.  One by one the timber crews melted back into the forest.  Michael stood at the periphery watching the wagons until the last one disappeared behind a long copse of elm. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Sotto voce, the beaver said, “Welcome home, Lindsey.  Welcome home.” ---------- <x-tab>        </x-tab> Metamor.  Charles’s heart ached to see it again.  He poked his head over Guernef’s shoulder and peered down at the tree tops and snow-covered fields as they flew north beneath a grey sky huddled within the valley.  The last time he’d seen his home in the flesh had been from the edge of the Barrier Range last Summer Solstice, over seven months ago.  Now he was back, and with it came so many memories that he had to brush his face against the Nauh-kaee’s feathers to dry his tears. <x-tab>        </x-tab>The wind whipped through his tunic and breeches; very cold, but pressed close to Guernef’s back he felt some measure of warmth.  The cold was familiar to him after so many winters at Metamor, but still, it was different flying.  The vine pulled taut against him, and he had to stifle an urge to pet it.  He needed all of his paws to keep steady on Guernef’s back. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Beneath him he saw the main road winding northward through fields and forests.  To his left he saw farms dotting the river, while pastures for cattle and sheep were more abundant on his right.  Many of these were places he’d trod while serving in the Longs over a year past.  He thought he recognized the field that he’d waited with Finbar, Murikeer, and Llyn the night the Patriarch had been slain.  And only a few months later Llyn would join him in death.  Murikeer would traverse Sathmore, and Finbar... he hoped Finbar was alright. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles lifted his head back up and gazed wider around the valley.  Guernef was coasting on a northerly wind for the moment, and the relative calm in his muscles gave the rat a chance to stretch.  He did not recognize most of what he saw — it looked so different from above — and he was sure that the few villages he saw must have names and must have seen the tread of his paw in years past, but he could not recall them.  Only the larger towns such as the Iron Mine on his right, were immediately recognizable. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Guernef could outpace any of the Keep scouts, but still it would be a few hours before he reached the Glen.  What would he find when he arrived?  What could he saw to Kimberly?  What would she say when she saw him?  She’d never seen him with the black hand-print over his right eye.  And she definitely had never seen him with a vine growing from the top of his tail!  He’d have to hide that beneath his tunic before they arrived; one shock would be more than enough. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Did she even know he was coming?  Surely by now the Long Scouts had figured out that they’d returned.  But did Kimberly know?  Charles would never be able reach her before one of the Glen scouts told her, but he hoped she’d have more than a few moments to prepare.  Just the thought of reaching out and touching her face, running his claws through her fur, savouring the earthy aroma of her presence, filled him with a heat greater than any fire beneath the mountains. <x-tab>        </x-tab>And he probably shouldn’t turn into stone in front of her just yet either. <x-tab>        </x-tab>He laughed lightly and then felt a scowl creep up along his snout.  He could see Lorland ahead.  Though the castle at its centre had been under renovations for the last year and a half, far too much of the unlamentable Altera Loriod remained in its towers and buttresses.  Memories of Phil’s plight returned, and of course, seeing Loriod that one last time in Marzac, the tool of that great evil now destroyed.  At least from what he’d heard before leaving Metamor, the people of that land were once again happy and living as freemen should. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles lifted his eyes and gazed over the head of Guernef.  White tufts of feathery ears framed a view of arboreal splendour blanketed in a gossamer white film.  The further north they travelled the thicker the forests became.  If not for the faint snowfall, he would have been able to see much further.  Somewhere ahead in the distance nestled his wife and children. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Oh his heart swelled at the thought of his five little children.  He barely had time to know them before he had to leave.  What were they like now?  Did they remember him at all?  Would he recognize them when he saw them?  He would know their fur patterns, for that wouldn’t change.  He ran their names through his mind, putting the image to each: Charles, Bernadette, Erick, Baerle, Ladero.  So small when he saw them, he could cradle them in his arms and have room left over.  He couldn’t wait to hold them all and tell them how much he missed them.  Especially Ladero.  He so wanted to begin training his boy in the ways of the Sondeckis.  Even his vine seemed to hug him at the very notion. <x-tab>        </x-tab>It was his duty, something that must happen.  He wouldn’t let anything else get in the way of that! <x-tab>        </x-tab>And then, the mists parted before him and rising up on a ridge he saw the gates of Metamor.  Beyond them, the alabaster towers of the Keep.  A lump pressed into his throat, and his tears came again. “Hello, Metamor,” he said, still so far away, but ever so close now. “I’m home.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The castle grew in the north, patiently waiting for his return. ---------- <x-tab>        </x-tab>Three hours after leaving the timber crews behind they were met by several Long Scouts.  Kayla heard them coming and stood up in the wagon, both blades drawn with a metallic hiss before anything emerged from the concealment of the dense evergreens.  She had to quickly return them to their sheaths as she witnessed Finbar leap out of the woods, barely touch the snow-covered grass, and then vault onto the wagon to give her an impromptu hug. “Kayla!  Jessica!  You’ve made it back!” The ferret brimmed with more excitement than she could ever recall seeing.  He was usually so withdrawn and secretive, but here he was as boisterous as most of the ferrets she knew. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Finbar!” Kayla exclaimed, barely getting the blades seated in their sheaths and releasing the hilts as the ebullient ferret barrelled into her.  She reeled under his eager hug and returned it perforce before his inertia took them both over the far side of the wagon. “It is good to be back!” Three other Longs emerged from the woods, the bear Meredith, the rabbit Padraic, and the youthful Allart.  They were no less enthusiastic, just not as blindly quick about it. <x-tab>        </x-tab>The Keepers all greeted other in delight at the reunion, with several of the Longs commenting on how much stronger and sturdier each of them looked after the many long months.  All of them noticed Jessica’s black feathers, and she promised to tell them all why they were black soon. <x-tab>        </x-tab>And they also noticed the absences. “Where’s Charles?” Allart asked as he surveyed the wagons.  The seamen with Captain Aldanto were all edgy with the nearness of so many more Keepers, while the merchants from Ellcaran regarded their presence with only mild irritation. “And Zhypar?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“You missed Charles,” James said and pointed into the sky. “Guernef flew him north to the Glen so he could be with his family.  And Zhypar...” The donkey looked to Lindsey. <x-tab>        </x-tab>And with him went all eyes.  Lindsey sated their curiosity without suggestion of feeling. “He lost his life in Marzac.  But because of him the evil was defeated.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“I’m sorry to hear it,” Finbar said as he looked over the wagon crew. “Save the stories until we get to Metamor.  We’ve been keeping an eye out for you the last few days.  Misha was hoping he’d be the first to greet you, but he had to stay at the Keep today.  We’ll ride with you on the way back.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“That is most kind,” Abafouq said with a lop-sided grin. “What other greetings do we have awaiting us in Metamor?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Well, Misha and his grace will want to hear everything you have to tell,” Finbar replied as the wagons resumed their northward progress. “And we have a party prepared at the Long House for you all.  I was hoping Charles would be there too.  He... he’s not going to be in the mood for celebrating soon.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“And what does that mean?” Jessica cawed, wingtips fluttering. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Not a one of the Longs wanted to say it, but the rat’s companions cajoled them until they did.  They weren’t much interested in celebrating either when they heard. ---------- <x-tab>        </x-tab>It was well past noon by the time that the Redwoods of Glen Avery came into sight.  Charles felt his heart tremble in his chest.  The vine squeezed as if to reassure him.  The rat tapped Guernef on the shoulder and pointed toward a small opening in the canopy of treetops.  Down there would be the ice-locked lake that provided the Glen with fish.  It would be the easiest place for the Nauh-kaee to land. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Down there, land down there,” Charles shouted over the wind.  Guernef nodded and tilted his wings, angling toward the arboreal window.  The trees all around were still covered in needles and chock full of snow on every branch.  Many of the lower hanging branches would have been cleaned to provide better purchase for the Glen scouts.  But there were very few who would risk climbing so high to look into the sky at this time of the year.  Of all the ways into the Glen, this would keep his arrival secret the longest. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Not that it would be secret after he landed.  There were always a dozen men out on the ice fishing through holes they’d chopped during the day.  And it was a five minute hike from there to his home, so Kimberly would surely hear of his coming moments after his paws touched the earth again. <x-tab>        </x-tab>His eyes gazed heavenward, a prayer forming on his lips, one of thanksgiving and hope.  The grey vault of clouds overhead answered with the light sprinkling of a gentle snow.  He leaned his head closer to one of Guernef’s feathery ears and said, “Thank you for bringing me here, Guernef.  I... I couldn’t wait to see my family again.  Do you have family waiting for you in the mountains?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The Nauh-Kaee squawked in some surprise at the question. “In a fashion that you cannot understand, but yes, I have family in the mountains.  And upon the mountains too.  One waits but another does not.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The answer confused the rat, who kept his eyes on the various trees as they slowed and began to spiral down into the recess above the lake.  A shining white disc awaited them below.  All was quiet but for the rip of wind through fur and feathers. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“You’re right.  I don’t understand what you mean.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Guernef said nothing.  For nearly a minute they glided down in tight circles, the Nauh-kaee’s wings spread wide, and his body tilted inward so as to make the rat clutch tighter to his back.  Below them several Glenners about their fishing abandoned rods to gawk at what descended from above.  Gryphons were not unknown in Metamor, but there was something visceral in the Nauh-kaee’s demeanor that made it seem alien and unfamiliar.  The Glenners all kept trying to move away from where they thought Guernef would land. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles poked his head over the side and recognized a few of them though their names slipped from his excited mind.  His tail whipped against the wind and pull of Guernef’s circling descent, so delighted was he by the sight of so many familiar trees and faces.  So close, only the distance of a few seconds separated him from running to his wife. <x-tab>        </x-tab>And then, Guernef turned his wings, stretched out all four of his legs, and landed on the northwestern shore, piles of snow bursting around him in a white plume.  Charles held tight for a second more, and then leapt to the ground, legs sinking into the snow up to his calves.  He turned and patted Guernef on the side. “Thank you, my friend!  Thank you so much!” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“I will remain here until you are ready to return to the Keep,” Guernef replied with a nod. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles smiled, and then turned to face the road leading up to the Glen proper.  Already several of the fishermen were either running toward him or running back up to town.  Charles squirmed out of his tunic and then drew it ack over the vine to keep the plant close to him and hidden from view.  By the time he’d drawn the vest he’d claimed in Sutthaivasse back over the woolen tunic, the first of the Glenners had reached him and stared in awe. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Charles Matthias!  By all the gods you’ve returned!” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The rat strove to recall the otter’s name, but nothing came to him.  Instead, he smiled and nodded. “Aye!  I’m back!  It is good to be home!  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to see me wife and family again.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The otter and the other Glenners who’d run up to him all parted for him.  Charles ran up the hill, his whole body bristling with excitement.  They followed after him, shouting in delight that he’d returned at long last.  Other faces popped out of homes or from out of trees.  Charles smiled and waved to them as he ran past, long tail following him, and more and more Glenners following his tail.  He saw a few whose names came to him immediately, Angus the badger, Marcus the marten, and Alldis the deer, but they could not reach him either.  But they cheered him home, welcoming him with their boisterous voices and clangour. <x-tab>        </x-tab>And as the rat finished ascending the hill into the main clearing for the Glen, he saw that another crowd was gathering about another rat who’d emerged from her home clad in a woolen green dress that he’d bought her last year.  And then all the rest failed to pierce the rapport they shared.  The two rats ran to each other, until in the centre of Glen Avery they were in each other’s arms.  Tears stood in Kimberly’s eyes as she held him tight, not even noticing the odd ropey vine hidden beneath his tunic.  All she and he knew were that they were in each other’s arms again after so many months apart. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Charles!” she cried, voice both rich and spent from the long nights not knowing whether he was alive or not.  Her eyes were wide and wet, arms soft and fur warm.  Charles held her close, nuzzling her face with his snout, nose brushing her tender scalloped ears, whiskers drawing across the sweet touch of her flesh. “I’ve missed you.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“And I you, my Lady,” he replied, smiling in a way he could not ever recall smiling.  “But we’re together again.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>They leaned back, holding each other in their arms, and her eyes lifted to his face.  And then her body shivered, one arm reaching up to touch the black hand print over his right eye.  Her dark eyes widened in wonder and fear.  He did his best to reassure her with his smile and hold on her back. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“What happened to you?” she asked, her voice very small and frightened. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“It is nothing to fear, my love.  I was burned by a Shrieker the day I had to leave Metamor so many months ago.  There is no pain there, and there is no injury to my eye.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Kimberly traced her fingers and claws over the outline of the hand print. “It... it looks so evil.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“It was.  But I survived it.  My Kimberly, my sweet Lady Kimberly, do not fear it.  It is a scar, one given by an evil now overthrown.  It is a sign of our victory.” He didn’t even really know what he was saying; he could only gaze at his wife and love her with all that he was.  He leaned forward and kisses her on the bridge of her nose.  The fear melted from her eyes and she kissed him in return, their arms wrapped about each other’s necks. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Huzzah!” the many who’d gathered shouted in glee.  “Huzzah!  Huzzah for Charles and Kimberly!” <x-tab>        </x-tab>But their voices were insignificant next to the chorus of little squeaking voices that came next. “Dada!  Dada!  Dada’s home!” Kimberly stepped aside as the little rats clustered about Charles’s legs.  He bent down, and nuzzled them each in turn, one, two, three, four...  Only four?  He opened his eyes, and looked them over, still smiling, but a little confused. <x-tab>        </x-tab>There on his left was his eldest, little Charles, with dark brown fur all over his body that still gave way to pink coloured paws, ears, and nose, and white whiskers.  To his right was his eldest daughter, Bernadette, with soft tan fur like her mother’s, lightening to white beneath her chin and down her chest now bundled in a green tunic and breeches.  Between them was Erick with his tan fur that darkened over his shoulders like a cape.  And behind them scampered little Baerle, her fur also dark like her oldest brother, but with a white underbelly like her sister.  But where was his third son, whose head and back where dark of hue with a lighter underbelly as if he were wearing a great hood?  Where was Ladero? <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles hugged his children close and squeaked to them. “Oh Charles, Bernadette, Erick, Baerle, I’ve missed you all so!!”  They squeaked back to him and hugged him wherever they could and held tight.  But their father was already looking at his wife. “Where’s Ladero?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Baerle the opossum stood behind Kimberly now, and she bit on her knuckles, tears standing in her eyes.  Kimberly trembled and then put one paw on his shoulder. “Ladero became very sick last year... we lost him.  We lost him.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“No...” Charles felt as if a sword had been thrust into his heart.  He held his four children tighter. “No... that can’t be.  It can’t be!  He’s... he’s my little one.  My... my... Sondeck child.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Kimberly leaned over him.  The crowd, once so excited, was now muted and stepped back to give them some room.  Her eyes, so beautiful, were now crying even more. “I know.  I’m so sorry.  Even Raven couldn’t save him... I’m so sorry, Charles!” She flung her arms around him.  Charles felt his little ones holding tight, shivering for fear at seeing their parents so.  <x-tab>        </x-tab>And then he let go of them, and pushed Kimberly off.  He stood up, shaking his head. “I need to see him.  Show me where he is.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“This way,” a new but familiar voice said.  The rat turned an found a grey-furred ferret dressed in green at his back. “Come, Charles.  Ladero’s this way.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Garigan,” the rat said, and then followed him through the crowd.  Kimberly and Baerle were right behind him, and his four children scampered both on hind legs and on all fours around him.  Most of the other Glenners kept back. <x-tab>        </x-tab>They walked north of the Glen into the woods a short distance until they came to a place where the trees sheltered a small grove filled with stone markers.  Each marker stood at the head of a small tumulus.  Most were covered in snow and ice, but one, a simple cross with a yew chiselled into the front, had been swept clean with flowers resting upon its base.  Charles’s felt his entire body constrict, the Sondeck tightening into a fist within his chest.  The name, “Ladero Matthias” was inscribed into the tree’s trunk. <x-tab>        </x-tab>“No,” Charles whispered, and then fell to his knees, his little children scampering out of the way.  The vine pulled taut against him as if sucked inward.  He shook, tail curling around his legs until it too was wrapped tight.  “Oh, Eli, please!  No!” He curled his chin to his chest, paws covering his head. “My Ladero,” he wept. <x-tab>        </x-tab>And then, the ever tightening ball of sorrow inside of him could go no further.  He thrust his arms before him, head snapping back and bellowed, “No!!” before falling arms across the gravestone, hugging it close, cold and unfamiliar.  But it was stone.  Heart miserable, his fingers slid within its cool embrace to find a tenant that in so many images described its watchful regard over the little body buried at its feet, and the string of faces filled with anguish that had come to pay their respects and shed their tears. <x-tab>        </x-tab> “Charles!  Your arms!” Kimberly’s voice broke through his granite communion.  He opened his eyes and saw that his hands were imbedded in the gravestone, and that his arms were stone all the way to his elbows.  He sighed and drew his hands back and let his flesh return. <x-tab>        </x-tab>His voice was quiet and desolate, his eyes smeared with tears.  “I will tell you about that later, my Lady.  But first, how did he die?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Kimberly crept up beside him, eyes on his arms, and then laid one paw on his back.  The children clustered around, silent and wide-eyed.  Garigan and Baerle stayed close, but all the others were gone.  “It started as a cough in early Autumn.  Jo gave me broths to feed him, but it only got worse.  After Garigan returned from Metamor, he said that there was a tear in his Sondeck.” Charles’s ears perked but he said nothing. “Jo did all she could but we had to send for the Lothanasa.  But she arrived too late and our little boy died.  Garigan did all he could to hold his Sondeck together, but it nearly killed him too.  I still don’t understand what happened.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles turned on the ferret, staring at him through his black-hand eye. “His Sondeck was torn?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Jagged as if it were ripping itself apart,” Garigan replied. “When Raven touched the boy she felt such terrible pain she yanked her hand back immediately.  I chewed out one of my own teeth and had blood poring from my face and chest before I passed out.” He lowered his head. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know what to do.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>The rat lowered his eyes. “Sondtodt.” <x-tab>        </x-tab> “Sond-what?” <x-tab>        </x-tab> “Sondtodt,” Charles repeated. “It’s a sickness that sometimes strikes Sondecki children whose parents are both Sondeckis.  Very rarely it strikes a Sondecki child with only one Sondecki parent.” The rat sighed heavily. “There was nothing you could have done, Garigan.  I could have held him together longer, long enough to have a dragon fly us to Sondeshara, but that is what it would have taken to heal him.  Although I’m sure Akkala could have done so as well.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“She said only one man in all of Galendor could have healed Ladero,” Kimberly whispered. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles pondered that for a moment and then nodded; he felt even more dead inside than if he were nothing but stone. “Krenek could have.  He trained in the arts of Sondeckis healing.  But Akkala helped heal me from something stranger, and Rickkter too! Why not my boy?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Kimberly swallowed, sniffling, but no more tears would come to her eyes. “She said that Ladero had to die to save you.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“What?” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Baerle nodded her head and stepped closer, reaching out one paw to steady him. “She did.  She said Ladero’s death would save you.” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Save me?” Charles blinked and then his emptiness was consumed by a fierce rage. “Save me!  That bitch!  She demands I go to Marzac and leave my family behind, and then won’t lift a finger to heal my boy!  My Sondecki boy!  Damn her!” <x-tab>        </x-tab>“Charles!” Kimberly wailed. “The children!” <x-tab>        </x-tab>Charles rose and kicked the snow around, swinging his arms at the empty air.  The vine writhed against his chest.  He felt as if his fur would catch fire. “No!  I’ve been used by these ungrateful gods and had my son snatched from me!  Damn them all!” He kicked the snow one last time, and then stormed over to one of the trees and beat it with his fists, cracking the icy bark.  His children squeaked and hid behind Kimberly and Baerle. <x-tab>        </x-tab>But the ferret wasn’t afraid.  He grabbed Charles by the shoulder, spun him around, and then pounded him in the centre of the forehead with his fist.  The rat blinked and stumbled backward, stunned by the blow.  He fell to his haunches, tail bunching painfully beneath him.  His legs kicked out through the snow, toes splayed wide, while his arms hung limply at his sides. <x-tab>        </x-tab>And just as the anger burned so bright, so too was his grief deep. “Oh Eli, my Ladero.  My little Ladero is gone!” Charles sobbed into his paws.  He could feel the touch of his family and friends as they gathered around.  Kimberly at his chest, Garigan and Baerle at his sides, and his four children in his lap, crying for their hurt Dada. <x-tab>        </x-tab>Like that they stayed as the cold winter air blew the snow back over Ladero’s grave. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4b9987ae138451443720711! </body> </html>