<html> <body> And here's Part 2. Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold By Charles Matthias How shall the burial rite be read? The solemn song be sung? Iron bells! James blinked open his eyes and gazed at the light peering through the window panes, a swirl of golden diffused across the floor, turning as the glints of light passed through the variegated imperfections in each pane. For a moment he wondered at the duration of his sleep; then he recalled that it was Friday and on that particular day he had no duties to the Inn. His supple equine lips twitched at the favourable possibility of chores to perform for Baerle and Lady Matthias. But first, the donkey would return to Malloc and finish the bell. Even the thought of it sent a pellucid shiver through his spine like a vast cataract rolling silently but thunderously from a steaming sea into the ramparts of the heavens. He could neither explain nor even craft images of why repairing this bell stirred him so intensely. All he knew was that ever since he had begun work on it, the startling dreams had ceased and the sense of foreboding danger had left him. James climbed from bed, stretched, dressed, and sauntered from his room, down the steps, and waved to Jurmas who looked rather distracted as he cleaned tables. The deer, whose sleep two nights past had been interrupted by the birth of twin daughters, blearily returned the gesture. The crisp morning air was bathed in a delicate warmth that teased each fibre of his hide. James almost danced along the softening earth as he turned to the winding road down to the lake. He was arrested by a gust of wind and a brilliant flash from the sky. He leapt back, reaching for his sword and slashing above him. And then was exceedingly grateful that he’d missed. Settling to the earth a few feet before him was a brilliant white gryphon bearing a small man and a tall timeless being. Guernef, Abafouq, and Andares, his dear companions on the part of his life that he still scarcely believed he participated in. He shouted their names in turn as the Binoq and Åelf clambered off the Nauh-kaee’s back. His delight bubbled over his smile and, after sheathing his sword, into a laugh and firm embraces. “What brings you three to the Glen?” “Sadly, a goodbye,” Abafouq admitted with a long sigh. He then smiled and patted the donkey on the elbow. “We’re leaving the valley today and journeying home. We all hope to return someday, aye. But we could not leave and not see our friends one last time.” “I fear Charles is not here. He rode to the south with Sir Saulius to protect the Bishop.” “We know,” Andares said with a firm smile. “We came to see you before we left.” “Oh,” James wagged his ears back behind his head, and looked between Abafouq and Andares. “Will you be coming back?” “We hope to,” Abafouq repeated as he stretched. Their landing had attracted the attention of several Glenners, but they were now known here and so left to James. Abafouq noted their stares with an almost hungered expression. “This is a beautiful land that would make a wonderful home.” “But it is not our own,” Guernef finished for him. The Nauh-kaee’s voice was hard but not unkind and seemed to soften with each utterance. “We must return to our own homes. You will leave our eyes but not our thoughts.” James nodded, glancing past them briefly at the path down to the lake and to the smithy. “Isn’t it a long journey for you?” “Two months I am thinking,” Abafouq admitted. “Maybe more, but we can fly over the ice as long as the weather cooperates. I have a few spells to keep from freezing there. I’m not covered in feathers and fur like my friend Guernef here.” “No, you aren’t,” Guernef agreed. “But the paths of the sky are open to you.” James chuckled as his eyes lifted to the many evergreen boughs above and the patches of blue that could be seen between them and especially toward the lake. He could heard the distant throb of hammers like the tattoo of a beating heart. “I’ve never heard anyone put it quite like that. But after riding the Rheh it makes sense.” “And how are you managing, James?” Abafouq asked. “I am thinking it has been at least two weeks since last we spoke.” He shrugged. “I’m all right. I had some trouble sleeping at first, but that’s passed. I’ve been keeping busy at the Inn and with some small patrol duties. Angus is willing to trust me with more since I returned. Oh, and helping Charles, Kimberly, and Baerle at their home with chores. Are you going to see them again?” “No,” Andares replied with a faint shake of his head. The long braid slid back and forth like an adder uncoiling. “We must traverse the entire length of the Valley this day. It is already midmorning and we must continue on our way.” James lowered his ears and nodded. “Of course. Thank you for coming to see me. I hope you have a safe journey, and I hope to see you all again! I miss seeing your faces when I wake up in the morning.” “And we you,” Abafouq admitted. The little man hugged him and the donkey hugged the Binoq back, gently, pressing his callused hoof-like hands into his back. A moment later he and Andares exchanged a firm embrace. Only Guernef remained aloof, but he did lower his head respectfully to him and confess his own gratitude. “My wings soar the wider having journeyed and fought at your side, James of the Glen.” The donkey could find no words to say to that and so merely put his hand to his chest in salute to the Nauh-kaee. Finally, he managed to blurt, “Thank you.” It felt so inadequate. Andares climbed onto the Nauh-kaee’s back and helped Abafouq to scramble up into the saddle and harness. James took several steps back while they waved to him and wished him a final farewell. James waved back as twigs clattered and the last of the snow skirled in the wake of the white gryphon’s leap into the air and beat of massive feathered wings. A few seconds more and he lost sight of them in the maze of spire and branch. He caught sight of them again for a few seconds over the lake and then they disappeared to the south. A hot breath poured from his lips and he scuffled his hooves in the hard earth. So they were gone. The legends and fairy tales had taken their leave of Metamor at last. He stared in to the sky where the gray vapour of cool morning had risen and lost its drab tint. Day was upon him. He waited only a moment more before hearkening to the call of the hammers and the promise of the bell. The iron bell. ---------- After a rather hearty meal and some discussion of plans for the patrol with the local militia, the knights sent their squires to prepare the horses. Charles and Intoran dutifully obeyed and so for a few minutes as they readied the tack they were alone together as often seemed to be the case since Father Hough asked them to be an honour guard for the Bishop. Yet, despite their growing companionship they rarely discussed anything more pressing than the cares of the day. But with the rat’s obvious discomfiture, the oryx could not help but ask of it. While carrying Egland’s heavy leather saddle toward the roan charger Galadan, he caught Charles’s eye and said, “You were hoping to go back to your family today.” “Aye,” Charles replied with a long sigh. He straightened the saddle on Armivest’s back. The pony whuffled and flicked his tail in the rat’s direction somewhat affectionately. “But duty comes first. I’ll yank the fur off that Jackal’s tail later.” Intoran chuckled and rested the saddle on Galadan’s back. The roan stomped a forehoof. “I doubt it was intentional. We’re here now.” “It does make some sort of sense,” Charles begrudgingly admitted. “But I’m not going to like it.” Intoran straightened the saddle and began tightening the buckles. A thoughtful moue fixed on his muzzle. “Have you ever spent any time in Jetta? Until this week I’d never been here.” Charles shook his head. “I passed by Jetta on my way to Metamor eight years ago. But I’ve never stayed here, no. Are you going to suggest I try to enjoy seeing this place while I’m here?” “Why not?” Intoran shrugged and did his best to smile. “At the very least we get to spend more time in the saddle. Yacoub’s always happiest that way.” His golden eyes grew vaguely distant for a moment, then snapped back to the present. “Coming out to serve the Bishop has made him the happiest I’ve seen him since his brother visited.” That did pique the rat’s interest. He remembered the dour Darius Egland who accompanied them not for their own sake, but merely for the chance to see his brother that he’d long thought dead. Though they’d travelled for nearly a month together, they’d never warmed. “Did he bring bad news?” Intoran shook his head, and then shrugged again. “Not that Yacoub has said. He does not wish to discuss it, and I have asked him many times. He’s just grown distant since then, as if he has some great weight bearing him down. I’d help him carry it if only he’d let me.” He shook his head and then finished securing the straps. “He is happy now again. Perhaps this is what he needed. I know that serving the Ecclesia in some way is very important to him. I confess I like the idea as well.” Charles put the halter over Armivest’s head and scratched the pony behind one ear. “Didn’t you want to be a knight?” “I think every boy dreamed of being a knight when they grew up. No, it sort of accidentally worked out that way. I am grateful for it though. My swordsmanship has greatly improved and Egland assures me that he will train me to the tilt once Spring is here.” Charles nodded and pondered what Saulius had in store for him in training. Was he resigned to being his squire, or was it merely a symptom of missing his family or even Misha’s assurance he wouldn’t be sent on any distant patrols for several months? Surely the fox had to know what Saulius was up to. Those two had been fighting for his allegiance for almost two years now and he doubted it was going to come to an end until one of the three of them died. He had to take his paw away from Armivest’s ear lest he begin drawing blood; in his musing his scratching had begun to grow fiercer and firmer. The poor animal nickered in protest. “I’m sure it won’t be long before it will be you who will be in need of a squire,” he said with a forced smile. He then turned to grab Malicon’s gear so as to avoid having to keep such an expression. “And don’t worry about Sir Egland. From what I know of him, he’s faced far worse than a brother’s news and survived. Just give him time.” “And you do the same, Charles,” Intoran suggested gently. “You’ll be back with your family soon enough.” Sotto voce, with narrowed eyes that made the Shrieker’s black hand print turn into a twisted claw, the rat added, “I better.” ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4e653e8c218871804284693! </body> </html>