<html> <body> --------- Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars IV: Infernus (m) Saturday, May 12, 708 CR Charles shuddered, and felt anew the cold sweep over him. There was no sensation in his legs anymore. His whiskers felt brittle and every intake of breath sent a lance of steely ice into the middle of his head. His chest shifted only to breathe. The trembling of his heart barely disturbed any of the muscles that held it in place. The plain before him, suffused white and gray, seemed to faintly shimmer with blue nimbus. Motes of some electric blue dust dotted the sheet of ice that pressed them upwards into the empty abyss. The final words did not haunt so much as present themselves as uncaring signs placed aeons ago to inform travelers. He did not care. He belonged here. Could they be true? Didn't he care? His heart tried to stir some concern, but it was stilled by a cold so deep even the relative warmth of his Åelf guide felt painful to him. The rat let his mind work instead, reviewing memories to see if there had been a time when he had cared. He thought on killing Kavelard. The man had been dressed in the same red cloak he'd born beneath the chrysalis of ice. He'd stood at a window with a cool mountain breeze drifting through and lofting away the smoke from the pipe clutched between his teeth. Charles slipped within from a different window, sliding through the shadows, hands outstretched to end the menace. It would not be the first time he had killed, for he had fought in battles many times. But it was the first man he'd killed because justice demanded it. Even as the Sondeck surged in his flesh, he heard one of the children give out a sullen cry, that of a bad dream disturbing their slumber. Kalevard turned to the sound and caught sight of him. Charles had rushed, grappled him about the neck to silence him. The pipe bounced off his arm, hot ash burning his robe. The man's fiery blue eyes burned in anger as Charles' fingers tangled briefly in his beard before reaching their goal. A twist and a thrust of his power and it was done. The child still cried even as Charles draped the brigand's body across the floor and smothered the last of the ashes beneath the man's red cloak. The complaint fell silent by the time the Sondecki slipped without sound from the hall. He trembled the entire way back. His fellow Sondeckis plied him with strong wine on their return home. A miserable sadness enveloped him as the sound of the child's cry returned to him. How many nights had he woken hearing that cry again and again before the rigors of the Sondecki life and the presence of his Calm brought him a sense of peace again? Had he even confessed it? Did it matter? He pushed himself onward even as he continued to crouch. Before him he could see the ice shimmer with his own image reflected. The visage was distorted so that his eyes appeared to be closed peacefully. He blinked and gazed into that reflection, bloodied paws stepping, slipping, and stepping again. His hands were clasped before him in the quiet repose of prayer. The ice was cold, but it was all that there was in this place. Nothing else mattered. He had no will anymore to be anything else. Stillness was all that was left. Stone may be still but there was striving and power within it. There was desire. There was purpose. Even as stone Charles had been able to love his family and protect his friends. He yearned for them. Now, trying to dwell on them did nothing. He could imagine his wife's face, her whiskers and snout, her delicate ears, soft paws, and all the faces of his children, especially Ladero his Sondecki son. But each was veiled to him, encased in ice. Ice did not feel. Ice did not care. Ice had no will to even move. Charles felt nothing, could desire nothing, could will nothing but ice. The image distorted as the ice in front of him shifted aside, revealing an inviting cavity into which he could descend. Charles moved one leg before the other, stepping into the depression. The cavern of ice rose up around him, smooth and numbing. He felt nothing as it slid up across his legs, tail, and back. His arms lowered before him, dipping into the substance and not returning, held fast forever. His eye lids drooped and his heart slowed, the smoking wick quenched in the embrace. A thunderclap struck and sundered the world around him. Charles blinked and trembled as a wash of something intolerable shattered his tomb and drove every touch of numbness from him. His eyes dashed open, and into view stepped a blaze of yellow light. Before him towered the Åelf, aflame with silvery black hair and ears drawn to sharp points. His simple white garment with its wide sleeves and skirt with undulating hem were as burnished bronze. The eyes he knew were golden erupted in a fiery blue, the same blue of a clear day's sky. Ageless skin showered him with a grace that pierced the ice wrapped about his heart and for a moment he fell to his knees. And then, the painful sensation became pleasant. It had a name. Warmth. That warmth suffused him until he felt his heart beating in his chest and the numbness and pain in all his limbs were driven away. He curled and uncurled his fingers and even let his tail slip from around his middle and lay across his paws stretched behind him. The white encrusting his snout and whiskers melted away as the fiery light bathed him in its radiance. You must keep moving, Charles. Come. She will have seen that. Charles breathed heavily for a moment, as Qan-af-årael's countenance returned to normal. His white hair and golden eyes glimmered in the fading light. The rat stared in awe as he savored his breath, then climbed to his paws, stretching his toes gratefully. He glanced at each leg and saw that his wounds were healed. He let out one last gust of breath and started walking again. His thoughts roved to the presence within his mind. I almost died there. You almost did. Kalevard spat the last of his warmth to induce you to waste your own. You should not have listened to anything he said. The air about him already felt cold again; he pulled his tail back beneath his cloak and pulled it taut. His breath misted and froze. I had not thought on him or any other I killed as a Sondecki in a long time. Seeing him and hearing him... I forgot what you said. I will not forget again. Qan-af-årael's presence felt comforting, as if he were smiling. There was a residue of warmth still in that voice. I know you will not. It is too dangerous now to do otherwise. Behold, the Wastelands of Kilyarnie. Charles lifted his gaze and felt as if the ice were clutching his chest again. Before them stretched a circular plain that rose upward like the top of a dome. The sky was gone and only blackness remained where once it persisted. The ground was lathered with a crystal blue dust atop the thick ice beneath. Strange deformations in the dust suggested a vast shape entombed within. The dust did not glimmer and nothing within that wasteland moved. Charles could not will himself forward, though his heart beat faster in his chest. What is that dust? It seems inhospitable. The response was almost laconic. It is the very air frozen and fallen. Even with my protection you will not survive more than a few minutes within this place. This is the abode of the mistress of this land. All warmth has been driven from here. Our presence will be despised. It is certainly known. We must reach the bridge with incredible haste. Anxious, he cast his thoughts back. Do you know where the bridge is? I do. I can move with great speed through this place, but it is best for you if I carry you. Not as you are, but in your animal guise. I will cloak you next to my chest, and bury you within your garments to keep the bitterness of the void at bay for a minute or two longer. Charles nodded, eyes the blue crystals ahead of them warily. The very air itself frozen and fallen? How cold must that be? Even in the far north where the snows departed the air was always air! He ground his molars together and, still fully clad, imagined himself in his animal form. His clothes shifted about as he shrank in stature, thumbs withdrawing, back arching, hips thickening, thighs and arms shrinking, neck swelling until it and his shoulders were indistinguishable. Charles collapsed in on his clothes, trapped within one of the legs of his breeches which fell to the ice with a whump. He gasped for breath, and then shut his snout right away. There was a little warmth left in his clothing, but the frigid air had already crept within. He curled up tail to nose where he was and felt something lifting him and his gear. He could not see through the fabric, and remembering the void, was grateful for it. Hands felt around the clothes until they had encircled him, and then he was pressed into something tight. He could feel warmth exuding along his back and leaned into it, little forepaws gripping the cloth in front of him as if he could keep himself in place. Qan-af-årael's voice felt even more massive before, as if Charles' mental proportions had shrunk with his body. Do not move and make no noise. I only need one thing more from you before we enter Kilyarnie. I must accompany you through the bridge; it cannot be forced. Will you step across it? The answer was obvious. I will. The presence did not leave, but loomed over him, its attention briefly split between him and the greater goal. Charles settled where he was, comfortable as a normal rat, though even in the warmth of his protector's vest he could still feel the edge of ice stabbing him. He pressed his head against the Åelf's chest and for a moment felt surprise when he heard no heart beat. Then he recalled why. Nothing else in this realm was alive save for him. Charles felt a jerk and then heard a sizzling scream resound from every side. He pressed his face into the enclosing clothes as a hideous chill penetrated within. His paws scraped over his head to try and keep the horrible screaming out but the noise only grew louder and more strident. He felt mists rushing up through the garments wrapped around him, each so cold that he felt his skin cracking and ice coating his fur. He kicked and scrambled against it., burrowing himself against his protector. He had no sense of time in any of the places they had endured, but here the screaming and the chill beyond anything he had felt before were only the beginning of his agonies. His lungs strained to scoop even a thimble of air, and his eyes and chest were imbued with a fire that burned every mote. He tried to keep them shut, and tried to keep his nose from sucking at air that was not there. All that was around him beyond the clothes was void. There was nothing to breathe. His head felt like termites were chewing their way out through his skull. His eyes pressed against the sockets, shifting about and pushing outward so that he could not keep them closed. He felt blood trickling from his jaw, from around his eyes, and out of his ears. He thrashed and gasped, sucking against the frozen mist that flashed against his splintered paws and tail. Cold iron raced across his tongue and all he could do was claw and claw and claw at the clothes beneath him where the slightest taste of air, colder than the bitterest ice, brought relief from the void above. The screaming came to a stop with a thunderclap and he felt jostled in his little cave. The emptiness continued to make his entire body spasm and blood flow. He hacked and trembled, mouth opening to swallow breaths that would not come. His blood froze to his fur. He stared into a darkness that deepened. He couldn't even conceive of trying to grow again. And then a gentle hand reached up and touched him behind his ears. A sweet warmth radiated through him and he felt something powerful peer into his mind. Benevolence and majesty. He trembled, but lifted his snout, sniffing and trembling his whiskers, curious to know. A rush of air filled his lungs. A sinuous light danced into his eyes. The bridge is open. The words meant nothing to him at first, but the presence remained, certain and inviting. He would listen to the presence and obey. The bridge to beyond. The way was clear. The path was before him. He had to take the first step. Charles climbed out of the cocoon of clothes, still fully a rat, and marveled at what he saw. In a wide circle the blue dust had evaporated into a sultry cone of brilliant azure. Beneath them the ice had parted, and a sibilant light outlined the suggestion of a portal. In the distance amongst the void grew a blue light, the only thing he could see that struck him with menace. She is coming swift. Go now. Charles climbed onto Qan-af-årael's hand, perched on all fours, and leaped. The oasis rushed above him as he tumbled tail over toes. He fell headfirst into the portal and a welcome blackness swept over him. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>