<html> <body> I've managed to take advantage of spending more time at home and finished another Metamor Keep story. Metamor Keep: First Day on Patrol by Charles Matthias June 30, 708 CR Elvmere lifted a paw from where he crouched at the feet of his lady, chittering to capture her attention. But he always had her attention, and the gentle smile returned to him, made him swell in proportion, rendering the beastly noises into words. “My Lady, will we be safe?” Softness touched her eyes and one hand gently pet down his fur between his ears. Her lips moved to open, and then she shut them into an even wider smile. The raccoon craned upward, paws pressed against one alabaster thigh, snout and whiskers straining for her oval face. He did not know if he retained any human semblance. All he knew was his Lady. Her hand curled around his ears and then under his muzzle. She leaned over, locks of raven-black hair cascading across her shoulders and onto his back. Her lips drew near as if to gently kiss his nose, but demurred only inches away. Voluminous blue eyes captured him. Her voice, sweet as honey and gentle as silk, lathered his ears. “My Elvmere. Be not afraid. You are protected.” She brushed with the tip of one finger across the black mask around his eyes and face. “Fight bravely, my Elvmere.” The raccoon blinked open his eyes into the gloom of the men's acolyte chamber. He stared into a long-nosed and broad headed face. Large horse-like ears were lifted and turned toward him. As the nepenthe of dream faded, Elvmere recognized the face of his friend, Tamsin hin'Feros. The long pig-like snout hanging in front of his mouth, the large equine ears, the thin gray hide, and the short mane running from the top of his head down between his shoulders marked him as a tapir. “It's time, Elvmere. Get your gear and let's go.” “Must we leave before dawn prayers?” Elvmere asked as he sat up. His legs dangled off the bunk above the tapir's own. If he stretched his arms up he could almost brush his claws against the ceiling and its ancient frescoes. Acolytes from some forgotten era had painted scenes from the lives of the gods but most were now faded and covered in candle soot. Whenever they had artisans of sufficient skill among the acolytes they were cleaned and restored, but the few among the order were all women and so the men's chambers were left untouched for the nonce. Tamsin lifted his snout in a muffled laugh. “You heard Captain Dallar, we must assemble at the barracks by dawn.” “I know,” Elvmere whispered. He yawned and stretched, tongue curling and lolling out between his teeth. “How long have you been awake?” “Long enough to gather our scouting gear. Here.” Tamsin lifted a folded green uniform and handed it to him. Elvmere took it and set it on his feather pillow. “Get dressed and meet me at the temple front. I'll gather the rest of our things from the armory.” Elvmere nodded and shimmied out of his nightclothes while his friend stepped tip-toe out of the acolyte's chamber. They'd selected the uniform from the barracks a few days before. It had taken two candlemarks to make sure they had one suitably sized for him. If they did run into brigands or worse, it was best not to make it easy for any to know they were anything other than Keep patrol. He reached beneath his pillow and pulled out the small medallion with the circle and arrow symbol of Dokorath inscribed. Elvmere sighed and in the dark stared at it. Priestess Merai had gifted it to him last night after they'd returned from the barracks. It had been blessed and touched with the blood of sacrifice by both Merai and the Lothanasa. He cradled it in awe and a sense of shame. I'm not worthy of Dokorath's blessing. I'm not brave. I didn't even believe Dokorath was a god a year ago. Will he truly protect me? Elvmere lifted the medallion to his snout, fingers cradling it so he could see every curve of the bronze inscription. Gold limned the symbol but in the darkness even his eyes could see no glint. He took a deep breath and recalled the beam of pride in Merai's eyes when she bid him kneel. He had not hesitated, and around his neck she'd draped the medallion and intoned a prayer of blessing and protection. If not my devotion, than Priestess Merai's will suffice. Dokorath, guide my hand and heart. Help me serve, and in battle help me protect my friends. Dokorath, I entrust myself to you. Elvmere kissed the medallion and slipped it over his head. The metal bounced against his chest and even through his fur was cool. He sighed and dressed himself in the scouts uniform. It fit comfortably with enough give for climbing and crawling but not too loose to interfere with fighting. He could probably easily squirm out of it into his feral form if he so chose. Once dressed he climbed out of his bunk and left the acolyte's chamber, the only sound the grumble and grunt of snores. He carried the boots they'd given him as he preferred to walk on his paws. He'd not worn shoes on his journey with Malger and Murikeer except when he'd had to, thickening and toughening his soles. Shoes or boots of any sort felt uncomfortable; he wore sandals in the temple because it was expected of an acolyte. He would wear the boots if their patrol Captain insisted. Tamsin was at the temple entrance as promised, a buckler around his waist and shoulder with a sword strapped to his left and a dagger to his right. He held another in one hand and offered it to the raccoon. “You look like you were made for patrol, Elvmere.” “Because I'm a raccoon; they live in forests like those of Metamor.” He took the buckler and managed to strap it on without assistance. The weight of the sword and dagger were familiar after weeks of guard duty and marching around Metamor's halls. “I'm still not sure how well I'll do, but I'm ready.” Tamsin patted him on the shoulder and lifted his snout in a smile. “Of course you are. One last prayer before we go?” He smiled. “Aye, one last prayer!” ---------- Dawn had arrived but the sun still lay hidden behind the Barrier Mountains. The sky was a clear blue from eastern to western peaks with halos of white where the snow-capped summits reflected rays only they could see. Along the valley all was bathed in a shadowless gray. Warmth already suffused the air. Though colors were muted without the sun, the scents of Metamor's varied population and the oil and grease of armor and steel weapons were all the more powerful. Elvmere could smell the ram captain and his fellow soldiers and knew where they waited before he saw them. Before they rounded the side of the barracks as they made their way around the Keep grounds, the raccoon gave one last tug to his buckler to keep it straight. “Ah, excellent, Tamsin, Elvmere, you're here.” The ram had a pipe between his flat teeth which he spoke around. “Join the others for last inspection. If everyone is ready, we will be able to leave in a few minutes.” “Captain Dallar,” Tamsin inclined his head, long ears folded backward, “I trust we are not late?” The ram shrugged. “The solstice was a week ago; we'll have more than enough time to begin. The Keep make you go roundabout?” “We had more prayers and more gods to offer them too than we expected.” Tamsin gave Elvmere a slight nudge in the arm which the raccoon dodged. Dallar chuckled around his pipe as the two acolytes found their place next to a very young woodpecker. The woodpecker was wearing a green tunic with a baldric to which his supplies were hooked but no trousers. His black tail fanned out behind him while his dark talons clawed uncertainly at the ground. Bright yellow eyes met them for a moment before casting back toward the patrol captain. Dallar dumped the ashes out of his pipe, ground them beneath a dark cloven hoof, and tapped his pipe bowl against one curling horn before slipping it into one of the pouches along his buckler. His white wool was short and must have been sheared a month back. He like the rest bore the green uniform of Metamor's patrols, his with the captain's bar emblazoned on his breast beneath the horse-head heraldry of the Hassan house. One two-fingered hand rested upon the pommel of a heavy sword hanging from his left hip. His dark eyes swept across the soldiers, only half of which bore themselves with any seasoning. “I know for some of you this is your first patrol. Let me set your fears at ease; you are joining an experienced team. We have been in the field together since last Autumn and have been nearly everywhere in the valley already. We are going to be making a two-week sweep of the fiefs and villages south of the Keep. We'll stop in Lorland for a few days before making rounds through Goffs Oak, Ticehurst, Sawtry, and Iron Mine. We're going to spend some time on the roads and some in the fields and forests. The Summer Festival ended six days ago; the worst I expect to see is a few stragglers who haven't figured out the festivities are over and a few merchants who stayed too long. There may be brigands, but they usually stay near Jetta and Llancarfan at the valley mouth to avoid the Curse; we won't be going so far south. Honestly, the most combat I expect to see is helping village-folk keep peace by braining drunkards or capturing poachers and thieves. “But I do expect each of you to fight if we must. I and my men will help each of you learn your strengths. Other than Van,” he nodded toward a human boy who looked thirteen in size, but thirty in the twist of his lips and confidence in his eyes. “And Maud,” he said with another nod toward a human woman who stood next to the towering giraffe. “Other than them, all of you are animal cursed. You will each have things you can do no human could hope to do. Going on patrol is the best way to learn what they are. Now, other than my unit, I know Tamsin there has patrol experience. Tamsin, I expect you to help the rest.” The tapir lifted his snout and grinned. “It will be my honor, Captain.” “Good! Now, stand ready for inspection.” As soon as he said this the two hawks, giraffe, woman, boy, and tapir all stiffened their backs and stood half-a-hand higher – the giraffe probably stood a hand higher, he was almost twice Elvmere's height and the raccoon wondered how he could even fit inside. The others – the woodpecker at his side, a brown-furred ram, and a blue-red speckled lizard – all did their best to stand the same way. Elvmere was grateful for the Temple guard duty he'd been on the last two weeks as he managed to comfortably hold the pose. His tail twitched from side to side, but the rest of him remained still, even his whiskers. Dallar walked down the line of soldiers, stopping to check weapons and gear. He was rigorous with the soldiers in his unit but completely silent. When he came to the lizard, after looking over his weapons, Dallar gestured to the pack he carried and asked, “Wyaert, do you have enough to keep warm? We have cold days in the Summer, especially in the forests and mountain foothills.” The lizard – a tokay Elvmere remembered – cracked his wide jaws and said in a croaking voice, “I have an extra set of garments in my pack, Captain. I'm ready.” “Good, good!” Dallar offered the tokay a smile before striding to the other ram, one whose horns were only as long as the raccoon's fingers. Elvmere remembered from the night before when they'd first met with Dallar and the team the other ram had transformed only a few months before. His coat was hairy like a goat, but the face, other than the color, was much like Dallar's own. “Sedric, have you bracers for your legs? With all the walking we're going to do, it will help keep your muscles strong. I know what it is to have hooves.” “Oh, nay, I have none, Captain! Uh, where do I find some?” “I'll give you a pair of mine in a moment.” Dallar had nothing to say to the woodpecker only offering him a nod of the head before moving on to the raccoon. Elvmere took a deep breath and pressed his thumbs into his fingertips rubbing the claws one across the other as the ram looked him up and down. After a short perusal, he chuffed and said, “Tamsin has taught you well, Elvmere.” Elvmere felt his chest swell at the praise even as he exhaled in relief. His breath caught again when Dallar pointed at his feet. “You have almost human feet; why aren't you wearing the boots I gave you?” “I am more comfortable without them. I've walked the length of Sathmore barefoot. I do have the boots in my pack... in case it rains.” Dallar snorted and nodded. “You'll want them if it does, lad. Very good.” The ram moved to the tapir, but his scrutiny of Tamsin was even quicker. He then clapped his hands together, the hoof-like nails making a clacking sound in addition to the normal clap. “All right, we've a long way to go, let's get to it. Van, Maud, gather the pack horses and secure the food. Weyden, Jessica, Myrwyn, stow your gear and follow us in the sky. Sedric, come with me. The rest of you wait here. We'll be leaving in a few minutes.” The woodpecker lowered his beak and chirped something under his breath before walking with bobbing head toward the two hawks. Dallar led Sedric into the barracks, while Van and Maud went into the stables around the corner. Tamsin stretched his arms and legs and chortled. Elvmere turned to his friend and tapped one finger atop the Dokorath medallion beneath his green patrol tunic. “You've taught me well.” Tamsin flashed him a snout-raised grin. “Like I said, you were made for patrol!” “Heh, we'll know in two weeks I suppose.” “Stop fretting. Or do you need another twenty prayers before we go?” “Dokorath probably welcomes the devotion!” Tamsin nodded and chortled, stomping a three-toed foot. “Oh aye he does.” ---------- Elvmere was surprised at how quickly they traversed both Keeptowne and Euper to reach the well-traveled road south through the valley. One minute he and Tamsin were jesting outside the barracks and the next they were walking two by two with a pair of pack horses through the city streets as merchants and vendors gathered to begin their day. Dallar set a quick pace the raccoon found easy to match; it carried them through the streets before those merchants clogged them with booths and wagons. And as they were a Metamor patrol, they passed through each city gate with smiles and waves. In two candlemarks the tough soles of his feet and the claws of his toes were digging in the hard-packed dirt outside the walls. Dallar led them down the road for another candlemark before stopping. The road kept straight with cleared fields on either side the entire time. Rolling hills dotted the countryside and where the road crossed over these stone walls had been built to keep the road clear and level. They passed a few shacks for guards and travelers caught in the rain fashioned from woods. When they reached the first watch tower the ram bade them halt. “We'll stop here for a few minutes. It is good to get word about the road ahead. Tamsin, Elvmere, see the guards in the tower and find the news. I'll wave our birds down; we can talk briefly when you return. Sedric, Wyaert, I want you both to practice with your swords as we wait.” Elvmere watched the tokay and brown ram shrug off their packs and reach for their swords, before turning to follow his friend toward the tower. The others kept their packs on, but the giraffe did recline against the wall to watch. The tower was fashioned from three pylons around a fourth that rose like a pyramid, crossed together with scaffolding, and then spreading apart to cradle a cupola with a roof of wooden slats. The cupola was open to the air on every side and he could smell a faint odor of woodsmoke within. Pounded into one of the slanted pylons were iron rungs; these ran all the way up before switching to the central pylon. Elvmere put a hand over his eyes as he followed them up to what must have been a trap door in the bottom of the cupola. “You first,” Tamsin said as they walked toward the ladder. “Raccoons like being in trees, don't they?” “I do actually,” Elvmere admitted. On a few days free of Temple duties, he'd ventured into the Keep gardens as a normal raccoon and reclined in the branches, hidden from the many Keepers going about their business. There was something comforting about the feel of his claws in the bark and it set his mind and heart at ease. The watch tower was even easier to climb. He zipped up the rungs even with his pack still on his back, and after half-a-minute was knocking on the bottom of the trap door. Tamsin was several rungs below him, chortling at his speed. He heard the sound of boots above him and a metal latch drawing open. The door swung upward and Elvmere put his hands on either side of the opening and pulled himself through. The edge of his pack bumped the floor once before he leaned forward and slipped inside. There were two guards in the cupola, one of them a human man, and the other a gray-furred wolf. The man stood next to the trap door and the central pylon. “Welcome; not here to relieve us I suppose?” “No, we're on patrol to the south,” Elvmere replied, offering both guards what he hoped was a warm smile. He tried not to lift his jowls too much as he did so. Even Metamorians sometimes misunderstood when an animal Keeper showed their fangs. “How long have you been here?” “Since midnight,” the human replied with a shrug. “Our relief should come in an hour or so. Want to know about the roads then?” “Aye, have there been many travelers?” Elvmere moved to the edge so he could peer out over the field and road. Tamsin grunted as he scrambled his bulk through the trap door. The wolf watched them without making any sound other than the rustling of fur as his tail wagged. “Nothing more than local farmers going about their day. See for yourself.” The human soldier stepped behind Elvmere and gestured with outstretched arm to the south. The forests that dominated the hilly lands just south of Metamor continued for a short distance before giving way to cleared fields that flanked the river south of a rocky defile. Thatch homes dotted the cultivated fields with their rows of wheat and vegetables. The forests clung to the mountain foothills and in the midst of one rise he saw another watchtower. When he squinted he thought he could see another past the farms, but the eyes of a raccoon were not meant for such distances. Staring out across the fields and forest south of the Keep framed by mountains on either side, Elvmere could not help but recall his first foray from Metamor over a year past. The whole venture seemed ludicrous to him, but he'd trusted his Lady when she told him it was time to go. He even walked barefoot as she'd instructed him and refused to ride a horse or in wagons except for the brief times when he'd been given no choice – the time they'd be pressed into service in the mountains of southern Sathmore to repel an invasion from Breckaris sprung to mind. It had also been the first time he'd accepted the name his Lady had bestowed upon him – Elvmere. It was strange to admit, but the name suited him better than the one he'd been born with. At least, it suited the young raccoon he now was better than the old man he'd been only two years before. Elvmere leaned against the wooden railing, claws idly digging at the wood, ears turned toward the air. The scent of human and wolf was strongest, but the pleasant spice of pine drifted up along the breeze. He could even hear the sweet songs of birds nesting and freshly hatched chicks begging for their meal. The clanging of swords from below and the murmuring of Tamsin and the other two soldiers completed the symphony. He took a deep breath and let it out slow, languorous, and satisfied. Elvmere felt a faint surprise but deeper delight. He was looking forward to the next two weeks of patrol. “Hey, Elvmere,” Tamsin called. He turned; the tapir had his arms crossed with a wide grin on his snout. He stood in front the forest side wall, a contraption with a wheel and ropes fell away behind him. He nodded toward a bar hanging off the rope. “Have you ever tried one of these?” Elvmere shook his head. “Nay, what is it?” “Quick escape,” Tamsin reached up and grabbed the bar. Elvmere walked over and peered over the railing. The pair of ropes descended at an angle down to the edge of the woods. “Guards can ride this down in a few seconds.” “There's a second bar at the bottom,” the wolf interjected, stepping over to rest a paw-like hand on the bar. “Ride this one down and the other comes up.” Tamsin's grin widened. “Care to try?” Elvmere laughed. “All I do is hold on?” “Aye.” The wolf grinned and wagged his tail. “Let go and you'll break your legs, maybe more.” Elvmere nudged Tamsin in the side as he straightened his sword then reached up for the bar. He wrapped his fingers around the grip and tensed his shoulders. “You just don't want to climb down the ladder again.” “Ladders are for going up!” The wolf patted the railing and then swept his paw forward. “Just step up to the ledge. Keep your elbows bent or you can wreck your shoulders when you jump off.” Elvmere took a deep breath, stared out over the drop, and chortled. “Aye, never done this.” He put one foot on the railing, toes and claws curling over the wood, and then jumped forward. The rope whistled and the gears squeaked as he rushed forward. His weight yanked down and he felt a jolt through his elbows and shoulders but he kept his body coiled and elbows bent. The air zipped past and the trees and ground rushed forward; his heart beat fast and his teeth ground tight. He held out his feet as one large oak zoomed at him. He connected with a well-worn part of the bark, claws digging in. His knees and hips bent with the impact. He bounced back, hands letting go of the bar, collapsing on the ground. He gasped and crawled away, shaking his head from the rush. “Akkala!” He managed in between gasps, begging the goddess of healing for his breath back. He managed to stand and straighten his pack and sword as another zipping resounded and Tamsin struck the tree. The tapir jumped backward and landed on his three-toed feet, gasping for only a moment before laughing. “I guess I should have warned you about the landing. Hah! You did great!” “Oh my!” Elvmere gasped, hand to his chest as the world settled back to normal around him. “Aye, you should. Ow!” “Tamsin! Elvmere! Enough foolishness!” Dallar shouted from the field near the tower. Elvmere turned and was surprised to see they and the tower were at least two hundred paces away. He grunted and started off at a trot back toward the others. Tamsin chortled for a moment as he hurried to keep pace. By the time they reached the rest of their patrol he'd caught his breath. All three birds had landed and assumed their most human shape, watching as the younger ram and the tokay lizard traded blows. The two hawks were near the giraffe and two humans trading comments, while the young woodpecker perched upon the stone wall by himself. The combatants reminded Elvmere of his practice fights with Tamsin; the brown-furred ram especially used simple moves and used them over and over again while the tokay seemed to swing his sword more like a hammer against stone. Elvmere shrugged and smiled toward Dallar as they approached. The ram shook his head and turned his attention back to the combatants. Elvmere settled next to the woodpecker and asked, “How was the flight?” Myrwyn lowered his long beak to preen at the feathers of his right wing arm. He lifted it a moment later, wide yellow eyes fixed on him. “The air is pretty still today. I'm not as good as they are at flying.” Elvmere frowned. “How long have you been cursed?” “About three months now. You?” He grunted, though the excitement he still felt from riding the rope down kept him from feeling as much like an idiot as he knew he was. Lothanasa Raven had forbade him from speaking of his past from before he became Malger's apprentice on their journey through Sathmore. Asking another Keeper about when they became cursed naturally meant they would ask him the same. The true answer was not even two years past, but so much had changed in those two years he'd come up with a response both true and evasive enough to forestall further inquiry. Elvmere favored the woodpecker with a smile, even as he put his hands behind his head and made a show of looking back at the contest. “Ah, it seems a life time ago now. I was a different person then.” He almost needn't have worried because Myrwyn merely bobbed his head and resumed preening the black feathers on his wings. Dallar allowed the combatants to trade a dozen more blows before bleating and waving his arms. “Enough for now! We've more road to cover today; I'd like to be in Lorland by lunch. Elvmere, what of the roads ahead?” The raccoon blinked and turned to the south. “It looks clear, sir. Nothing but farmers we could see.” “Good, good. Weyden said the same.” Dallar flecked his lips, revealing the flat teeth behind them for a moment. “Everyone gather your gear, it's time to keep moving. Elvmere, you're with me on point. Maud, Van, give Wyaert and Sedric some pointers on fighting. Larssen, you and Tamsin take the rear. Weyden, Jessica, Myrwyn, I want two of you in the sky and the third riding with our supplies for the rest of the trip. Switch every candlemark so you can stay rested. Myrwyn, you can take first rest.” The woodpecker blew out a sigh of relief at the news. Tamsin patted Elvmere on the shoulder and flashed him a tooth-filled grin as he walked toward the giraffe. Elvmere chittered under his breath and turned toward the ram captain to begin the walk again. ---------- Dallar said nothing at all as they walked for at least two candlemarks. They reached the cultivated fields not long after resuming their trek; short walls of rocks of all sizes fitted together and others fashioned from long cuts of wood marked off the fields for each of the farms. Thatch huts dotted the land between them. Some of the fields were left fallow, with sheep and cattle grazing under the watchful eyes of shepherds. The ram had them moving at an easy but steady pace. Elvmere had no trouble keeping abreast and from time to time could even savor the feel of dirt between his claws and toes where freshly turned fields overflowed onto the road. The weight of the sword and pack were as comfortable as the instruments had been when he'd traveled as Malger's apprentice. He chuffed at the memory and his snout cracked in a smile. For a moment he wished he could be journeying from town to town with his master and the skunk mage Murikeer again. It had been hard days walking many miles only to play and sing for hours to earn a meal and a place to sleep, and sometimes all they had was a bitter gruel and a smelly barn with rain-damp straw for a bed. He'd remembered being very uncertain at first when Malger offered to take him on as an apprentice for the sake of appearances during their pilgrimage through Sathmore. It was a land alien to him and he in a body also alien to him. Malger's confidence and Murikeer's selfless charity had been a comfort to the anxious raccoon. It had been easy to slip into the role of apprentice. He'd enjoyed learning the many instruments and to find the unexpected melody in his own voice, despite Malger's lecherous taste in song. I wonder, what if I had stayed his apprentice and accompanied him on his journey to Sutthaivasse? Would he still be teaching me music? Would I be learning the sword from him instead of Tamsin and the patrols? No, foolish thought, I couldn't have. It never even occurred to me to think it. If I had... I would... would not be Lothanasi now. I'd still be trying to be... Vinsah. Elvmere chuffed again and shook his head; it was best not to dwell on such things. Nostalgia was often a poor judge of the times. Besides, if he was going to let his mind wander from his patrol duties then he should at least ponder something useful like philosophy. Dallar noticed with a slight turn to his one eye facing the raccoon. His lips moved and in a grunt he asked, “Are you well, Elvmere?” “Aye, just remembering the last time I walked these roads.” “As a minstrel's apprentice?” “Aye.” Elvmere let his eyes focus on the fields ahead. Dallar rolled something around in his mouth a moment before asking, “How are you feet?” “Good. I like the feel of dirt beneath them.” “You should wear the boots for more than just mud. In battle, an injured foot can kill you.” Elvmere shrugged the pack on his back, tail flicking for a moment before nodding to the ram. “I am more comfortable without them, Sir, but if you order me I will put them on.” Dallar's eye did not leave him, but his ears lifted up against his horns in a caprine grin. “I will but not today. Tell me, how long have you been training for this patrol?” “About a month. I've been on guard duty at the Temple these last two weeks.” “Have you ever swung a sword before a month ago?” Elvmere shook his head. “Not since I was a boy.” Dallar grunted. “A young man your age, temple acolyte or not, should know how to swing a sword. And by the time this patrol is done, you will.” “Aye, Sir,” Elvmere nodded his head. “If I may be so bold, I hope we do not have to use our swords for aught but training.” “You'd be a fool if you wanted anything else. You don't carry yourself like a fool, even if you go down the quick line without learning how to stop first.” Elvmere hissed between his teeth, a sudden heat filling him at the casual way the ram had spoken. Some of his muscles were still sore. “They didn't tell me!” Dallar actually turned his head as they walked. The ram's hooves made soft crunching noises on the small rocks littering the road. He chuckled. “As I said, you don't seem a fool to me. Young, but no fool. Have you been to Lorland before?” He gritted his fangs and chuffed, trying to laugh at himself. “I passed through here, but I've never stopped at the town. How much further is it?” “These fields and farms are Lorland, or at least, it's northern lands. We should be at the barracks in town in an hour. You'll come with me as we report in.” “Report?” “Aye, Metamor patrols must report to the barracks in each town when we arrive. You'll see. This will not be your last patrol, Elvmere. Perhaps you'll enjoy it more than life as a temple acolyte. Are you a disciple of Dokorath?” Elvmere lifted one hand and traced his claws over the outline of the bronze medallion hiding beneath his patrol tunic before reaching inside and drawing it out. “This? It was a gift from the Lothanasa and Priestess Merai to protect me on my first patrol. I am not Dokorath's disciple, but I will give him my prayers and do him honor. I seek his protection and his guidance. And bravery. I'm not sure how much I have of my own.” “You should talk with Weyden; he wants to be Dokorath's disciple. Perhaps he can help you find your bravery.” Elvmere cast a quick glance at the sky but could see neither the hawk nor the woodpecker flying above. Behind them the black hawk perched upon the wagons amiably chatting with the woman. “I will, when there is time. There will be time, Sir?” “We've two weeks for patrol, Elvmere, we will all know each other better.” The raccoon nodded. “Aye, in sooth. Could I have a chance to walk with him later today? I'd really like to.” The ram chuffed and flicked one ear, eyes lifting to the horizon. Beyond the hills ahead they could see clusters of thatch-roofed huts, communal barns, and the towers and walls marking the town at the center of Metamor's most fertile land. “I don't see why not. Are you going to learn magic at the Temple too?” Elvmere nodded. “Priestess Merai wants me to begin training later this Summer or Fall.” “Then speaking with Jessica could help too. Perhaps she can teach you something. Even witchlights would be useful.” “Aye,” Elvmere felt a twinge in his heart. Murikeer had offered to teach him magic when they had traveled together a year ago. He had refused of course; Patildor did not practice magic, unless they were a member of a Southern mage clan, or one of the other exceptions shoehorned in so they could make converts. He chuffed at his reluctance and bitterness and felt a strange relief and youthful eagerness. What if he could actually use magic too? He had – wanted – to try. “Aye, I really should. Thank you, Sir.” Dallar offered a faint smile, a slight curling of the ends of his jowls, brightening of his eyes, and lifting of his ears against his curling horns. “Good man.” Elvmere walked a little taller. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>