Insurrection - Chapter Ten
#25 of Blood And Water
Blood And Water - Insurrection
Part Four: AERUN
Chapter Ten
When Deacon's eyes opened, he could not move.
He lay flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling of the room that the monks had provided as he tried to lift a paw. The arm would not budge. Confusion and fear gripped the fox for a moment, before he felt himself start to sit up. That fear intensified as he tried to blink and found himself unable, and it bloomed into full-blown terror as he felt his muzzle smile.
He was not in control.
His head turned to regard the otter beside him. Bain's back was to him as he lay curled slightly into himself, completely asleep. Deacon felt himself scowl at the sight as he fought harder to move his limbs. They refused to obey his instructions, driven instead by someone else's will. The fox tried to shout and scream, but his breathing didn't even falter.
"I feel you try, boy," he heard himself whisper, but the words were not his own. Deacon's paw finally lifted to tap a pair of fingers against the side of his head. "Come now. Surely I trained you better than this."
Again Deacon tried to scream as Oswell reached out toward Bain. He pushed back just as he had each and every time Oswell had taken control of his body away, but nothing worked. The fox felt Bain's fur under his fingers as the sleeping otter rolled gently into his touch. Please, no, he thought as he felt his other paw lift. They both moved down toward the otter, and Deacon's roared with everything he could.
Bain's eyes didn't open until the moment Deacon's paws were wrapped around his throat. He snapped awake as Deacon watched, a prisoner within his own body. He could feel the way Bain's neck bulged against the fingers that crushed it. Deacon could hear the choked gasps for air that came from the otter's muzzle as he struggled futilely against the fox's grip. He screamed inside as he watched Bain writhe in terror and desperation.
"Biology is a curious thing," Deacon felt and heard himself say. His eyes were locked on Bain's as the otter tried to mouth his name. "The various experiments I undertook to strengthen Bain's body to withstand the rigors of the Font's power did wonders for his physicality. And yet, when vulnerable for just long enough..." The paws squeezed tighter.
Absolute desperation gripped Deacon as he screamed and kicked and fought and tried to do something, _anything_to pry his arms away from the otter's throat. Bain's eyes began to roll back into his head as his own struggle faded. "... he is just as weak as any other mortal." A paw shifted higher, and Deacon dared hope for a second he had given Bain a chance to breathe.
Then that paw used its new leverage to snap the otter's neck.
Deacon froze. His own fight to retake his body stalled as Oswell forced him to stare down into the otter's dead eyes. "Do you see this, boy?" he asked as he leaned in closer. "Look, Deacon. Look, and pay very, very close attention. This is what you have fought so hard for. This is your prize for besting me." Deacon felt his muzzle smile once more as he stared on in horror he couldn't express. "I told him. Do you remember? I told him that you would kill him.
"And did you feel it, Deacon?" Grief and loss and rage all surged through the fox as Deacon focused himself fully on his -- on Oswell's -- mind. "Did you feel the pulse of the blood in his veins? Did you feel his heart quicken with fear... then slow, as he began to understand what was happening? Did you feel the life start to leave him? Did you feel his bones break under your paws? Under my paws?"
Deacon's rage mounted as Oswell unceremoniously used the fox's arms to shove Bain out of the bed. The otter's body crumpled in an undignified pile upon the floor as Deacon's body was forced to rise and pull on a robe. "There is no one left to help you now," Oswell told him as he casually slid his arms into the robe's sleeves. "Not without Aishah. Not without your precious Bain. Perhaps you feel that the last remaining Cunliffe might be strong enough to stop me. Perhaps you feel the monk might put up a fight. Perhaps you think you have another way out yet." He snorted. "If so, allow me to clarify. You are wrong."
His head turned as there came a knock on the door. "Deacon?" came Vernell's voice from the other side. "Bain? We heard a crash... are you alright in there?"
Once more, Deacon's paws lifted. He reached out with his mind and all the strength he could muster to pull them back down, but the muscles refused to respond. They simply hung there for a moment before his fingers fanned out and he felt Oswell's mind push the door outward.
It exploded across the hall outside in a heartbeat and the pieces slammed with bone-breaking force against the opposite wall. The door splintered into a million pieces that mostly scattered in either direction down the passage. A few larger shards remained, stuck in the torso of the vulpine monk that had just been between the door and the opposite wall. One arm was twisted well past the breaking point, while it seemed a piece of the door had messily sheered off the fox's left leg. He stumbled before he hit the ground and coughed blood across it. No! he screamed at Oswell, over and over and over again.
The shout that rose to Deacon's left drew Oswell's attention only slightly better than Deacon's own. The fox's arm shot out toward it as lightning crackled along the limb, and the bolt that thundered from his paw struck the incoming monk square in his chest. "This is your birthright, Deacon. This is your destiny. Why are you not pleased? Why are you not happy?" Oswell paused as he turned back toward the other end of the hall and swept an arm out.
The telekinetic wave rippled the air as it slammed into a monk that Deacon recognized as Cosette. There was barely long enough for the vixen to recognize the attack before the wave struck her. She tumbled end over end, a rag doll in a windstorm until she cracked her head on one of the windows at the end of the hallway. Her blood painted the windowsill as her suddenly limp body sailed through the opening and fell into the darkness.
Deacon's arms were drawn back as Oswell focused his powers again, and Deacon could only push back ineffectually against his creator's efforts. In a moment he saw what Oswell had waited for; a trio of monks rounded the corner and charged on him. When the fox's arms lurched forward under Oswell's instruction, they came with a surge of flame from his paws that engulfed all three. Their cries of attack transmuted into screams of pain.
Oswell doused the walls in the flame, from one side of the hallway to the other. The stone blackened as he seared the flesh from the bones of the monks. "So many people -- these fools amongst them -- would go through their whole lives with no sense of their future! No sense of their purpose! You, Deacon have completed yours. Be proud, boy!"
A moment's hope flared through Deacon's heart as he watched the firestorm before him break. Ransley strode through the flames, his eyes alight with a green glow and a hateful stare. As that glow intensified, the ferret's fur and robes began to shift and ripple as they turned to stone. It encompassed his entire body as he marched on Oswell, until Deacon could hear the grind of stone on stone with every step.
Once more, lightning flashed in his paws and arced out to lash Ransley. The bolts were harmlessly channeled through the stone and into the floor as he drew closer and closer, and Deacon felt Oswell smile through him. "You have done more than I ever could have hoped for," he continued as he raised a paw before Ransley. The ferret was stalled out as Oswell pushed back at him, but he grunted and shoved his way into the telekinetic headwind the fox conjured.
He continued to push through the waves of Oswell's power as the fox allowed his second paw to lift alongside the first. He redoubled his efforts as he laughed and buffeted Ransley again and again. "Not only are you stronger than I intended, but you have destroyed some of my most powerful rivals! The Ring of Fate lies broken, reduced to a few terrified individuals I can easily pick off at my leisure!" Ahead, Ransley began to grunt.
Oswell brought his paws together as Deacon felt the fox's powers focus. No longer waves of force that pulsed out every moment, they became more intense blasts that ran along narrower paths. Ransley's grunts turned into cries of pain as the telekinetic spears rammed into his body over and over again. Chipped stone flecked off his body and tumbled off toward the end of the hallway.
"Observe, in your last moments," Oswell growled as he strode forward. Ransley began to raise his arms to try and fend off the fox's blows, but there were too many and they came too quickly. His arms began to disintegrate under the bombardment, stone flesh ripped from granite bones as Oswell approached him. "Look at the forces you array against me. Look at them, and know the truth. Know you could never have stopped me."
The assault stopped for a single moment, and Ransley tipped forward and off his balance. He fell to his knees with a resounding thud before Oswell, and the fox grabbed the back of Ransley's neck as he gathered his strength. His fingers dug in and cracked the stone as the ferret began to scream in pain, before with magically-augmented force Oswell drove his fingers through that stone head and buried his claws in Ransley's skull.
He only twitched once before he fell still, but Oswell still lifted his body to bring his face right in line with Deacon's eyes. The fox was forced to watch from within his own body as he last vestiges of life drained away from the ferret's body. "This is the force you brought to bear against me," Oswell growled. "This is the consequence of your defiance. Each body that I lay low here is laid before you, Deacon. This is what you have wrought."
He tossed Ransley's body to the floor, and Deacon watched it shatter into dust. Exhausted from his futile struggle, he could do little more than watch though his eyes as Oswell stepped back into his room. Bain's crumpled body came back briefly into view, but Oswell had no interest in it. Instead he strode to the wall opposite the bed, and the mirror that had been mounted there.
The sight was wrong. It was Deacon, as sure as he could be of anything. And yet the glare behind his eyes was something else. It was Oswell that lurked behind the snarl he saw, and it changed everything. Deacon understood as he stared at the reflection of his stolen body. That wasn't him anymore. That was Oswell.
He felt the paw lift, fingers hooked as they pointed toward his face. Confusion reigned for a moment as he looked past the fingers to his own face in the mirror. "Enjoy the fruits of your labor, boy," Oswell told him, before those fingers began to close.
Pain familiar to Deacon wracked his entire awareness. He'd felt it before once and only once, when Oswell had first tried to take him over. The fox felt his self -- his memories, his feelings, his beliefs and his heart and his soul -- wrapped up by Oswell's will. It constricted him, bound him and crushed him down, and had he a muzzle it would have been split in a scream of unimaginable pain. It echoed back on itself and intensified as the fingers before his stolen eyes drew back, and Deacon felt himself pulled along with them, further and further and further and further and furth-
Deacon gasped for air as he shot up in bed.
His ears felt glued atop his head as he scrabbled free of the sheets and pushed himself off the bed. Unprepared for the suddenly receptive nature of his limbs to his commands, the fox was sent off the bed at a speed far beyond what he'd expected. Instead of landing on his footpaws, Deacon instead tumbled tail over head and slammed muzzle-first into the floor.
He winced and grunted in pain as he slid his face across the floor and tried to get his legs back up under him. His breath came in short, desperate pants as he reached up to grab at his neck and pat down his front. He felt everything respond as it should as he pushed himself up to his knees and tried to force his panicked breathing to slow.
It refused to abate, however. The fox gulped as he pushed up onto his footpaws and raced over to the mirror. It glinted with the light of the candle that he and Bain had fallen asleep too quick to snuff as he brought himself into view. He saw his reflection, saw Bain's still-sleeping form on the bed-
And Oswell.
The older version of himself stood just over the otter on the other side of the bed, and he smirked at Deacon's reflection. Deacon whirled about as quick as he could as he raised a paw, and lightning crackled between his fingers before he instinctively loosed a crimson bolt of electricity at Oswell.
Except there was no Oswell there. The bolt boomed with thunder as it leaped through the air and left a blackened mark on the stone wall on the other side of the room. Deacon's eyes widened even as Bain snapped awake and quickly sat up. "What... Deacon, what's happening?"
It took Deacon a good half minute to realize that he wasn't breathing. He took a deep gulp of air as he leaned back against the mirror. The fox couldn't tear his eyes from where he'd seen Oswell stand. "I... I don't know," he said at last. His voice shook in much the same was as the arm he'd used to hurl the bolt of lightning. "I think I... may be going mad."
"What di- Ah!" No sooner had Bain attempted to slide out of bed than his legs gave out under him, and he hit the ground almost as hard as Deacon had when he'd woken so abruptly.
Deacon was by his side in a matter of moments, and crouched down beside the otter as he offered his paws. "Are you alright?" he asked.
From within his own mind he could hear Oswell's quiet laughter. Of course not, came his creator's voice.You know what has happened.
"I'm fine," Bain replied as he waved a dismissive paw toward the fox. He even smiled up at Deacon as he used the bed for leverage to sit up. "I guess the rest didn't do much to help me, huh?"
The fox frowned as Oswell's voice slipped through his mind again. It almost sounded like he was right behind Deacon. He does not need rest, and you know it. Tell him the truth. Go on.
Instead, Deacon took another slow breath and fought the urge to turn around. He forced his ears to perk up a bit as he reached out to stroke down Bain's arm. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
Bain's smile warmed as he leaned up to nuzzle gently along Deacon's cheek. "I could do with a hug and a help up."
"That I can definitely manage." Deacon took another breath as he wrapped his arms gently around Bain's middle and helped the otter up onto his footpaws again. He eased Bain down onto the edge of the bed as the otter's arms wrapped around his middle. "I did not mean to wake you. I'm sorry."
The otter simply shrugged and leaned into Deacon's side. "I'm more worried about you. Why do you think you're going mad, and do you think we could figure it out quick and get back to sleep?"
Deacon frowned down at Bain, but the frown melted with a sigh at the otter's coy -- if tired -- little smile. "I had a nightmare. A new one, and it felt perfectly real. Like... like Oswell had just taken control of me when I fell asleep." He shook his head. "Perhaps while sleeping, I was more vulnerable to him."
Perhaps you did learn something of magical technique while you were my student, came the expected ripple of Oswell's thoughts through Deacon's mind.
Bain didn't look so sure. "Can he do that?"
"That and worse, I expect," Deacon replied, and he flattened his ears again at another chuckle from Oswell. "I woke you when I tapped my aerun powers. I thought I saw Oswell reflected in a mirror, I turned to strike and..." He shrugged helplessly and shook his head.
"And he wasn't there," Bain finished for him with a nod. He squeezed gently at Deacon as he wriggled in tighter against the fox. "You think he was doing that? It wasn't just your tired mind playing tricks on you?"
Deacon sighed again as he closed his eyes and leaned in against Bain's warmth. "I think he wants me to lose my mind," Deacon told him at last. "I think he wants to trick me into making a mistake. I think he wants me to be so caught up in what I think I see that I cannot see him take control of me."
Take control back from you, his creator corrected him with a growl. That sound echoed through Deacon's mind and set his head to throbbing. What do you think this is? A game? A stunt? This is not some little insurrection, boy. This is my body, and I will have it back.
As Bain remained silent, Deacon ground his teeth together. "I know that it is him, Bain," he said. "I know, because you did not hear him speak just now."
The otter stiffened against him. "You heard him?" he asked.
"Inside my mind, yes. It is not the first time, however this is the first time I have seen him as well." He pulled back from Bain and patted the otter's leg. "Do you think you can stand? I think we need to find Ransley and go. The sooner the better."
Bain blinked in confusion as he fought to stifle a yawn. "It's still the middle of the night, Deacon. Whatever happened to getting rested and seeing if the Ring of Fate's magi stay up all night waiting for us?"
Deacon stood up as steadily as he could and stepped in front of Bain as he offered the otter his paws. "Nothing would make me happier than laying down with you again and going back to sleep," he said as he reached out to gently cup Bain's cheek in one paw. "But I suspect that Oswell would simply torment me with another nightmare, and I want us to hurry up and be rid of him." He shuddered as he remembered his dream, and added, "Before he forces me to do something horrific."
The otter nodded as he turned to regard their room's window. While it was still dark outside, the sky seemed a little lighter than when Deacon had stumbled and thrown himself from the bed. Dawn was coming; his restless sleep had no doubt lasted no more than three or four hours, given when he'd finally fallen asleep in the first place. "You're not doing anything horrific, Deacon," Bain told him as he reached out to take the fox's offered paw. "I forbid it. Okay?"
The fox smirked as he lifted an eyebrow. His tail wagged slightly as he perked an ear. "Since when do you give me orders?" he asked.
"Since now I can do Ahron magic, so I outrank you or something." Bain grunted as he was pulled onto his footpaws again, and his legs wobbled for a moment before he steadied himself. "Ugh. This is gonna take some getting used to, though. I feel so... unsteady."
"You look unsteady." Deacon frowned as he glanced at the bed again. "Did you want to stay here? I could fetch Ransley and bring him in here to talk without you having to go anywhere."
The otter shook his head as he reached out with one of his paws to brace against the wall. "No, it's okay," he reassured Deacon. "I need to figure out how to walk like this. That's all."
As he waved Deacon back, the fox frowned and reluctantly stepped away. He could feel Oswell's amusement as Bain shuffled carefully forward, and that amusement only fed into the fox's own despair. This was the otter he'd done everything for. Everything he could have done, and still he'd failed. He'd failed, and Bain was still going to die.
Deacon closed his eyes as he forced himself to banish that thought as best he could. Oswell was at fault. It was _Oswell's_fault. He was the one who cared so little about Bain that he'd never bothered to craft him a stable body. Oswell's amusement tingled again through the back of the fox's mind, but he remained otherwise silent.
When at last Bain reached the door, he at least seemed to be somewhat more steady on his footpaws. He even let go of the wall as Deacon watched on, ready to catch him if he stumbled again. No stumble came though, and Bain seemed proud as he started carefully out the door and into the hall. "There... see? No big deal."
The fox nodded as he followed him out, but his eyes widened at the sight. The hall looked just like in his dream. The bodies of the monks he'd watched Oswell burn were crisp and blackened down one end of the hall. Vernell's body rested against the floor just outside their room, his eyes open as he lay in a pool of his own thick, congealed blood. A glance down the other end of the hall showed the monk that Oswell has casually struck with his lightning, limp against the wall with a charred hole in the horse's chest.
"Deacon?" The concerned call from Bain snapped the fox's gaze up and off the body of the monk, and he turned to bring Bain's scared-looking face into view. "What is it? Are you alright?"
The fox shook his head as he glanced back toward Vernell's body, but it was gone. All up and down the corridor, all signs of the conflict from his nightmare had vanished. Again came a pulse of Oswell's amusement as Deacon grit his teeth. "I do not think I can be until Oswell is vanquished completely," he growled. "Come along. We really need to get going."
I find it fascinating that you honestly believe you have a chance in this battle to come, whispered Oswell as Bain nodded and started down the hallway. Have you not learned yet? That body is mine. I can influence it as I like.
Deacon lowered his voice as he flattened his ears. "But you cannot control it," he hissed back under his breath.
A chuckle rolled out of Oswell, and Deacon felt the echo of it in his own muzzle. The sensation was more than a little disturbing. Not yet, no, Oswell admitted. But fear not. I am a quick study.
The words only made the fox clench his jaw tighter as he followed Bain back toward the main hall. No matter what Oswell hoped to accomplish, Deacon knew the truth. He was powerless; trapped until such a time as Deacon himself relaxed or let him out. If he had to never sleep again -- to spend every waking moment of the rest of his life alert and ready -- just to keep Oswell trapped? That would be a service to the world.
Oswell himself didn't seem to be fazed at all by the prospect. Pride was never something that Deacon's creator had ever lacked, of course. In spite of it all though, the feeling that came from the splinter in the fox's mind didn't feel like pride. It felt like patience. Acceptance even, as though Oswell were simply waiting for something.
By the time that Deacon and Bain reached the main hall, the repair work performed by the monks overnight had already done wonders. Much of the main hall was functional, even though a great deal of floorspace had been taken up by the corpses of the magi that had fallen. Several more of the monks worked to scrub clean the walls of the blood of the fallen and the carbon of missed flame or lightning strikes. Others continued to sweep aside the rubble or gather the shards of wood strewn about.
Bain headed right toward Vernell, as the fox attended to the altar. He wore a smile that Deacon couldn't understand as he carefully stepped up beside the monk. "Do you need any help with that?" he asked.
Vernell looked confused as he regarded the otter. He turned to bring Deacon back into view, and the magi caught for the first time that morning just how exhausted Vernell looked. He was covered in blood and grime and panted softly with his exertions, to the point where he looked like a shadow of the effervescent fox they'd met only yesterday. "No, but thank you," he replied at last. "You should both still be asleep."
"Yeah, apparently that's not gonna happen," Bain replied with a sigh. He glanced around and cocked his head. "Where's Ransley? Have you seen him?"
But the monk shook his head as Deacon strode up behind Bain. "No, sorry. After he took his mother's body, one of my sisters here said that she saw him vanish in a ball of green light. I think he's taken her home... I doubt he wanted to give his mother her final rites in a place they respect so little."
"And how long has it been since _you_slept?" Deacon asked. There was a ghost of a smile on the monk's face with the question, and Deacon shrugged. "You look like you've been through the hells themselves."
"I suspect the hells would be cleaner," Vernell replied with a quiet chuckle. "We have a duty to this place. The temple must be restored, and I will do my part. You, of course, have a different duty to see to." He nodded toward Bain.
Deacon turned toward the otter, and his eyes widened as he watched Bain brace heavily against the side of the altar. His legs wobbled as Deacon reached out to his shoulder. "Bain?"
"No, I'm fine," Bain grumbled as he slid down against the side of the altar. He shook his head as he ran a paw over his eyes and sighed. "I'm just... I'm tired is all."
Deacon moved closer and knelt down beside Bain. A sigh slipped out of his muzzle as in the back of his mind he heard Oswell's laugh. "It's not exhaustion," he muttered. "It's the degeneration. I know your opening yourself to the Font was draining, but I hoped... I mean, I thought it might protect you. Slow it down... maybe stop it, if we could find the right way."
Bain just shrugged as he closed his eyes. Above them, Vernell took a respectful step back and away. "I wasn't _made_to stop it," he reminded the magi. "Nor were you."
He is right, whispered Oswell's voice through the fox's mind. Again it sounded like it came from behind him, but as Deacon glanced back with a perked ear he could see no manifestation of his creator. Best acclimate yourself to life without the little wretch now, boy. You have not the power to save him.
Again came the quiet laugh, and one of Deacon's paws lifted to dig his fingertips into the side of his head. Claws flexed as the voice continued. You fool. You have learned nothing. Did you honestly believe that you could save him? He was lost the moment we took him from his home. His sacrifice was made years ago. He will die, and that will be that.
"No."
The otter's head lifted with a frown. "No?" he echoed.
Deacon nodded as he growled and shut the voice out. Damn Oswell. Damn everything, just as Ransley had said. He would prove the dead magi wrong. "No," he said again as he forced himself back upright. "I am not going to let you die. No matter what Oswell said or did or thought, you will not die, Bain. I will not allow it."
"Let me know how that goes," Bain replied with a smirk and a roll of his eyes as he leaned into the side of the altar. "You just said my connection to the Font wasn't gonna be enough. You said your healing magic wasn't enough. You said Oswell's healing magic wasn't enough. What else is there?"
The fox opened up his muzzle to reply when a burst of inspiration hit him. A wild grin spread across Deacon's face as he whirled on Bain. "Oswell's magic was not enough, but his _methods_were sound!" he replied. He began to pace back and forth as his mind raced. "Your body wasn't made to survive. Mine was. Obviously your degeneration is a function of your lack of importance so far as he was concerned. At least, your unimportance after he had what he needed from you.
"So... he had the means to craft a body from an original state that could contain a living being's mind and spirit. I am living proof of that." His paws ran across his chest, almost as a reminder that he was still there as he grinned wider. "And he still has your original body within the laboratory! If as I suspect the secondary defensive fields protected it from Haldane's attack and the explosion, it could be intact... along with everything in it! I need only dig it out!"
"But my original body is dead," Bain reminded him. The frown was still set on his face as he looked up at the fox.
Deacon shook his head as he crouched down in front of Bain. "But that doesn't matter! I have a point to work from: your spirit, still in that body. It's a base from which to start. I can use your original form to build you a new body that can house your current self. I can save you, but not with healing magic!" The fox stood back up as he started toward the opposite wall. There were problems, of course.
Bain seemed to have figured that out as well, and he frowned at the fox as he tilted his head to the side. "If it were that easy, why didn't you think of it before now?" he asked.
Deacon worked his jaw from side to side as he stood and resumed his pacing. That was the trouble. "Spirit transference requires impressive quantities of power, Bain. I would need a catalyst... a soul to burn would be the most expedient. That is how Oswell did it, and I must-"
Bain's eyes shot open wide. "Deacon, no!"
"Wh... what?" The fox glanced over at the otter as Bain suddenly cringed back against the altar. "What is it?"
The otter shook his head firmly. "Burn a soul? That's monstrous!"
Deacon's brow furrowed, his eyes alight with new desperation. "What line do you think I will not cross to see you healthy, Bain? What do you think I would not do to ensure your survival? And besides all of that, there are hundreds -- thousands, even! -- of people in this world that are cruel! Absolute evil!" He began to growl as he gestured wildly. "There are hundreds of Oswells out there; to strike them down would be a service to all the world! There is the entire Ring of Fate; magi more powerful than I dreamed that seek our destruction. It's not monstrous. It's pragmatism. Just _one_of them-"
"I said no!" Bain shouted. He grit his teeth as he slid up the altar again, back braced against it as he shook his head hard. "I... gods, Deacon! Do you hear yourself? Listen to what you're saying! You want to burn up someone's soul to save me!"
"Yes! I do!" His voice cracked at the shout, and Deacon felt flame burst to life in his paws for a moment as he clenched his fingers into fists. Heat washed over his face as he flattened his ears, and his paws were consumed in swirling balls of fire. "I figured it out! I have a way to save you now! I don't have to watch you die! I don't have to lose you!" He forced his fingers to uncurl again, and sparks leaped from his fingertips as he fought to bring his desperation under control. His success was only moderate, at best. "I need not sacrifice an innocent to save you. I could burn out a murderer. A rapist. A corrupt magi like Oswell. Their spirits would only be sent to the Underworld, anyway... there are options! Viable, doable options!"
The otter shook his head. "Choices for who you want to murder? Justification for it? That's not you, Deacon. That's Oswell talking. Listen to yourself! Do you really want to do that?" He stared hard at the fox as Deacon folded his arms. "So what happens after that, huh? We go back to our lives, we live them out, we grow old together... and then what? What happens when our bodies just break down from age? Do we go killing people again? Do we murder others so we don't die ourselves? Do you want us to become like Oswell?"
One of the fox's ears perked up slightly again as he held the otter's glare. The flame curled around his paws slowly began to fade to nothing. "Of course I do not want to kill anyone. You know that. And I don't have to." He stepped back for a moment and glanced down as he rubbed across his chest again. "Oswell is still inside me. He's growing stronger. I can feel it. If I could use him I would, but..." Deacon shook his head and took a deep breath. "But... I could use me."
"No. You can't." Bain hugged at his middle all the tighter as he frowned. "I won't let you."
"You could not stop me if you wanted to," Deacon pointed out as the ear drooped back down again. "I could burn myself out to transfer you into a new body. You would live, and Oswell would be vanquished once and for all. I could solve two problems with a single act." He glanced back up at Bain again with a slow nod. "And you know I would. If I would murder for you, then I know that you know I would die for you."
Bain's muzzle curled into a snarl as he marched forward shakily and jabbed a finger into the fox's chest. "Now you listen to me, Deacon," he growled, his voice darker than anything Deacon had ever heard. "I said no. You are not going to hunt down someone to kill and burn out so that I can live. You are not going to sacrifice yourself for me.
"I am going to die, and that is that. Do you understand me? No," he quickly added as Deacon began to look away. He grabbed the magi's chin and forced his head back in place. "I told you. You will not murder someone in my name. You will not die just so I can live. Those choices are both unacceptable."
Deacon held that stare, teeth gritted as he reached up to grab that webbed paw on his chest. He squeezed Bain's paw tight as he stared. "I have lost everything," he whispered, as his shoulders began to slump. The anger and frustration and desperation and rage began to fade. "My home. My life. My family. And... they were never even mine to start with. My home was a prison. My life was false. My family does not exist."
He squeezed tighter at Bain's paw as he felt tears begin to fill his eyes. "The only thing I have ever had in my entire life that has been real is you, Bain. Home was a lie. My destiny was a lie. Oswell was a lie. You have been the only truth in my whole world, and I... I can't..." He shook his head and tilted it down as the tears began to flow. "I... just... can't..."
The fox all but collapsed as Bain pulled him into a hug, and he had to straighten up again as his weight almost forced the weakened otter to the floor. He held on tight as he squeezed his eyes shut. Deacon's chest heaved in deep, silent sobs as he squeezed Bain with all he had. "I'm sorry," he managed to gasp out.
"I know you are," Bain whispered back as he squeezed the fox tight. Over his shoulder, the otter could see that their argument had drawn the attention of every monk in the temple. They stared with concern and sadness in their eyes, before one by one they turned away from Bain's consolation and returned to their tasks. Only Vernell's eyes remained fixed on them, the fox's expression unreadable.
Deacon, for his part, had no control. It was like a dam had been shattered, and all of his emotions had rushed out and overflown. He leaned against Bain so heavily that the weakened otter couldn't support them, and they sank back down toward the ground together. It took Vernell's help to steady Bain from behind to allow the pair to move slowly rather than simply crumple into a mess. "I'm sorry," he hissed again, in between sobs and pants for breath. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
The shake of Bain's head morphed into a gentle, tender nuzzle that ran along Deacon's neck as he squeezed the fox tight. He didn't say a word as he held Deacon close, and the tears that had welled up in his own eyes began to streak down across the fur of his cheeks. He didn't have anything to say. He didn't have to say anything.
Deacon's grip on Bain tightened as he heard Oswell laugh through his mind once again. Enjoy his embrace, boy. It will only make snatching it away from you all the sweeter.
He was about to growl something back, but a tremble in the ground beneath the temple turned his attention elsewhere for a moment. The fox felt a surge of ulurn energy as he pulled his head out of Bain's shoulder in time to catch a dazzling blast of emerald light in the heart of the temple hall. When it faded, Ransley was left in its place.
The ferret glanced around himself before he locked his eyes on Deacon's, and the hardness of his expression softened slightly as he drank in the fox's distraught appearance. "Did something happen while I was gone?" he asked.
Deacon didn't even know how to respond to that. How in the world could he help Ransley understand what he was feeling? Thankfully, he was saved by Bain. "Oswell's just doing what Oswell always does," the otter told him as Deacon closed his eyes again. "He's tormenting Deacon. Making him see things."
That drew concern across the ferret's face, and he frowned as he glanced at Vernell. The monk just shrugged back at him. "So he's gaining more power over you?" he asked as he turned back to Deacon. "Taking over your senses?"
"That seems to be the case, yes," he croaked, and the fox coughed to clear his throat as he winced and tried to steady himself. "We have to go. Sooner, rather than later."
Ransley nodded at Bain. "And how're you feeling?" he asked.
The otter shook his head as Deacon squeezed at his paw. "Tired," he admitted. "Really tired. It's this degeneration thing, or something."
"Yeah, well I think I have something for that." The ferret reached into one of the pockets in his robe and rummaged about for a moment as Deacon watched on. "When I was back home, I found something of my father's. It might... ah. Here we go."
His paw came free with a small, silver ring. He twisted it this way and that in the firelight of the temple, and Deacon caught a glimpse of a green shimmer in its surface. "May I?" he asked. Something else to focus on would be nice, or at least so he figured.
The fox caught the ring as Ransley tossed it over and stared down at it. He ran his fingers across the surface as his ears twitched. The ring definitely gave off an arcane aura; it was steeped in potent ulurn magic that Deacon couldn't identify. "What is it for?" he asked.
Ransley shrugged and nodded to it. "My father crafted that ring for me years ago," he said. "He told me that one day, if I ever needed the energy to fight through any exhaustion, that the enchantment he laid into that ring would give me that energy. It's not much more than a stamina enchantment, but amplified many times over." His tail squirmed as he turned to Bain. "If you're the only one who can kill Oswell, then you better make sure you've got the strength to make it there."
Bain smiled as he stared at the ring, before he looked up at Ransey and nodded once. "You didn't have to do this. I know what your father means to you."
"If you can kill the bastard who took my family away from me, I'd call us even," Ransley replied with a shake of his head. "There's no time for sentimentality. There's no time for hanging onto the past. The ring might help you, and it might give you enough strength to make it through this with us."
"With us?" Deacon echoed as he stood up. Both Ransley and Bain looked confused as he shook his head. "No. There is no way Bain is coming into the heart of the Ring of Fate with us. He stays here."
Ransley blinked in confusion, but Bain beat him to words. "The hells I am. You need all the help you can get in there. I'm not staying here while you rush off to save me."
"You cannot help us stop Oswell if you exhaust yourself to death with your magic before we figure out how to destroy him," Deacon reasoned. "This is not about protecting you from the Ring of Fate, or from Oswell." His voice began to crack again as he firmly shook his head. "You told me I can't save you. You won't let me save you the only way I know I can. At least let me do _this_for you."
The ferret stepped forward with a frown. "Deacon, he must come along." When the fox whirled on him, Ransley raised both his paws. "We won't be able to do anything about Oswell if we don't even make it to the inner sanctum. We won't be able to stop him if we don't take out all of the Ring's resistance before we arrive. His ilaen powers are necessary. If nothing else, his Ahron magic could give us the advantage we need."
"An advantage that will kill him," Deacon growled back. "That is unacceptable."
"Deacon." Bain reached out to gently place his paw on top of one of the fox's. Deacon turned on him to see a determined face stare back. Never had he seen Bain look so driven. "This isn't something you have to do alone. This isn't something you can do alone." His other paw lifted to press against Deacon's chest. "You're fighting Oswell every single second. He's inside you, and I can't even help you stop him there. That's a fight I can't help with.
"But this one? The one you're about to go on?" Bain shook his head and squeezed at Deacon's paw. "You need all the help you can get. So I'm going, whether you like it or not. Maybe I'll be able to help, and maybe I won't... but I have to try." His expression hardened. "Don't forget, these magi were gonna kill me, too. I want to understand why. Don't tell me I can't have that."
Before Deacon could open his muzzle to argue, Ransley spoke. "This isn't a negotiation, fox. You don't know where the Ring makes its home. You don't know the defensive fields that they've erected. I do. I can bring us as close to the inner sanctum as possible, and you don't even know how to get there... let alone breach their defenses. Bain's power is necessary, and we won't make it to the Ring itself without him." He shook his head. "There's no time for sentimentality. We need him, and every advantage we can get."
Deacon locked his eyes on Bain's. The otter seemed completely sure; that certainty boiled off him like steam as he held the fox's stare. Was it the degeneration affecting his judgment? Did he not understand what he was offering to do? "Bain..."
"You can't convince me, Deacon," he replied with another paw-squeeze. "My mind's made up. I'm coming with you. That's the end of it." He nodded to the fox's paw and the ring clutched in it. "May I? Please?"
The fox eyed the ring and turned it over and over between his fingers for a moment before he sighed with defeat. Bain had always been stubborn. As much as he wanted to argue the point and turn him away, there was no point. They didn't have time, and he couldn't argue Ransley's logic. Ahron sorcery on their side might be the difference between success and failure. He closed his eyes as he lifted up Bain's paw and slid the ring slowly onto a finger.
Or he tried, at least. The finger was a little larger than it was on Ransley, and he opened his eyes with a frown as Bain began to chuckle. He frowned at the otter and watched as Bain affected an innocent expression and looked anywhere else, and Deacon sighed again as he shook his head.
He turned the ring over as he looked over Bain's fingers, before he settled on the smallest of them and gently slid the ring on. The webbing between the otter's fingers made it a looser fit than he'd like, but Deacon could only hope it was good enough. It had been crafted for a ferret after all, rather than an otter. "There."
The otter grinned wildly as he glanced up at Vernell and wiggled his eyebrows. Deacon frowned as he glanced up at the monk, who also fought to conceal his smile. "What? What is it?"
It was an exasperated groan from Ransley that came as a reply. "Oh, I get it. The two of you, in a temple, with a ring..." He rolled his eyes as Deacon perked an ear toward Bain. "Stop it, otter. This is no binding ceremony. You know you both can't-"
"Hey, it's probably the closest I'll ever get, so let me have my moment." He smirked at Deacon before he wrapped the fox up tight in his arms. "Maybe it's something we can have a look at when we're all done with this."
"It's not exactly something we're averse to in this temple," Vernell helpfully pointed out. The stare Deacon fixed him with did little to stifle the smile on his muzzle.
In spite of his frustration, Deacon was happy to see at least that Vernell looked more like himself with that smile on his muzzle. "We will worry about such things when this is over and done with," he said as he stood up. Bain followed beside him, and he rose with more ease than Deacon would have expected. The ring must already have helped some. "Ransley? What must we do?"
The ferret stepped forward until he stood between both Deacon and Bain. "Nothing," he replied. "This is something I must do for you. You do not know where to go. I will have to transport us." He glanced at Deacon. "I cannot guarantee we will be safe when and where we land. You must be ready. Both of you." He offered each of them a paw, palm up. "And in advance... I am sorry. Just in case something goes wrong, or they destroy me... I'm sorry for being a part of their plot against you."
"You did the right thing, Ransley," Bain said as he took the ferret's offered paw. "Thank you for not turning against us... thank you for trusting us."
"And thank you for what you're about to do," Deacon added as he gently slipped his paw atop Ransley's. "I know this must be hard for you, but... thank you. Thank you for so much, and for nothing more than seeing me and not... not him."
The ferret nodded softly. "Thank you for not being him," he replied, and squeezed their paws tight. "Are you ready?" he asked as he looked between the pair.
Deacon and Bain both nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, the fox caught Vernell as the monk bowed his head. "The Mother will watch over you all," he said. "Journey safe, and know you all will ever have a place here if you should need it."
Ransley's eyebrow perked as he glanced at Vernell, before he turned to Deacon. Deacon knew the truth in the ferret's eyes. He could feel it roll off the ferret in waves. Ransley didn't expect to come back. Perhaps he didn't expect any of them to come back. "Thank you, Vernell," he replied as he held Ransley's stare. "Perhaps one day we will."
The monk nodded as Deacon felt Ransley squeeze his paw tighter. He watched the ferret close his eyes and felt Ransley's powers snake out and wrap about the three of them. Every inch of the fox's body tingled with the energy as it flooded him, and Deacon felt his stomach lurch as he was whisked away by Ransley's powers.
But even as they vanished into the ether between worlds and distances, Deacon still couldn't shake off Oswell's laughter.
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