<html> <body> --------- Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars IV: Infernus (c) Saturday, May 12, 708 CR The forest delved into a broad valley with the trickling of a brook through a culvert on the other side of a line of short hills. The wind pushed down the valley at first, but was soon blocked by thick shields of rock so that they were for a moment protected. The ground, once dry but for the soft carpet of moss, was now squishy with tracks of mud and puddles of rancid water. Their steps avoided these, but Charles still felt the mire pressing into his toes and wedged beneath his claws. The further they descended the tighter the branches interlocked above them, blocking out even the suggestions of shifting light from the clouds. The colors on his guide's garments were muted to gray, and only the luminous green glow from lichen and mushrooms brought any light to their eyes. The valley came to an abrupt end after a short rise when the ground dropped away in a series of steep cliffs. The trees grasped for every scrap of earth, their roots dangling off the edge in empty air, branches stretching out perilously as if the entire tree could be pushed with a hand across the precipice. Charles gaped at the dizzying height for he could not penetrate the gloom far enough to see if there was even a bottom. He felt as if he stood on the edge of the very world and only the emptiness of nothing was open to him with a single foolish step. His guide turned to the left, following a track along the promontory that slowly descended amidst a shelter of rock. As the rock stretched upward on their left, the cliff yawning on their right, the trees dwindled and then disappeared altogether leaving the rat anxious and exposed. A bitter wind grasped at his cloak and from somewhere up above he felt certain he saw broad-winged shapes circling and swooping in the scarred blackness. For several long minutes they traveled on the narrow track of rock with an endless pit at his right and a steep wall of stone he did not dare commune with on his left. The glimmer of lichen, pale and sickly green, cast an eerie pall on their path and the walls enclosing about them like a fist. Charles crept as close behind the gray-skinned figure as he dared, eager to quit this place where even his breath felt too loud. Eventually the cliffs veered to their right and the passage dove through a cleft in the rocks. Down this passage his guide walked with unnatural serenity and Charles followed. He felt panic filling him at the tight corridor that twisted back and forth. He wanted to shrink away from the enclosing walls, slick with fungi whose incongruous yellow and blue glow made portions of his guide's cloak glimmer while dimming others to invisibility. After several twists and turns so that Charles lost all sense of direction, the passage opened out onto a sloping hillside covered once more in forest. To his right the ground continued to fall away at a measured pace, while on his left it climbed up against a promontory towering behind them. The trees here still had some of their leaves, but they were all sickly brown and crumpled to the point that Charles could not identify what sort of tree they might be. Beech, alder, oak, maple, walnut, it was impossible to tell. Not even the bark seemed wholly familiar, though with the profusion of mushrooms and other slimes clinging to their trunks he had no intention of touching them to be sure. The stone still sheltered them on two sides in a quasi-alcove and it was there that the figure half turned and with one hand bid him wait. Charles felt relieved to be out of the passage and took a few more steps to put a little distance between him and the black hole behind him before obeying the command. His benefactor lifted his other arm high above his head, spreading his fingers as if he were strumming gossamer threads, while he cast his eyes in every direction. Half-a-minute later the tall figure turned toward Charles and with kindly eyes and long-fingered hands bent down and ever so gently grasped the soft fur on his cheeks. He applied a slight pressure to the rat's cheekbones, forcing him to tilt his head downward. Charles blinked but allowed his guide move him, too frightened to do anything but obey. The pearl gray-skinned figure bent so that his tall forehead rested against the broad dome of Charles' head between his saucer-shaped ears. And then a glimmer as of a tiny pinprick pushed between his thoughts as he heard a comforting voice without his ears. It is not safe to speak aloud in this place. For a moment we may speak with our minds. How came you to this place, Charles Matthias, for you are not dead of flesh, nor is your soul bound to this wood for consumption? Charles blinked for a moment, but then closed his eyes and concentrated on thinking clear words. I have crossed over from Nocturna's realm in search of my son who was stolen from me. How have you come to be here, Qan-af-årael? He could feel the corner's of his benefactor's lips lift in amusement. My presence here should not be a surprise. I died and my being has come to rest in the Dreamlands. It is the place of repose for all virtuous souls both of my kind and of yours except for those who, as you do, follow the ways of Eli. They are taken beyond these demesnes and not even the Daedra lords know where they have gone. Qan-af-årael's thoughts were silent, and the needle-like presence in his mind withdrew for a moment as if he were considering something. And then he felt the surge of power gently intrude again. What happened to your son? A cruel malady killed him in my absence. I go to reclaim him if possible and to say goodbye if not. To reclaim a soul is very difficult indeed. Be careful in what you wish, especially in this place. You are not safe here, but if you seek a soul that has gone beyond, you have little choice. The presence withdrew and Qan-af-årael lifted his head from the rat's own, casting a furtive glance at the surrounding trees. His eyes glimmered with a spectral radiance in the febrile illumination. Even in the heart of Marzac in the Chamber of Unearthly Light Charles had never seen the ancient Åelf appear frightened. He had faced the Marquis and his deck of cards with equanimity even though it had bled him of his very life. A serene peace always surrounded him. But for one brief moment in that gaze, something disturbed that peace, some awareness of a danger greater than that which they'd contended against in the bowels of Jagoduun. For a moment, Charles regretted his request of Malger. But then he steeled himself and favored the Åelf with a curious gaze. When Qan-af-årael returned his stare he bore the mask that cloaked his thoughts and feelings yet exuded a simple confidence in the order of all things. He motioned for Charles to follow him once more and together they left the sheltering alcove behind, driving straight across the sloping ground, working their way beneath the canopy of trees. The rustle of dead leaves rubbing together as a wind drifted through the upper branches covered what little sound their steps made, but still the rat feared that the pounding of his heart would draw every beast in a mile to them. The rock wall and promontory behind them quickly disappeared in the gloom and one again all he could see about him was the endless and seemingly dead forest. After they had walked for several minutes he heard a soft crunching behind them. It was some distance yet, but it was clearly not of the same character as the rustling leaves or rattling branches. The footfalls sounded heavy and deliberate, the strides large, but it did not seem to bring with it a crashing of wood as the four-armed monstrosity he witnessed by the towers and cairn had caused. Charles glanced behind him but the wood gave no sign other than that sound which came every few seconds. The wind stopped and all else became still around them yet the soft crunching continued to follow. Qan-af-årael guided them down the slope a short distance until they could hear the babbling of a shallow brook cutting through the hillside. Frame on one side by a line of low rocks, the stream wound a jagged course downhill. Strange little flowers with drooping petals lined the other bank. Qan-af-årael put a gentle hand on his shoulder and gestured to the flowers with his other hand. His expression was grave and full of warning. Charles nodded in understanding, glancing down at his legs to beware his step. They followed the brook for a few minutes before the line of flowers with their tear-drop shaped petals which glistened in the watery spray with a faintly luminous purple glow broke for a stretch of slick rock. Across this his benefactor stepped, his gait so light that his soft boot did not even break the surface of the water. Charles followed him and winced as he felt a burning sensation on the bottom of his toes. Once they were across and nestled against a series of upthrust stones where were being crushed within the grip of tree roots, Qan-af-årael bid him recline. Charles, his toes curled in pain, ground his incisors together and tightened his claws into his sleeves to keep from crying out. He felt as if hot coals were being dragged across his toes. Tears pressed at the sides of his eyes. But the Åelf moved his lips without speaking, and gently touched each of his toes in turn. With that touch the pain went away and he felt whole again. Charles took a deep breath and let the tension ease from his hands and legs, smiling in thanks to the Åelf before pushing himself off the rocks to follow behind again. A heavy whump sounded from behind them, and then a faint cascade of water like a rock plunged in a lake. The Åelf glanced back once, and then beckoned for the rat to move faster. Charles did not bother to look, but slipped one hand into his tunic to grab his Sondeshike as he chased after the slender man as they fought to slink through the wood, ever descending through the folds of the land. The slope grew steeper as they went, and the sound of the creek turned from babbling to splashing as the creek ran through a series of falls and pools, swelling with each passing foot. Still whatever followed them gained, until Charles felt it was right behind him. Little gusts of warm air shot across the tops of his ears. And then the ground fell away from them and they were striding into the open air. Charles flailed his arms as their cloaks spread wide, the feet tumbling past invisibly. Something screamed above them, a deep throaty roar filled with fury. And then he gasped as they crashed into the trunk of a tree, the landing smashing the wind from his chest while his arms scrambled to grab onto something, anything. He felt as if he was going to fall backward into an abyss, his eyes seeing nothing while his ears reverberated with that ravenous growling roar. His tail wrapped about the limb beneath him, his toes claws scrambled to dig into the bark, and his eyes searched for some sign of the Åelf, all the while his heart and lungs ached beneath the bruised cage of his ribs. I am here. To his surprise he felt the comforting presence of the Åelf intrude on his thoughts with the subtlety of a cat slipping beneath a tapestry. His panicked breathing slowed and he realized that not only were they secure on a large branch, but that Qan-af-årael was covering him with his cloak, hiding them from whatever beast they narrowly escaped. He could feel the tall forehead pressed into the fur of his brow, and he relaxed. Only the bruising of his chest where he landed still ached. Are we safe? We are never safe here, came the reply. But the creature will not follow us down. Where are we? Lilith's demesnes. What the race of man deems the second Hell. Charles pondered that for a moment. When faced with Nocturna herself all he could do was buy time while a bridge was established. He had never considered where the bridge would take him except closer to his son. And that had led him now to Lilith's realm? He had heard dreadful tales of the Daedra queen of vampires and all dark places and foul creatures of the deepest wild. Were the horrors he'd already seen and felt her creatures? But how had his friend and fellow Long Scout Craig Latoner come to be in this place? The Keeper we saw, Craig, he was a friend. Why is he in this place? Good souls who have done some ill will struggle here for as long as they remain. Good souls must face this? And some worse. Qan-af-årael shifted above him but the connection remained. An immortal soul can face dangers mortal flesh cannot. Is that why you are here? I am here because I saw a great bridge plunging into a deep and bottomless chasm through the Dreamlands. I saw my friend, my companion, and the dear one who had announced my departure from Ava-shavåis crossing that bridge into the darkness. I followed because I knew you were not dead, curious, and concerned. You should not be here, Charles. The rat frowned and took a deep breath, the pain in his chest less. I cannot leave until I have found my son. He will be beyond all of the hells. Your faith in Eli tells you that he is in a greater paradise than can be imagined. Perhaps it is better to abandon your search before some other terror comes to destroy you. There will be no rest for your soul if you die here, Charles. The thought of one of those four-armed freaks slowly squeezing its fangs through his flesh send shudders up his spine and down his tail. But with a shuddering sigh he gave his head the slightest of shakes. I must at least try to find him. Please. His benefactor was quiet for a long time, the presence withdrawn. Charles felt barren and exposed despite their concealment. He felt something brushing against his tail but it was only his own cloak. He quivered but steeled himself, forcing his breath to come slowly, his heart to beat without racing. Charles, you are in great danger here. I will help protect you and help you find your way. But we have lingered here too long. Come. Qan-af-årael slipped from over top of him and with the cloak what little light existed in Lilith's domain returned to the rat's eyes. Above him he could see the edge of a cliff above from whence they must have leaped, and the wide branches of large trees stretching ever upward and on all sides. The stone wall continued downward beyond where his eyes could penetrate. He could not even see the main trunk of the tree on which they rested, so large and wide were the branches. And down that branch the Åelf walked as if it were no more than any other track through the forest. Charles climbed to his paws and followed after him, grateful for his Sondecki training in balance. The branch stayed mostly even as it twisted its way through the tangle of smaller branches and creepers strewn throughout. Charles could not see the ground below, nor the sky above, nor anything but more branches in any direction he looked. All that he could see was the pale shadow of Qan-af-årael's back which he followed without murmur or complaint. His guide followed their branch for several minutes before stopping, kneeling, and sliding down to another wide branch a few feet below that cut across at a right angle. He waited there until the rat dangled himself off the first branch. His feet hung in the empty air as his claws dug into the bark, kicking around to find the ground before Åelven hands grasped him about the waist and eased him down. Four times more they scrambled to a lower branch and each time the distance between branches was just high enough that the rat had to be helped down. His focus remained on everything around him, eyes straining to pierce the darkness, ears turned to hear the slightest catch of breath in the air, nostrils stretching to test each odor, whiskers alert for the slightest twitch. But until they climbed down their fifth branch there had been nothing. It started as a subtle tickling in his nose. He rubbed his snout with one hand, blinking as he followed down the branch which was slightly lop-sided. In a few places he had to crouch to keep his balance, as did the Åelf, and this left them vulnerable. In one such spot he realized what it was he had begun to smell, and with a start he scrambled along the branch until he could swing his tail around and strike his guide in the side. Qan-af-årael turned his head in surprise, and then his deep eyes narrowed and fixed on some point in the gloom the rat couldn't see. The same sickly sweetness he'd noted along the stream had returned. Charles turned his nose to follow the scent, and while the Åelf glanced upward, his whiskers pulled his snout downward. From out of the deep black below them lunged a toothsome maw, long and narrow, that lunged and snapped at the branch beneath their feet. Charles jumped toward his guide, pushing him out of the way as the jaws snapped and tore jagged gouges out of the wood. A second eyeless maw balked them both when it hove from the shadows below to tear at the branch a few paces ahead. “Run!” Charles hissed between his incisors, pushing the Åelf along the branch, even as thick teeth sawed back and forth, splintering the wood and making the branch wobble. He felt his tail tip bump the end of the thing's snout as he ran past, and felt a sickening heat there as if he'd dabbed it with a fuller's lye. The first jaw disengaged and shifted as they could hear the heavy tread of feet now incautiously rushed somewhere below them. Even through the impenetrable gloom, the ground could not be too far below them, but with that thing down there it was the last place they wanted to be. The branch angled upward after twenty paces, for a moment putting them out of reach of the snarling beast below. A third and fourth set of jaws snapped at them, moving to cut them off where the branch dipped back down. Qan-af-årael pointed at another branch ten feet above them and then lowered his hands. Charles understood his meaning and stepped on the Åelf's hands, his own holding his shoulders for a moment as he steadied himself. Despite his frail and ancient appearance, the Åelf had no difficulty hoisting the rat over his head so that he was almost within reach of the branch above. Charles stretched his claws toward the wood but could not get a grip. He nearly buckled when the branch beneath them jarred. The monster was tearing at the branch in a freakish rage, chewing gouges loose and spitting them out. In another minute the branch would break completely and they would quickly follow the splinters into the cavernous maws. Charles lifted his paws as much as he could, standing on the very tips of his toes, short, sharp claws, digging into the flesh beneath them, as he strained to grasp the branch above. After several tense seconds in which he could scrape the bark his claws found purchase in a crevice. He poured his Sondeck into his arm and pulled himself upward. He dangled in the air for several seconds, grunting as he searched the bark above him for any other purchase. He scratched and scratched, chest aching, and then found another crevice. Paw over paw he pulled himself up, even as his benefactor waited below on the cracking limb. He crested the top of the branch and turned, bracing his legs with the Sondeck at the other side, he bent his front half down an extended his Sondeshike. He lowered the weapon as far as he could, waving the tip in little circles above Qan-af-årael's head. The Åelf wrapped his hands about it and Charles pulled him up. The branch cracked and groaned before disappearing with a thunderous crash. The sound, after so much silence, felt like an earthquake in his ears. It took all his self-control to keep lifting the Sondeshike. But the moment passed and he helped the Åelf climb atop the branch. Charles started to stand when the Åelf grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down. Something brushed over his back as it hurtled past. And then a second something jabbed at him as it followed the first something. Six others followed, each of them clawing at his or the Åelf's back on their way down. Charles winced at each touch, but none of them felt deep enough to pierce his clothes let alone his hide. He tentatively looked up and sniffed. The sickeningly sweet aroma saturated the air, but with it now was something sharper and altogether unpleasant. He felt nauseated by the combination, but there was no further sign of what passed overhead. Only the furious raging of the beast below as it snapped with its jaws at the branches within reach. Charles tentatively rouse to a crouch. His benefactor nodded and did the same. The two of them moved as quietly and as quickly as possible along the new branch. They made it not more than thirty paces before that melliferous odor returned with such strength that the rat nearly gagged. A huge maw, long with a hundred fangs per side, thrust up from the obnubilated depths. It was attached to a snaking neck whose rubbery flesh shimmered with a slimy sheen. The maw had no eyes, only the mouth with fangs, and a gaping maw with no tongue so that it was impossible to tell which was the top and bottom side. It curled itself around the branch, and snapped at them as it held fast. The branch shook, knocking them from their feet even as a second head and tentacle-neck secured the other end. Charles grabbed the Åelf by the ankle to keep him from tumbling over the side, and then swung his Sondeshike at the nearer of the two heads. The jaws snapped shut inches from him, and then cracked when the full force of his Sondeck caved in the side of the maw. A vile white mucus splattered everywhere and stung his left eye. Charles took a step back, claws grasping the branch beneath him for support as he tried to rub the ichor from his face. And then he heard the beast roar from every direction as he felt other figures join them on the branch. He blinked with his good eye and marveled as the pelt-wearing humans from before beat back the monster with careful jabs and furious swings of their stone weapons. Amongst them he saw attacking from a lower branch his friend and fellow Long Scout Craig Latoner. The prairie dog was especially vicious as he drove his axe deep into one of the creature's necks. The white mucus fountained but did not seem to touch him. Charles felt another hand press a small cloth to his face. He trembled but stilled when he realized that they were clearing his left cheek and eye of the horrible slime. He blinked his left eye but everything seemed blurred and so he closed it again. The figure that he could not make out pushed him further along the branch, and soon all of them were running down the wooden path faster than he would have dared with only one clear eye. They only dropped branches twice before they were finally on the ground rushing through massive roots and towering sentinels that dwarfed the mighty redwoods of Glen Avery. Charles felt immeasurably small next to those titans. Amongst those running he could see Qan-af-årael as a shaft of white light in front of him, while the humans were various shades popping in and out of the surrounding darkness. To his right he noticed Craig grinning to him with a devious glint in his incisors. Charles wasn't sure when exactly it happened, but as they navigated their way between the maze of roots standing twice their heights they vanished underground into halls of earth and stone. Roots now framed the ceiling of narrow passages. Within he could only smell humans and few beastly scents more like those he knew from Metamor. Craig fell a few steps behind him but still they ran. His legs felt sore and he could not help but wonder how far they still had to go. The answer came suddenly and after a dizzying set of twists and turns in the passage that nearly had him run into the wall on three occasions. The passage opened up into a warren of little holes amidst bridges and ladders with blue flaming lights hanging from the roof of the cavern. Charles blinked both eyes and held up an arm to shield them at the sudden comparable brilliance. He felt Craig's paw on his shoulder and he let himself be led along one of those paths hugging the exterior of the cavern. Both he and Qan-af-årael found themselves in a small hole with a few pallets of crushed leaves and feathers, with rough-hewn blankets and small blue lights that did not seem to either burn or give off heat. Craig motioned for them both to sit down, and then he offered a chittering laugh. “What are you doing here, Charles? Not only are you a Follower but you aren't even dead! We can all see it. And aye, it is safe to speak here.” “Craig!,” Charles gasped, wincing at the sullen pain in the left side of his face. “What are you doing here?” “Well, I died!” The prairie dog laughed again. “Don't worry about the slime on your face. Somebody is bringing something to clean that off. The pain will go away and you'll see clearly in a moment.” In a quieter voice, one that did not hurt their sensitive ears as much, he added, “You are lucky we found you.” “What was that thing?” Charles asked, his throat raw from keeping silent. “Who knows. Some experiment of the night mistress. We don't say her name here as we do not want her attention. You should not say it either.” He nodded. “I won't.” Another pair of humans came into the small wood and stone framed room carrying a ewer and bowl. Craig said nothing as they dipped a little bit of cloth in the bowl and gently cleaned the rat's face. Charles felt the sting of the mucus lessen with each swipe. It took them a few minutes to finish, but when they did he blinked his left eye and found the blurriness gone. He glanced at Qan-af-årael who reclined on one of the pallets with the same reserved and distant grace he had always possessed, and then returned his regard to Craig his fellow Long Scout. There was a subtle luminous quality to his appearance, as if he weren't wholly solid. “Thank you,” Charles said with a smile. The two humans smiled at him, then to Craig, and quickly departed, leaving the three of them alone. “What happened to your face?” Craig asked, pointing to the rat's right side. Charles lifted one paw and traced along the edge of the ruined, black scar and the fur that stopped just beneath it. He could not feel anything through that charred skin, but the fur trembled at his touch. “I was struck by a Shrieker. A single brief touch was all it took to melt my flesh; only magic saved my eye. But the Shierkers were destroyed and I survived.” Craig crossed his arms. “I can see that. You aren't dead, Charles, and you,” he turned toward Qan-af-årael and stared at him as if trying to pierce the deeps of a clouded lake. “You don't belong here either, but I cannot see why.” “He was in the Dreamlands and followed me here,” Charles noted. “His name is Qan-af-årael and he is a dear friend. He's promised to help protect me on my way.” Craig favored him a skeptical glance, one he knew from his days testing for the Long Scouts. “And what are you doing here, Charles? No living soul comes here of its own choice without dire need. And certainly I have heard of none in the memories of any here in this place.” “I am here trying to find my son who was stolen from me. I am not going to give up just because of strange monsters here.” “Stolen?” Craig's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” “He died while I was fighting a terrible evil far away and the aedra would not help him. I have to... see him one last time.” Craig shook his head. “I am dead, Charles. I hope never to see any of the living again until their years have run out and they come to this place, or we all meet again in the place Beyond. I am sorry for what happened to your son but you should wait until your time has come.” He blinked and then smiled a little. “When did you have a family? You weren't even married when I – left,” he finished after a weighted pause. “It was the year after you died. I am going to seek him out, Craig. Please don't try to stop me. But, he is not here and would not be in any place the daedra hold sway.” “He is Beyond,” Qan-af-årael said in a quiet voice, one full of mystery. Craig's fur appeared to shudder at the sound, the first uttered by the Åelf in the nightmare darkness. “We must go beyond to find him.” “There are only two ways I know to go beyond. You either let yourself be torn limb from limb by one of those monsters out there, or you let your blood be drained on one of the night mistress's altars. Either one is horrible and we do our best to make sure we do not end that way.” “The altars?” Craig favored the rat with a grin so wide both sets of incisors were visible. “You were there. I smelled you hiding behind one of the towers. Where her pups tried to cut Beth's throat and drain all her blood. Anything taken there feeds the mistress directly. We'd all rather be eaten by one of those monsters than end up a sacrifice like that.” He unfolded his arms but clasped one wrist in his hand at his waist. His large rounded snout frowned, dark eyes lowering. “Beth is going to be all right. If you aren't torn to pieces or eaten you always heal here. Martin... well, he is gone now from this plane. Either Beyond, or elsewhere still. I assume you do not wish to follow him like that.” One corner of his muzzle drew up in a rueful, mirthless half-grin. “To be bled for Her sustenance destroys the spirit; there is no Beyond. To pass as poor Martin did – we do not know the fate of such passing, but even if he did pass Beyond it cannot be to the bright paradise of absolution we all hope for in the final end. It's a fate best avoided, especially for a Living soul, like you.” “There is another way,” Qan-af-årael said with slow, careful tones. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>