<html> <body> --------- Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars IV: Infernus (o) Saturday, May 12, 708 CR They climbed back up to the base of the escarpment where the ground was level and moved swiftly along the path. The towering cliffs diminished as the seconds turned to long minutes. The chasm narrowed enough that he could make out creatures moving on the other side, but the depths remained impenetrable and there was no sign of any way to cross short of sprouting wings. And every way that he turned he saw that vile shade of red covering everything. Red. Red. Red! Even that poisonous green on the spade of the beast that had ruined his ear had been a delight to savor in comparison to the never-ending panorama of baleful red. What words could he use to bring it some vitality, some inkling of interest to assuage his disquiet? Scarlet brought to mine a fire which this place kindled only in the heart. Crimson reminded him of the spilling of blood which came all too often. Rouge suggested the anger searing his cheeks. Cardinal? For him that had always been associated with the Ecclesia and this place rejected such holiness. Roseate? That was an outpouring of love and there was none to be found here. Damask? A product of luxury and here all but brutality was spurned. The chain he saw in his mind was not red. It seemed to be a shimmering steel alloy, glistening with chrome so that in the oddly tilting light a veritable panoply of colors limned each link. He pondered it as they walked, each step stretching their legs as far as they could. The strength he felt in each link was not one of flesh and blood, nor did it depend on the sinews for its vitality. It was the strength of a current, rising and falling with the tide, impossible to resist, and all of it offered into his hands. Would he not need a strength beyond the ken of men if he were to reclaim the son stolen from him? Did he truly know what awaited them on the levels beneath where things were even more dangerous and vile than he witnessed here? Could he possibly imagine the Beyond and what he must fight through there? Strength awaited him in that chain, a strength beyond even what the Sondeck was capable of. But there was something unsettling about that strength as well, something the clarity in his mind noted now that he'd had a few minutes free from combat to consider. Although the links in the chain were clear and shone with a brilliant luster, he could not see either end of it. It was not that the end stretched out beyond his sight, but that he could not bring either end into view. It was as if the end nearer him came to some place on his flesh that no matter how he twisted would not reveal itself. And the other was lost in a darkness that would not lift. Charles pushed the chain from his thoughts and focused on the barren landscape around him. The escarpment had dwindled until it was no more than a tall bluff. The chasm had also narrowed. There were no more volcanoes on the other side, only a line of ridges across which he could not see. A group of men and deformed beasts claws and fought each other there, their attention lost on each other. Charles winced at the sound of bones crushing, violent screams, and hideous laughter all mingled together so tightly that he could not discern one from the others. The path ahead was lost behind another turn to the right about the escarpment. Charles peered backward and turned his good ear. The baying sounded from time to time, always closer but never in sight. But now there was nothing behind them to give their hunters away. Charles grimaced, rubbed his snout with the back of his hand to clear it of the blood dust, and resumed their relentless march. Step back! The alarm nearly came too late. Reflexes drove the rat backward at the urgent command. A split second later a huge boulder crushed into the spot where he'd stood. He glanced upward and saw arranged at the cusp of the bluff a quartet of vaguely man-shaped creatures whose scaly skin was dusky red and who had horns protruding from their flesh at random. These lifted boulders as large as themselves and hurled them down the side of bluff toward rat and Åelf. Charles pressed himself against the bluff and gasped for breath. The second boulder struck, shattering into a thousand fragments that bit into his flesh. Qan-af-årael also took refuge against the bluff, but he stretched out one hand, spreading a green nimbus around them. The third boulder careened off the shield to scatter down the defile harmlessly. Charles trembled, gritting his incisors as he pulled a sliver of stone from the side of his leg. Blood oozed between his fingers as he pressed down on the wound. The pain lanced into his mind and with it a fire that trapped his thoughts. The chain lifted before him and he knew he only had to stretch out his hand for it. Instead he lifted his eyes to the top of the bluff and hissed between his teeth. Saturated by the blood of countless aeons, the stone before him was still, at its heart, stone. With a glint in his eye and fire in his veins, Charles drove his right arm into the bluff, merged it with the stone, and reached upward the hundred feet or so that separated them. He could feel the rage of a million murders pouring through him. He swam through the strangulation and gouging of throats. He waltzed with disembowelment and performed a pirouette with dismemberment. He gorged on a thousand severed heads and slurped their entrails. He bathed in the blood of his enemies, countless enemies for whom he felt nothing but hate which burned as a fire that consumed even him. And through all of that horror he felt the feet of the quartet of monsters stomping about atop the bluff. With a heave of his will and Sondeck, he shattered the rock on which they stood. Their laughter turned to screams as they upended and hurtled through the air, limbs flailing but catching nothing. One of them was cast into the chasm and continued to scream as he fell. The other three all smashed into the defile, crushing their bodies before they too slipped into the abyss. Charles withdrew his arm and fell to his knees, gasping, with tears pouring from his eyes. A heavy weight bound his neck and he felt something tugging him to the ground. The chain. One hand still pressing down on the wound at his neck, he lifted his other hand to pull the chain away, but it passed through as if the metal links were as insubstantial as fog. He vomited, disgorging everything that he could. Blood splattered from his jaws and seeped into the stones beneath him. He trembled, gasping for any breath he could take. Something was wrapped about his neck and every gasp made him flinch from it. Yet his searching paw found nothing. With each second the memory of all the death faded, though the enormity of it lingered with him, and the burning sensation still filled him and licked at him. A hand rested on his back and then beneath his arm, lifting him to his feet. Charles grimaced at the pain in his leg but still managed to stand. The chain no longer dragged him down. He focused his thoughts on the presence that lingered at his side. Can you heal my leg? I can, but that is not your most pressing need. A little more and you will belong to the master of this realm. Help me! I am. Even as those two words ricocheted through the rat's mind, the ancient one lowered his hand to the wound at his side and touched it with a faint blue glimmer of light. For a blissful moment Charles could feel a renewal of energy and a dimming of the flames that burned and made him tremble with a rage that he could not put aside. In that moment he cast his thoughts beyond the misery of the damned to another soul. He saw her face, with gentle tan fur, soft pink ears, slender whiskers, and deep black eyes of such elegant softness and warmth that they could only belong to his beloved. He ached for her touch. Her name hovered at the edge of his thoughts but it was too blessed to be uttered in so blasphemous a place. The chain before him and the weight upon his neck faded as he pondered his wife. His strength dimmed, but still he managed to stand. It is too late! Run! The hands upon him pulled him forward. Charles, snapped from his reverie, felt his revulsion and the weight of anger bear him down again. Turning, he cast his glance backward and felt his body stiffen in alarm. Coming around the last turn a few hundred paces back was a pack of eight blood-red hounds like the ones they slaughtered on entering the realm. Cavorting above them in the air were little winged gremlins bearing short spears and wicked yellow eyes. Behind them, and holding the chains of the hounds was a gargantuan creature that filled him with immense terror. The creature was vaguely man-shaped at first glance, with a bristling golden countenance, a head full of wavy auburn hair, and a chest rippling with muscle and glimmering as if smeared in oil. But the expression was filled with a malice beyond mortal ken, and from its side sprung six arms, five of which brandished scimitars taller than the Åelf. It possessed no legs. Where the torso ended a serpent's body began, thick and wide with iridescent vermillion and violet scales that glimmered with the vibrancy of coral. Stones were crushed to dust beneath the undulating scales as it traversed the defile. The end of its tail was lost to sight. Charles gasped and started to run. His thoughts frantically turned to his protector. What is it? The most dangerous thing you could face in this realm apart from its masters. A marilith. They command the armies of the daedra lords and are utterly without mercy or honor. Both of them ran. Charles felt a small tremble in his left leg where the stone had bit, but whatever healing Qan-af-årael had provided kept him moving. The hounds bayed, unleashed from their chains, they closed fast. Charles felt Qan-af-årael slow beside him but he kept moving. Yet in his heart he felt the anger swell. Where could they possibly go? The question answered itself as he rounded the bend. The bluff came to an abrupt stop as the chasm bent around at a sharp angle. The defile came a single pointed outcropping overlooking the abyss which had narrowed considerably. Across that span stretched a stone bridge in the shape of a single shallow arch. The width was not even two paces wide, and its length was greater than the distance that separated them from the hounds. One wrong step would drop him into depths he could not fathom. But there was nowhere else to go. Grinding his teeth the rat ran, tail flashing behind him as he pushed with his Sondeck to gain every mote of speed he could. Even the spectral chain seemed to draw him forward. His feet ached from the biting stones beneath him but still he ran. Behind him he heard the snarling of the hounds, vicious and ravenous, growing ever closer. The slithering and grinding of the marilith followed with inexorable doom. Charles slowed as he reached the narrow bridge to cast one last glance backward. Qan-af-årael had stopped as well thirty paces behind him wielding the brilliant tree blades in either arm. The hounds were snapping at him in an attempt to find a way around him. These knew not to come within reach of the blades. Bearing ever closer was the marilith, his expression one of malicious triumph as of a giant ready to crush a fly. The coterie of gremlins was nowhere to be seen. Charles glanced down at the bridge, peered over the edge once, and instantly regretted it. Whereas the bridge between realms was impossible to fall off because there was literally no reality beyond into which one could fall, here the nothing was quite real and from that abyss he knew there was no hope of rescue. He stepped onto the bridge, crouching as he did so. Slinking in a posture more suited to his feral form, the rat scurried across that narrow strip of rock as fast as he dared. Where the air next to the escarpment had been stagnant without even a slight breeze to give them some relief, the bridge was buffeted by sudden gusts of wind that made him sink his hands and feet into the stone to anchor himself. Every inch of immersion bathed him in the screams of myriads caught upon the bridge, crushed against its span, and then cast into the darkness below. The rage, insatiable in its fiery presence, devoured him. The chain at his neck glimmered to life, both frightening him but giving him strength to counter the wind. The clasp about his neck bit into his shoulders and forced his head upward. Before him the links in the chain grew taut, lifting off the surface of the bridge, pulling him forward. Charles gasped and with one hand tried to claw at the chain. Its substance was immaterial, but there was a slight resistance as his claws passed through the chrome, as if it were gaining in strength with every hateful thought and blasphemous emotion fed into him through the stone. Charles pulled all of his limbs from the bridge and collapsed against its surface. The wind ripped at his back, tugging him toward the abyss at his right. His tail lashed to the side, and he felt himself sliding against the surface of the rock. He dug his claws into any crevice he could find. His right leg scratched at the stone, slipped, and then spilled over the edge. He gasped and pressed down harder with his left, and felt the tear in his flesh break open again. A lance of agony raced up his leg and made his arms tremble as if palsied. The wind pounded, tugging at the cowl of his cloak as the darkness, an almost conscious thing, hungrily growled below. A thought permeated that fear, clear and brilliant in its simplicity. Take the chain and you will cross the bridge alive. He could feel it now, and not just something he perceived. His snout rested atop the links, warm to the touch and stronger than the stone beneath him. It stretched across the bridge and in between the cleft of rock at its end. In the distance he could see a figure at the other end. Clad in dark mail and burnished an infernal red between each of the chinks in the plate, there was an aura of dread and a celebration of anger in his countenance. Strength unchallengeable was in that chain, and an offer of safe passage across the bridge was certain in it. But the chain was not the only thing which he could now feel against his flesh. About his neck latched a collar of steel from which protruded spikes that gouged the bridge where they touched. Strength beyond measure was being offered to him as was an assurance that he would not die on this bridge. But whose will would guide that strength? And whose will would direct that life? Charles knew in that moment that if he took the chain he would be a slave to the master of this realm, to the lord of rage and hate. And he knew that if he joined with the stone of spilled blood again he would be so consumed by aeons of hate that he would gladly enslave himself. What of Kimberly then? What of Ladero? All would be lost to him. Charles closed his eyes and scrabbled with his right leg at the stone, focusing his Sondeck, even as he mouthed the words to its Song. The wind battered, but did not dislodge. Charles felt it ebb and he scrambled back into place, gasping for breath, claws digging deep into the stone in case the wind returned. The chain remained as did the collar but for the moment they were faded. They were a promise; the lord of this realm had not yet attempted his final gambit to claim him. The rat chanced a glance behind him and saw that Qan-af-årael had backed onto the bridge. Three of the eight hounds lay in pieces on the defile. A fourth was missing entirely. The other four snapped at the Åelf, snarling in rage at their inability to get around him. One of them leaped across the span toward where the rat was pinned only to scatter into chunks of flesh as his protector stretched out the tree blade to meet him. The marilith coiled where the bluff came to an end and drove two of its swords into the rock. Hands with bronzed fingers stretched outward, a darkness spinning between them as of a thousand pieces of thread weaving together in a net. Charles swallowed at the sight of it and risked crawling across the surface of the bridge. He managed no more than six paces before the wind struck him again and his hindquarters slipped off the side. He kicked and clawed at the stone, but with the wind pressing into his face, he continued to slide. One foot passed the bottom of the bridge and kicked at the empty air. He screamed in a panic, only to have his voice cut short when the collar dug into the side of the bridge as his chest was pressed over the side. Choking for breath, his arms grasped for any purchase at all. The chain glimmered solid and sure. The black mailed monster holding the other end seemed to smirk across the distance. Perhaps your protector can break the chain? If he survives. Wouldn't you like the strength to defeat your enemies? Charles grunted, staring at the chain for only a moment longer before casting his gaze back at Qan-af-årael. The Åelf summoned a giant blue shield that stood at the end of the bridge, and then brilliant plumes of yellow light cascaded from his body to circle the air. The wind fell silent as they coursed around the bridge. Charles, eyes blurring from lack of breath, finally found purchase for his claws and pulled himself back onto the bridge. The links rattled against each other as he heaved his legs and tail to safety. He turned back to thank the Åelf when he saw something hurtling through the shield at them. All three of the remaining hounds bayed as they tumbled end over end through the air, thrown by the marilith in its fury. “Look out!” Charles shouted, voice so ragged that the sound was barely a whisper. But the Åelf understood, spun, and with two swipes sent the last remnants of the hounds to the darkness below. And then the shield shattered with a titanic roar that knocked the rat back against the bridge, the spikes in his collar digging into the stone so that for a moment he could not move at all. The marilith slithered forward, wreathed in black light, four scimitars waving about through the air, his other two hands crafting another series of obnubilating ribbons that snaked out to strangle the yellow efflorescence. Qan-af-årael half turned, brandishing his tree blade, while the other lowered to kiss the bridge. Trails of light coursed across the bridge, and then down beneath it. Charles tugged at the collar until he loosed the spike from the stone, and resumed crawling. A volley of spells bounced back and forth between the marilith and his protector, spells against which Charles had no defense that would not damn him as well. He glared at the chain and felt the links grow heavier and the collar tighter against his neck. He winced and narrowed his eyes, whiskers drooping, and forced himself to look away from it. Rage was only going to make a slave of him. It had almost done so already. Yes. I am your master now. Come, little rat. Come to me. To his horror, he felt a compulsion to obey. He could not stop on the bridge, there was nowhere to go. But every step brought him closer to the being at the other end of the chain. Charles allowed himself no measure of defiance as he stepped forward, but neither was it obedience to that voice. It was his will that led him onward. His alone. Charles! Above you! The more familiar voice, that of his protector, resounded in his mind. The rat glanced upward, and then felt the chain yank him back down. From out of red-smeared sky descended more than a dozen little gremlins with their nasty spears. Charles forced himself to spin onto his back, swinging out the Sondeshike as he did. He struck the first of the gremlins on the side of its head. The skull caved in and the creature spiraled out of sight beneath him. Three more he dislodged with those first spins of his staff before the others banked away out of reach. He counted ten gremlins left but these were banking and swirling so quickly that even with his widely spaced eyes he had trouble watching all of them. Two dove for his left, but only one of them was able to avoid the crushing blow of his staff. Another three came from his left and none of them escaped, two with severed wings and the third whose snarl-faced head bounced across Charles' belly before falling off the other side of the bridge. Two more flew toward his legs and he angled the Sondeshike to intercept hem when he felt the chain yank him forward again. He gagged and nearly lost his grip on the spinning staff. As he tightened his grip, he felt a lance of pain in his tail. He kicked with his right leg, caught the gremlin square in the back, and sent it hurtling off the edge of the bridge. The second drove its spear deep into the flesh of his tail, severing the bone and flesh in twain. A horrified squeak erupted from his throat as the bottom half of his tail rolled off the bridge, blood pouring from the wound. The laughing gremlin was silenced when his left leg caved in its chest. But the chain continued to draw him backward. The spikes dug into the stone leaving a trio of gouges behind that the blood from his tail filled as they passed. The last four gremlins flew just out of range, laughing and mocking him. Charles felt the flare of rage return, pricking and pounding on the door of his heart for admittance. He stared past his severed tail instead at the Åelf. His thoughts hurtled outward, a plea simple and immediate. Help me! Qan-af-årael appeared to be bending under the onslaught of the marilith's dark ribbons. He had fallen to one knee, the tree blade between them the only thing keeping him from being consumed by the obsidian plasma. Another voice replied to his cry. He cannot help you. I can. Take the chain or the gremlins will! And they did. The four gremlins, as if hearing the same command, flew further along the bridge and grasped the links of the chain. Charles no longer felt drawn along and was able to stand. The gremlins, weak though they were individually, were pushing the chain toward the edge of the bridge. In horror Charles raised his arms and then flung them downward. The Longfugos rush of air knocked all of them from their feet. They scattered into the air, flapped their wings, and then settled further along the bridge to try again. And then all of them were knocked to their feet as a titanic bloom of green light engulfed the other end of the bridge. The marilith screamed in an agony so piercing that Charles felt his ribs turn brittle in his chest. He collapsed to his knees, wincing as he brushed the severed tip of his tail, and gasped in awe at the sight of the six-limbed monstrosity wreathed in verdant light so encompassing that all other light faded. For the first time since they arrived, Charles did not see any red at all. The marilith launched into the air as if flung from a catapult. The fire consuming him dwindled his flesh, shrinking him inward. Yet his momentum carried him forward, fury incalculable writ unending in his face. By the time he reached the rat, he was no larger than his gremlins. Arms lashed out, and he felt a spasm in his flesh. A moment more and the being of terror was swallowed by the green light and winked out. Behind him the gremlins dropped the chain and fled as fast as their wings could carry them. Before him Qan-af-årael walked across the bridge, hands empty but for a fading green light. Something slick began to slide into his hands. Charles glanced down and stared uncomprehending as his entrails slipped from his belly into his arms and down across his Sondeshike. He collapsed on the bridge a moment later, the fiery red all around him fading into a nightmare. The collar on his neck tightened and he could feel himself being dragged away. All of his limbs went cold and numb. He tried to think of his wife and son, but there was only the darkness come to envelop him. Charles saw nothing but smears of red dwindling away. Into the void appeared a figure bathed in a divine white light. Around him all things seemed to brighten, and Charles felt himself immersed in that vivifying warmth. A soft voice echoed around him, speaking beautiful words he could not comprehend. All stilled in that moment of renewal. Pain did not return, but a sense of wholeness and purpose resumed in his flesh. Charles felt motion imbued in his limbs, and with it a tingling sensation as if he were waking from a deep sleep. In his vision, he glimpsed a world of beauty surrounding the figure of white light. His protector and guardian, the ageless power, did not seem to be a figure of antiquity but one of endless youth and vitality. Radiant blue eyes regarded him from the folds of white cascading one over another. Thin lips bore a smile of supreme pleasure and unparalleled magnanimity. The words of power uttered were sweeter in his ears than the song of the most delicate violin. All was rightly ordered in his presence. Charles blinked and the vision faded. His hands stretched to touch his stomach and found it whole. He blinked, reached to his neck and found it free. His hand climbed higher but his left ear was still torn. Shifting his tail he still felt where it had been shorn in two. But he was alive, and the chain was gone. He turned about, and saw that they stood uncontested in the center span of the bridge. His protector knelt before him, smiling, the power fading from his countenance. As the red returned to his field of view, his thoughts scattered, but the question reached its goal. What happened to me? You received a mortal wound. The marilith was powerful in its death. But that wound opened the doorway to break the chain you wove for yourself. You are now free to leave this place with me. My ear and tail? They will be restored when you leave. Healing magic in this place must be used with care. Only to save your life would I extend it as I have. In this place, healing can poison you. Only the nature of your wound allowed me to work. Charles lifted the severed stump that remained of his tail, reduced to half its length. But my tail! Qan-af-årael's smile broadened in bemusement. It will return. No Rat should be without his tail. But it is best to leave it as is for now. Charles was certain he did not understand and knew no matter how many questions he asked he would never understand. Instead he choose gratitude. Thank you, Master Qan-af-årael. Are we ready to leave this place yet? Not yet. There is but a little further to go first. Come. We must enter the spectacle of rage. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>