<html> <body> Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold By Charles Matthias March 7, 708 CR James didn't remember arriving in the vast chamber. For as far back as his mind could trace the current moment he had always been standing in the empty stone hall that stretched for at least a mile in each direction. The distant walls rose up on either side and seemed to bend as they continued to rise, until they formed a conical arch overhead. But as he stared upward, he could see nothing in the enclosing darkness. There were no torches or lanterns, not even the fickle dancing of a witchlight to provide illumination. Yet near to the ground the donkey could see everything clearly. But as soon as he lifted his head everything he tried to stare at vanished behind a veil of shadow. The floor beneath him was fashioned from carefully fitted together stone blocks, each wider than he could stretch out his arms. The grooves between them were so tight that not even a hair could slip through the cracks. And their surface was so flat that James feared slipping on his hooves. He moved carefully around, looking from wall to wall to see if, even at his great distance, he could see some door through which he could escape. But as far away as he was the walls seemed as featureless as the floor. James picked a direction and began to walk, warily lifting his eyes to the ponderous weight that seemed to press down on him from the shadows above. The clop of his hooves on the stone did not echo. Even his breath and heart beat offered no sound to hear. Everything was silent. From above him a vast throbbing made him tumble to all fours before crouching as low to the ground as he could manage. The sensation, it was too deep and encompassing to call sound, pulverized all concern about escape until there was nothing left in him but muscle and sinew encasing brittle bone. The soul shall find itself alone. Alone. James breathed slowly, ears pressing back along his neck and sharp mane. The chamber now echoed with that thought, a clarion ring that brought with it images and faces that spoke of a time before the chamber, a time before the timbre and pitch of the shadows above had beckoned him. How could he be alone? He saw his friend Charles the rat before him, regaling him with the news that he'd secured his position on the mission to the mountains after his brief slip had put it into jeopardy. Charles didn't want him to be alone; Charles wanted his company. But to what end? Baerle would be there too wouldn't she? Was he trying to give James another chance to express himself to the opossum? Another image seemed to ricochet into his mind as the throbbing from above continued. The opossum had wrapped her arms tightly about the rat's neck when he'd returned from Metamor. Relief? Comfort? What had been the motive? What was the purpose behind such contact? Her eyes, never noticing the donkey, strayed ever to the rat who called him friend. She lived in his house. She breastfed his children. What about him? Another blast of presence pressed him further against the ground. His bones trembled under the assault; before his startled eyes his hands and arms melted into hooves and forelegs of a common donkey. Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish. Alone. A common beast of burden to both Charles and Baerle. Was it really a wonder that they wanted him along on the trip into the mountains? The vibrations that before had crushed him low now seemed to fill him with their own peculiar energy. He lifted his long head, glaring into the darkness, almost certain that he could make out a long thine line that curved in a wide circle through the shadow. James drove all four of his hooves into the smooth stone beneath him and forced his body upright. He felt the brand in his side flaring with febrile life. He could almost taste a bit in his mouth and feel straps across his face and neck. When he moved forward, they pulled against him as if he were dragging a cart or plow. No! James ground his teeth together and shook his neck back and forth, bucking his shoulders and throwing off whatever bindings were lashed to him. He forced his hooves to return to being hands and after a moment's clutching fear that they would stubbornly remain a beast's hooves, they cleaved and his fingers returned. He stood on two legs and lifted his head to the darkness above. The vague suggestion of an outline shifted hazily through the shadow. A sonorous vibration made him tremble. The soul shall find itself alone. James shook his head and covered his face with his hands. “No! No, I don't want to be alone!” The soul shall find itself alone. “No! Please, not that!” Alone! “I will have her! I will!” Alone! “No I won't! She'll be mine! Whatever it takes, I won't be alone!” His voice felt raw as he shouted up into a darkness that swallowed his words like a frog swallowing flies. And then the darkness throbbed anew, the faint outline circling round him so wide and so ponderously, yet for a moment, he thought he caught a glint of an edge scalloping upward further into the invisible. Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish. James blinked and felt his eyes drawn down toward his hooves. There, resting as if it had always lain there between his hooves, was his cracked bell. Slowly, the donkey lowered and lifted that instrument into his hands, cradling its soft, but thrumming surface. He pressed the unbroken side to his snout and spread his lips wide against it, until it trembled against his flat teeth. With a desperate desire, and a resolute endeavor. James could see her before him, her soft white fur, small perky ears, long tail, trembling whiskers, and brilliant eyes. If his bell could do what he saw it do that hare, what more could it yet do? Nevermore. What more could it yet do to make sure he would nevermore be alone? Of despair! No more for him. James breathed of the scent of the bell, breathed of its chrome and hint of fire, the cool of the iron, and tickling of soot. No more despair for him. No more being alone. Above him the weighty might of the bell he knew that had poured forth its essence into the small marvel he clutched in his arms, began to toll with pitiless determination. Words trickled from his lips as if pouring from that ageless beacon, “I say that dream was fraught with wild and waking thought. Let none of earth inherit that vision on my spirit. I care not though it perish with a thought I then did cherish.” He gasped for breath when the words ceased, so simple and yet each felt like a shovel jabbing into his chest. Tolling. Bells. Bells. Bells. James trembled and brayed with a feverish laugh. His voice was once more his own. “Baerle. You are mine.” He struck the bell in his hands and it resounded with a cacophonous knell that echoed and echoed, rebounding around him like thunder. Everything around fell into shadow but that last vision of her brilliant face. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4e8a6066137631398310010! </body> </html>