insah had no idea how long he'd been clutching the hem of her robe and listening to her sing to him. It felt like forever that he'd just laid there, wrapped in the sound of her voice. Details of the world about him were few and hard to come by, only slowly coalescing after time. They were in a garden of some sort, that much he now knew, with pleasant flowers all about. He liked to sniff the sweet petals, and she would oblige him by snatching one and bring it to his face.
It took him quite sometime before he realized that he did not understand a word of what she was singing to him. When he finally looked up into her shimmering face, his own creased with confusion, she stopped her song and smiled down to him. He could not help but smile back, snuggling close to her dress. "Welcome home, Elvmere."
In that one moment, he did not start at the name, but recognized it for his own. Yet, the moment was short, and passed suddenly. Pushing himself away, he blinked, his voice trembling as he scanned about. He was once more inside his dream Metamor Keep, the trickling brook nearby, and the far gates closed now. He shuddered at what that could mean. "What am I doing here?"
She smiled, her long black hair cascading across her shoulders as she gently reached into the ground for something. "Healing. You have suffered great wounds, and you must heal."
"How long have I been here?" he asked with some concern. He reached up to his face, and found the mask as he'd expected. He scratched at it futilely, but of course, it remained where it was, forever a part of him in this dream.
"Been here in this dream with me? Longer than you might imagine, Elvmere. Far longer."
"My name is Vinsah, I've told you that before."
She appeared to ignore him as she held out her hand. Opening wide her palm, he saw the quartz sculpture held between her fingers. The two eyes fashioned from agate and surrounded by the darker chalcedony gazed back at him with deliberate intensity. "Murikeer would like you to have this. Will you not accept it?"
"I want nothing from that skunk!" Vinsah declared, stepping further back from the woman. He tore his fingernails at the mask, but of course, it did not shift in the slightest. "Nothing, you hear me? Nothing!"
The woman was suddenly at his back, as if she'd always been there. Her gentle hand touched his shoulder, that shimmering appendage flowing into him, soothing the anger he wished to hold onto. "Please, don't make me take it," he whimpered softly. "I'm afraid of it."
The woman gently reached over to where his hands hung limply before him, and set the quartz statuette within his palms. She then closed his hands over the object, and gently ran her finger soothingly up his arms. He held the object tightly then, afraid to open his grip and see those eyes again. "It is yours Elvmere. Yours alone."
"But why me?" he asked, his voice more that of a child's than a man of fifty years.
He turned to face her, like a boy to his mother. She gently ran the back of her hand along his cheek, just as a mother might. "We all ask that question, but there is never an answer for us. Sometimes we must rely on the wisdom of those who fashioned us."
He cast his eyes down, unable to look at her anymore, but still he kept his hands closed, unable to look at the statuette either. He was still wearing that acolyte's robe, but he could not explain why. It simply never occurred to him to remove it. In fact, it seemed a rather silly thing to do, undress before this woman. Still, it was better to think of that than of what was clutched tightly in his hands.
But soon, he found a gentle finger beneath his chin, lifting his head up. "Murikeer is waiting for you. You have to go with him now."
Vinsah started, glancing over at the skunk standing just a few ells away, by the gentle brook. His expression was solemn, but there was a hidden expectation within that face. The Bishop shook his head. "No, not with him. Please, anyone but him."
She gently brushed his hair back, one finger tapping the mask he wore. "You may take your time Elvmere, but he will still be waiting for you when you are ready." She then stepped away from him, fading into the garden itself. Vinsah turned about, to look for her, but she was gone.
"Where did you go?" he cried out, refusing to look at the skunk who was still standing by the brook. "Why have you left me with him?"
He did not truly expect a response, and so he was nearly floored when her voice rang from all about him "I am always with you, Elvmere." Scrambling, he turned back to Murikeer, who favoured him with a warm smile and an outstretched paw.
Screaming in sudden terror, Vinsah turned about, and fled away from the apparition, clutching the quartz figurine in his hands as if he could squeeze blood from it. He ran for what felt like hours, his legs unable to stop, propelling him along those terrazzo pathways. Finally though, exhaustion beginning to take its toll on him, Vinsah came to rest, kneeling down to catch his breath.
Peering between his legs as he kneeled down, he saw black paws, and a long bushy black and white tail behind them. Turning about, he found Murikeer standing a few feet away, one hand outstretched, his muzzle drawn into that same tight smile.
Vinsah took the figurine and threw it at the skunk, pushing him away with his hands and then burying his face in them. As he crouched there weeping, his fingers could not help but explore the lines of the mask yet again, feeling it, growing familiar. Scratching then, he frantically tried to tear it away, but as before, met with no success. Ignoring the skunk who stood quietly nearby, perpetually watching over him, Vinsah tried to close his eyes and fall asleep, wishing no more of this dream.
And then, he felt a throbbing pain fill his chest. Vinsah blinked groggily, his whole body terribly heavy, wrapped tightly in thick quilts. It was bright out, he could see the blue sky outside the sole window, gentle clouds high overhead. He tried to lift his arms, but a sudden pain shot through his chest, and he collapsed back down against the pillow.
Slowly, the memories began to come back to him, of that dream he'd had just moments before that man had shown up -- that same black clad man that he'd seen in his dream his second night at Metamor. And then there was the dinner plate he'd used to protect himself. How had that woman known to warn him, and known that he had such a thing nearby? With a bit of a grimace, he decided that it would probably be good for him if he would at least entertain the notion that she was more than just a dream.
Yet, the details after that were hazy. Obviously he had somehow been brought to wherever he was now, and had been treated by a healer. Gazing out the window some more, he tried to see what was outside, but the pain in his chest forced him back to the pillow. That man had crushed several of his ribs, that much he knew, but why? And what had happened to the others? What had happened to Akabaieth?
A sudden image of that blessed man lying dead filled him with raw terror, and he tried to slide from his bed, but coughed extensively, the agony in his chest still more than he wished to bear. Yet, after he had regained his breath, and lay there wondering whose face it was that had knelt over him as he had faded in and out of consciousness, the sound of some animal approaching caught his attention. He knew it was an animal, for their claws made a staccato rapping noise against the stone floor.
And then, just as he turned his head to see the figure before him, another thought flooded his mind. What if it was not an animal at all? And when he saw the raccoon standing before him, dressed in a smart tunic and breeches, holding a glass of some foul looking liquid, he felt his heart sink into his stomach. He was at Metamor Keep after all.
"Ah, awake finally I see. We were wondering if you were going to make it at all. Your friend has been up and about for several days now." He leaned forward, pressing the glass to Vinsah's lips. "Here, drink this. It will help mend your lungs."
Vinsah did as instructed, drinking down the rancid concoction. He pressed his tongue out in distaste, shuddering as the brew coated his throat. Finally, blinking, he managed to ask, "What happened? With the Patriarch that is?"
The raccoon lowered his gaze. "I am not sure of all the details, but I do know that he is dead. Only yourself, and two others survived."
Vinsah closed his eyes, breathing slowly, noting that already, the brew did soothe his chest somewhat. "How long have I been here?"
The raccoon appeared uncomfortable suddenly, looking at his face, then away again. "You've been here for just over a week. I'm afraid–"
"What is it?" Vinsah asked, his eyes narrowing. Then, he ran his tongue along the tips of his teeth, noting that they felt different than before, sharper. "Oh no. Bring me a mirror."
The raccoon nodded and reached over to a nearby table where he lifted the requested object. It had probably been there for days now, in expectation of this very question. Vinsah peered into the reflection, noting the lines of his face were gone. The creases of his age had been washed away. In fact, given the thickening colour of his hair, he guessed that he was probably only twenty-five in physical age. Yet, his eyes did not care about the youthfulness of his face, they saw only one thing.
Around both of his eyes, there was a dark band of black fur, much like a mask. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, his chest beginning to heave, despite the pain, trying to bring tears to his slightly green eyes. "It is not so bad being a raccoon," the healer said consolingly. "You can still eat most anything you want to, and you will not shrink much in size when you are finished changing."
Vinsah looked back at the healer's face. His own would be much like that in a week or two. "You tell no one that I am awake yet. Nobody must know of this."
"But why?"
"Please, I cannot be seen like this yet. I am not ready for it." He then closed his eyes, trying not to think of the mask that he would always wear now.
The Healer nodded then and sighed. "Of course. I will leave you alone now." He could hear the click of the claws as the raccoon began to walk away. He'd make that noise himself before too much longer. Yet they stopped suddenly, and then turned around. "Oh, there was something nestled in the pocket of your robes when you were brought in here. I put it in this drawer. I thought you might like to know that it was saved."
Vinsah peered at him, as he pulled out a small figurine of quartz. It was the gift that Murikeer had made for Akabaieth what felt a lifetime ago. He twitched as his eyes settled upon the pale white quartz, seeing the chalcedony visage of the stone staring at him from his dreams. Sighing, he nodded, "Thank you."
The raccoon turned about and began to walk away once more. He stopped then and called over his shoulder. "I'm sure you will grown used to it in time. If you need anything, just call, I should be in the next room." Vinsah said nothing in reply however, and soon the Healer left him to himself.
All that the Bishop of Abaef could do was gaze into the glowing blue lapis of Akabaieth's face.
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