<html> <body> Although in three parts, this one is still pretty short.  I want to thank Christof and Raven for giving it beta reads. --------- Metamor Keep: Hough's Secret by Charles Matthias March 25, 708 CR The morning dawned with a heavy layer of fog coating the southern half of the valley up to the walls of Metamor Keep herself, but by midmorning, except for a few secluded woodland dells, the Spring-time sun had burned it away leaving a a pleasant aroma to the air of all the wildflowers and blossoms now coming into bloom everywhere. Heavy clouds settled over the Dragon Mountains suggesting that rain and strong winds were in their future, but they would come in the evening if at all. Nothing could damped the spirits of Keepers freed from the grip of the plague. Although the appearance of a Metamorian garbed in black robe with the red cross of the Questioners on his chest certainly annoyed most who saw him. Father Felsah paid scant attention to the ugly looks he received as he walked down the streets of Metamor, prayer book in hand and new lips and tongue murmuring the ancient and ever renewing prayers for the midday hours, while at his side trotted the golden-furred dog Rakka. He was long used to receiving such cold welcomes; he only hoped in time that his service to these people would soften their hearts to the red cross. In the nearly four weeks he had been in the Valley now everywhere he had gone he'd been treated with a mixture of trepidation, indifference, curiosity, and outright scorn. A few, such as Sister Sho Rosewain of Jetta, had been grateful for his efforts and looked to him as a priest and not a tyrant's hand. But most could not see past the fears and ill-wind the red cross had sown in years past. Only time, charity, and grace could heal those wounds. He had not ventured through Metamor since Bishop Tyrion had appointed him to the valley, partly because of the plague that had gripped the city, but mostly because he had spent the last three weeks walking on foot through the southern towns and villages, speaking with all the Followers he could find to learn of their needs and to judge the state of their spiritual lives. There were more Followers to the north of Metamor and he would soon walk amongst them and learn what he could. Only then would he be able to make an appropriate recommendation to the Bishop on how best to proceed in strengthening the faith and fidelity of this remote but stalwart people. But for now, he looked forward to a few days of rest and perhaps a bit of relaxation if Madog were about. The mere thought of the metal fox brought a smile to his altered face as he continued his prayers. Still smiling, something that came so much easier to him now, he focused his thoughts anew on the prayers, singing Eli's praises for the world and its many wonders, recognizing in the beauty each thing possessed the glory and might of their creator. Even the variety of the shapes of those living in the Valley, which he now shared in, came about by what they spoke of as a Curse, but what he could see as both blessing and burden. How challenging it would be as he discovered all of the burdens his new form gave him, but also the multitude of blessings hidden within. One of which alerted him to the mocking, foul laughter surrounding him. Rakka growled as Felsah looked up from his prayer book at a quartet of men, one of them human in mid-thirties, the others animals. He recognized a leopard, some form of cattle, and a round-eared canine with stocky snout. The bull had his arms crossed over his swollen chest, wide nose twitching as he stared down at Felsah. “Well, well, well, looks like the Questioner got cut down to size. Who's going to keep you safe now, priest?” The bull dragged his hoof across the stone road as if he were going to charge. The dog wagged a short tail as he barked a laugh, while the leopard stretched his claws and the human cracked his knuckles. Rakka continued to growl, lowering into a defensive crouch. Felsah noted each of his assailants without rancor or fear, merely sighing in dismay. “Yahshua has already promised to protect those who love Him and do His will.” He folded the prayer book, leaving one finger at his page so he could return to it later. “Is there anything I can help you with, good sirs? I'm afraid I am new to Metamor but I will do what I can.” The human smirked. “You could hold still.” Rakka's growl deepened. Felsah put one hand on the golden-furred dog's back, but this did little to still the animal's anxiety. The four men surrounding him laughed all the more. Beyond them several others traversing the streets of Metamor had stopped to watch the commotion. “I do not wish to see any of you in trouble with Metamor's Watch. Nor should you imperil your souls on account of me.” “Oh we're not going to hurt you,” the bull said, while his friends laughed and moved nearer. “We're just going to make sure that you can't hurt any Keepers, Questioner!” The ever-present anxiety the Curse had given him warred with his Questioner-imbued command of self. After a sharp intake of breath he quelled his new instincts and brought the stolid mask across his new face. “I will not, and have never, brought any Keeper to harm. Tell me, you who believe otherwise, what of you? Are you Follower? Pagan? Or heretic?” The leopard growled. “We follow the Canticles, not some old man in a far away land!” “Heretics then,” Felsah said with a heavy sigh. “My concern is with the Followers here at Metamor, not any of your kind. You have nothing to fear from me.” “Yeah, you blackies are all liars!” The man said as they all took a step closer. “All of you!” the bull joined in, stomping one hoof after the other as he lumbered near. Rakka snapped as they tried to get in closer, while Felsah did his best to steel himself against whatever these four wished to do to him. But even though these four gazed down at him with a fiery hunger, something approached from behind them and to Felsah's right that cast a shadow over all of them. Heavy footfalls made the stone throb beneath his sensitive feet. And then large mottled green and brown hands grabbed the canine and the leopard and yanked them off their feet. All eyes turned toward the Keeper who stood another two heads higher than any of them, his head crowned with a wide fan and fixed with three long horns. His face ended in a gray beak which opened with a heavy rumbling like a mill grinding wheat to flour. “You heard Father, you have nothing to fear from him. But you do from me if you don't leave him alone! No matter how big you are, no matter how strong you think you are, there is always, always, someone out there who is stronger or bigger yet!” The bull and man stared wide eyed as their friends struggled in the monstrous Keeper's grip. Rakka stopped growling and began to whine uncertainly, but Felsah kept his hand firmly pressed against the dog's back even as he struggled to keep still. “His kind have murdered our ancestors!” the bull snapped after falling back a few paces. He stood a little taller, sneering at the scaled man holding his friends. “He doesn't belong here!” “And the Watch will throw you all in the dungeon for attacking a priest,” he said in a deep basso that echoed from his large chest and seemed to make the air thicker as it passed. He gave both dog and cat a firm shake and then tossed them to the ground on either side. “Now run. Or I'll make sure you can't.” The dog looked ready to reach for his dagger, but his eyes noted the tree trunk thick legs and tail with which the Curse had gifted this Keeper and thought better of it. The bull snorted, gave Felsah one last evil look, and then the four of them scattered back into the crowd. The people watching parted to let them through, noted who it was they'd tried to assault, and then went back to their business selling, trading, and gossiping. Felsah looked up at his rescuer, and continued looking up. He couldn't judge heights as well now that the Curse had changed him, but he figured this scaled creature had to stand at least twenty-four hands high. He couldn't fathom how many stone he weighed; probably more than two destriers together! Still, he did his best to smile as he spoke. “Thank you, good sir.” He made the sign of the yew and said, “May Yahshua bless you for your kindness. I am in your debt.” The man's booming voice seemed hesitant, almost nervous. “You owe me nothing, Father. I am glad I was here to stop them. I had never thought to see a Questioner here, not after what I'd heard from the other Keepers.” “I had not thought to come stay here either, but that appears to be Eli's will. I am Father Felsah. Who might you be?” The three-horned creature lowered to one knee, his long, thick tail stretching out behind him. “Zachary... formerly of Bradanes.” Felsah's lips twitched at that befouled city's name. He stroked Rakka behind the ears and the golden-furred dog began to wag his tail. “You have suffered much then, Zachary, you and all your brethren.” “Most of my family made it here safe,” he said with a long sigh. “Would you believe I was once the smallest of all my brothers? Even my sister was stronger than me, even before that poison made us hide in rags.” A horrible darkness filled his yellow speckled eyes and his thick fingers balled into fists as large as melons. “That time has past, good Zachary,” Felsah assured him with a faint smile touching his cheeks. It was hard to look up so high, and so the Questioner let his gaze descend across his rescuer's body until they returned to the old stone road through the center of Keeptowne. The strange reptilian man bore a large brown tunic and breeches with a simple black tabard draped over his shoulders and clasped at his chest. A large sword taller than Felsah had been before the Curse's had claimed him rested at his hip with a quillion at least a cubit across. His feet were not covered by any sort of boot – so much leather would have been difficult for a soldier to afford – and while he did not stand on his toes like many Keepers, his feet could hardly be described as human either. Though the heel was familiar enough, each of his four toes was roughly the same size, ending in a dark gray, swollen nail more akin to the elephants brought from the eastern jungles or the southern steppes. “Aye,” Zachary agreed with another long sigh. “Amen. You were headed somewhere, Father? I could accompany you.” Felsah lifted the heavy prayer book and then pointed it northward at the castle. “I am going there; I will speak with Father Hough at his convenience. I will likely tarry a few days more, then I must be off to see the rest of the Valley and the many Followers like we who now make it home.” Zachary stood up, turned toward the castle, and with a deep chortle said, “Then let us go to the castle. I would be honored to accompany you, Father Felsah.” He felt a strange delight at this towering behemoth's generosity and so nodded. “I would be grateful for the company.” Together they walked down the street, though Felsah noted within a few paces that Zachary was deliberately slowing himself to avoid tiring the priest. “Although I had my youth in the Holy Land, I have traveled many places in Galendor, and a few in Sonngefilde as well. But I have never seen a creature quite like you. Forgive my impertinence, but what are you, Zachary?” The rumbling chortle met his sensitive ears like a distant peal of thunder. “I'd be amazed if you had known. I'd never heard of it either, nor had any in the Fellowship. Oh!” Though Felsah couldn't see it, the surprise in his companion's voice sounded like self-admonishment. “A komodo Emily told me that it's a creature that died out in this land many centuries ago. She says the Tened called it a Kharrakhaz.” He rolled the 'r' for half-a-second in the strange word, the consonants harsh and whistling. “The Tened?” “An ancient race that used to live in this valley those many centuries ago.” His voice grew distant and uncomfortable. “I don't know much about them... you'd have to ask Emily.” His tongue did not like the name, but he did the best he could. “So what does Kharrakhaz mean in our language? Anything?” Zachary's voice regained its good humor. “Three horned herd beast, Father. Nothing more than that.” Felsah chuckled lightly as they walked. Rakka kept between them, and Felsah kept one hand on the dog's back. The frightening men were gone, but Zachary was still just a little too large and strange smelling for his four-footed friend's comfort. After a brief silence, he offered, “It is an apt description judging by your appearance. Are there any others like you?” “Nay, though there are other Keepers who have taken guises not seen in these lands before. E'en you, Father. I do not recognize the creature you have become. A mouse of some sort, I'd say, but not what kind.” Felsah nodded, his long tufted tail flicking back and forth behind him as he almost hopped each step beneath his shortened black robes. “It is a little creature akin to a mouse that lives in my homeland. They are desert dwellers, hiding in the rocks and in holes, coming out at night to forage and frolic. They are very fast on their legs, and they live such short lives, but they are hardy for all that, and I have enjoyed watching them in the past when I've been so fortunate to see them.” He glanced at the slender tan-furred arms he now bore, and the small hands and fingers tipped by a short claw, and twitched his whiskers in amusement. “A jerboa as we call them. It means hopping mouse.” Zachary looked nearly straight down at him, bending his neck in what must have been an uncomfortable angle. And he had to because Felsah was now not quite nine hands high at the top of his long, round ears. “Pardon me for saying it, Father, but you don't seem to be hopping.” “I am trying very hard not to.” So saying he moved his hips one at a time, his long legs, hidden beneath his robes, taking each step one at a time, the short claws tipping each toe brushing against the inside of his black robe as they reached the cold paving stones. “My first hops tangled me badly in my Questioner garb, and poor, sweet Rakka thought I was trying to play with him.” He offered the dog a quick scratch behind his ears. “In his enthusiasm, he accidentally bit off one of my whiskers; it hurt more than I thought it would.” Zachary glanced down at him and grunted before returning his attention to the busy market road. They were moving down the main thoroughfare and passing into a large square filled with merchants and Keepers out buying anything and everything they could after the drought from the plague. Stalls with boisterous men announcing breads, cheeses, potatoes, salted meats, onions, cabbages, spices, eggs, and even fresh milk made Felsah's nose twitch and the nostrils on either side of Zachary's beak swell. This scent was mixed with a rich panoply of animal musks both Keeper and otherwise, a variety of exotic perfumes, soaps, and candles. Felsah's ears were inundated by a cacophony of voices so richly varied that he almost felt as if he'd stumbled upon an exotic animal show in the middle of a farm at the edge of a lively forest with a small lake in which every fishing beast was currently plying their trade and bragging about their catch. Pinions, banners, and bright colors assaulted him on either side as each of the merchants newly returned to Metamor tried to attract Keepers with as bright and as bold a display as they could manage. In this maelstrom the trio plunged, but they needn't have worried. The merchants only ever briefly glanced their way; whether it was from intimidation at Zachary's size and alien shape or the red cross and black robe draped over Felsah's body he wasn't sure, but he was grateful not to have to politely decline a dozen or more desperate princes of ware, coin, and road. It also made it possible for him to ask a question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind for some minutes. “You do not seem to be afraid of Questioners. Why is that?” Zachary flexed a mottled brown and green hand and grunted, the edges of his beak twisting as much as they could into a frown. “It's not because I'm bigger than you, Father. Even if our shapes were reversed I wouldn't be afraid of you... well, maybe a little intimidated, but not afraid.” His moue lifted a moment and he gazed upward at the spires of the western half of Metamor castle. “We had a Questioner at Bradanes. He was a good old man who taught me my letters and how to pray. I used to go hide in his cell when I was little to escape the bigger boys.” The Kharrakhaz laughed, a trilling rumble that made a few nearby merchants briefly look up in alarm. “I think he wanted me to become a priest like him, but after he died, my father had me apprentice with a weaver; my hands were small and nimble then.” He waved his thick fingers and then shook his head. “Father Ellis taught me the Canticles and the faith in a way that everything made sense. He said that was how all Questioners were instructed and I rather liked it.” “Did you wish to become a Questioner?” Zachary shrugged. “I might have at one point. But now I'm big and strong, and so I'm trying to use that to protect everyone here. That seemed the most important thing to do.” Felsah nodded and smiled. It was good to hear that there were other Questioners out there who did not abuse their authority or revel in it like so many others he had seen and felt powerless to stop. “That is very noble of you, but do not think that those are the only things that matter. Your faculties may require more; they may expect more of you.” “I know,” Zachary nodded. “But I can do these things for the first time in my life. I want to follow this path for a while and see where it leads me.” In a softer voice, though one still deep that seemed to whisper first from his massive chest and then cascade down from his beak, he added, “I'll always follow the Ecclesia first.” “I am glad to hear it, Zachary. And thank you again for aiding me. Let us speak of other things for now. Tell me of your family. How many made the journey from Bradanes safely?” ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4edb82c0157761804284693! </body> </html>