<html> <body> I suspect folks won't like this bit. Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars III: Descensum (r) Saturday, May 12, 708 CR The weather turned gray early that morning and remained so throughout the day. While the air did not threaten rain, the lack of sun cast everything in a sort of pale gloom. The colors on all of the flowers, the green of leaf and grass, the blue of river and lake, all of it felt muted and sallow. All was cast in sky-sent shadow. This did make it easier to ride across the Narrows. They took advantage of the cooler air to investigate the meadows which teemed with wildflowers, birds, and the occasional bee. Charles half-expected to find the shepherd Silvas trespassing again, but there was no sign of the bull or his flock of sheep. The land was empty. As is everything without Ladero. That thought sat uncomfortably in his mind like a bit of wood in his belly. He did not share it with his pupil but instead focused on exploring and learning all there was to learn about the Narrows. After their midday meal he bid them return to the combe and promontory on which he wished to build his keep. They were forced to abandon their steeds in order to ascend the rock-face but both of them were more comfortable on their paws anyway. The promontory had a lower tier that encircled the upper heights though toward the south the lower tier vanished in a steep cliff down to the ravine below. Further to the south the ground leveled briefly before ascending back up a gentle rise that led to more forest before opening up into the meadowland they'd explored that morning. The eastern edge was also a steep cliff staring back up the combe which eventually emptied out in the rolling hills that dominated the land before the clefts through which the river cut. The northern slope was the gentlest, but so thick with trees and rocks that no horse, not even a pony could hope to fit through. Between this tangle of root, branch, and stone the rat and ferret climbed. Garigan stood arms akimbo and surveyed the wide bowl-shaped ravine with an approving nod. “This is remarkable. The ravine walls are low enough almost everywhere. You won't have to move as much as I feared.” Charles nodded and gestured to the northern slope. “Most of that is good solid rock. We can quarry the sections we need for the baileys, and reinforce the rest for an outer defense.” “Might it be better to level the ground at the top of this ravine and erect your own walls?” Charles frowned for a moment and then nodded. “It could be. I don't think we'll know until we begin to quarry the stone. Of course...” Garigan turned and titled his head to one side. “Of course what, Charles?” The rat glanced down at his feet, toe claws scrapping at a bit of exposed rock. “I'd like to meet the stone before cutting it. I should really have their permission to use them in a fort first.” “Whose permission? The rock?” “The mountains mostly,” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the peaks behind him. “But even stone like that will have some sort of awareness. It is not like you and I, not at all. They aren't as we would know it alive. But there is something there that I could not so callously destroy.” Garigan laughed and shook his head. “You alone of all that I know would worry so over the feelings of stone! What can it matter whether or not the stone approves? Can it do anything but crack when the hammer strikes?” “If it does not approve of the stone cutter, it may do more than crack, it may shatter. Or the stone that is cut out may be too brittle and will not support weight. Any number of things could be the case.” The ferret shook his head. “But they can be anyway; that is always a risk the stonecutter takes. The good stone is separated from the bad at the quarry.” Charles wagged a finger. “But if we have the stone's permission, every piece shall be good. I promise you that.” He turned and put one hand on a birch tree and ran his claws across the jagged white back. “These are beautiful trees. We should use the wood to make furnishings, perhaps new cradles.” “Is Lady Kimberly expecting?” Garigan asked with sudden excitement. “I have not heard such good news.” Charles sighed and shook his head. “Not yet. But I have hope. We deserve more than four children.” You deserve Ladero. “I hope you're right. But you are going to have your hands full if she has another litter.” “Then I am even more fortunate that I have so many good and dear friends!” Charles flashed the ferret a grin and then started climbing higher over rock and root. His claws grasped the stone and pulled himself up through the tangling trunks and snaring branches. Behind him he heard the ferret chuckle before searching for his own way up the incline to the higher promontory. Charles reached the top and spread his arms on either side as he walked through the trees. The bare patches of rock were few and far between, most filled in with hard-packed earth, and the turning of seasons upon fallen needles and shed leaves. Moss clung to the ground, and lichen to the stones. The chattering of birds continued above them with only mild retorts when they passed beneath. In the distance he could make out the towering redwoods of the Glen blocking all the northern sky. Charles stared and pondered which of them was his own. “You do have a good view of the land from here,” Garigan noted with a pleased sigh. “I can't quite make out Mt. Nuln, but there, you can see the southern face of Mt. Kalegris.” Charles followed the ferret's finger and smiled fondly as he stared at the mountain whose rocky peak was low enough to be free from snow. “We'll have to visit them again sometime. I don't think I've been to either since my first visit to the Glen.” “What was that, two years ago?” “Aye. Two years ago. Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago.” “If not for your arrival,” Garigan pointed out as he flexed his arms by grabbing a branch and dangling, “I would never have learned to control my Sondeck. I would not even understand why I was so angry all the time. I confess I am very glad you were exiled to the Glen.” “I certainly do not complain of it. I would have likely spent my days as a Long Scout and not seen my family for weeks at a time had I remained in Metamor. I do rather wish I could have done more patrols with them – I'd never even been assigned to a team – but that is all in the past now.” “The Glen has been good for you. The woodland life suits you and your family.” Garigan dropped from the birch branch and frowned. “So why do you want to build a new castle here?” “As much as I love the Glen, this part of the Valley needs a place of strength to draw the eye of our enemies. Hareford may be nearest the Giantdowns but it is easily avoided and cannot easily come to anyone else's aid.” Garigan grunted sourly at the assessment of their northern neighbors. “Lake Barnhardt is a place of strength, but it cannot reach as far north and her people little travel the roads here. And the Glen, while we rallied from it, cannot defend the Valley. You have no fortifications, only places in which to hide and from which to launch hidden arrows. That is invaluable. But a keep, here in the Narrows, would be a fulcrum on which the northern valley could rest. And so long as the Narrows are mine to tend I will do my part to make it that fulcrum.” “Besides,” he added while leaning against the lower trunk of an elm, “the construction will bring merchants as well as laborers here to the north and that will bring wealth too.” Garigan frowned. “Wealth has its own poisons too. I like what the Glen has become. I don't want it to become like the other towns again.” “I had not thought of that,” Charles admitted with a frown of his own. He sighed and shook his head. “I will try not to let that happen. But I still believe a keep here is for the best. You know I love the Glen too and hope to spend many years yet living beneath her branches.” The ferret nodded and let a smile play across the corners of his snout. “I know, Charles. I just do not want to live in a city ever again. Metamor Keep is... too large. I need my trees.” “Oh, if...” Charles stepped away from the tree and started moving into the deeper central section of the promontory. “If I ever can bring you to Sondeshara you might change your mind. To hear the Sondlatharos sung from the rooftops at night while the stars glisten over head... that is something you will never forget. Your heart will sing even if your tongue cannot.” Even hearing the name of the song, he could hear the ferret begin to wordlessly intone the ancient melody. Charles smiled and kept walking, quieting the inborn desire within him to join in the song. The further he pressed inward the taller the trees became until all of the branches were above his head and he could walk easily between the trunks. He found an upthrust stone and leaned against it, resting one ear against its cool touch. Covered in lichen, he nevertheless could let the tip of his fingers slip within if he so chose. Go South. Charles pushed away from the rock and walked toward the southern edge of the promontory. He could hear the ferret following after him; the ground at their feet was covered in moss, leaves, and needles making it near impossible even for a Glen scout to move silently. The trees came to an abrupt end overlooking a thirty-foot slope down to the base of the ravine. Trees filled in the base and spread up over the lip along the hillside abutting the mountain. If Charles walked to the mountain's edge he might be able to carefully work his way around to the meadows further to the south without having to descend into the ravine. He peered out across the treetops trying to see if Lake Barnhardt was visible as the Glen was visible from the northern side, but he could not see it past the forests and hills between them. He grimaced and cast a glance back at the ferret. “Well, I can't quite see the Lakeland from here, but I suppose it must be off in that direction.” He pointed slightly east of south and then waved his hand. His tail snaked around the trunk of a nearby elm as the soft earth shifted beneath his paws. Garigan squinted and stared for several seconds before finally shaking his head. “I cannot see it. Perhaps on a clear night it can be seen.” Step closer. Charles took another step and the ground beneath him gave out. He spread out his arms and grabbed at tree branches as he tumbled down the slope. The Sondeck filled his arms and legs as he fell, slowing his descent with each limb he was for a moment able to grab. He collapsed in a heap with a heavy whump and gasped for breath. Above him he could hear the ferret calling down to him. When the ringing in his ears stopped he could make out the ferret's voice. “Charles? Are you all right?” He pushed himself up, grunting from a few bruises he felt, one each on his left side, right arm, left leg, and tail. He tilted back his head and shouted. “I'm fine! Don't try coming down that way. Go around to the north and meet me here. I won't be hard to find.” Charles could see the ferret nod and then disappear back into the wood far above. The rat picked some twigs and brambles from his clothes and then looked around. A dozen paces to his right the ground sloped upward too steeply to climb without the proper equipment. To his left the ground descended at a measured pace, while in front of him it rose gently. Everything was shadowed beneath the canopy of fir and birch. He stepped through the alternating light and dark trunks and stretched his legs and arms, working the tension loose. His ears caught the sound of something small shuffling through the underbrush ahead and his hand wrapped itself about the pommel of his sword. A trespasser! His eyes narrowed and he stepped in closer, setting each paw down carefully, splaying his toes through the moss. He eased the sword from its scabbard. It made not a sound. Ahead in the bushes. Charles lowered his gaze and saw at the top of the rise a series of bushes growing where once a tree had fallen; what was left of the dead trunk lay rotted on the hillside below. Something stirred in the bushes. The branches vibrated back and forth for a moment and then grew still. Strike with your blade. Trespassers should not be suffered to live. He took the remaining steps cautiously but swiftly, making only the barest whisper of noise through old leaves. He held his breath and tensed his sword arm. From out of the bushes sprang the creature, a thing of white and gray. A lamb. Charles hesitated. The shepherd cannot keep his flock under control. He must be taught a lesson. Kill it. But it's just a lamb, he pondered, remembering how upset James had become when he scared it. And many more will die if this one is spared. Kill it now. And then to Charles' surprised gaze, the lamb seemed to distort into something else. For a moment he saw it tilt back on its hind legs which grew bulbous and green, until that insufferable frog, Bertram was there sitting on a hooded rat. And then it was the very face of Akkala dragging the hooded rat into a dark pit, laughing the whole way. The visage continued to laugh, but now it was that bull shepherd who paid no respect to his land, mocking him; the bull still had his precious little one while Charles' was gone. Kill it now. Charles thrust his sword. The little lamb – Ewar was his name – bleated once. He thrust again, the white wool now smeared red. And again. And again. Charles seethed in his fury, and then trembled, unable to deliver another blow. He nudged the corpse back into the bushes and then wiped his blade clean on the ground. He sheathed his sword and then stepped back down the hillside through a facing wind. After reaching the spot where he'd fallen he leaned against one tree and closed his eyes, seeking his Calm. All was empty and dark behind his eyelids. There was nothing but a coldness, a creeping thing of night, that made him shiver even in the Spring afternoon. You did well. It was the right thing to do. He breathed easier and nodded to himself. The lamb was sure to fall into some misfortune. And if Silvas had to keep chasing after it, something worse might befall the rest of his flock. Best to end the temptation now so Silvas could do his duty. A hard mercy. But a mercy nevertheless. Very hard indeed. He took several deep breaths and forced his eyes to open. He could heard Garigan's step approaching from the east. You are a little dazed from your fall. “Charles! There you are! Are you all right?” Garigan asked as he rushed to meet him. “I'm still a little dazed. I think it time we got back to the horses.” “You need to be a little more careful there.” Garigan slipped one of the rat's arms over his shoulders and helped him walk back down the hill toward the east and their steeds. “It doesn't look like you are too injured.” He nodded and continued to breathe heavily. “I should be fine in a few minutes.” “Good. When we get to the ponies we'll give you something to drink and then perhaps we should return to the Glen?” Charles didn't really want to see his lying wife, but hopefully his nocturnal plan would heal whatever breach had come between them. He sighed and nodded, stumbling along beside the ferret. “That sounds like a good plan. Thank you.” He hoped that stupid shepherd would not find the body until they were long gone. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>