Insurrection - Chapter Nine
#24 of Blood And Water
Blood And Water - Insurrection
Part Three: ILAEN
Chapter Nine
Ah.
Much better.
I can feel Deacon struggle still, but there is little he can do. The impact has dazed him long enough for me to assert myself -- while a quick burst of healing magic saves me from the same fate -- and this time there is no Ahron sorceress about to restore his control over _my_body. I spare a glance for a moment at the unconscious Bain and feel my stomach turn. Soon. There are more pressing matters to attend to first.
When my head lifts and Aeola meets my gaze, she is simply angry. She cannot see it, can she? She does not know what she has done. She sees him still. She sees Deacon. Ironic that all she saw was me, and now she cannot see me at all. "That," I growl as I rise from the floor to stand tall once more, "was a mistake, Aeola."
There. That sudden fear on her face. That recognition. Now she sees me. "Oswell," she whispers.
A fitting last word. She raises her paws to defend herself; to hold back my power as I lift my own. Perhaps if the lightning that crackles in my grip is all the power I could bring to bear, she could. Alas, now I have Deacon's power as well. I snarl as lightning streams forth from my paws.
It is a river of electricity that slams into her chest and drives her back against the temple wall, her arcane defenses rendered useless. The thunderous shockwave that blasts out from the unleashing of my power flattens the magi at her side and I feel myself smile as she twitches against the stonework. It blackens behind her; this entire charade of a battle could have been avoided if Deacon had not been in control at the beginning.
He scrabbles against me still like the desperate creature he is. It is little more than an itch in the back of my mind and I pay his cries no heed. "Observe, boy," I say to him, just loud enough to hear over the booming thunder of my magic. "Look at how one _should_protect one's self."
My smile grows, but his clawing at the inside of my skull intensifies nonetheless. I grit my teeth against the pain as I pour it into my powers. Aeola has long since fallen silent as the stink of seared flesh and burned fur pervades the temple to this ridiculous depiction of divinity, but still Deacon struggles. Does the brat truly think he can overpower me?
I blink, but my eyes do not open. Instead they squeeze shut, pulled there by some unseen force. There is no magic at work; it is Deacon, to be sure. He cannot exercise full control any more than I could, but it is enough of a distraction to stall out my vengeful assault on the long-dead ilaen magi. I grunt as her charred corpse drops from the wall and force my eyes open. "Do not test me, boy," I growl.
You're dead, Oswell! he screams at me from within my own head as I watch the Ring's magi pick themselves up. There is even a flash of light as one flees the battle. Release me! End this! Pathetic. "Oh, you will be released soon enough," I growl. I have a moment, after all, and I use it to turn toward Deacon's precious Bain. "You will want to watch th-"
My head snaps to the side as pain lances through me. I grunt and inhale sharply, and I can smell my blood as I growl at my attacker. It is the pitiful little monk that escorted Deacon about the island, Vernell. His arm is drawn back for another punch, and I erect a quick telekinetic barrier as he brings the fist down.
He howls in pain as his fist crumples against the barrier, and his distraction lasts long enough for me to backhand him. I watch him hit the ground and cower before me as I start toward the unconscious otter. Deacon, predictably, rails against what is about to happen. "Watch closely, boy," I mutter as lightning crackles between my fingers. "Understand, Deacon. Understand the frailty of this life, the inevitability of death. Understand the futility of..." I sense the pulse of magic and sigh. "Hold on a moment."
When I whirl, it surprises the pitiful acolyte that has snuck up behind me. The pathetic whelp of a wolf's paw burns with flame he no doubt intended to plunge into my back, but the lightning that I use to sear his face and blast him back ends his ambitions quickly. He knocks down another of his fellows, a feline that is sent twitching as my powers arc off my target and into the cat's body. For a moment I feel amusement.
Before I can turn back to the task before me though, more of the Ring's magi rise against me. "I do not have time for this nonsense," I mutter as I close my eyes. Deacon can feel me draw upon my powers, and I can feel him try to inhibit them. But no; unless I let him, he has no power to stop me. He is forced to reach out with me and feel my intent as I stretch my mind out to touch the nearest of the magi. With his focus so devoted to preparing an arcane attack, his mental defenses are lowered.
The mind, as resilient as it can be, is as fragile as the body if approached correctly. Only one who has studied the mind for the better part of a century would know the precise point to apply force to rip one's mind clear of their body. I can feel it as time seems to slow around me. Sensation orbs, after all, are but a shortcut if one knows what to do.
His scream, judging by the response of those around him, is terrifying. It breaks their concentration as the banshee shriek of the magi -- purely a reflexive thing, as the magi's mind is wrenched forcefully out of a body disconnected from the agony visited upon it -- echoes off the walls. They are stunned to hear a sentient being utter such a sound. I wonder if they sense the very essence of their fellow's mind as I shred it with my thoughts, even as his body twitches and screams upon the floor. Acolytes. Such easy prey.
But I do not rend that mind completely... at least, I do not rend it right away. A mind after all is a powerful thing, and can be a useful catalyst. Instead I grasp it firmly as I strip the disembodied consciousness to nothingness. The energy remains even as sense, logic, memory and self are rent. That energy I take into myself, and I inhale sharply as new power floods me. Deacon is revolted, of course. I care little; I am empowered.
And with that power, I give the remaining magi no chance to strike. The loss of their companion so vociferously in their midst has weakened their resolve and diverted their attention. I do not utter some smart remark; I have no need to gloat over them in their last moments. Instead I bring them to those moments quickly as I tap every ounce of the power and mental fortitude I imbued into Deacon. I mingle it with the sundered mind of the Ring Acolyte, and I pour it all into their vapid, useless heads.
This time, it is not just the one scream that splits the night. I cannot smile no matter how satisfying the sound is; my full focus is on pervading each and every iota of their minds with my will. I can feel them all writhe with the pain of the intrusion, and I can feel them all push back against it. I can feel them try and fight back, and I can feel the acknowledge the truth. They cannot resist my will. They are about to die.
They succumb almost as one. Their screams die as they do, and the only sound left in the temple is that of the catalyst magi's body. With no will left to drive it, that ungodly shrieking is all that it can do. I open my eyes at last and savor Deacon's horror as I raise a paw. A single bolt of lightning to the empty body's head both stills and silences it.
I am about to turn back to deal with Bain at last when I feel the blade enter my side. My eyes flash open wide as pain doubles me over, and I instinctively grab for the wound as the weapon is pulled from my body. My turn goes further than I had intended, and the ferret -- Ransley; a face and name I now know will be burned into my memory until such a time as he is dead before me -- comes into view. I can see the daggers in his paws; he has not touched his magic to strike me. Bold, and smart. I never sensed him coming. "Fool," I growl as I begin to force energy into the wound to heal his damage.
He doesn't respond. He simply stares back at me as he launches forward again. I try to force him back with my free paw, but my focus is on healing. I snarl as his other dagger slices up underneath my paw, and I yank it back as my blood scatters across the temple floor. Deacon could heal and fight at the same time, but only because I aided him deliberately.
Deacon of course has no interest in sharing his focus with me. I grit my teeth as my ears flatten atop my head and pull back from the ferret. "Get out of Deacon now," he hisses back at me, and there is no way I can miss the hate in his eyes. Ah, of course. Earlier, as Deacon spoke to Aeola. She was his mother.
I narrowly avoid another slash from those daggers as he continues to advance on me. "You kill me, and you kill Deacon," I warn him as I intensify my healing efforts. The sooner I am restored, the sooner I can fight back.
His response is to feint to the left, and I shame myself by falling for it. I take a slice up my side for my trouble, and my robes are reddened with blood as he reverses the blow and cuts right down my back with the other blade. "To be fair, he already told me to kill him to stop you," the ferret hisses back. "I don't think he'd mind much, do you?"
I laugh at him as he drives one of his knives into my shoulder. The pain is exquisite, but one does not live through a couple of centuries without developing a tolerance for such things. I can sustain myself with magic so long as he does not push it into my brain or my heart, and I can sense he is not quite ready to end me yet. This works to my advantage. "You still would have to kill him... to..." I feign pain even as Deacon yells at me. Yes, boy. You know what is coming. "Be silent, boy!" I growl, and I manipulate my voice to sound strained.
Yes, it seems to have worked. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the ferret's expression go from hateful to alert. He has taken the bait. "No, Deacon!" he all but yells in my face. His muzzle twists as he hesitates a moment and then shoves his other dagger into my unbloodied side. I gasp and shudder at the blow, but that pain too is nothing I cannot bear. "Louder! Drown him out! Take control!"
I begin to pant for breath as Deacon follows his friend's instructions, but there is nothing the fool can do. I have control now, and there are no Ahron sorcerers about to save him this time. "I... Ransley..." I whisper as I force my muscles to tense. It does a fine job of making my whole body shake. "Ransley... help me... he's too strong..." I laugh inwardly as Deacon roars wordlessly at me. Oh, yes; that is exactly_how you sound. Waste of language. Waste of breath. Waste of _life. It almost hurts more than the dagger blows to debase myself such as to even imitate you.
"You're stronger!" the ferret replies. "That's your body, and there's no power there you can't use!" He lets go of his daggers as he grabs at my head and forces it to lift to face him. Oh, if only he knew. "Fight him, Deacon! Put him back down again!"
I arch my back as if in greater pain, and my gritted teeth hide my smile. This is almost too easy; Deacon has even silenced himself. My wounds have almost healed. I only need a few more seconds... "I... I can't! He's... I can't! I... ah!" I cry out; all but the gashes in my shoulder and side are healed now. If not for the blades buried in them, that too could be restored. I just need an opening.
"Stab him again."
The voice comes from behind Ransley, and the ferret doesn't even look back at it. I don't need to see the otter to know that it has come from Bain. "Excuse me?" the ferret says, confused.
"I said stab him again," Bain repeated, and he came into view with a cold stare leveled right at me. How nice. He has grown up considerably from the mewling weakling he was when we met. "That's not Deacon."
I frown even as I continue to feign pain, and I force my body to tremble harder. Bain would of course know Deacon better. How best to proceed... truth, perhaps, albeit suitably bent. "N-not just me," I stammer. "It's Oswell... I can't..."
"No," Bain interrupts me, and I cannot help but widen my eyes as his glare fills with white light.
Proper fear fills me as I remember too late that Aeola awakened his Ahron powers. If he has managed to control them... "You... you have to burn him out, Bain," I tell him. One paw starts to lift, shaking along with the rest of my body as Deacon strains against me again. "You have to use your powers... please... save me..."
"Ransley, stab him again!" Bain all but roars at the ferret. "It's Oswell! He's tricking you!"
Understanding fills the ferret's face, but he has no chance to move before I focus my mind and push him away from me. He takes one of the daggers with him, and it pulls free of my side with a splattering of blood before the wound closes itself over. I grab the other and brandish it as that wound too seals under my magic. With no time left to waste, I snarl and lunge towards Bain with electricity in one paw and the dagger in my other. If I am fast enough, maybe-
No! He grabs my paws as I slam into him, and the light in his eyes burns brighter. Deacon's voice grows louder and louder within my head as I try to force my power through my arms and into Bain. The blade of the dagger is bent away from the otter's neck as I struggle to drive it in, pulled back by the consciousness vying for control of my body. Deacon fights back with growing strength; his efforts to pull my rage back from Bain and direct my powers and the dagger elsewhere are a match for my desire to gut the wretch.
He starts to succeed though, as I roar angrily in Bain's face. My paws are pried apart as the otter grips my wrists, and the lightning that issues forth impacts the wall and floor harmlessly. "You can only purchase yourself a reprieve, Bain!" I snarl at the otter even as my eyes are tugged closed again by Deacon. "You are dead! You are already dead! Do you hear me? You are-"
Deacon gasped as he finally broke back through, pulled once again to the fore by Bain's powers. He felt the Font's energy curled around his consciousness like a rope, and it unfurled the moment he tossed Oswell back into that shard in the core of his mind. The fox sagged forward and slumped against Bain as the otter's arms wrapped tight around him, and he panted desperately for breath as the otter held him tight. Ransley's dagger dropped from his twitching fingers as he all but fell against Bain. "I'm sorry," he mumbled against the otter's shoulder.
"I know you are," Bain whispered back as he squeezed the fox all the tighter. "It's okay, Deacon. It wasn't you. I could hear you calling me... I knew he wasn't you." The light in his eyes faded as his powers were released.
Across the room, Ransley groaned as he sat up. Deacon's head lifted to take in the sight of the devastated temple hall and the injured ferret. "In the future, fox, I'm just gonna stab you," he sighed as he rubbed the back of his head. The paw returned with red smeared through his fur. "It's a lot less painful in the long run. That is him now, right Bain?"
The otter nodded as Deacon pulled back from his embrace. "I think so, yeah," he replied, before he nodded again and smiled at Deacon as he took one of the fox's paws into his. "Yeah. Definitely Deacon now. Thank you."
"Thank you," Deacon replied as he touched his forehead to Bain's. "I didn't even know if you could hear me."
"I couldn't hear you," Ransley mumbled as he pushed himself up onto all fours before he rose to his footpaws again. "All I heard was Oswell tricking me, I guess." He glanced at Bain. "What in the hells were you hearing?"
The otter continued to smile as he stroked over Deacon's bloody side. "I heard Deacon," he answered as he watched the fox wince with the effort of flooding the wounds with _fraen_healing magic. "He called to me, even beneath Oswell's control. Reached out and woke me up. He warned me that Oswell was in control."
"And I trusted you to save me," Deacon finished as he reached up to gently cup the otter's cheek. He smiled and nodded as Bain gently nuzzled into his touch. "And you did. Thank you."
Bain only smiled wider as he started to stand. He only made it to his knees before he gasped and sagged forward, and Deacon rushed in to catch him before he could fall. "What is it?" he asked, even as he reached out with his mind to brush over the otter's body.
"I don't know," Bain replied through a wince. Deacon, however, did. He could feel the otter's body surge with his awakened Ahron powers, but the effort of pushing Oswell back down again and helping Deacon to restore control had taken its toll on him. Fear entered his voice as he clutched at the fox. "I... I don't know if I can stand... Deacon? Deacon, I'm scared..."
"Shh, it will be alright," Deacon reassured him as he held the otter tight. "Just stay here. Stay low with me for a moment, alright?" He glanced past the otter to Ransley, and he could see the ferret mouth the word degeneration to him. Deacon nodded as he squeezed Bain tight. "You used an awful lot of power for someone not trained to it, both in the fight with Aeola and with Oswell. That is bound to leave you weak."
Bain's expression hardened for a moment, and Deacon could feel a surge of anger flicker through him before the otter stomped it down. "Yeah. The Font. I'm sure that's exactly what the problem is." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I know what's wrong with me now, Deacon. You don't have to hide it anymore, remember?"
Deacon sighed as he squeezed the otter all the harder. Oswell was silent for the moment, and the fox shuddered to think what he could be planning. He closed his eyes as he focused solely on Bain. The otter was scared, yes, but he held the fox back just as tightly. It wasn't a desperate or possessive clutch. It was just... comfort. Deacon sighed again as he leaned into it.
"Talk to Ransley," Bain whispered in his ear. Deacon tried to lift his head from its resting place on Bain's shoulder, but the otter squeezed him tighter. "Oswell just... just killed his mother. He might need help."
The fox gave a slow nod as he leaned harder against the otter. He felt as drained as he could sense Bain to be, after their conflict with the Ring's magi. "What about you?" he asked. He didn't like the idea of leaving the otter alone, especially if he was too weak even to stand.
Deacon still felt Bain smile against his neck as the otter nuzzled gently in. "I'm going to make sure Vernell's alright," he replied, and he chuckled as Deacon's ears quickly perked. "That's right. Not that I don't appreciate your concern, but you _do_know other people were caught in this little magical crossfire, right?"
"I... yes. Yes, I know." Shame rushed through Deacon as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. How had he been so forgetful? There had been others here; others hurt and killed, or subjected to terrible, fatal torture. None of that suffering would have taken place if he'd not been present.
Against him, he could feel Bain stiffen slightly. "What's... what's that feeling?" he asked as he lifted his head slowly. He almost looked hurt as he stared into Deacon's opening eyes. "Is... are you feeling guilty?"
Deacon gulped as he quickly forced himself to control. He cleared his mind and focused on Bain as he forced aside all of his feelings just as he used to do around Oswell. "That is your connection to the Font," he replied with a shake of his head. "Magi can often feel what those around them feel, or read their surface thoughts."
"So... yeah, you feel guilty." Bain shook his head slowly. "You didn't do this, Deacon. Oswell did."
"I let him in," Deacon told him, and he had to fight to keep his voice from slipping into a growl as he spoke. "I let him help me fight. I let him help guide my paw. I let him fight alongside me, and I let him take control. I can't do that again... not after seeing what he did." He began to shiver. He remembered the abject terror that had been the last thing that magi had felt before Oswell had ripped his mind free of his body. "Not after feeling it."
Bain remained thankfully silent as Deacon forced himself to push away from his comforting warmth. He took a ragged breath and tried to once again center himself as that memory echoed through his mind. He felt is as clearly as when it had first happened, as if he were in control of the whole abominable thing. "You... see to Vernell and the monks. I will see what I can do for Ransley."
He watched and waited as Bain nodded and started to rise. Deacon moved with him, one arm extended to help steady the otter on his shaky ascent. After a few moments to hold him up and make sure he could support himself, Deacon let go and watched Bain start over toward Vernell.
Before he turned away, he caught a glance from the monk. He looked back at Deacon not with the same relief that Bain had, and not with the same fear with which Aeola had viewed Oswell, but sadness. There was a hurt behind his eyes that had nothing to do with the blood that matted his fur, and his stare bored past Deacon's face and deep down inside him.
The magi shivered as he pulled himself away from that gaze and turned instead to Ransley. The ferret had crossed the room and knelt in the collected bodies of Oswell's victims. His paws were flat upon Aeola's still-smoldering chest. Deacon's stomach turned as he glanced up toward the distant ceiling of the temple and the smoke that gathered there. That smoke had once been flesh and fur that he had burned to nothing.
Before he headed over, the fox knelt back down to pick up the dagger that had been lodged in his shoulder. Its blade glistened with blood, and it drooled along a shimmering crystal that ran the length of the handle. Deacon considered for a moment the prospect of bringing the curved blade up to his own throat. He turned it over and over as he sighed and looked over at Bain. The otter's back was to him as he dabbed a semi-clean cloth against one of Vernell's cuts. Bain would never forgive him, even if he did it to stop Oswell from ever taking control again.
Instead he sighed and wiped the dagger off on his robes as he headed toward Ransley. The fox had to carefully pick his way between the bodies strewn about by Oswell's abuse of his powers, but he'd only made it a couple of steps before Ransley's voice reached his ears. "I don't want to talk, fox."
Deacon winced as his ears twitched back. Of course he didn't. What in the world had he and Bain been thinking? "I know," he said at last, as he continued over to the ferret. "I am not here to talk. I just... I thought you might want this."
When Ransley looked up, it was to see the dagger offered to him. He turned slightly toward Deacon, and the fox could see that the other dagger was clutched tight in one of his paws. "Why?" he muttered as he turned his gaze back on Aeola's charred remains. "They aren't mine. They are hers... were hers."
The paw that held the dagger's blade drooped as Deacon crouched down beside Ransley. Aeola was nigh-unrecognizable in the wake of Oswell's rage. "Ransley, I am-"
"Sorry?" interrupted the ferret with a snort and a shake of his head. "Yes. Of course you are. After all, you just lost control of Oswell. I'm the one who had to lose his mother to the monster, after having already lost his father and the rest of his family. What's not to feel sorry for?"
Deacon's shoulders and tail drooped as he sighed. What, after all, had he expected to be able to say to make Ransley feel any better? "What can I do?" he asked. "There has already been far too much bloodshed, and I cannot possibly allow it to continue. Would you feel better if I just..." He waggled the dagger again as he glanced back toward Bain.
The otter was already staring right at him. A handful of the other monks in the temple had entered the hall and begun to tend to Vernell or clean up, and Bain simply stared at Deacon as if he'd heard the fox's words. He gave a minuscule shake of his head even as Ransley sighed. "No. Killing yourself would not make me feel better. I am as guilty as anyone for these deaths."
"That's not possible," Deacon argued. "You did not strike them down. You did not channel the magic that killed them."
"I stayed out of the fight, though," sighed the ferret. He shook his head and patted gently at his mother's shoulder. "I left. If I had stayed, I could have fought Oswell with them. And when I returned too late, I hesitated. I could have buried these blades in your heart, but I didn't." The ferret grit his teeth as his tail twitched uncontrollably. "I spared the creature that killed my family, to try and restore you."
In him, Deacon could feel the echoes of Ransley's guilt. They pounded in the back of his mind even more intense than the guilt Deacon felt from himself. He lowered his head as he closed his eyes. "You left because you didn't believe in what they were trying to do anymore," he said. It was no question. Deacon knew the truth.
Ransley nodded along. "I told you that you and Bain both deserved to live, and I stand by that. My mother, those with her... they obviously did not. I don't know what's happened at the Ring of Fate, but no doubt it is something terrible." He glanced up again, his eyes full of tears and his jaw firmly clenched. "And as much as I want to see Oswell suffer for what he's taken from me... killing yourself will not fix anything. Nor, I think, would it do anything to help Bain."
"Nothing can help Bain," Deacon pointed out as he took a deep breath. The air stank of ozone and smoke and charred flesh and fur. "No magic can reverse the damage that Oswell did when he created a flawed body to contain him. Now that he's tapping his Ahron powers with greater potency, I fear he is only sapping what strength he has left. The next time this... Ring of Fate, you said? When next they come..."
The ferret frowned as he looked up at Deacon again. "You think they'll return for you again?" he asked as he rose at last from his mother's side.
Deacon simply shrugged and frowned for a moment. "You said you did not want to talk. I should not press you for information when you are... well, mourning. It is not right."
"Nothing about this is right, fox," Ransley grumbled. "You think they'll come back. Why?"
Unease filled Deacon as he stared back at Ransley. Upset or not, he had a point. They were all stuck in the middle of a mess, and like it or not they were the ones who had survived. They had to continue forward, and Deacon winced as he cast a glance down on the fallen magi. "They haven't succeeded," he reminded Ransley. "This time there was a horde of them sent to kill me. The first time there was only two."
"Masters Tamil and Aeola," Ransley said with a nod. "And before that... there was me."
Deacon nodded. The pieces had already fallen mostly into place for him, but he finally had an opportunity to learn whole story from Ransley himself. "And why didn't you attack in Iounis?" he asked.
Ransley snorted for a second, and there was even a little smile as he shook his head. "I did, remember? I defended myself and I took you down."
"I think you will remember that I was thoroughly exhausted at that point," Deacon reminded him with a little smirk.
The smile on the ferret's muzzle grew for a moment before it faded with a shake of his head. "You have to understand. The Ring of Fate is a cabal of extraordinarily powerful magi. I wasn't inducted as an acolyte of the order until years after my father, a master on their council, was killed by Oswell. Even then, they didn't want to take me on. They said that my fate was too uncertain."
The fox frowned as he glanced over at Bain. The otter had returned his focus to helping the other monks, and he was still well out of earshot. "The name is a fanciful affectation though, yes? Magi do not see the future."
"No, but the Ring does," Ransley agreed. "The Ring of Fate is the name of both the organization, and the artifact in the heart of the master's council chambers. It is... hard to describe how it looks, or feels. It's different for everyone. The important thing is that it is a lens through which magical energy can be poured and the future beheld." Ransley sighed. "Before I was inducted, they saw me lead Oswell in an attack on the inner sanctum."
Deacon's frown deepened as he shook his head. "That's not possible," he pointed out. "You would never help Oswell, not after everything he has taken from you."
The smile that came to Ransley's face was devoid of any humor. "But I would help you," he replied. "I believe the vision that they feared so -- the vision they disregarded to take me on as an acolyte -- was of me leading you in the assault on the sanctum. I think now I've always been destined to help you.
When Deacon remained silent, Ransley launched into a quiet, bitter laugh. "I railed against that vision for so long, you know. Always looked down on, always mistrusted because deep down, every single master was absolutely sure that even though it was impossible, I would lead them to their destruction. Even my mother believed. Maybe fate can't be changed after all."
"But you could have killed me when I was unconscious," Deacon pointed out. "If you had thought for even a second then that Oswell slept inside me and could take control again... that I could bring that vision to life, why did you not simply slit my throat?"
The ferret dropped his gaze from Deacon as he worked his jaw from side to side. His ears and tail twitched as he slowly shook his head. "Because as I explored your mind, I knew you were not Oswell," he replied at last. "I was ordered to observe you. To gauge your threat. I decided to do this as unobtrusively as possible. I tracked you for a while, those few times when you ventured beyond Oswell's manor. I watched from as far as I could.
"When you and Bain ventured out of the manor together, I saw it as an opportunity. I followed Bain until I knew he was headed to Iounis, and there I laid in wait for him." The ferret shook his head. "I was amazed at how resistant he was to the enchantments I laid around Barka's store. I didn't reasonably suspect Ahron magic at play, but it was the only viable explanation as to why he resisted it so completely."
Deacon nodded along. Aishah had said as much of Ahron sorcery, after all. "If Ahron magic is instinctual, perhaps some part of him knew to resist your attempts to draw information out of him," he suggested.
Ransley nodded back. "So I suspect. Still, I was able to plant a suggestion in his mind; an idea that maybe I could help you. It would draw you out of a safe place and to me, where I could organize the potential battlefield to my own advantage." He shrugged. "It worked. I took you down. I probed your memories, and... I saw you. I saw what you were subjected to."
The fox remained silent as the ferret's expression softened. "Every moment of your life was controlled. Every second ran the potential risk of Oswell's rage being drawn on you. I saw the way he treated you -- an incarnation of himself, no less -- and it was horrible. I could see that you were not the same as your creator. I could see that what you had been through kept you from ever even considering taking the same path that he had."
"And yet they still sent two masters to kill me," Deacon pointed out.
The ferret nodded as he glanced down at his mother's body. "Yes... they did. I suspect that the fact you badly wounded my mother and killed Tamil was the tipping point that caused the Ring to attack you with such a large force. They sought to overwhelm you with raw power. If not for Bain's access to the Font, and Oswell's interference..."
Deacon nodded. "They would have succeeded," he finished for the ferret. "But you didn't want to fight Bain and I, and you equally didn't want to fight against your fellow magi."
"Against my mother," Ransley corrected him with a quick shake of his head. "The others I barely knew. Most were acolytes that had mistrusted me from day one. The others were a couple of masters who shared that mistrust. I was not going to face my mother in battle, because I knew I would not have been able to do what had to be done."
"But she could kill her son?" the fox asked. The idea seemed reprehensible.
The ferret gave a somber nod. "Do not forget that I was forseen to be the reason that the whole Ring of Fate would fall. Blood or not, we grew... colder. She would absolutely have killed me to ensure Oswell's death, but I knew I couldn't kill her... not even with how distant we had become since my training in the Ring began. I certainly could not kill her for you." He sighed. "And yet there she is. Dead anyway. How brave I was."
Deacon felt his lower lip twist. "That was not your fault," he firmly told the ferret. "It was mine, if anyone is to be blamed for it. You could not have been expected to strike her down, and I would never have expected that of you."
Ransley growled under his breath and shook his head slowly. "But now you expect me to help you kill the rest of them, don't you?" he asked. "I've been told that it's been foreseen. I've been told that I do it. I've known for almost my entire life that I would lead you to the Ring of Fate and kill them, so why don't you ask it and be done with it all?"
The anger on Ransley's face wasn't directed at Deacon, and the fox knew it. He recognized that expression on Ransley's face. He'd worn it often enough. "You are not upset with me," he said as he offered the dagger to Ransley once more. "You feel like your fate is laid out for you. Like you have no control over your life. Like every decision has already been made for you, and that you are trapped in a world you cannot affect however you struggle.
"I understand. You are upset with the destiny that you have been provided, just as I was upset with the destiny that Oswell had laid out for me. Even before I knew what purpose I was created for, I was... trapped. Bound to him." Deacon shook his head as he closed his eyes. His fingers clenched tighter around the hilt of the dagger.
"You lived to serve him," Ransley mumbled with a nod. "Bain broke your bonds. Set you free. We are not all so lucky, you know. Some of us remain chained and bound to the expectations others have pushed on us. You didn't have the High Seer of an arcane cabal read your future and doom you to be the traitor to all you ever knew."
"That is the leader of the Ring?" Deacon asked as he opened his eyes again.
Ransley actually smirked for a moment before his face soured again. "Cecilie would have made a terrible leader," he muttered. "No. The High Seer is the one who interprets what the Ring shows us. She passes the visions onto us, so that we can experience them just as she has. While Cecilie's certainly a strong magi, it's Lady Kan that you'd have to face."
"No. I don't have to face her." As Ransley only stared at the fox in confusion, Deacon sighed and stared at the bloody blade of the dagger in his paw. "I don't want to. I don't have to."
The confusion only mounted on Ransley's face as his tail began to twitch again. "They've sent over a dozen magi to assassinate you," he reminded Deacon.
Deacon just chuckled as he twisted the bloody blade this way and that in the light. "And they failed," he replied. "I don't need to go after them. I don't need to take Oswell's way out. I don't need to find them and burn them down so that they won't do the same to me. If they see I will not be baited into their schemes and games, they will be forced to leave me alone. Their vision of your future does not have to come to pass."
Ransley didn't look to be able to believe what he was hearing. He took a step toward Deacon and leaned down to place himself in the fox's field of view. "They won't stop just because you've beaten so many of them, you know," he warned. "They'll just get smarter. More subtle. They'll isolate you. Turn everything and everyone else against you. Oswell manipulated masterfully, but the Ring of Fate has destiny on its side. You cannot beat what they can bring to bear, and even you can't survive if the whole world turns on you."
"And yet I lack a compelling reason to kill them," Deacon answered. He looked up from the dagger as he offered it once more to Ransley. "Unless you can give me a reason to ask you to bind yourself to the fate they showed you, I have no intention of ever going after them."
"I can give a good reason."
The voice that rose over their discussion was Vernell's. Deacon and Ransley turned to regard the fox, and his smile was a sad one as he stepped delicately around the magi bodies. Bane followed him in silence, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I wish I couldn't, but... the Mother spoke to me. She told me that you had to go."
Ransley's expression turned annoyed for a moment, but the ferret took a deep breath and forced himself to calm as Deacon watched on. "The strongest magi in the Ring and every remaining acolyte are all there, probably waiting for Deacon," he said.
"And I do not want to use the same techniques that Oswell did here," Deacon added. "Without them, I cannot see how I would be strong enough to fight my way through all of the Ring's forces. I am sorry, Vernell. Even your goddess cannot compel me to such things."
Bain reached out to offer his paw to Deacon, and the fox took it in his free paw. "Vernell told me what She said. She said that..." He frowned and glanced over at Vernell, and the monk nodded to him. "She said that if we want to know what Oswell did to me, and how to stop him... the answers were there."
The ferret blinked and sighed to himself. "I think I preferred prophecy that was vague," he growled. "You can't just march into the inner sanctum. They will be ready for you now, and they will be preparing all the defenses that they can before you arrive. That's suicide and all -- no offense, Vernell -- at the whim of a goddess who doesn't have the decency to come down here and tell us herself."
"A little offense taken, thank you," Vernell replied as his ears flattened.
"Well, that's your problem," Ransley growled back. "I am sick to _death_of prophecy and instruction, so take that offense and rut it."
As they spoke, Deacon squeezed at Bain's paw again and pulled the otter closer. "We already know what Oswell did to you," he pointed out. "I don't know that we can find a way to stop this degeneration even if we go."
"That's not what Vernell said, though," Bain replied with a shake of his head. "I'm dying. After I used that magic, I... I can feel it now. I don't know how long I've got, but I can feel it. It's not about me. It's about Oswell."
"Everything is about you to me," Deacon said as he pulled the otter into a tight hug. "If I could go there right now and take the information from them to save you? I would. In a heartbeat."
"But?" Bain said as he leaned into the fox's embrace.
Deacon sighed. "But when I use those powers... when I tap my magic, I can hear him louder. When I tap his_magic, he's stronger. It's like I pull him out every time I summon his powers... and like every use of my own drains me more than it should." He shook his head. "Remember how I tried for months to access the _aerun powers he built into me?"
"I don't remember you had much luck," Bain replied with a little smile.
"That is because I did not. I suspect Oswell's full focus was on the inhibition of those powers, once he was seated within me. As he became stronger over time, he began to influence me." Deacon shook his head as he stared down at his paws. "Now I can channel his powers at will. He allows me to because he's using my magic against me... it's a conduit to my conscious mind. If I have to engage the Ring of Fate, Oswell might break free again. I can't ask you to put him back down again."
The otter lifted his head to nuzzle along Deacon's cheek. "And you won't have to ask me to," he replied. "Aishah said I was the only one strong enough to destroy Oswell. I don't think I have much time left to do it. Maybe this Ring of Fate -- the thing, not the people -- can show us how."
"You have to go," Vernell added as he turned away from the increasingly frustrated Ransley. "She knows. She understands that you doubt yourself, your personage... that you doubt your very existence. She does not." His smile was gone, and in its absence the young monk looked to Deacon like just another tired, world-wearied soul. "You will find the end of your journey in your companion's impossible memory. I promise, the Mother knows you have the strength for this. You may not believe in Her, but She believes in you."
"You can't seriously be considering this," Ransley growled as he shook his head fiercely. "This is how it's going to be? The Ring of Fate's prophecies against the prophecies of a goddess and an Ahron sorceress?" He threw up his arms and hissed through his teeth. "This is insanity. Damn the prophecies. Damn the rules. Damn the whole cursed, rutting lot of it."
Bain pulled away from Deacon as the fox reluctantly him go. He stepped over to the agitated ferret and offered him his paw. "Why are you so reluctant to go?" he asked.
Ransley just glared at Deacon. "The Ring has a single purpose. To observe the future, and ensure it comes to pass despite the interference of evil forces. Power-mad magi, demonic incursion, barbarian and monstrous hordes... the Ring is there. They watch the future for threats on the horizon, and fight to prevent them. They are not some evil cult bent on world domination."
"No, they are a cabal of magi who see into the future and take action to ensure that their visions come true," Deacon reasoned. "Power-mad magi, you say? How did they allow Oswell to escape the first time? How did they not fight to destroy him when he was weaker? They did not take action against him either because he was too powerful, in which case their ability to protect the world is limited... or because they valued their own lives more than their charge."
The ferret's eyes narrowed as he glared back at Deacon. "My entire family was devoted to the ideals of the Ring of Fate, fox," he snapped back. "Including my mother, who lies still _smoking_before you. These are not bad people. The only monster that has come out of this gods-damned mess is the one that's inside you!"
Deacon held his tongue as he watched Ransley. The ferret's tail lashed wildly through the air as he shook with rage. "You just said you wouldn't ask me to give into the fate they showed me, and... what? Now, because the rutting missionary says so, you want me to take you there?"
"Monk," muttered Vernell.
"Whatever you are," Ransley hissed back at him, before his eyes settled once more on Deacon. "So. I'll ask you again. You expect me to help you kill the rest of them, don't you? You want me to help you slaughter the Ring of Fate."
The fox slowly shook his head as Bain stepped back beside him again. "Of course I don't," he replied, his voice soft and quiet. "And I will not, either. I do not expect you to show me the way, I do not expect you to fight at my side, and I do not expect you to kill in the name of what I must do. I will not ask that of you."
Another hiss slipped from Ransley's muzzle. "But no one else can get you where you need to go in time, can they? You need me to bend if this venture is to be successful, and I don't even think I _want_it to be."
Deacon opened his muzzle to argue, but Bain stepped in front of him before he could say a word. "Why do you want us to live?" he asked.
The ferret seemed confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, why do you want us to live?" Bain repeated. "The group you work with? They've obviously decided that Deacon and I have to die. They don't care. They think we're bad, and we have to die. Just because Oswell made us what we are, we have to die. So why are you different?"
Some of Ransley's anger faded as he stared hard at the otter. "I know you," he replied at last. "I know what you two were put through at his whims. I understand the pain and suffering that you've both endured. I decided that you both had suffered enough and were not a threat to either the world, or to the Ring. I think the decision they have reached is wrong."
Bain's head tilted to the side as he stepped back to lean against Deacon. The fox's arms gently wrapped around the otter's middle and held him tight. "And would these magi around us listen, like you did?" he asked. "Do you think if we went there and explained ourselves, and let them into our heads to peek around in our memories like you did, that they would let us leave?"
Ransley's jaw worked from side to side as he considered. His gaze flicked past Bain to lock on Deacon's face, and the fox knew the answer even before the ferret sighed. "No. No, they would use that as an opportunity to simply kill you where you stand. They made their decision. They've decided that killing you two is for the best."
"Then you can start with me," Bain replied. The otter shrugged as Deacon pulled him tighter against his chest. "You said your whole family was devoted to the ideals of the Ring, right? Protecting the future from anything that threatens it? The Ring decided we're a threat. Oswell could break out of Deacon at any moment, and I'm gonna die anyway. Start with me."
The anger returned to Ransley's face, but it was tinged with nervousness as he waved a dismissive paw at Bain. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not killing you."
"Then you're different," Deacon argued as the ferret began to turn away. "You're letting what you've seen and experienced change your mind, and all they're doing is hanging onto their fear and concern. You decided that they were wrong about Bain and I."
"That doesn't make them wrong about everything else," Ransley growled.
Bain nodded once. "But what else _might_they be wrong about?" he asked. He leaned forward as Ransley glanced away. "How zealously do they protect the future if they feel like it's threatened?"
When he couldn't answer, Deacon did it for him. "Completely, yes? 'Zealous' is right, and you know it. If they feel themselves to be justified, will they not do anything and everything in their power to see their vision of the future preserved?" He squeezed Bain tighter. "If Bain and I are innocent in all of this, how many other innocents might the Ring have purged in the name of the future?"
When Ransley finally looked back at the pair again, his jaw was set. "They are not bad people," he said. To Deacon, it almost sounded like he was pleading.
"I didn't say they were, Ransley," Bain told him. "Maybe they've just done what they're doing so long that they can't see the mistakes they've made... or the bad things they might be doing."
"If I take you there, you'll have to kill them," the ferret said. He sounded defeated as he glanced away from Deacon. "You won't be able convince them that you should be allowed to live. You won't be able to convince them that you are not really Oswell. Honestly, after seeing your power for myself... I don't know if I could convince myself entirely."
Deacon shook his head slowly. "But this is a chance to be rid of Oswell. To destroy him once and for all. If Aishah was right, Bain has the power to do it. And if Vernell's right, then we know the place. We know where to be and who has to be there, and you know I won't kill anyone if I can help it. Not if you are right, and they _are_good people."
The ferret sighed. His eyes searched the floor as if he hunted for something, anything to use in the argument. When he looked up at last though, there was only defeat in his eyes. "They will not listen to anything we tell them. There will be no reasoning with the Ring."
"That is for me to decide, and for them to act on." Deacon relaxed his grip on Bain and allowed his arms to fall to his side as he slipped around the otter. "I will not ask you to do anything, Ransley."
"But I will," Bain quickly added, and both Ransley and Deacon turned to stare at him with surprise. "The Ring? They had their chance to stop Oswell. I could have had a normal life, back home in my village. I'd be working in the bakery right now with my mum and dad. I'd know nothing about magic or demons or magi and I wouldn't need to. But my mum and dad are dead. Oswell killed them. He's probably killed lots more, all because the Ring didn't stop him."
The ferret began to frown. "Maybe they couldn't."
"Couldn't? Maybe. Didn't? Definitely." Bain walked over and folded his arms in front of Ransley. "We know I can destroy Oswell, even if we don't know how. The how is going to be there. Oswell killed my parents, and I'll do anything to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone ever again." He cocked his head and lifted his eyebrows. "Oswell killed your parents too. What will you do to stop him? Or are you just going to say one day that you 'couldn't' do anything, either?"
"Dear one, calm yourself," Deacon warned as he gently tugged Bain back. The otter had only grown more and more animated, and Ransley looked more and more uncomfortable as a result. "He has just lost his mother... and no doubt several friends. We cannot force him to aid us, and we will not. If we must, we will do this without him."
"No... Bain is right." Ransley sighed as he looked up at the surprised otter. "Something has to be done to stop Oswell. He's a bigger threat to the world than anything else the Ring has ever faced. I don't really believe that Bain is the one to destroy Oswell; I think Aishah was wrong, or speaking metaphorically or something." He took a deep breath. "The Ring of Fate was worried about something... an event. They call it the Advent. Only the masters know for sure what it entails, but the acolytes always talk about it."
"And you think Oswell taking me over would be this... this Advent they speak of?" Deacon asked.
Ransley shook his head again. "I don't know. I cannot think of anything worse than Oswell taking the power I've felt you wield and doing as he pleases with it. I have no doubt that if he took control of your body, he could easily finish his experiments in a short time and possess a level of power that rivals that of someone like Aishah."
Bain tilted his head back the other way. "But his house was destroyed," he protested.
"Not completely," Deacon said as he held Ransley's stare. "Oswell's laboratory was well-protected, and it had a secondary defensive enchantment grid. It is buried, but I suspect it would all be intact. Much of his work was there... enough to restart at his leisure. If this Advent they fear is Oswell gaining control of all four elemental magical forces, then it is all the more important that he be stopped at all costs."
"I... agree." The words sounded forced, but Deacon could sense Ransley's resolve even as he spoke. "Every acolyte and every master of the Ring of Fate swears an oath at their induction ritual. Each one swears away their life, given in the service of the world they seek to protect. If they knew that their attempts to stop you were only aiding Oswell..."
"They would let us through?" Bain offered.
Ransley's gaze flicked for a moment to the otter, and Bain recoiled at the coldness of his stare. "They would understand why their lives would need to be sacrificed," he replied.
Once more, Deacon stepped forward and offered Ransley the matching dagger he still held. "Then do we have a plan?" he asked.
The ferret eyed the handle of the offered dagger for a moment before he gingerly took it from Deacon. His gaze jumped from one weapon to the other as he squeezed them tight. "Not yet," he admitted. "Nor should we go now. They will be in disarray, but this will make them more dangerous. They are alert and ready for you. If we suddenly appear within the Ring's lair-"
"They would cut us down before we knew what hit us," Deacon finished with a nod. "Then we take what rest we can tonight, and we head off in the morning. Perhaps they will all have stayed up the whole night, and will be exhausted when we go to meet them."
Ransley's eyes narrowed for a moment as he held up a paw. "Do not delude yourself, fox," he said. "We are not going to 'meet' the Ring of Fate. One does not meet them. You have a mission to embark on, and a goal to achieve. They will use any means to stop you. You will have to do the same. They must die, if you intend to see this through."
"And... you're okay with that?" Bain asked.
"Of course not. But as you have made me see, there is little choice in the matter. Too much is at stake." His eyes dipped to Aeola's remains. In the time they had taken, the heat had mostly left her body. The smell lingered, but the smoke was gone. "And I am not going to leave without offering my mother a proper burial. The Ring's funerary rights take time we will not have once we enter the inner sanctum. I have to do the best I can here, and now."
Vernell took a step forward and placed his paw on Ransley's shoulder. "I know you do not think much of our ways, but we would be honored to assist you in your preparation," he offered. "Allow us to help you as best we can. It is the least we can do, in light of what you all are about to undertake."
It looked for a second like Ransley would choose instead to bite Vernell's head off. He stared at the monk coolly, before he knelt down and began to gather up Aeola's body. "Thank you, but... you see to your own," he muttered, before he turned and started toward the temple entrance.
Both Deacon and Bain watched him go, while Vernell nodded and bowed his head. "Do you really think it's a good idea to wait?" Bain asked as he leaned into Deacon's side again.
The fox sighed as he shrugged and slid an arm around Bain's waist. "I honestly have no idea," he admitted. "I wish I knew if this is even a good idea. So much could go wrong. This could all be a trap. This could be just what Oswell wants."
"Or it could be just what we need to stop him," Bain countered. He stepped around before Deacon and took the fox's paws into his own. "Come on, Deacon. I'm exhausted, it's the middle of the night... and we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. I... uh..." The otter winced as he turned around to face Vernell. "Unless you need help with the, uh..." He glanced at the bodies strewn across the temple. "The... mess."
But the monk shook his head, still absent his usual smile. "You both have been through enough for this day," he replied. "We have not much, but I insisted we set up quarters for you both. Head deeper into the temple and ask for Cosette. She will take you to the room, and you both may stay." He nodded after Ransley. "I will take care of your friend, and lead him to his room when the time is right."
He brushed past the pair, and Deacon sighed as he leaned against Bain's side. Now that the discussion was over and they had a tentative plan in place, the prospect of a bed was overwhelmingly enticing. Even the flickering fear of his nightmares -- and what worse Oswell could do now -- didn't do much to dim the desperate want to lay down. "Come along then, Bain. Best we not keep this Cosette waiting."
The otter nodded as he let his paw drift down along Deacon's arm. He moved with the fox as he entwined his fingers with Deacon's, and walked paw in paw with him toward the hallway. "Do you think you can sleep?" he asked. "I'm... not sure I'll be able to."
"We will, dear one," he replied as he leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on the otter's cheek. "We have to at least try. Like you said, we have a big day ahead of us." He tried a little smile as Bain looked up at him. "And honestly, whatever tomorrow brings, it will be nice to spend a night beside you again."
Bain smiled back at him, but the gesture seemed more tired than anything else. "You're the one who only wanted to stay up all night, reading books," he pointed out.
"Well, there are no books here I have any interest in." He ran his thumb across the back of Bain's paw as he pulled the otter tight to his side. "Just you."
It was true that Deacon didn't know what tomorrow would bring. It was true that it could save them or it could doom them. It was true that as long as it helped Bain, the fox wasn't entirely sure it mattered what the next day brought.
The smile on Bain's face was exactly what he would fight for in the morning, and Deacon luxuriated in it all the way to their room.