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I'm not so bad, but fuck if everything else isn't.

Sorry about the delay getting this last part out. The week's been absolutely crazy, but at least it's here now! This is the final part of From Humble Beginnings, detailing Oswell's origins. I hope you've enjoyed this look into where he got his start!

And if you're interested in more Blood and Water shenanigans, fear not! There should be more in store in the future. Promise! Until then though, I hope you all enjoy Sacrifice!

• Master Meridian

Blood And Water: From Humble Beginnings

Sacrifice

The fall arrested itself as Oswell struck the frosted-over ground.

With a grunt, the fox winced and tried to open his eyes. The light that entered them was blinding, and he winced away from it for a moment as he raised a paw to cover the source of the glare. A chill wind ran across his face as his ears twitched flat. He was outside again.

That realization forced the fox's eyes back open. Outside meant guards. Threats. Danger.

He was up and on his footpaws before he'd even realized it. Eyes scanned the immediate surroundings and drank them in. Alley. One access in or out. Deserted, for the moment. A glance up at the buildings around him gave Oswell little to work with, until he saw the mountain. The fox couldn't have hoped for a better reference point.

Oswell took a moment to think. If he knew Arhas as well as he hoped he did, then the position of the mountain put him a fair ways from both the dock and the city's main gate. The dock would be a simple run through the alleys nearby, but Oswell grit his teeth and forced that idea quickly out of his mind. Haldane had already robbed him of too much time. The docks would no doubt have been secured by that point.

The main gate however was built to keep people out, not in. Oswell started toward the street at the end of the alley, his body stuck firmly to the shadows the whole way. The guards would be patrolling the streets and the obvious ways out of the town. A simple distraction -- fire, he reasoned -- would draw sufficient attention and give him a chance to slip right out the gate.

With a sigh, the fox paused and leaned back against the wall. Was that what he was going to do? Set some building or other on fire? Burn away someone's home, or place of work? What if it was not just some home? What if it was not just some tavern? How many could he hurt doing that, especially if the fire grew out of control?

No. Haldane had been right about one thing and one thing only. The guards in the city of Arhas wanted Oswell. They wanted him badly enough to kill him on sight, rather than give him a chance to use his powers on them. Oswell couldn't put innocent people in danger. He couldn't let himself be the monster than they thought of him.

But as he peeked around the corner of the alley and out into the street, Oswell knew the truth. He couldn't afford to pull his punches, either. The Arhas city watch would stop at nothing to take him in or take him down. Gods alone knew if the justicars sought him as well, and they were trained _by magi_to resist powerful mental compulsions. That didn't even begin to take into consideration that there could be some of the royal sorcerer-lords in town, on the hunt for Haldane. Oswell couldn't take chances. If he was going to survive, he had to use what power he had to its fullest effect.

Oswell squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of it. It crossed the line his father had set for him. It crossed that line in a big way. It took him one step away from just wanting to go his own way, and one step toward what Haldane wanted for him. The fox shuddered. Had Haldane started with such a small step? Had he come from humble beginnings and turned gradually into the murderer he was?

Was that every magi's fate? Was that to be his fate as well?

He tugged his head back around the corner as he caught sight of the familiar armor of one of the guards. Time was running out. The fox knew he had to make a decision quickly. Cause a distraction and potentially ruin innocent lives, or betray everything he had been taught to deliberately cause harm to come to other people in the name of his own survival. Beneath the layers of his clothing and independent of the cold, Oswell began to shiver.

But there was no real choice, he decided as he stepped out of the shadows and into the street. The homes and workplaces of innocent people -- and the people inside them -- were not something he could sacrifice. The guards were wrong, and they had sworn their lives to a task that saw Oswell, equally innocent, accused of Haldane's crimes. They would kill him. The others would not. "Gods forgive me," he whispered as the guard's scanning eyes caught sight of Oswell at last.

He began to turn his body to move toward the fox, but Oswell's paw lifted faster. A single finger rose to fix on the guard, and Oswell drew a quick breath as he reached out with his mind. He could sense the alertness to the guard's thoughts. It would be difficult to influence him the way he had tried to influence the wolf earlier. He was too focused on the young magi to be swayed.

So instead, as he marched toward the guard with finger pointed ahead, Oswell wrapped his thoughts around the guard's and squeezed.

The response was quick, and mercifully silent. The gauntlet-clad paw that had reached to the sword at the guard's side rose with its partner to grip tightly at his helm. Fingers closed in around the metal gear as Oswell felt the occupant's muzzle fall slack in a wordless cry. Memories and feelings spilled out as Oswell forced himself into the guard's thoughts, deeper and deeper.

There was no refinement. There was no restraint. The fox held the essence of the guard captive as he strode up to and past him. His paw dropped as he came up alongside the guard, just as people began to stare at his target. "Resume your duties, soldier," Oswell ordered him. The instruction was echoed throughout the guard's mind as Oswell withdrew himself.

Without any hesitation, the guard complied with the implanted order. "Yes, sir," he mumbled back, his speech slurred as if drunk. His paws fell back to his side as he started on again, and Oswell hugged himself tightly as he heard the guard gruffly tell other people to stop staring at him. A flicker of attention from one of the passers by reached Oswell's awareness; a quick little spike into the hare's mind diverted the attention instead to a side street.

Oswell kept his breaths steady as he strode down the road. The people around him didn't seem to have picked up on him. They didn't seem to notice that the fox had been the one to affect the guard so dramatically. He kept his thoughts and eyes focused ahead of him, his mind outstretched to sense for approaching threats.

The guards were simple enough to detect. They lacked the ease and flow of the feelings and thoughts of the civilians that wandered the streets. Their minds were rigid and alert, just as Oswell's was. The fox, however, had the advantage. He could affect his opponents in a way the guards themselves could never hope to.

It was with a sense of disgust -- diminished slightly perhaps by the necessity of the situation -- that Oswell reached into the mind of the next guard along his path. This time he didn't constrict his opponent's thoughts and force his will on them. Instead, he simply tweaked their awareness much as he'd done with the hare moments earlier. He felt the guard turn their head, and Oswell carefully hid a smile as they searched in the direction opposite to him. It was working.

Unfortunately, the guards only grew more dense the closer he drew to the city's main gate. He couldn't extend his reach beyond the gate itself; it was still too far away for him to clearly feel anything distinct. His steps faltered for a moment as he slipped down a side road. Ahead were two guards posted close together. Anything that he did to one would alert the other.

The solution was unpleasant, but necessary. Oswell grit his teeth as he reached into both of their minds simultaneously. His legs and arms begin to shake with the exertion as he felt both of the guards' thoughts wash over him in concert. They rose up like a tide around Oswell's extended will, and the fox felt his legs begin to buckle under him as he gasped for breath.

They knew something was wrong; they had to have. Both guards began to turn toward Oswell as he continued to stagger forward, and their weapons were drawn as he fought to push himself right down into their minds. "You there, fox!" shouted the one on the left. "Stop! Stay where you are!"

Oswell complied in part. He stopped in the middle of the street as he reached down deep into the awareness of both guards. He tasted blood as he clenched his teeth together too tightly, his ears flat atop his head. Just a little more. Just a little longer.

And then he was there. His will forced the minds of the two guards open as they approached, and Oswell threw every last ounce of energy his frayed control allowed down into them.

Borderline overexertion sapped Oswell of any of the control necessary to temper his attack. Instead, unrestrained offensive energy streamed through him and into the minds of the two guards. There was no silence there; no simple grasping at their heads. There were screams of pain and confusion that managed to last all of a handful of moments, before the silence finally came to take them.

Oswell all but fell back into himself as the terrified cries of the townspeople around him reached his ears. He opened his eyes to the guards before him as sudden horror gripped his heart. He felt his stomach churn, and he had to hold his breath a moment to keep control.

They were dead, of course. Blood trickled from their helms to stain the snow on the road, their limbs contorted wildly as they'd attempted to claw their way into their own heads to expel Oswell. The sight -- worse, the realization of what he'd done -- froze Oswell to his core. They were dead. He'd killed them.

He'd killed them.

A shout from further down the road snapped Oswell out of his stupor. It was just enough warning for the young fox to duck down low and avoid the arrow that the guard had nocked and loosed. Both unable and unwilling to summon the mental power to strike back after what he'd just done, Oswell instead forced what strength he could into his legs and ran toward the surprised soldier.

The surprise didn't hold for long. The armored figure quickly slung his bow over one shoulder as he reached down to grab at the hilt of his sword. He was about to pull it free when Oswell skidded to a halt just out of its range and kicked up through a snowdrift. White powder exploded up and across the guard's vision as he swung for the fox, suddenly blinded.

Oswell, however, could see just fine. He easily danced away from the sword stroke, and he jumped up toward the soldier. His muzzle curled into a snarl as he lifted his legs higher, only to kick out on the descent. Both boots slammed into the warrior's knee, and a sickening crack echoed down the snowy street. It was immediately followed by a scream of pain from the guard as Oswell tumbled to the ground.

He was forced to roll aside as the guard fell, his sword swung wildly on his way down. It managed to nick Oswell's cloak, but it barely missed scoring fur and flesh. The fox was covered in snow as he moved out of the guard's range and quickly pushed himself up onto forepaws and knees. Those cries wouldn't go unnoticed for long. He had to vanish.

With a deep breath, Oswell reached out with his mind. He took a hold of the chill, winter breeze that ran along the road and whipped it up. The wind coiled around Oswell as he closed his eyes, and it snatched snow up off the street and out of the air to form a concealing snow flurry too dense to see through. He couldn't shroud himself in invisibility like Haldane, but maybe this would be enough to suit his purposes.

It was not particularly subtle, though. He could sense through the cloud he'd kicked up that more of the guards were on their way, drawn by the storm he'd kicked up about himself. Oswell grit his teeth as he started forward. Around him, the storm followed.

He became aware of the guards' fear as they backed away from the swirling ice and snow. They were sure it was magic, but not to what extent it could harm them. Oswell began to smile despite himself as he pushed the storm out a little further, and was rewarded with a spike in the guards' fear as they jumped back.

Not all of them were so affected, however. He only felt a moment's warning before an arrow shot toward him, fired blindly into the storm. It went wide, tugged aside by the wind Oswell had kicked up. It was still closer than he would have liked though, and the fox cringed away from it as his attention slipped for a moment.

It wasn't enough to lose control of the air around him, but it _was_enough to weaken the storm for a moment. The fox's eyes opened for a second, and he found himself able to see the street ahead of him. He also found himself able to lock eyes with the guards ahead, and to see the realization on their faces. If just one arrow had broken his concentration...

Oswell wasn't surprised by the way they moved aside to allow archers a clearer shot, but instead concerned. The wind would disrupt their aim considerably, but if they fired enough times they would no doubt eventually strike him. Desperately, Oswell reached out with his thoughts to try and find a solution.

But with no other route to take -- his only chance was to head straight along the current road and make for the city's main gate -- he had no clear means to make it to his freedom. There were too many city guards between him and escape. Another arrow launched through the twisted air, but the turbulence the fox had produced helped it veer off course as well.

He couldn't stay still, but he couldn't head straight down the road, either. As he caught sight of another arrow being drawn by the archers, Oswell slipped to the side of the road and took cover by a small cart. It shook in the wind that he pushed back up the street, and the fox closed his eyes as he focused harder than he'd ever had to in his life.

Oswell could sense the presence of the guards as they all threw up their arms against Oswell's fresh onslaught. The snow that had once fallen was now directed right into their faces, and not even the helms of the soldiers could protect them from the icy blast. The snow and ice on the road itself swirled up and assailed them, and Oswell felt more than one of the guards slide back under his powers.

The fox's brow furrowed, his ears flat as he poured himself into his task. Dimly he was aware of other figures at the peripheral of his enhanced awareness; two more guards were about to circle through a nearby alley and flank his position, while one more archer scaled a building further down the road in an attempt to find a clearer shot.

They didn't matter yet. Nothing else mattered but survival. Oswell's teeth bared as lightning arced between his fingers; an electric tingle that drove him on. Those fingers curled tight as Oswell sucked in a deep breath, dug deep down into himself and the air all about him, and pulled.

The sudden reversal of the gale that had just pushed back on the soldiers was able to tug more than a few off balance. The archers fell most easily, while the heavier armor of the soldiers helped keep them upright. So close to Oswell, the cart he'd taken refuge behind tumbled off to the side. With it out of the way, the full force of the wind swept under and around Oswell. It struck him with enough force to bowl him over and onto his back.

And then, his whole body trembling with the effort, the wind beneath him swept the fox up clear into the air.

It lasted barely a moment, but the vortex of wind launched the young magi up with enough force to carry him far beyond the roof beside him. His eyes opened as he reached the peak of his ascent, and they widened as he began to plummet back toward where he'd just been. Oswell swept his arm up as he forced his mind to focus, and the wind changed direction under his will to throw him aside.

It was also almost too much; Oswell landed in a roll that ended only when he collided bodily with the building's chimney. He wrapped around it at the waist and groaned with pain, but the fox knew he didn't have any time to waste. "Get up," he hissed at himself even as he instinctively curled in on himself.

Tangible, forced effort was required to move his limbs, though the strength to do so came easily as he heard the shouts of the guards below. He crawled up onto all fours as he disentangled himself from the chimney and cast a glance around. Freed from his will, the wind faded back to normal levels and the snow began to fall properly once more.

Without the white-out he'd caused, Oswell could see the way to the main gate in a way he'd never expected to. Above Arhas, he could see the way the streets below traced through the forest of homes and stores. The granary that rested near the main gate rose like a miniature mountain, and even through the snow Oswell could make its familiar shape out.

His ears perked up as he tentatively started across the roof. Despite the snow and ice that caked the sloped surface, the fox's booted footpaws found enough purchase to propel him at an acceptable pace. It was a brisk walk more than the run he'd hoped for, but it would have to do. Away from the streets, he wasn't as vulnerable to the archers that were the most dangerous threat to him.

As he approached the edge of the roof though, a gauntleted paw gripped the edge. Oswell's eyes went wide as he watched the dedicated form of one of the soldiers, plate mail and all, attempt to haul himself up onto the roof. Deep grunts and groans came from the helmet as Oswell carefully moved forward. He couldn't help but be impressed; that armor had to weigh more than the occupant!

And yet, in spite of that, the soldier began to rise above the edge. Elbows lifted and planted into the snow as Oswell finally made it to the soldier. He watched the armored figure swipe out with a paw, but Oswell was just barely too far away to reach. The soldier slipped back a few inches for his trouble, and the fox shook his head as he crouched low. "So sorry," he told the guard, before he stood again and kicked out.

The first blow of boot to helm didn't quite dislodge the soldier, but the second turned his grunts into a cry of surprise as he fell from the roof. Oswell winced as the sound of crashing metal reached his ears, and a glance over the edge showed the soldier slowly writhing in pain in the snow. A couple of people moved to help him up, and Oswell quickly ducked back out of sight again.

It was the end of the roof though, and Oswell needed to move across. He frowned as he fixed his gaze on the roof across the way, just as covered in ice as the one upon which he currently stood. The fox knew he had to get across; to instead travel down along the roads would effectively be suicide. He took a deep breath, and the cold rushed into his lungs as he closed his eyes and turned his mind inward.

The wind began to pick up once again as Oswell darted forward, and the fox all but hurled himself across the gap. The wind came with him, and it struck his back with battering force. The extra blow helped to throw him over the gap, and Oswell even dared to let out a thrilled yip as he landed on his footpaws across the way. There was a moment's skid as he scrabbled to find purchase on the roof, but that lasted only a moment before he was off and running again.

With his awareness stretched out all around him, Oswell knew that the soldiers could track where he was. He knew that they ran beneath him and shouted for support that couldn't reach him. That was fine. They could move faster than him, but they couldn't reach him. The wind at his back, Oswell pushed forward as fast as he dared across the snow-topped roofs of Arhas. His spirit sang with joy as he locked his eyes on the gate ahead. Perhaps he could make it out before anyone could catch him! Perhaps he wouldn't have to hurt any more of them after all!

One roof after another was cleared with the aid of the wind and Oswell's aerun powers to guide it. When archers lined up in his path between the buildings, Oswell would shift to a different roof. When guards climbed up to meet him, the less encumbered fox ran and leaped past before they could so much as spit at him. From on high, the soldiers had to simply wait for him to come down and fight on their terms... and he was under no obligation to do so.

The threat of archers atop the wall that ringed the city became more apparent as Oswell approached the gate. He could see them scrabble up ladders and stairways to take up their elevated positions. It wouldn't be long before the arrows started to fly, and he knew he couldn't bend them all away from his body. A glance forward showed just one street left to clear before he reached the gate.

It was a gamble, he knew. Stay on the roofs and be a target for the archers, or head to the streets and try to outrun the guards. Already Oswell could feel his breaths become more labored and his muscles burned with overuse. The brief rest he'd been able to take in Haldane's cave seemed like a decade ago, and his constant draw on magic hadn't helped matters much, either.

But as the first archers nocked their arrows and drew back their strings, Oswell knew that there was only one viable path. He reached outward with his mind for a sense of the surrounding area, and found surprisingly few commoners. They seemed to have cleared the streets, ostensibly on report of a mad magi on the loose. The guards in their heavy armor seemed to have fallen behind as well, unable to keep up with the magically-enhanced speed of the young fox on the roofs.

The whiz of an arrow as it narrowly missed his left leg made the decision for Oswell. He took a deep breath and leaped at the end of the roof, not across to the next but to the alley below. The thud of an arrow's impact against the roof where he would have been was not lost on his ears as they flattened down. The fox allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, but that moment was all he had. The streets near the gate were more familiar; he'd mapped these alleys early in his time in Arhas.

And those alleys nearest to the main gate were littered with the gear of merchants, left behind in sealed crates as they attended the festival in the square. It was hard work to tug stalls and fabrics and crates down behind him, but the shouts of the guards at Oswell's back were certainly encouragement enough. Tired as he was, the guards in pursuit were doubtless feeling the strain as well.

The guards in front, however, were not. As the magi rounded a corner at the end of the alley and started down a passage along the city's outer wall, his vision flashed silver and then red. Oswell cried out in pain as he found his forward momentum arrested in a second with the blow to his muzzle, and tears sprang spontaneously from his eyes as he hit the snowy ground. He rolled to the side as his paws rushed to his face, and was lucky enough that the roll earned him respite from a descending blow. Eyes forced open through tears showed a full-armored figure with sword in gauntleted paw, and the clang of its impact against the stone road beneath the snow woke Oswell to new, immediate danger.

Fear took hold and instinct drove it. The fox's aerun magic broke to the fore as the guard started to pull their sword back, and Oswell reached out with electricity crackling in his grasp. His eyes went wide as he touched but a fingertip to the blade's fuller. The moment he made the contact, Oswell felt as though the life drained out of him. The light between his fingers went out.

The first of the twin booms that echoed down the alley sounded as lightning raced up from the contact point and coruscated along the sword, through the armor and into the guard's body. It blasted the soldier away from Oswell as the fox sagged, and he'd barely braced himself against the ground before the second boom sounded; the impact of the warrior as they passed first into, and then _through_the stone wall opposite.

Oswell blinked through the exhaustion that gripped him in the wake of his magical exertion, and almost sighed with relief at what he saw. The wall that he'd knocked a hole through wasn't the side of some building or other. He'd created a whole new opening in the walls of the city itself. Through that gap he could see plains of open white snow. Escape!

Escape, if he could move. The guards were still closing in, and Oswell's legs shook as he tried to push himself up onto them again. A grunt escaped his muzzle as he placed a paw on the cold stone of the city wall, and he stumbled as the piece of wall fell out of place and almost sent him tumbling into the gap.

The wind around Oswell was still as he crawled as best he could into the hole. His full magical focus had turned inward, using what little strength he had left to fill his body with new energy. It was a risk; if he couldn't keep the balance between the magical and the physical, he'd overexert one and exhaust both completely. The sound of stomping boots at his back however left him with no choice.

But as the fox pulled himself through the wall and dropped into the snow outside Arhas, he'd not counted on its inhibiting depth. There was a channel that ran to where the guard he'd blasted lay, but the snow to either side was waist deep. He couldn't run through that, and the shouts from above were growing more aware. There was nothing for it, though. Oswell started to run toward the guard he'd disabled.

Waddle was more like. Even with the channel in the snow, he sank down far further into the white powder than he'd hoped. The fox's ears pinned back, his breathing labored. Arms swung out to help his momentum as he desperately looked around. His eyes fell on the road out the city's main gate. It was only a good twenty feet away. He could cut across to it, and then make a break for it!

His direction changed as a shout from back the way he'd come caught his ears. One lifted and pivoted with his head as he saw two more city guards climbing awkwardly through the hole in the wall. Motion above was his only warning before an arrow was loosed toward him. The energy Oswell had forced through his body was redirected, and he sagged into the snow as he waved a paw toward the arrow.

He couldn't stop it the way Haldane had, but the minor gust of wind he conjured barely changed the bolt's trajectory anyway. The arrow scored his raised arm, nicking flesh through his sleeves and sending Oswell down into the snow with a pained cry. He clutched at his arm, his fingers slightly stained red. Vision blurred through the combination of pain and magical exhaustion. The balance had been broken. Oswell groaned.

The fox fell to all fours in the cold and began to shiver. The snow soaked into his clothes, chilling him to his core. His head twitched as he forced it up, and knew instantly it was too late. Guards from the city gate had begun to rush out toward him. Those that had pursued him were on the way from the hole he'd made in the wall. Archers were trained on him from above that wall. Dozens of soldiers closed in, and he was alone. He had no energy, no focus, and no chance. He was done. Captured... or worse.

His tail tucked in tight between his legs as his stomach churned. No. He wasn't alone. The option made him sick to his stomach. To even consider it was madness. It would violate everything he knew and held dear. Everything his father had taught him. Everything his mother had wanted for him.

And yet the fox looked around himself with lidded eyes. Outnumbered and overwhelmed. It wasn't a moral question. He'd done no wrong... until this day. He'd not been a murderer when they'd come for him, but he _had_killed since. That it was in self-defense didn't matter. Not to them. Morality didn't matter, not when Oswell knew he was already a villain in their eyes.

And he knew what awaited him. The archers hadn't fired, so they wanted him alive. Dragged off to trial, where his mind would be probed by the Talmarukan sorcerer-lords. They would find him innocent of the murders Haldane had committed, but then they would execute him for the guards he'd slain. Self-defense would mean nothing. He was magi. He was always guilty.

And so, as the nearest of the guards arrived and clamped an armored paw on Oswell's shoulder to haul him up, the fox sighed and spoke a single word. "Haldane."

At first, he though the wolf hadn't heard him. The claim that Haldane would know when Oswell wanted his help had seemed farfetched, but the word froze the guard at Oswell's back.

And he remained frozen, even as the other guards around Oswell also stopped in their tracks. Confusion spread across Oswell's face as he started to turn his head, and his eyes widened as he brought the guard that held him into view.

Or what was left. Silently as the breeze, a thin spike of stone had rushed up from the ground beneath the soldier's footpaws. It had sliced cleanly through the warrior's armor and flesh without any seeming effort, only to emerge as a bloody tip that poked through the guard's helm. Eyes wide with horror, Oswell pulled out of the dead guard's grip and fell back into the snow.

The ground trembled for a moment before in a flash of green light the wolf himself appeared before Oswell. He knelt low to the ground, his hood covering his face as he smiled up at the fox. "Oswell."

"You don't have to kill them," he pleaded, but the words sounded tired in his own ears.

"No," agreed the ulurn magi. He stood up slowly as the guards rushed toward them. "I do not."

With that, he spun about with a snarl and thrust both paws out before him. What had been a tremble in the ground when Haldane had manifested became a bone-rattling quake as the ground before him was ripped up in a wave. Shards of stone rolled forward like a wave toward the guards that had emerged from the gate. Oswell winced as he watched the wave engulf the soldiers who had emerged to capture him.

When the snow settled, the guards were half buried in shards of rock. By that time though the archers had already fired on the new threat below them. Haldane was already prepared with a paw lifted toward them, and his fingers fanned out as the arrows froze in mid-air. The wolf turned his gaze toward the two archers who had dared to fire on him, and his eyes narrowed as the arrows turned end over end under his will. The magi thrust his paw back toward them, and the arrows shot back the way they had come.

One of the archers was struck in the chest by her own arrows, and the doe slumped down out of sight a moment later. The horse who had also targeted Haldane managed to duck for cover in time to avoid the return fire, but Haldane merely sniffed derisively. The paw he'd extended lifted higher in the air and curled into a fist, and Oswell could only watch in horror as the wall itself began to collapse around the archer. The horse shrieked in horror for a moment before the grind of stone on stone filled the air instead, and a good fifty feet of the Arhas city wall collapsed before Haldane's magic.

Oswell spared a glance back at the hole he'd formed, and it was just in time to see a half dozen guards crushed by the collapse Haldane had caused. A plume of dust hid their demise from clear view, but the young fox couldn't look away. They were dead. They were all dead. Haldane had just killed them all as casually as one might kick over a rock.

Not all, it turned out. From the dusty rubble that comprised the ruined section of the city wall emerged the horse archer. He had been disarmed in the most literal sense; his right arm was a bloody stump that ended inches after the elbow. The fox forced his stomach to calm as he watched Haldane turn toward the horse. "That's enough!"

"No. It is not." Haldane reached out a paw toward the horse, and Oswell was forced to watch as the archer was pulled bodily through the air toward the wolf. "You asked for this, Oswell. You called on my aid. What has happened here has happened because you willed it so."

"I asked you _not_to kill them!" he yelled at the wolf as the archer skidded across the ground to rest at Haldane's boots.

The wolf simply shrugged as he kicked the horse onto his back. "You suggested that I could choose not to, which I agreed with," replied the older magi. He lifted his paw and a stream of rock and soil floated up and gathered in his grip. "I do not leave an enemy at my back, Oswell. You would do well to learn this as soon as possible." He turned back toward the fox as the horse's struggle beneath the wolf's boot began to slow.

Oswell blinked at Haldane's offered paw. In it, the stone and soil that had gathered there had collected in the form of a dagger. "What is-"

"I would like you to kill him," Haldane said. He hefted the stone dagger and nodded to the horse. "Sooner rather than later, before he robs you of the opportunity."

"I'm not a murderer." Oswell's ears pinned back as he tried to muster the strength to sound confident. He failed.

"These deaths are all at your behest, boy," Haldane countered with a smirk as he pushed down harder with his boot. The horse gurgled; a glance down showed Oswell that blood had begun to bubble up in his throat and muzzle. "Had you not summoned me, these would all be alive right now. I was the weapon you called upon to cut them down."

The fox's eyes narrowed as he forced his eyes away from the dying horse. "You could have chosen not to kill them."

Haldane snorted. "You knew what I would do when I was called, boy. Can you look me in the eye and tell me differently?"

It took all of Oswell's strength to actually meet Haldane's cold gaze, but once he was there he knew that it was futile. He'd feared... no, he'd known what the wolf would do if called. Haldane was right. By calling him, Oswell had consigned those guards to death. He might not have killed them directly, but he had drawn the sword that had cut them down, so to speak. "No," he ground out. "I can't."

"Finally. Some reason." With that, Haldane knelt down over the horse and jammed the stone dagger he'd forged into the archer's eye.

Oswell recoiled and turned away from the mortal blow, sickened. Not at the display and not at the gore, but at himself. At what he'd wrought. His parents would be ashamed. They would be right to be ashamed. Oswell was right to be ashamed.

But before he could dwell, motion caught the corner of his eye. Near the main gate there were figures on the march. Even from this distance, the thick plates of their armor gleamed in the light. These were not soldiers. These were the justicars. Holy warriors of the Lord of Justice. "Haldane-"

"And now is the moment of truth," the ulurn magi said as he stood up again and cast aside the dagger. His empty paw was offered to Oswell as he turned his back on the marching holy warriors. "Are you coming, or are you staying?"

"You're not going to kill the justicars too?" Oswell asked. The prospect would have seemed insane if he'd not already seen what Haldane was capable of.

"I have no reason to, unless you wish them dead." He perked an eyebrow, as if to dare Oswell to ask it of him. As if the fox doubted Haldane could.

But all Oswell could do was shake his head. "Of course not."

Haldane nodded. "Then choose now. Enter my service as apprentice to me, or I will leave you to them." He shrugged as horns sounded in the town. "You are proving to be more trouble than you are worth, Oswell. I will not come to your aid again." His fingers wiggled toward the fox. "Come with me now, live, and learn more of magic than you ever could have on your own... or die here with these gnats you think are your equal."

There was no choice, and Oswell knew he didn't have the time to argue over terms. The justicars were on the approach, wielding weapons larger and better forged than anything the Arhas guard had carried. Even before he reached out with his mind, he could sense that theirs were clouded. Protected, perhaps, from the influence of a magi's mind. "Fine," he growled.

Haldane began to smile as he wiggled his fingers again. "Most wise, boy. Come. Let us be gone from here. We have much to do."

With a sigh and a reluctant nod, Oswell placed his paw in Haldane's. That familiar tingle came along with the sensation of the ground trembling beneath the fox's boots, and he knew he was about to be whisked away to goodness alone knew where. Wherever Haldane wanted. For whatever Haldane wanted.

But before the power engulfed him, Oswell glanced back and felt his heart lurch. Through the dust and rubble where Haldane had collapsed the wall of the city, he could see a group of figures combing the mess for survivors. All but one of them was focused on the collapsed wall. One looked up and out to the snowy field outside.

And the very last thing Oswell saw of Arhas and the destruction he'd visited upon it was the face of the baker who had taken him in. The face of a person who had trusted him. Given him shelter. Given him food. Given him a bed and work and coin and the hope of a life. The fact of a person who had believed in him. Who had defended him. Whose faith in Oswell hadn't wavered. Who had never needed the influencing touch of Oswell's magic in order to offer aid.

Soren's face twisted as Haldane's power crept through Oswell. First disbelief. Then horror. Then fear. Rage. Disgust. That last look burned into the fox's eyes. It seared itself into his memory.

It was almost mercy when the ground fell out from beneath Oswell as Haldane whisked them away.

Oswell was almost surprised when they did not arrive in the middle of Haldane's cave. Instead it was the middle of a broad and wide field, covered in snow and ice. His hope for the warmth of the cavern in the wake of Haldane's brutality was dashed as surely as several of those guards' skulls has been. The wolf dropped his paw and started forward as Oswell glanced about. "Where-" he began to ask.

A pulse of force struck Oswell just like a backhand to the face, and the fox grunted as he shied away from the invisible blow. He was buckled to one knee by it as Haldane, a few steps ahead of him, whirled to face the fox. "You will speak when spoken to, boy," he growled back at Oswell.

Eyes wide with a fear that did not yet bind his tongue, Oswell's ears flattened as he stared back. Haldane's whole demeanor had shifted. "But what-"

"When spoken to," Haldane calmly interrupted again, just as he swept out a paw. The same impactful force slammed into Oswell from the other direction, and this time the fox was forced down into the cold of the snow with a cry of pain. "The sooner you understand the nature of your new reality, the better."

Pain and anger surged through the fox, but as he glared up at Haldane he knew the truth. He'd called the wolf. He'd agreed to the terms. He'd put himself in a position where Haldane had been necessary, and he had to live with it. What else could he have expected? Kindness? A warm word? There was no warmth or kindness in the wolf's eyes, and Oswell stared silently back at him.

Haldane remained silent for a moment as snow continued to fall all around them. Finally, he offered a curt nod and folded his arms. "I have rules. Few, but particular. You will be expected to know them and follow them. Do you understand?"

Defiance momentarily lit Oswell's gaze as he felt his hackles bristle, but it was quickly doused by the truth of his situation. He had no choice. "I understand." The words tasted like ash.

"You know the first rule already. You will speak only to answer a question I pose to you. If you speak out of turn, I will... reeducate you. If you continue to speak out of turn, we will redefine the terms of your service to me. I assure you, any further redefinition of my terms will be less favorable to you." He cocked an eyebrow as Oswell continued to seethe beneath him. "Do you understand?"

"I understand." The words came strong, bit out between clenched teeth. Oswell's fangs were on full display, but the fox knew there was no use for them.

The wolf nodded. "You will obey without question or hesitation. You will allow yourself no distraction from the studies I will provide you. You will learn from me more than magic; you will be expected to possess a working knowledge of language both written and spoken, skill with alchemical concoction, history both mundane, magical and divine, and the ability to lie and deceive those who your powers fail to influence. Do you understand?"

Those words caused Oswell to blink in confusion. This was not what he had expected. "I... do."

Haldane watched him for a moment before he ushered the fox up with a wave of his paw. "You have questions. Ask them."

Thankful for the invitation -- though the fox bristled anew once he realized how quickly he had become pleased with the invitation to speak freely -- Oswell folded his arms across his chest and rubbed his paws against them. "Why would you have me learn those other things?" he asked. "Why not just focus on magic?"

The elder magi snorted once as he glanced off toward the snow-hidden horizon. "You will travel far as a magi, Oswell. Knowledge of language is important and, while your use of the Talmarukan tongue is fair, it could be better. You must be able to communicate effectively wherever you go. Similarly, you must know how to manipulate the feelings and thoughts of your lessers with more than just magic. You will only draw attention otherwise. Excellence in all things, Oswell, is the key to mastering the true power of the magi."

"And what about alchemy and history?" Oswell asked. Too late he realized that Haldane might not have been finished, and the sting of another telekinetic slap across his cheek was his reward.

As if to dare any further response, Haldane went silent again. He simply watched on as Oswell rose up out of the snow again and knelt low before the wolf. Finally he smirked and nodded. "You will learn history because it is important to understand the world, if you intend to wield its powers. You will learn alchemy because the lines between it and true magic can be blurred with the right skills. You will also do all of this because I demand it, and this reason alone should suffice. Do you understand?"

The growl slipped out of Oswell before he could stop it, but there was no blow this time from Haldane. "I understand."

"Good. Then now understand this very well before we proceed." He leaned forward and down until he was almost nose-to-nose with the smaller fox. "I saved your life, and that life is mine now. I did this not out of concern for you or a desire to see you protected, but because I can see a great and shining future for you if you hone your talents. You could become something truly special, Oswell, and I do not want or need dominion over your entire existence. Serve well under me, and you will be freed to pursue whatever future you wish.

"However," he added, and the world came from him so slowly that it felt like the verbal equivalent of a serpent as it uncoiled itself. "Understand also that I will treat failure harshly. My training will hurt you. It may well even kill you. If you are as strong and talented as I believe you to be, I have no doubt that you shall emerge all the stronger for it. If I am wrong, then you will be swiftly forgotten and replaced. I will lament the waste of my time, but you are not nearly so unique and special as your parents might have led you to believe."

Once more, a growl uncoiled itself from within Oswell's throat as he stared at the too-close face of the hated wolf before him. Hate. That was it. Oswell knew it right there and then. He hated Haldane. He hated everything about the wolf. He hated everything that he'd done to Oswell, and everything that the young fox knew was still to come.

Haldane must have sensed something in him, because the wolf leaned back again as his smirk turned cool. "Oh, yes. Yes, I know how you feel. I hated _my_master, too. I hated him for all he did and all he was, but in hindsight I can see that which his harshness was for. Take your hate of me and twist it. Turn it into power, that perhaps one day you might see me dead. I assure you, there is no greater satisfaction to be had than this."

The frankness of the wolf's words stalled out Oswell's rage for a moment. He waited for the wave of Haldane's paw before he finally dared open his muzzle again. "You want me to seek enough power to kill you?" he asked.

"If you gain such power, I will know that I have done my job well," he replied with an easy, minuscule shrug. "Consider what you have already accomplished. Did you have any concept of the feats you performed today? Could you have anticipated the power you brought to bear? Emotion gives rise to power, boy. Had you any concept of how much power was locked within you?"

Oswell grit his teeth together as he glanced aside. Haldane had a point there. Before he'd met the wolf, he would have doubted he had the power to scale a simple wall. Not only had he conjured wind enough to launch him above the tallest homes in Arhas, but he'd found strength enough to kill his...

Anger faltered and gave way to regret. Shame. The fox's ears drooped slightly for a second as the reality struck him. He'd killed people who had only sought to defend themselves against a threat... a threat that Oswell had come to fully embody. He'd proved their fear valid. He'd given them a reason to want to destroy him.

The second passed as he looked up on Haldane once more, and the anger too returned. It burned all the hotter for Oswell's shame. Everything that he'd done could be laid before Haldane. It was the wolf's fault. He'd started the whole disgusting chain of events! "I was desperate," he bit back.

Haldane's expression flickered briefly as an ear twitched. Was that approval on his face? Understanding? It was gone again before Oswell could be sure. "Desperation is the beginning. Hate will follow. Your hate for me will give you even greater strength; power sufficient to spite my punishments. It will grant you stamina and endurance beyond that which you would possess if you instead simply respected me. You will push yourself further, harder, longer... all for the chance to see me suffer.

"But know this," he added as he thrust a finger toward the fox, "you will have one chance. One chance alone to strike me down. I will nurture your gifts and turn you into something magnificent if you pass through my studies alive, but if you ever cross me?" The smile vanished from his face as his paw snapped out to grab Oswell by the chin and tug the fox closer. "You had best be prepared to kill me. If you are not, you will die, and it will be the most exquisite agony you have ever felt. This I promise you. Do you understand?"

Oswell had to fight to tug his head out of the wolf's grip, and he took a quick step back as he looked up into Haldane's eyes. There was no amusement there. This was as fair a warning as Oswell was ever going to get, and he knew it. "I understand," he forced out from between gritted teeth, his ears flat.

"Excellent." The wolf reached out with a paw. "I can hardly wait to begin. Come. We have much to do."

The young fox hesitated as long as he dared before finally he reached up and took the offered paw. Haldane yanked him up and out of the snow, and Oswell grunted as he steadied himself with the wolf's help. His hackles continued to bristle and he folded his ears back as the familiar tingle of Haldane's magic crept over his entire body.

This, then, was to be Oswell's life. Apprenticed under a monstrous murderer, subject to his whims and his rage whenever said murderer deigned to visit them upon him. His teeth grit together. One chance, Haldane had said. Oswell would have one chance to strike him down. Perhaps if he learned well and was able to live long enough to bide his time, one chance would be all he'd need. Haldane would die for what he'd done, and the lives he'd taken would be avenged. Oswell would make sure of that.

His muzzle curled into a tight smile as the wolf's magic enveloped him, and in a flash the magi were gone.