<html> <body> Finally I begin posting Pars IV! I manage to finish this part back in September but was so burned out that I have barely been able to get a writing regimen in since then. I'm halfway through writing the next large scale section and I hope to get it finished up soon. This section here will be the largest part of the story and in many ways was the most draining to write. Recall that scenes set in 724 are 16 years after the current timeline. --------- Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars IV: Infernus (a) Tuesday, June 22, 724 CR – The Fall of Night “It is getting late and I have been talking for some time,” Baron Matthias announced. Charlie felt as if he'd been slapped across the other cheek, stinging no less than when his mother struck a few hours ago. “I am not going to wait for tomorrow after what you have just said!' “And you aren't going to,” Charles put a hand to his throat and frowned. “I am parched and I am sure you must be famished. Let us have some refreshments brought and then we can continue. I will continue, my son.” He wished that his sire would stop calling him that, no matter how true it was. He simmered quietly as he sat with arms crossed on the bench. But at last he nodded. “Fine, you have something brought. I'm not leaving.” “Is there anything you'd like?” He wanted to snap back some importune remark, but steadied himself, claws digging into his trousers. Charlie took a deep breath and had to admit that he was feeling hungry. There was a grumbling emptiness in his stomach that been there since he'd climbed down from the mage's tower, but his anger and shame had crowded it out. “Whatever can be found will be fine for me. I just want to hear this story. Because it seems like unless I indulge you I'm not going to learn any of these vast secrets.” His sire sighed and shook his head. “You're young. You want the answer right away. It is as you have always been told. But if you want to understand why the answer is, you need to hear the story. You need to see what happened then, Charlie.” “Fine,” Charlie groused and crossed his arms. “I'm sitting here waiting for the food and drink and then, with our repast, we can continue the story.” He grimaced at his tone and in a quieter voice added. “I am owed this.” “Aye, you are,” Charles agreed as he stepped toward the door leading back into the sanctuary. “I will only be gone a moment, my son. Bishop Hough keeps a supply of food and drink for those in need. I will send him some of my stores in recompense.” So saying Charles slipped out the oaken door and gently closed it behind him. A faint whiff of sweet incense drifted through the air, and Charlie rubbed his snout and whiskers with one paw to rid his nose of it. As he waited, Charlie took a moment to study the chamber in which they had hid from the Followers come to pray and adore. He sat upon one of the tiered benches where the schola practiced their chants or practiced with instruments, while on the front wall were cabinets for instruments, robes, candles and music. On the other three walls, the usual gray stone of Metamor greeted him, though not in its usual guise. Here, the walls had been coated in plaster by loving hands and frescoes painted. He could see a young dark-skinned human king dancing with lyre in his arms in the midst of a throng and an ancient city. Next to this was a host of winged men with bright and strong faced blowing long-fluted trumpets in the midst of a field of cloud overlooking a small stable in which Yanlin, Yosae, and the baby Yahshua could clearly be seen. He saw several other scenes from the life of Yahshua he recognized from his studies culminating in the death on the Yew, the Resurrection, and glorified return the Patildor hoped for. There were a few details he had difficulty discerning through the benches, and as he tried to lean over to get a better view of them he heard his sire returning followed by something large. Baron Matthias returned with a pair of goblets in one hand and a corked bottle in the other. Behind him lumbered the giant, three-horned reptile, Sir Zachary. The Yesbearn knight held in his tree-trunk think arms a covered basket that reeked of savory meat and aged cheese. A patina of fruit and bread was mixed into the delectable bouquet, as well as the suggestion of something else he could not quite identify. The doorway was not large enough for Zacahary to fit through easily and so the Kharrakhaz knight waited there, one horn and the front of his beak beneath the lintel, watching and waiting with placid calm. His eye met Charlie and his beak opened in what must have been intended as a reassuring smile; Charlie nodded to him but could do no more. After setting the goblets and corked bottle on the bench next to Charlie, he returned to the massive reptile and took the basket from his meaty hands. “Thank you, Sir Zachary. I'm sorry to have disturbed your prayers.” “Think nothing of it, friend,” the knight replied in a deep voice that had a surprising nasal quality to it, as if he were honking some of his words. “If you need anything more, Father Felsah and I will be here for another hour, and then Father Patric will take our place.” Charles cradled the basket and nodded his head as he stared up at the reptile. “Thank you, my friend. Give Father Felsah my thanks as well.” “Eli be with you.” “And with your spirit.” The three-horned reptile pulled the door shut so gently that the only sound it made was the clicking of the latch. His footfalls did throb the floor as he walked away, but by then Charlie's attention was on the basket his sire carried. “Perhaps,” he admitted begrudgingly, “I was hungrier than I thought. That smells very good.” “The bottle has some of the cider Bishop Hough taught the Brothers to make,” Charles said as he set the basket down and drew back the cover to reveal two loaves of bread, salted pork, two wedges of a very sharp cheddar, two peaches, and small pouches with a blend of spices. He spread the cover between them and then offered the basket to Charlie. “Divide this between us and I'll pour the cider.” Since there were two of most things the division was a simple matter of taking each item from the basket and laying it on one side or the other of the linen cloth used to cover the basket and now smoothly draped over the bench like a peasant's table cloth. As Charlie split the meal he watched his sire slip a claw into the cork and twist it free with ease. Had Charlie tried that he would have nothing to show for it but a broken claw and a cork wedged more firmly in the bottle. At least his sire put his strange powers to good use from time to time. After filling both goblets with the sweet-smelling cider, Charles tipped his back and swallowed half of it. A pleased sigh escaped his throat and his smiled at the edges of his snout. “Truly Bishop Hough's recipe never fails to please. Well, now that I have had something to drink, and I see you have arranged our meal, I am ready to continue. “The bargain was struck but it was chicanery; a ruse to distract Nocturna long enough to open a way beyond her reach. And it worked. Your father helped me find my way into the Dreamland and to meet Nocturna face to face. That was my secret intent even if I did not understand what I truly intended. As I look back on it,” his sire mused as he sipped another small gulp of cider, “I must confess I believe that Nocturna knew more of what was happening in all of our lives than she ever admitted. Naturally I have no interest in learning that for myself. Your father and you may comport with her because of your ability to slip awake into dreams, but I have no such skill and thus no reason to converse with her again, though before all of this was over I did speak to her one last time.” Charlie sniffed at one of the small pouches of spices and detected a blend of rosemary and thyme. He sprinkled some onto his salted pork and cheese before breaking a chunk free of each to eat with the bread. “So where did you go if not to Nocturna's realm? Where could you go that the Mistress of Dreams could not reach?” “I went...” Charles' shoulders slumped for a moment and his entire posture seemed to collapse inward. His eyes stared as if he were seeing all of the Valley and more in a single glance. The rat's tail curled around his legs as if protecting them. His tunic fell open at the top revealing the scar of stone across his chest. His whiskers drooped and his ears lowered as if he were in mourning. And then he shook his head and downed the last of his goblet. “Forgive me... it is not a place I ever wish to see again. It is a place no man should ever wish to go. With each step it grew more terrible and with each step what shreds of hope a man had would be abandoned forever. “Because, my son, I had stepped across a bridge from the Dreamlands into the very Hells themselves.” Charlie swallowed, his whole being suddenly cold. His ears lifted and turned toward his sire so that not a word would be missed. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>