<html> <body> More Metamor in part four! --------- Metamor Keep:  Heading to All Tomorrows by Charles Matthias A bright blue sky overhead blended with streaks of clouds until it seemed to roil like an ocean churning through rocks. His steps glided along the old road, while the smell of wood, farms, and pastureland inundated him from all sides, blending into a bouquet of simple charm. Intermittent copses of trees dotted the stone road, hoping back and forth all the way up to cluster of homes and buildings that comprised the small town that had sprung up at the road's fork. Beyond this a larger wood spread outward from which lumber and game could be found. This too seemed to stretch into the sky and blend as if all of the colors in the world were made from fresh paint being sprinkled with raindrops. Andares felt a presence at his side, but was surprised to discover that it was a man in his middle ages, with only the first glimmers of gray framing his ears and tingling his scraggly beard. He was draped in a faded green cloak and walked with a staff fashioned from a fallen branch, now smoothed so many times by repeated attention that it was almost glossy. And yet, though Andares could not remember meeting this man before, it seemed as if they had been talking for a long time. “Ah, there, Nenuin. You will find lodging there for the night,” the man said while gesturing with the tip of his walking staff at the town up the road. Could one even sleep in a dream, he wondered? Yet when was the last time he recalled carrying on a discourse with anyone in a dream, let alone a forester and seeming mystic, perhaps even a disciple of Artela herself? “Thank you for your kind assistance. And where shall you be sleeping?” “I?” His smile was gentle as his eyes trailed past the town to the forest beyond. “I shall return to my home.” “You live in the woods.” “Aye,” the stranger replied with a warm sigh. “I live there, and they have accepted me as a friend, even if I remain a stranger to those places.” “And these woods have welcomed you?” “They are wild, simpler than the wood of your home, but wild nevertheless. Artela has a special fondness for even such small forests as that which blossoms at Nenuin's borders.” Andares felt a bit of delight in talking with this stranger. His entire body seemed to glow with joy as he spoke of the forest and his eyes burnished with the trees and their verdant boughs as his gaze fixed upon them. “You are her disciple then?” “Aye, I serve her faithfully. Nothing in these woods would bring harm to Nenuin, and no man in Nenuin would bring harm to these woods.” “But what of other woods,” Andares asked. “What of the Elderwood? It lays on your borders too.” “Not as close,” the disciple replied with a gentle wag of one finger. The skin on his face drew taut as his gaze swept northward toward the dark green line in the distance. It seemed to Andares as if the very air congealed in that moment, and they had to struggle to continue on their way down the road, thrashing arms back and forth for several seconds before they broke free. “But... thankfully quiet for many years now. It has been a long time since we have had to fear the northern hills.” “Truly? You have seen nothing then?” “Not even the birds fear the north; I watch them and listen to their songs. They fear each other more than any monsters from that cursed place.” The disciple turned his head slightly to regard Andares with a worried expression. “Have you seen something? I have always known your kind could sense things mine cannot. It is a great privilege to meet you and share the road with you so short a way. I will believe whatever you tell me.” “Perhaps one day you may yet meet another of my kind,” Andares offered. He cast his eyes back to the north and frowned. The sky seemed so bright it almost felt like a barren blue, bereft of even a simple consoling cloud. “As to what I have seen, I...” ---------- April 11, 708 CR Andares stirred when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He curled his fingers around the ivory handle of Anna-ithil-årda, but in the bleak morning sky he could still discern the outline of Anefistar. In a quiet whisper, Andares asked, “What is it?” The scholar gingerly stepped back from the lean-to and cast a wary glance across the remnants of their fire from the night before. The dawn had come, but a leaden pallor spread across the sky from horizon to horizon. A cold breeze rushed down across the top of the lean-to, but they could feel its clawing touch at the edges of their sleeping pallets. “I heard their cries again,” Anefistar replied in a hoarse whisper. “I...” Andares noted that his companion was already dressed in his robes and, even as he shifted out from beneath his cloaks and reached for his day-time tunics, saw that the hem of his robes were wet with dew. “What have you been doing? I warned you not to wander without my aid.” “I only relieved myself, then came straight back. Your choose a very good spot to sleep. I can see for miles in every direction.” “Did you see anything?” “Nothing. But...” Anefistar shuddered, one hand gripping the end of his beard and pulling. “I heard it again.” In the week since they had first sighted the Elderwood, they had traveled as swiftly as they could, spending each night if possible in a village where there would be some protection from the monsters that were ranging more freely than they had in generations. Twice more they had stumbled upon one of the four-armed, four-legged beasts, but their mindless attacks were predictable and easily thwarted. But at night, they could often hear the cries of things that reminded Andares very strongly of another dark time. While they had journeyed through the jungles of Marzac, every night had surrounded them by horrible noises, of beasts croaking and crying, hissing and snarling, and then some screaming and some gorging. No matter how calm he'd kept his exterior in those trying days, he'd never been able to sleep soundly. How could they when the strange noises seemed ready to topple into their tent and attempt to make a meal of them? Yet even in the comparable safety of the villages they had begun to hear horrible cries, especially of livestock milling, frightened and ready to break. Something ponderous, something merciless would lurk nearby, its aural shadow a menace to the senses, forcing his heart to pound more quickly, shifting always with such deliberate purpose that Andares found it difficult not to leap up and try to brace the terrible mysteries that kept out of sight. Those terrible mysteries always left a splatter of blood and trails of foul smelling residue from where they had feasted on some cow or sheep the night before. The villagers cowered in fear at the sight of it, what soldiery then possessed begged Andares to lend them his arm for but one night more. But haste drove him, and his sleep kept him from their aid. Still, with such things moving in the mists of night, Andares did not dare sleep out in the open. Until last night when they found no village within reach. He had erected traps in a wide range about their small lean-to, each triggered by minor enchantments, but also by little sticks or fishing line that either he or Anefistar had brought with them. He had not intended to sleep, and for several hours he had kept watch from beneath the lean-to, feeding the fire to keep their enemies at bay. Even there he made use of his enchantments to make that fire particularly bright in every direction except toward the lean-to. He saw nothing come within the wide circle of light that stretched for over a hundred yards in each direction. But still he had heard the sound of things moving around them, large heavy things that gouged at the earth and dragged corpuscular appendages through the long grasses and shrubs dotting the roadside. And yet, despite all of his precautions, at some point, his exhaustion must have gotten the better of him. “How long have you been awake?” he asked Anefistar as he quickly began changing into a fresh set of clothes. “Not long after you fell asleep I believe,” Anefistar admitted with a grimace. “Dawn only just came.” “Then we should keep moving. We do not want to spend another night on this road.” “Of course, Velelya.” They packed their gear quickly, and then Andares carefully removed his traps, noting with some dismay that not a single one of them had been tripped. He'd hoped for some sign of what their nightly haunts looked like, but all he could satisfy himself with was a faint, acrid miasma in the air. Unlike the night, the day arose quiescent with only the wind bending the grasses to vibrate his ears. A few hillocks showed signs of passage by some fetid thing, but there were no profusions of blood splattered and smeared as they had arisen to discover in each of the villages. Once their gear was collected, they ate a small bit of bread and salted jerky on the way, their pace insistent and unremitting. Anefistar panted for breath after only a few hours, and as they had seen no other sign of the vile Elderwood beasts, they rested for a few minutes before continuing on their way. And while the sun never broke through the sepulchral canopy of clouds, they were able to continue in this manner until sometime in the afternoon. The road began to descend from a ridge overlooking the low plain that swept down to the first fingers of the Elderwood feasting up along the rivulets of streams gorged from snow melt and rains toward rolling terrain with its own slender copses of trees and in the distance a town much larger than the villages they had passed by. Beyond it lay a forest whose lush boughs were pregnant with health and sanguine vitality. The contrast was a welcome one and it gave renewed energy to their steps. And then, as they continued down the ridge, the Elderwood lost to sight, they passed between a long line of trees on either side and Andares unsheathed his ivory-handled blade. As the last of the metal left the scabbard with a wordless hiss, a bilious wretch leaped from one of the trees, arms spread so thin that they were nearly wings, while its faceless head writhed with short tentacles. Anefistar screamed and ducked low, while the Åelf met this new enemy with a wide slash, cleaving one of its wings in a spray of yellowed mucous. The beast, its scream throaty and strident like glass scratching glass, continued toward Andares, idiotic tentacles grasping at his tunic and toward his neck. Andares ducked beneath their putrid grasp, and slashed again, this time catching the creature in its middle, flinging it to the ground. It gibbered as it lashed all of its varied incoherent limbs, struggling with a hellish fury to right itself and reach out for the two travelers. Its backside blossomed with a pair of arrows and it screamed in fury, though neither Andares nor Anefistar could see any mouth with which to scream. From out of the copse of trees to the south thundered a fully armored knight on horseback. Iron hooves stopped just before the beast, and the knight drove a long lance through its black body, fixing it to the ground where it continued to helplessly writhe. A trio of riders, two bowmen, and a man in a long blue cloak, came out of the woods only a moment later. Anefistar clutched at the edges of Andares's cloak as they watched the archers fire a pair of arrows into its head. The creature convulsed a moment more, then collapsed on the ground, its mindless rage spent in death. “Thank you, maethor!” Anefistar gasped in relief. “We are in your debt.” The knight yanked his lance free from the beast's chest, and then drove the tip into the earth to clean it. “What Velelya would wander these roads with such vile monsters about?” “I am Anefistar, a scholar of Dûn Fennas, and this is my companion and protector, Andares-es-sebashou.” The knight regarded them from beneath his visor while the blue cloaked man climbed off his steed and began sprinkling a sulfurous powder over the corpse. The two archers kept a wary eye on the other trees. “I see. A scholar and one of the fair folk. You are most welcome in Nenuin. I fear that we do not have much time to spare for Velelya. But we will escort you there. These lands are no longer safe. I am Sir Pieter Nephenhir, Justicar of Dokorath and protector of the lands of Nenuin. Step clear, Velelya, and let my friend tend to his duty.” Both Anefistar and Andares stepped around the dead thing while the blue robed man smiled to them beneath a close-cropped beard a bright mahogany in hue. “Murias,” he said with a wave of one hand, returning his pouch of unguents to its place at his side. “It is a great honor to meet you both.” “As we are honored to make your acquaintance,” Andares replied with silvery tones that seemed to die at the edges of the woods on either side of the road. “What are you doing to that foul thing, Heru Murias?” “Burning it, or I will be in a moment, Velelya. If we leave it here like this, the scent will attract more of their kind. That's the last thing we need!” “Then continue,” Andares urged even as he turned to face the knight. “Sir Nephenhir, how long have these Elderwood beasts been haunting your land?” The knight lifted his visor to reveal a face hardened and stern with deep blue eyes, wide cheekbones, and a crisp short mustache of black hair. “Three weeks now they have pressed at our borders, killing our herds and attacking our farmers and shepherds. I have pressed many into service defending our lands, but there are only so many hands to wield a weapon.” “Has no other land sent relief?” Anefistar asked in surprise. “None,” Nephenhir ground his teeth together. “And the monsters only grow bolder.” A sudden whoomp behind them made them jump a pace and turn. The body was now wreathed in flames, licking and rising up its surface in a triangular spire of yellowish-orange light. Murias rubbed his hands together for a moment, and then warmed them in the face of that conflagration. It only took a few seconds before the body charred and shriveled, revealing nothing beneath its flaccid skin, not even bone. “Well,” Murias said as he backed away from the quickly diminishing fire, “shall we go home?” The hamlet of Nenuin nestled on all sides of the road, which forked at its central square which was a marketplace filled more with soldiers than with merchants. The northern fork would eventually bring a weary traveler to Frondham even as it gradually left the Elderwood in the west. The southern fork would bring them to Delavia, sometimes called Rhuivir, and eventually to Salinon if they so chose. In the smaller roads between the homes and shops they had erected pens for livestock and they bleated and lowed their displeasure and fear without pausing no matter how much the shepherds and farmers tried to console them. Beyond the hamlet, the brighter more welcoming wood loomed, but it too, on closer inspection, seemed melancholy, dreamy and brooding, branches wilting and flinching from that inescapable other to the northeast. Of all the eyes in the central square, only one other cast their forlorn gaze at that wood. Andares saw a middle aged man with the first glimmers of gray framing his ears and tingling his scraggly beard gazing with a miserable ache at that wood. One hand clenched at the faded green cloak draped over his shoulders while the other clutched a staff fashioned from a fallen branch, now smoothed so many times by repeated attention that is was almost glossy. “Rothrir!” Sir Nephenhir called and the cloaked man spun on his heels. “Come show these Velelya where they can spend the night. They helped us fell another beast on the western road.” “Another?” the forester's voice asked in such a plaintive ache that Andares felt his heart throb in shared misery. “Will the gods not aid us? Will our own people not come to our aid, but only two Velelya?” He sighed and stepped closer, rapping the end of his staff on the ground. “Forgive my words of acid, but I have seen so much of Artela's land desecrated by these hell-spat beasts. Especially you, Yára Velelya.” He bowed his head toward Andares and nearly came down to one knee. “That you have come among us now, is a sign that our prayers may yet be answered.” Andares felt deeply touched by this gesture, and by the hardships these people were facing. “I will do what I can to aid you. I have... I have slain such evils before.” “You will again if you stay here,” Sir Nephenhir said as he dismounted and clasped Andares on the shoulder with a mailed hand. “But Velelya should not stay here. Now go with Rothrir. He will find you something to sate your hunger and a place to rest your heads.” “Will you not come and dine with us?” Anefistar asked. “I have patrols to make and men to see. Tell Rothrir your plans and he shall make sure I am informed. You will be protected as long as you are in the lands of Nenuin.” “We are in your debt, maethor,” Andares replied, before turning to follow after the disciple of Artela. Rothrir tapped his staff on the close-packed smooth stones of the street, his cheeks twitching at each glance of person, dog, or horse milling around the square. He led the two travelers through their midst down the southern fork until they came to an well-kept Inn with a blue-antlered stag's head painted onto the sign above the wide oaken door. The inside was warm but the common area was mostly empty apart from a pair of nessë trying to keep things clean in between trying to bludgeon each other with their brooms. “Nessë!” Rothrir said with a clap of his hands, staff nestled in the crook of his elbow. “These two Velelya need rooms and food. Prepare both.” The boys rushed off through a door to the back after making perfunctory genuflections toward the travelers. Rothrir sighed and settled onto a bench at a long table near the door. He gestured for them to do the same. Anefistar settled opposite him, forcing Andares to take the seat next to the disciple. “Have the foul beasts entered the wood to your east?” Andares asked gently, one hand on the hilt of his blade to steady it and keep it from scraping against the wood floor. Rothrir sighed, rheumy eyes brightening for a moment, but only a moment. “Nae, they have not ventured into Nan Tavas. Not yet anyway. But many of Artela's charges have fled anyway. It is...” he closed his eyes and swallowed, a visible tremor passing through his face. “It is so quiet there now.” “Not even birds?” Anefistar asked in a soft voice as he leaned forward, pinching his beard between his chest and the table. “They were the first to flee,” Rothrir replied even as his fingers curled more tightly about his walking staff. “Not even the owls remained. The deer followed them a day later, as did the wolves, and I have seen neither otters playing in the streams nor heard frogs serenading the night for a week now. We have been abandoned here by our own kind and now by my great Lady's!” He took a deep breath and then shook his head from side to side. He lifted his gaze to Andares, an unspoken request creasing every line and disturbing every strand of hair. “Forgive my foul words. But our cause is desperate and my hope is strained.” “Justicar Nephenhir is ably leading the people of Nenuin,” Andares pointed out, though the heaviness in his heart could not bring him to claim anything greater than that. “Will no one come to your aid, or the aid of those living near Elderwood? Do you not have mages in Marigund experienced in driving back monsters? Are there no armies in Dûn Fennas who can march these roads and slaughter these beasts?” “Mages in Marigund, aye, there are such mages. All of them still in Marigund!” Rothrir replied, his voice first filled with a barely concealed anger which quickly melted into a hopeless resignation. “Armies are aplenty in our land. All to the south and to the west!” Aneifstar narrowed his eyes as he leaned in closer. “Have you not sent messages to Salinon seeking aid? It is two weeks to reach the city, less by horse.” “We have, but neither they, nor Delvaia, nor Vineta have sent us aid. We do not know if our messages have reached them.” Andares and Anefistar exchanged a long glance, the scholar's gaunt expression bearing a request once made, but now renewed. Andares curled his fingers about the smooth hilt of Anna-ithil-årda. How could he leave them alone? “I will speak with my people. We will aid where your own have not.” “It will take over a month for you to reach your people,” Rothrir pointed with a faint, but empty smile. “And well more than that to bring them here. Will there be anyone to rescue then? Will there be any forests left not drenched in their evil?” “My path leads me to Salinon,” Anefistar offered. “I am not unknown in that city; I can certainly carry a message of your plight there. Justicar Nephenhir seems quite capable of holding these monsters at bay for a few weeks more. That would be long enough, if Duke Otakar agrees to come to your aid.” “If!” Rothrir heaved a sigh and tapped the side of the staff against the table, his eyes peering into its depths but seeing none of it. “He will not listen to a mere scholar.” “I am willing to try,” Anefistar said with a renewed fire. “I have seen the road and seen these Elderwood beasts myself.” Andares lowered his gaze, and then uncurled his fingers from the hilt of his ivory-handled blade. He rested those fingers on Rothrir's sagging shoulder and pulled him away from his ligneous contemplation. “You are right. A scholar alone will not be enough to convince the Duke to send his armies. If you believe your people can hold out a few weeks more, and if you can spare two horses, then that scholar will not be alone. I will go to Salinon and I will lend my voice to your cause.” Rothrir turned and stared at him with ravenous hope. Even Anefistar brightened, his smile full of relief. “You would go there and leave aside your quest for our sake?” “Delay it only, but yes, I will help,” Andares replied. “But we will need horses if we are to make the journey as quickly as possible.” “Oh, Yára Velelya, you honor us! We are ever in your debt!” Rothrir leaped to his feet, and after pressing his hand to Andares's back and nearly touching the long braid of black hair, he rushed from the chamber, shouting behind him, “I will find your horses now! Wait here!” Anefistar chuckled under his breath, before heaving a sigh of vast relief, as if he'd held it within his chest for weeks. The scholar regarded Andares with a warm smile, and a gentle nod of his head. No words passed between them as they reclined in the old Inn waiting for their food. Andares hated putting aside the needs of his people, but he could no longer do nothing. He just prayed that they would be in time to save Nenuin and defeat whatever evil seeped from Elderwood. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>