[Vfw-times] MK Winter assault part 18

[COkane8116 at aol.com]

12/24 - Midnight 

Terrance was terrified. There were lutins all over the place. It seemed that 
whenever he turned a corner there were more of those hideous green monsters 
running about. What could he do against all of them with only a knife to 
protect himself with? "I should have gone to the temple service with Daron," 
the boy mumbled to himself. 

The boy moved through a door and found himself in a kitchen. Various bits of 
food lay scattered about the counters that gave witness to a hurried 
departure of the cooks. From a chopping block he took possession of a large 
meat cleaver. That gave him a small measure of security. "I really should 
have gone to the service with Daron. Then I . . ." his voice trailed off. He 
wasn't alone in the kitchen. 

Standing across the room from him was a huge, black wolf. It was as tall as 
the counter and had to weigh at least a thousand pounds. Behind that wolf a 
dozen others were scattered around, all looking at Terrance with hungry eyes. 

Terrance slowly began to back away holding the cleaver in front of him. The 
blade seemed tiny compared to the monsters that were slowly following him. 
The wolves spread out in a semicircle and started to advance on him. He 
backed into a wall and glanced around. There was a wooden door next to him 
and he slowly reached for the handle. Five of the monsters rushed him at once 
as he yanked the door open and ran inside with the wolves hard on his heels. 

*** 

    The chill wind blew through the cracks of the walls. The 
heavy woolen curtains did little to shelter the chamber's 
inhabitants from the storm raging on the other side of the stone. 
Topo looked around the darkened room and shivered, the movement 
of its other occupants barely perceptible to his eyes. After a 
relaxing day spent snooping around the Upper Keep's kitchens this 
was not how he had planned on spending this evening. Savoring a 
few treats from the citizens' preparations for the winter 
festivals, he had watched with curiosity as Metamor prepared to 
pay homage to their gods. 
     
    This was the eve of major celebrations for the both the 
dominant faiths of man at the Keep. As a mouse, he could not even 
conceive of the idea of religion. The last ten years since he had 
gained his sentience, he had been trying to understand the 
concept. In Carreas there had only been one church. A rather 
devote section of the Ecclesia. In his travels with Anteno before 
the young man had taken his throne, the were-mouse had seen a few 
other examples of the faiths of man, though mostly different 
sects of the Followers found in his homeland. But the Lothansa, 
they were a totally different faith of man, and to Topo, 
something new for him to explore. 
     
    The idle thoughts of his home in Carreas settled into his 
mind, the lull of the cold dulling his mind and holding them 
there. During his time there, he was almost always in hiding. A 
specter hovering around the palace, only seen in the shadows, 
concealed in his robes and the night's darkness. None but the 
Duke's closest friends and advisors knew the were-mouse's secret. 
Rumours were abound, of course, as is always the way in a ruler's 
court, but even the most outrageous ones did not approach the 
truth. In some regards, coming to Metamor had been a good thing. 
Here he could walk freely down the streets and not earn a second 
glance besides the few curious looks he got on account of the 
unusual colouring the Keep left him with. Shuffling closer to the 
small stove that was the only source of heat in the room, he 
chided himself. "Hiding once more, you are." he though as he 
watched the stove, its warmth dying as it slowly consumed the 
last of its fuel. 
     
    It was not how he had planned to spend the night. Not by a 
long shot. What was supposed to be a quiet dinner with his host 
and the night spent watching the various manners in which the 
keepers celebrated their faiths had become a nightmare. A deep 
hopelessness sat in his heart, a feeling of dread that brought 
back with clarity memories of his almost execution at the hands 
of the zealot priest, Malion. 
     
    When the bells had sounded, he at first though that they 
were part of the festival. That idea quickly evaporated as he 
noted the urgency and surprise that registered in the faces of 
the few people that he was sharing the corridors with. Watching 
as they rushed off, the mouse suspected that something was wrong, 
and being unsure what to do, he decided to follow a young chap 
dressed in Keep livery. Still not fully acclimatized to the 
strange shifting of the passages, it seemed only a few moments 
before he lost sight of his guide in the twisting halls. Seeing 
no other option, he continued to wander, looking down empty 
hallways, searching out someone to ask what was going on, the 
sounds of bells still ringing sharply in his ears. 
     
    What was happening around him was unapparent to Topo until, 
after a period of time, he wandered into a minor hall and saw a 
small band of short green men standing around at the other side. 
After a time of not having seen anyone he was startled by their 
sudden appearance. Their backs to him, he was able to see the 
ugly little brutes. "Lutins?", he though to himself, his heart 
beginning to beat rapidly in his chest. This was his first 
encounter with the creatures that every Keeper he had met held in 
the highest contempt. Nasoj's savage and brutal foot-soldiers in 
his campaign against the world. They seemed to live up to their 
reputation. Their stench was apparent even down the hall, their 
equipment shoddy and mismatched, clattering about as they shouted 
at each other in a harsh and guttural language the mouse had 
never heard before. He slipped back around the corner, heart 
fluttering in his chest as he realized that some of the weapons 
they carried had been bloodied. 
     
    Quickly Topo ran from the group, hoping that they had not 
seen him in all their boisterous shouting and bragging. Turning 
several more corners in a rush, he came to a stop in a cold 
undecorated hall. Standing in the semidarkness between the widely 
spaced torches, he paused to catch his breath. "Running madly 
through the halls," he though to himself as he took in his 
surroundings in more detail, "is only going to get me killed". 
The corridors were no longer a safe to be if Lutins had 
penetrated this far into the Keep. Looking both ways to check for 
movement, he crossed the hall, pressing through a heavy wooden 
door there. 
     
    Entering the room, his senses were suddenly assaulted by the 
smell of animals. Blinking to clear even the dim glare of the 
hallway's torch light from his eyes, Topo glanced around the inky 
dark chamber. It was fairly large, walls curving with the tower, 
with tables and shelves holding large cages occupying much of the 
room. As his eyes adjusted, it became apparent that most of the 
boxes had moving shapes in them. 
     
    The fluttering of wings caught his attention, bringing Topo 
back to the present. Looking around, his eyes settled on the 
falcon on the other side of the room as it stretched its wings, 
tugging at the leather binding holding it to its perch. Shuffling 
around on his own perch, Topo spread his own wings and looked 
about the room. He had stumbled into the aviary were the nobles' 
hunting birds were raised and cared for. He was surrounded by 
various sizes of hawks, falcons, and even an owl, caged or bound 
to their perches as they awaited their next hunt. And here he had 
remained, hidden among the birds, assuming the form given to him 
by the Keep of a small but brightly colored falcon. Concealed 
among the mighty hunting birds of the lords of Metamor, at least 
until the sun rose and would steal that from him. 
     
    Most of the birds were fast asleep, totally unaware of what 
was happening outside their door. All except that peregrine, its 
glowing eyes surrounded by its white mask, moving around in the 
dark, pulling at its restraints and generally appearing nervous. 
     
    Topo could sympathize with his larger cousin's agitation. 
His own nerves where on edge, growing more ragged as he huddled 
in the dark. Many times he heard movement in the hallways, 
sending a icy tendril of fear running through him. No one had yet 
entered the chamber, leaving Topo in the dark, both literally and 
figuratively as to what was happening on the other side of the 
door. Flexing his talons, digging them into the wood of his 
roost, Topo ruffled his feather's against a cool draft that blew 
across him. 
     
    Exhaustion taking its toll, Topo found himself dropping into 
a fitful state that was almost sleep. Shivering on his perch, he 
closed his eyes and tried to tune out the world around him, 
imagining warmer, safer climes. A strange sense of calm began to 
settle in as his mind wandered once more. If he made it to 
morning, he would be safe. An unreasonable assumption, but one 
that filtered into his cold laden mind. 
     
    Suddenly a loud thud filled the air. Then another, joined by 
the sound of creaking wood. His eyes flicking open, Topo's head 
whipped around to center on the door. Chaos began to run through 
the aviary as the loud noises awoke the other inhabitants, 
screeches and squawking ringing out as raptors fluttered around, 
agitated and fighting against tethers, bars and hoods. 
     
    With a snap and a resigned groan, the door gave in, its lock 
and hinges never designed for the stress of several heavy bodies 
trying to force them. With a blast of the even colder air from 
the hall, the door swung inwards, a dim flickering light from the 
torches in the corridor revealing short misshapen silhouettes 
standing in the portal. Even in the form of a bird, Topo's 
underdeveloped sense of smell could pick up their smell. The 
rancid, stale stink he had first caught earlier that night. His 
hiding spot had been discovered. The lutins had come. 
     
    Holding still and shivering in fear, he watched them enter 
the room. Shuffling around, poking though and knocking over boxes 
and containers, they moved about in the dim light. "Maybe," he 
though as he watched the shadowy forms stumble through the room 
in their clumsy search, "if they did not find any Keeper's to 
slay, the beasts would move on." Maybe he had not been 
discovered. Maybe he did not have to flee. 
     
    That idea was quickly driven from his minds as the lutins 
started jabbering excitedly. One of them dodged the beak of the 
peregrine as it tried to peck at a reaching hand. The lutin's 
response was to strike down the bird with its club, chortling in 
delight as the bird collapsed, its broken body dangling from its 
leather tethers. Topo felt his stomach tighten as the other 
walked up to a hooded hawk and snapped its neck, calling over its 
comrade in their rough speech as the raptor's screech of protest 
was cut off suddenly. Suppressing a shudder, Topo huddled down on 
his perch and stared on with horror. 
     
    As panic began to gnaw through his little remaining resolve, 
Topo watched the green-skinned creatures began to pluck the 
slaughtered birds, excitingly talking to one an other, probably 
congratulating themselves on their find. A larder. To the lutins, 
the aviary was nothing more then a source of fresh meat. Taking 
in a deep breath at the raspy sound of daggers being pulled from 
their sheaths, something broke in his mind. With a scream of 
terror issuing from his break, Topo lunged from the perch that 
had been his sanctuary from the night's madness, his wings 
flapping madly as he dove for the open door. Suddenly, the halls 
of Metamor seemed to be much more hospitable then being stuck in 
a room with a couple of hungry lutins. 
     
    Looking up from cleaning their catches, the two lutins 
snickered and laughed, waving good-bye in jest to the escaping 
bird. After all, there was plenty more to be had in this place. 
And they had managed to find it for themselves. Of course, they 
would tell their chief and fellow tribesmen of this find, but 
first dibs on the meat was going to be savored. 
     
    Topo, intent only on escape, did not even notice the 
invaders' joviality as he flew through the door, his left wing 
brushing against the wooden frame sending him careening into the 
hall. Wobbling in flight, the fleeing falcon bounced off the 
opposite wall before crashing into the ground. Pulling himself 
back up to his feet, Topo shook the daze from his head, 
adrenaline still pumping through him, his heart racing as he 
gasped for breath. Hearing the voice of the lutins through the 
door, sounding happy in their find, set him off again. Without a 
though he took to wing once more, plunging through a window into 
the maelstrom surrounding the Keep. 
     
    If the corridor had been chill, the outside air was 
freezing, the cold cutting straight to Topo's bones as the 
unpredictable winds buffeted the bird from all sides. In his 
panic, Topo attempted to fly through the blizzard, fighting the 
gusts and swirling storm around him. The small falcon quickly 
tired, the cold and the storm draining the strength from him. 
With a continuing sense of dread, Topo felt about to give up as 
the adrenaline slowly faded from his burning muscles and let the 
wind carry him to his fate. "Better then a meal for lutins," 
flashed through his mind, just as he caught a glimpse of light 
through the blustering snow before him. With one last burst of 
energy, he pumped his wings, the last embers of hope carrying him 
towards this beacon. 
     
    A window. It was a window. He could see this as he slipped 
into the lee of the tower he had been approaching, the wind 
lessening a little and visibility improving to the point where he 
could make out the form of a tower, its shape a dark silhouette 
in the surrounding whiteness. The last of his strength carried 
him to the glowing light, propelling the falcon through the 
window as he collapsed to the floor. Settling to the stones, he 
let out a long sigh, the air around him almost burning after the 
ravages of the storm. With exhaustion quickly taking over, he 
barely even glanced over the empty corridor as he pulled himself 
to his feet. Concentrating, he just managed to shift out of his 
bird form, returning to the more familiar shape of morphic mouse. 
Stretching out sore and protesting muscles, he groaned, leaning 
against the wall, using it as a crutch as he stumbled down the 
hall, once more looking for safe shelter. 

*** 

It was late that night when Raven finally sat down within the Circles 
inscribed on the floor of her private chambers. She let out a long, deep 
sigh, all too aware of how tired her body was but still unable to do anything 
about it. Outside the temple people were fighting and dying to defend this 
sacred castle. She could not even think of sleep until she had done whatever 
she could to assist them. 

All around the perimeter of the Circles there were candles placed at key 
locations, all but one of them lit. The lines of power inscribed on the floor 
glowed weakly, waiting for the final trigger to activate them. Reaching out 
with one hand, she gestured lightly at the unlit wick, and immediately it 
flared to life. An instant later the Circles surged with power, Raven felt a 
flash of light through closed eyelids-- 

And suddenly she was somewhere else. 

In her mind, Raven saw herself sitting in the midst of a field of black. This 
was a realm without form, where the only things that could be perceived were 
those she was wearing or holding. 

And, of course, the person she had come here to meet in the first place. 

Standing up, Raven walked over to the sleeping form. He was a man in his 
early silvered years, his face creased with fine wrinkles, his skin a tanned, 
almost yellowish shade. He lay on his side in the middle of the featureless 
ground, dressed in only his nightclothes. Raven approached him in silence, 
coming to stand beside his head. 

"Holdeman," she said. 

The form stirred and muttered, but he did not open his eyes. 

"Holdeman," she said again, a bit more loudly this time. 

"Uhn," the man groaned softly, rolling over on his back. "What is it?" he 
murmured. 

"Get up, Holdeman," Raven said firmly. "I need to talk to you." 

Holdeman sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around -- his face showing his 
surprise as his surroundings suddenly became apparent. He turned toward 
Raven, swallowed uncomfortably, and lowered his head in deference. 
"Lothanasa," he said quietly. 

"You can calm down, Holdeman. You've done nothing wrong," the priestess 
assured him, momentarily showing an amused half-smile. "I've come to you 
because I need your help." 

The priest of the Midtown temple nodded slightly. Raven knew he hated it when 
she disturbed his sleep like this, but under the circumstances there was 
little choice. "What can I do for you?" he asked. 

"Metamor is under attack," Raven said, coming straight to the point. "Nasoj 
has sent an army against us this very night, in the midst of a terrible 
snowstorm." 

Holdeman looked up suddenly at that, deep worry in his eyes. His mouth stood 
slightly agape for a moment, as if he was unsure if he was truly in a 
vision-spell or simply dreaming. "... Aye, we've seen the storm approaching 
us through the valley," he said at last. "Everyone is inside, for fear of 
when it hits ... attacked, you say? Now, in weather like that?" 

" 'Tis insane, I know," the wolf-woman said, waving off the rest of his 
protests. "No one has ever accused Nasoj of being sane. But mad or not, the 
attack worked -- surprise was almost total, the invaders are inside the Keep 
itself, and Kyia has sealed us inside the temple for our own protection. 
Holdeman, we have a few thousand people in this city at best; we cannot 
survive a prolonged assault. We can hold out a few days, aye -- perhaps so 
much as a week.  But even Kyia cannot keep them away from us forever." 

The man grimaced, nodding again. "What do you want me to do?" 

"Go to the Baron of Midtown and tell him what has happened. He is a vassal of 
Lord Thomas and will have to come to his aid. We need all the reinforcements 
he can send, and we need them immediately." Raven's voice was stern. "Do it 
tonight, Brother Holdeman. Arouse the entire barony if you must, and to the 
ninth hell with anyone who stands in your way!" 

Holdeman swallowed again, clenching his jaw. "I'll see what I can do." 

"Good. I shall expect an update in three hours.  Cuialye lothan, Brother 
Holdeman!" 

"Cuialye lothan," he answered wearily, getting to his feet at last, one arm 
extending toward something.  A rumpled robe suddenly appeared in his extended 
hand as he stood. 

A moment later the link was broken, and Raven found herself sitting back in 
her own room. After taking a moment to adjust to the sudden change in 
posture, she opened her eyes and extinguished the trigger-candle. Rising to 
her feet, she stepped carefully out of the Circles and retrieved the piece of 
chalk she had used to draw the vision-spell pattern. After making a few 
modifications to the target runes, she returned to her seat. There were still 
five other temples in a position to summon help, and she would visit them all 
-- several times, no doubt. 

It was going to be a long night. 

End part 18 


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