Insurrection - Chapter Twelve
#27 of Blood And Water
Blood And Water - Insurrection
Part Four: AERUN
Chapter Twelve
-buckled.
Deacon clenched his jaw as he stared straight down at the floor beneath him. He forced his mind outward with all of his strength as he felt Oswell try to press him back into that splinter in his mind. His creator's will bent as he poured everything into his defense. "No," he growled once more as he felt his arms tingle and flash with electricity.
He could hear Oswell snarl back at him from within his mind as his creator's will rose once more to push him down. Do not make this more difficult than it must be, boy, came the whisper through his thoughts. Deacon clamped his muzzle shut as he felt himself mouth Oswell's words, even if no sound came out. This battle is done. This war is over. Give... back... my... body!
"No!" The shout echoed off the walls as flame billowed out around Deacon. It dissipated before it reached Ransley and Bain, while a swirling firestorm raged around the fox himself. Electricity arced through the vortex as he fell forward and curled tightly into a ball, his arms around his knees and his tail curled down tight. "This is not your body! This is mine! You're already dead!"
As long as you live, I will never die! Oswell roared back. Deacon squeezed at himself tighter even as he felt his head tugged up against his will. It brought Ransley into view, his shield still erected as he stared at Deacon with fear.
Bain too watched on with equal horror. The otter looked weak but awake as he sat up, one arm raised to try and shield himself from the heat and light that poured out around Deacon. He cringed back with a cough, and Deacon could see a trickle of blood that ran from one of the otter's ears. "Bain," he whispered.
His eyes went wide as he felt one of his arms reach out toward the otter. It came unbidden; Oswell had control of the limb. "Ransley!" he yelled, and his voice rippled and resonated with something that was at once himself and yet entirely alien.
"I'm here!" the ferret roared back over the firestorm. "Bain's awake! What do you need?"
Deacon pulled at that arm and bent it away as best he could. Oswell's will stretched out around him, a pounding drumbeat within his skull that chipped away at Deacon and forced him to rigidity to keep himself from moving under his creator's power. "You need to do what we talked about!" he shouted back. Each word came slowly, forced with incredible effort to beat back Oswell's control. "He's taking control! You have to stop me!"
Bain started to sit up, but groaned and slid back down again as Ransley looked over at him. "But Aishah said-"
"He's in no condition!" interrupted Deacon. He grunted, and it turned into a desperate yell as he felt electricity flash in his paw. The bolt launched just as Deacon twisted his wrist aside, and it slammed into one of the sanctum's and showered the ferret in sparks. "Do it! Do it now!"
As torn as the ferret looked as he stared at Deacon, he nodded anyway. There was a moment's relief from Deacon even as Oswell's will resurged again and loosed another bolt. This one drifted closer to Bain, and the otter scrabbled back and away as best he could from the attack. "Hurry!" he roared to Ransley.
But still Ransley hesitated, even as his paws glowed with soft green light. His fingers wriggled as Deacon growled and forced another of Oswell's bolts aside, and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and prevent Oswell from seeing where he was aiming. "Stop waiting!" he screamed. "Do it, gods all! Do it! Save Bain, and kill Oswell!"
The war that raged in the heart of Deacon's mind continued as Ransley still hesitated. It was no battle of magi; it was not thoughts and minds shaped into weapons that struck and clashed like on a physical battlefield. This was will, pure and simply. This was the essence of every thought and feeling that made Deacon what he was, as he fought back Oswell's attempt to purge it and replace it with his own. That pain that radiated outward from the conflict was borne by Deacon alone; Oswell had no form to be injured so. Not unless he took control.
But the mental anguish that filled his whole self overtook the physical trauma by far. It was like every memory in his head was ripped out and torn up as Oswell seated himself in their place. It felt like everything that had ever crossed his mind was wrong and twisted. It was like the spine of his consciousness straightened out from a coil to a line with every vertebrae broken one after another after another. It was torture in the purest, most deeply personal sense, and it did not stop.
Deacon roared as he lifted his head just long enough to slam it down against the marble floor again. The physical pain was almost a pleasant thing by comparison as he writhed within the swirling maelstrom of his and Oswell's combined energies. His paws clawed at the ground as his limbs twitched; wracked by two different wills desperate to assert themselves over it. He gasped and whimpered as he fought to open his eyes again, to try and beg Ransley once more to end it.
And then he saw her.
At first, he thought it must have been Aeola. The hood that covered her face was able to obscure her species and identity perfectly. But she wore no gloves to hide the ebon fur of her paws, and her tightly-fitted robes were equally black rather than the Ring's gray. They bore no symbols of any kind, but were edged with a bright, clean white. It almost cut her figure a divine outline, through the storm of Deacon's overflowing powers.
Deacon might have wondered if it was some manifestation of some god or other, sent to take him to the afterlife. But it became clear as he glanced past her that he was not the only one who saw her. Ransley looked up at her with confusion, and Bain with surprise. "I..." he began, but Oswell stole the words and left his jaw to hang stupidly, soundlessly open.
"Be silent," came a quiet, soft voice from behind that hood as she strode forward. She said not a word more as she walked fearlessly into the swirling mess of arcane energy, and not flame nor lightning seemed to touch even her robes as she approached Deacon. It wasn't until she knelt down that he caught the first, barest hint of her muzzle, though it still gave him no clues to her identity.
When her paw touched his head though, Deacon found himself with considerably more of a clue. Power that he had only felt a couple of times before rushed through him and centered on his mind, and Deacon felt a moment's fear as that Ahron magic surged through him. The fear he realized came from Oswell rather than himself, and within a couple more seconds that fear had been silenced. Oswell was equally silent, banished to the splinter in Deacon's mind once more. The storm of fire and lightning broke instantly, no longer sustained by the war within Deacon's body.
The fox sagged forward and hit the ground again as he went limp and panted for breath. As Oswell screamed and raged within his prison, the paw above Deacon withdrew as its owner straightened up. "Thank..." he started to say, his voice barely more than a rasp. Deacon forced moisture into his muzzle as he worked his tongue around the inside of his mouth before he tried again to say, "Thank... thank you."
The figure above hummed softly to herself as she tilted her head to the side. She said nothing more before she stepped back and turned to start toward Ransley and Bain. Deacon could only watch as the ferret scrambled back and away from the figure. She moved into the space that he had occupied and knelt down beside Bain. Deacon felt a moment's concern and thought to say something, but the expression on Bain's face was one of familiarity rather than fear.
Her paw lowered again to gently press against the burn in Bain's chest. Ransley had not been able to fully heal the damage it seemed, but his skin and his fur quickly sealed up under the soft glow of the Ahronni's powers. Bain smiled up at her, and Deacon could see that blood had begun to run down from the otter's other ear, too. "Thank you," he quietly told her.
"You are welcome, he borne of Ishaq," she replied as she stood once more. "Always and forever welcome."
Deacon's eyes widened as he started to crawl toward the otter. "Aishah?" he asked. Surely it couldn't be.
"No," Ransley said as he shook his head. The ferret stood and moved over to help the weakened Deacon upright as the figure drew back her hood. "Not Aishah. This is the High Seer of the Ring. Cecilie."
When the black-furred wolfess turned back to Deacon, there was a strange little smile that played across her face. Her eyes sparkled, deep blue pools that- The fox blinked and scowled as he watched her smile grow. Her eyes shifted, no longer blue but green. Then gold. Then crimson. Then turquoise. They shifted over and over again; a rainbow's light held inside her gaze. She looked middle-aged, but her multicolored stare and knowing smile sent unease right down his spine. "Thank you... Cecilie."
"I knew Aishah," she said as she backed into the inner sanctum. "Knew her well. Hundreds of years I kept her secret. Kept watch. Waited. Waited for the river of blood to flow to her door."
Deacon frowned and glanced at Ransley. The ferret just shrugged. "Hey, I didn't know she was Ahronni. I didn't even know what Ahron magic felt like until Aishah. Cecilie was always this crazy."
The wolfess smiled as she tilted her head back the other way. She continued backward into the sanctum as she waved Deacon to follow. "Insanity often is that which one has not the vision to perceive," she remarked as she strode to the table. There she turned slightly and allowed one of her paws to gently run across its surface.
Rather than head right in, Deacon instead moved to Bain's side. He reached down to help the otter up, his ears folded back. "I'm... sorry I almost lost control." Even as he said the words, he felt Oswell push up against him again. The fox winced as he forced him back down.
"You do not have time, vessel," came Cecilie's sing-song call from within the chamber. "Come. The end of Oswell is nigh, but not if you linger. He will not be held silent for long."
Ransley immediately strode into the chamber after her, while Deacon helped the weaker Bain to follow. "You stopped him from taking control of me?" Deacon asked as he looked about.
The inner sanctum of the Ring of Fate was a massive, round chamber, several times as large again as the hub had been. Torches lit by arcane flame burned in sconces mounted upon the walls. The light they shone over the room was dimmed only by its pure size, but they managed to light up the opal orbs and massive, blood-red tapestries that adorned the walls. The tapestries it seemed were spaced almost randomly.
At least until Deacon scanned the table in the heart of the room. There rested several more of them, draped over the chairs that wound around the table. Each wall-mounted length of fabric matched with one of the chairs, each one with a unique symbol.
"The family crests of the magi that comprise the Ring of Fate," Cecilie answered the unspoken question. "Long after their care fades and their power corrupts, they cling to the old and the familiar like cubs." Her gaze dipped as she rounded the table.
It took a little longer for Deacon and Bain to realize what had taken her attention. It was Lady Kan, the dragoness sprawled across the floor. Red drooled from the corner of her muzzle as her broken body lay still. Her eyes were open wide, her neck twisted at an odd angle and one of her horns seemed to have snapped off somewhere as she'd landed. "Ransley said they were fighting for a reason," Deacon said.
The last word was almost swallowed up by a grunt, and both Deacon and Bain tumbled toward the ground as the fox lost his balance. They only barely caught each other as they sank more slowly down, new pain in Deacon's head. "As are you," Cecilie replied, though her voice sounded distant as Oswell rose up within him again. "Everyone fights for a reason. You fight for your survival."
"My life was sacrificed a long time ago," Deacon countered as he looked up at Ransley. "No more hesitation. You have to do it now."
"I couldn't," he said as he shook his head. He glanced over at Cecilie as her smile twitched. "I mean, I tried. I think she stopped me. My powers just... didn't work."
The seer walked right up to the edge of the table before she began to climb up atop it. She crawled across its surface as Deacon shook his head. "You have to let him kill me," he told her, and he frowned as she completely ignored him. "You have to know what Oswell will do. Please. If you're not going to trap him again-"
"The Ring believes that Fate itself answers to them," she said as she continued to ignore his pleas. "That they share a relationship with it. That it heeds their efforts. They believe that they give to Fate, and they take of Fate. They believe that as they bend, so too does Fate bend." She turned her gaze on Deacon as her smile grew. "Fate does not bend. Fate does not negotiate. Fate is fate. It happens as it intends to happen and and does not happen any other way. It does not happen because they will it, and it does not happen because they see it."
"But they don't see it, do they?" Bain asked. His voice was quiet, but Cecilie obviously heard him. Her eyes zeroed in on the otter as Deacon frowned. "You're their High Seer. They didn't know you were Ahronni, did they?"
Her smile turned softer still as she sat up on top of the table. "Simple arcana cannot pierce the veil of the future. They had nowhere near the power necessary to view Fate. For a few chosen Ahronni, though... such a thing is trivial."
"You're timeless," Deacon said, and he winced as another wave of pain washed over him. Oswell's insistence grew stronger within him as he closed his eyes for a moment. "Just like Aishah. That's how the Ring sees the future. They do not... you do."
Behind Cecilie, the pit set in the heart of the table flared to life. Brilliant green flame rose high into the chamber, and it swirled as if carried by some unfelt wind as Cecilie's eyes shifted to match their hue. "Their visions do not come from some magical fire pit, but from me," she said, and the flames climbed higher into the darkness as their light shone across the entire chamber. "Few Ahronni remain, but we timeless go where we are needed to maintain the balance of the world. We feel its call through the Ahl Surven, and we answer."
"Then why would you join the Ring of Fate?" Deacon asked. He grunted once more and shook his head as his vision blurred. He could feel Oswell's claws inside his mind, and they tore at him as he fought to be free. "Why help them do anything?"
Cecilie tilted her head back and chuckled quietly as she leaned back toward the flames. "The Ring of Fate -- _each_of the Rings of Fate -- have the power to condemn the world, or to save it," she replied. "I see time lay out before me, and I impart to them that which they must see to apply that power correctly. I temper their sword when I can. I lament when I cannot. I guide toward what must be. I direct them from what must never be."
Ransley took a step forward and placed his paws on the edge of the table. He looked not at Cecilie but at the flames themselves, restored once more. "You impart what they must see, but not necessarily what must be," he mumbled.
Her smile favored the ferret, even as he shied away from it. "And now I stay your paw, because you must see. You have not seen that which you must for Fate to be met." Her gaze flashed as she turned to Deacon and crawled along the table. "Come," she said as she offered him her paw. "Take hold. Know your demon. Know his plot. Understanding awaits you."
Oswell's efforts redoubled, as a ghost of his voice rippled through Deacon. He couldn't make out the words as suppressed as he was, but he could hear the desperation in them. He was livid; screaming at Deacon to release him. He was bound once more, even if temporarily, by the one power in the world he feared. That was the power Deacon was offered.
The fox held his breath and closed his eyes as he took Cecilie's offered paw, and the universe fell away from him.
When Deacon opened his eyes again, he wasn't Deacon.
It wasn't so much that he was someone else. Oswell hadn't taken control; in fact, the constant pressure of his creator's attempt to take control of his body was completely, mercifully absent. Instead, he found himself looking at his own face. It was a little younger; his eyes were brighter, even though they stared dutifully at the floor. His robes were pristine, his fur immaculately groomed and his paws were clasped tightly together before him.
Then the rest of the room came into focus and Deacon started to understand. He was back in the laboratory beneath Oswell's manor again, impossible as that seemed. There was no sign of any damage from Haldane's attack. In fact, it seemed just the way it had years ago. He wasn't actually back in the manor at all, he realized. The fox was there, but not as himself. Deacon felt like an invisible cloud; an observer outside of time. He was seeing things as they had been.
Cecilie was showing him the past.
The fox felt himself frown as he looked around. It all looked so very familiar. The central pillar of deep red stone, the white, egg-like stasis pods mounted within, the various tables filled with exotic alchemagical equipment, the bloodstains not quite completely cleaned from the floor... a shiver wound through him at the sight. This was how it had always been.
The sound of approaching steps drew Deacon's attention, but not that of his younger self. The younger Deacon kept his head down, though his ears twitched back slightly as Oswell approached. "I trust you have a good reason for bothering me in the middle of the night, boy," he growled as he stomped past his creation.
"Beg pardon, father," Deacon watched himself say. "I simply wanted to make a request regarding Bain, if it would please you."
Oswell sighed as he gripped tightly at the edge of one of the tables. "It would not," he grumbled as he snatched up a small rod that pulsed with soft light. "Your studies have not yet reached a point where you are of any use to me regarding the information I must extract from the otter. I do not care why _you_care so much about some peasant." He turned and arched an eyebrow, one ear perked. "Go on. Speak. Explain yourself."
The younger Deacon blinked as he glanced up for the barest moment. "I only mean, sir, that he is entered into our care. I could not sense him within his room. We must-"
"Our care?" Oswell interrupted with a frown. "Truly?"
With wide, fearful eyes, the younger Deacon quickly bowed his head and cringed back. Deacon could remember the fear that had run through him at his father's -- his creator's -- glare. "Into your care, sir," he quickly replied as he bowed lower. "You saved his life. I... merely put him in a position where he was in danger. I failed him, and... and I failed you."
"And you shall remember that lesson well, should I ever place him in your care again." The words were a deep growl, and Oswell shook his head as he turned away again. "Young Bain shall be well accommodated so long as he is with us."
"But he is... I mean..." Again Oswell scowled, and the younger Deacon cringed away again even as he fought to find the right words to express himself. "I only mean that he is not in his room, sir. If he has wandered off and left the manor-"
"Bain is here, boy," Oswell said. He waved a paw toward the stone pillar. "I took him from his room as he slept and I entered his body into stasis. He sleeps within one of these pods while I work to ascertain the full extent of his physical and magical makeup." His eyes narrowed. "I do what is necessary for the greater good of my research and the world itself, boy. You think you know better than me how to conduct myself?"
The younger Deacon shook his head. "No, sir."
"Do you think yourself my equal in the field of magical healing studies, boy?"
"No, sir. Of course not."
The smaller fox yipped as Oswell reached a paw out toward him, and the younger Deacon found himself pushed back into the wall and pinned there by the older magi's will. Oswell ignored him for a moment before he sighed. "I had hoped that you would have been less trouble at this point," he muttered.
Deacon watched on in confusion. This was not how the conversation had gone. Even as he watched his younger self struggle against Oswell's pinning force, he remembered clearly the events that had transpired. Oswell had struck him physically; a backhanded strike across his muzzle that had left him tasting blood. He'd then been ordered to go back to sleep and trust in his father and master, and he'd rushed off entirely too happy to obey.
But that was not what he saw happening. Instead, Oswell strode over to the younger fox with the rod in his paw. He looked Deacon over with a shake of his head. "Too many questions at too critical a juncture. Powerful enough to be a threat, but not smart enough to help me advance the otter. How frustrating."
"Father, I don't-"
"Silence." Oswell's empty paw came up to grip at the younger Deacon's forehead, and he yanked it forward as he brought the rod up and placed its glowing head against the back of Deacon's neck. "I considered this while back in the village," he continued as he ran the rod's tip up along the back of the younger fox's neck and to the base of his skull. "I dismissed it when we returned, only to be forced to reconsider again as I examined Bain."
The younger Deacon slowed his struggle and began to whimper pitifully instead as he allowed his creator to do as he wished, whatever that was. Deacon himself watched on, morbidly fascinated and confused in equal measure. "Sir, please. I-"
"Silence, I said," Oswell snapped, and he pressed the rod harder against the back of Deacon's head. "You are not ready to fulfill your purpose in what is yet to come. Bain will require more work than necessary and you?" The glow from the rod intensified as the same glow seeped into Oswell's gaze. "You, my son, must sleep... and you will not remember a thing."
There was a flash from Oswell's eyes that was mirrored in the rod, and then all of a sudden the younger Deacon's eyes rolled back in his head. He hung limp from the wall, held there only by Oswell's powers. As the older magi lifted the rod away again, he started back over to a larger table and mentally tugged Deacon's limp form along with him.
Pay attention, vessel, whispered Cecilie from what sounded like every angle. Understanding comes.
Understanding of what? Deacon asked. His voice -- thoughts? -- echoed as he watched Oswell lay his younger self down upon the table. What are you showing me?
But Cecilie had no more words to offer. Deacon was left to watch as Oswell reached down under the table to take a hold of another rod, this one with a painful-looking sharpened point to one end. A flick of Oswell's wrist extended that point, and the fox's eyes widened as he caught a crystalline glint in its heart. An arcarnum shard?
He drifted closer as Oswell pressed his paw to the back of the rod. The older magi winced as a metal spike shot suddenly up and through the back of his paw, but he gave no other sign of pain. The spike split into three fingers that slammed down over the back of his paw and held him in place, and the crystal lodged within the spike at the other end of the rod began to pulse with yellow light.
Understanding and dread began to fill Deacon as he watched Oswell hold the spike steady against the base of the fox's skull. Oswell took a deep breath as his fingers clenched around the base of the rod, before the crystal flashed and was driven, along with the spike, right beneath Deacon's brain.
He felt an echo of pain, intense and unimaginable from the penetration for a moment as the spike withdrew without the crystal. Healing warmth flooded out from the arcarnum shard and sealed the wound before Deacon could even be sure he'd seen blood at all. There was no scar. There was no mark. There was no sign of the implanted crystal. The deed was done. Oswell's preparation of him was complete.
Then he watched on as Oswell, his younger self and half of the lab vanished. Their forms disintegrated into dust that swirled around the pillar, before it settled down again. Oswell was reformed, but the dust that had made Deacon and some of the equipment transmuted instead into Bain, still asleep in one of the stasis pods. More pods filled the pillar as Deacon watched on.
He knew what was about to happen. Disgust and revulsion and horror filled the fox as he observed Oswell withdraw the same implantation rod that he'd used on Deacon's younger self. Once more the spike at the bottom extended to reveal a small arcarnum shard, and once more the top rose to plunge into Oswell's paw and lock in place. The procedure repeated as Deacon looked on, and Oswell smirked down at the otter in the pod as he maneuvered the shard into position. "Tomorrow, little otter," he whispered to Bain as he drove the crystal down into his head. "Tomorrow you will awaken, and the final preparation will begin."
Once more the spike withdrew as the arcarnum shard flashed and healed the wound. Oswell patted the side of Bain's stasis pod as it sealed itself back up and began to lift back toward the pillar. It dissolved along with Oswell, and slowly the rest of the laboratory as well. Do you see, vessel? came Cecilie's voice once more. Does what you have seen change your mind?
No, Deacon replied as the vision before him faded in a swirl of light. No, it does not change my mind.
Gods help me; it changes the cost.
Deacon did not open his eyes when he felt the world settle back into being around him. They remained closed as he felt Bain's familiar warmth at his side, and Cecilie's paw in his own. He withdrew from her grip slowly and immediately wrapped his arms tight around the otter. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.
"What is it? Why?" He couldn't see Bain's confusion, but he heard it in the otter's voice as he leaned into Deacon's embrace.
He took a slow breath as he held Bain for only a few moments more. The fox leaned back and forced his eyes to open as he felt Oswell stir inside him once more. The reprieve had been nice, but that pressure was back again, and it felt more intense than ever. "I saw... what she needed me to see," he replied. His voice sounded odd; strained more than he would have expected. It was like Oswell had attempted to stall his words. "What I had to, to understand."
"And now you know why you cannot simply sacrifice yourself," Cecile said with a somber nod. She crawled to the edge of the table and slid off before she started toward the double doors. "I have done what I had to do. I must go."
Even as Deacon nodded, Ransley frowned and glanced between them. "You can't just go!" he insisted. "Deacon needs help! We need to stop Oswell! We need-"
"The vessel knows what must be done, and I cannot help further," Cecilie interrupted. Her voice was even and quiet, without even a hint of emotion. "My fate lies elsewhere. Their fate lies here." With that, she drew the hood back up over her head and strode out of the chamber.
Ransley watched her go as he shook his head. "Fat lot of good she did," he muttered as he walked over to Deacon. "What did you see?"
Even as Ransley asked the question, Deacon felt a new surge from Oswell. With Cecilie's task done, her power to bind Oswell was fading. He'd begun to fight through it, and Deacon felt his limbs twitch as his creator tried harder to assert control. It would only be a matter of time if he was not stopped. "I need your daggers," he growled, the words once more forced out from his muzzle.
"Surely I could just kill you with magic if I had to," Ransley suggested.
Bain looked horrified as he looked between the two. "You're not killing Deacon," he flatly said, though his voice sounded more breathy than usual. "Alright? You understand? You are not killing him."
"No, I'm killing Oswell," Ransley replied with a shake of his head.
"No, you are not," Deacon corrected him. He grit his teeth as he grunted and shook his head. "You cannot...cannot just kill me. Not after what he did..." He lifted an arm, and one shaking paw reached back to trace over the back of his neck. There was nothing he could feel there, but he could sense it. He could feel it. That splinter in the back of his mind was the magical component -- the arcane counterpart to what was physically buried beneath his flesh.
Even as Ransley looked on with confusion, Deacon turned to Bain. The otter still looked confused, but his face was gradually filled with greater and greater quantities of fear. "Before we killed him the first time... Oswell did something to us," he explained. "He put something in us... an arcarnum shard."
As Deacon grunted and closed his eyes to shut out Oswell's efforts again, Bain squeezed him tight. "That's one of those big crystals that stores magic, right?" he asked.
"Oh, he didn't," Ransley snarled. "Tell me he didn't."
"Didn't what?" Bain snapped as he rubbed over Deacon's back. The fox had begun to tremble uncontrollably with the struggle to contain Oswell.
Ransley's sigh hissed out between his teeth. "The magi of Talmaruk have a place. It's called Shardpoint. It's simple... just a pillar, really, but it's composed entirely of arcarnum crystal. A solid pillar of it, about the height of a large building. It's the largest arcarnum shard in the world." His eyes narrowed as he stared at Deacon. "Arcarnum shards don't just store magic. Shardpoint is a prison."
"A prison? How?" Bain shook his head. "How can a pillar be a prison?"
"You take out the spirit and the mind," Deacon snarled as he felt his claws grip at Bain's back. He had to fight to keep them from plunging into his flesh as Oswell desperately pushed forward. "You store them in the crystal. No physical form, no control... it is eternal torture."
Ransley nodded. A glance up showed Deacon that the ferret understood, too. "But shards can spit out what they store," he added with a shake of his head. "I guess the shards in you two aren't big enough for all of Oswell?"
Deacon's head jerked in a twitchy nod. Oswell's screams filled his ears as their battle raged within. "His mind... is here. In me. But his spirit..." Deacon sighed as his eyes flicked to Bain. "That is... that's in you."
The otter didn't understand, though. "But without one, he's done. Right?" His voice sounded hopeful, but Deacon could see the fear on his face. He'd already begun to suspect what the fox and ferret already knew.
As Deacon struggled to recover his voice, Ransley took over for him. "Shards can be overflowed, Bain," he said. "I'd guess he enchanted and bonded them so that if he died, his self would be split into two. Half for each shard. Then, if one of you died-"
"The part of him in the dead one would jump to the other," Deacon finished. He forced his arms to release Bain, and he had to push the otter back as he tried to lean back into the fox. "Your Ahron lineage, Bain... it protects you from this. From him trying to take control... like what he's doing to me." He shook his head again. "But even if he takes me over... he's... he's not whole. Not until you die. When you die, his spirit leaps into this shard. It overflows, and then..." His words faded into a gutteral growl as he keeled over and slumped to his side on the floor.
"So even if you die, what? He takes _me_over?" Bain looked up at Ransley and shook his head. "But my Ahron-"
"It's not strong enough to protect you from Oswell's consciousness if he manifests completely within you," Ransley replied before Bain could even finish asking. "He'll be in your body. If we'd killed Deacon, Oswell wouldn't have been stopped. He'd be alive, and in your body... with your Ahron powers. Gods alone know what he could do with that, even with what little time your body has left."
"Or you'd die... from the degeneration," Deacon added as he wheezed for breath. It had become harder to even do something so simple as breathe as he focused on shutting Oswell out. "Then he'd... he'd have me. Either way... he wins."
"I don't believe that!" Bain yelled at him before he turned to Ransley. "There has to be a way to stop him. Maybe if we remove those shards...?"
Ransley shook his head again. "There's no time for that now, and the strain of trying might kill either one of you. Then we have the same problem."
"I refuse to believe that we've come this far for nothing!" The anger seethed off Bain as he glared at Ransley. "We need to find another way to stop Oswell! There's gotta be something we can do!"
The ferret nodded. He continued to stare at Deacon, and the fox nodded to him. "Yes. There is a way to stop him," he replied, as he reached into his robes.
His paws emerged with the twin daggers in his grip. Bain frowned at them for a moment before his eyes widened. "We don't sacrifice Deacon to kill Oswell," he whispered.
Ransley shook his head. "No. And we don't sacrifice you to kill Oswell."
"We both sacrifice to stop him," Deacon finished as he groaned in pain. He writhed against the stone ground as he squeezed his eyes shut. "We both... have to die... at the same time."
"To make sure that his mind and spirit have nowhere to go," Ransley added. The ferret shook his head as he squeezed his mother's weapons tighter. "I'm so sorry."
Deacon shook his head even as Bain looked up at Ransley with pleading, tear-filled eyes. "No. No! Tell me there's another way. Please. There has to be another way!"
"Give them to me," Deacon rasped. He rolled slowly onto his back as he reached up with both quaking arms. "Go. Give us... some time alone."
Bain sat back and stared blankly forward as Ransley reluctantly crouched down beside Deacon. He hesitated as he looked down at the daggers, before he finally flipped them over and offered them to the fox. "You deserve better than this," he growled. "I said it before. I mean it still."
The fox forced as much of a smile to his muzzle as he could as he nodded up at Ransley. "Want to... trade places?"
"I don't mean it that much." Ransley smirked as he watched Deacon's attempt at a laugh turn into a grunt of pain. He dropped one of the daggers and the ferret shook his head. "Anything more I can do for you?"
"You've... done enough." He reached up with his empty paw and offered it to the ferret. "Thank you. Thanks for... everything you did, and... everything you tried to do. Thank you, Ransley."
The ferret stared at the offered paw for a moment before he gingerly took it into a firm grip. "It was nice to meet you... Deacon. Good luck." He squeezed at the fox's paw before he let go and stood up. He turned to Bain for a moment, but the otter continued to sit with a shell-shocked expression on his face.
"Go, Ransley," Deacon said again as the ferret hesitated. "It's... it's okay. You should go."
"Yeah. I guess I should." He nodded to Deacon and gave a sad little smile. "See you in the next life, fox," he said, before he stepped back and turned away.
Deacon watched him go as another wave of pain rushed through him. His paw squeezed tight at the dagger he'd kept a hold of as he looked it over. The blades and points were sharp. It wouldn't take much more than finding the right spot. Oswell's roars of dissent grew louder within him, and they came with increased fervor to his struggle. He knew what was coming. Deacon felt a moment's pride as he felt Oswell's concern. His fear. Oswell was scared.
"Deacon?"
He looked up from the dagger to see that Bain had picked up the other one. He turned the identical blade over and over in his paws as he stared down at the fox through tear-filled eyes. "I don't... I mean, we-"
"I wanted to save you," replied Deacon. He shifted the dagger from one shaking paw to the other as he reached out to Bain. The otter took his paw and held it tight as he leaned in closer. "All I wanted... was to save you. I failed. I failed you. I'm sorry."
Those tears ran down Bain's cheeks as he shook his head hard, loosed by the vigorous motion. "I told you, I was never going to survive," he replied. "Not after Oswell. Not after what he did to me... to us. Gods, I knew I was going to die, but you..." The lips of his muzzle curled as he fought to hold back sobs. "I thought you'd live. I thought you'd make it... that I'd stop Oswell and save you before I..."
The fox smiled as best he could as he watched Bain hang his head. "None of that," he whispered back. "You _did_save me. Remember? When you woke in the manor... when we met the first time?" He squeezed as tight as he could manage at the otter's paw. "You remember me... what I was like. What Oswell did to me... remember?"
Bain nodded, and Deacon gave his paw another squeeze. "I would have... been married off to help his cause. I'd be_him. I'd be gone and I'd... I'd never have really... really known you. What you did for me? What you helped me feel?" He sighed and shook his head as he felt his fight with Oswell take its toll. More and more of his focus was devoted to retaining control, and his muscles began to weaken with his mental fatigue. "I was... I was dead before you, Bain. I didn't live, not until you came into my life. Not until you... you showed me what life was worth. I was dead... long ago. You helped me _live."
He wasn't ready for the weight of the otter against his chest as Bain leaned down and wrapped him in a tight hug. He wrapped his other arm around Bain and squeezed him as best he could, though his arm mostly rested limp against the otter's back. "The first time we... you said I'd just know."
"Know what?" Bain asked. He trembled as he squeezed the fox tight.
Deacon smiled through the pain and torment as he leaned into the otters embrace. "Your mother told you. She said... it was something you just knew. Like a hug... just when you think about someone. Like feeling safe, even... even if everything's full of danger. Like belonging." He squeezed the otter tighter still. "I belong, Bain. I belong with you, and I never said it. Of the whole world... I belong here with you, no matter what." He nosed up toward along the otter's cheek as he smiled a little wider. "I love you, Bain," he whispered into the otter's ear.
That ear twitched as Bain buried his tear-soaked face into Deacon's neck. "I... I love you too, Deacon," he mumbled back. "And if this all has to end... I'm just glad I'm with you." Deacon nodded wordlessly back as the pair held each other for only a few moments more. A grunt of pain from Deacon finally drew Bain back. He stared down at the fox in concern as tears fell atop Deacon's robes. "Is... is he...?"
Deacon inhaled sharply as he nodded and leaned his head to the side. His paw slid across the stone floor to brush the dagger, but he couldn't bring his fingers up to close around it. His brow furrowed with confusion as he growled weakly at the weapon, but he couldn't even focus his mind enough to conjure it to him.
Thankfully, Bain plucked it gently up and helped to set it in the fox's paw. He squeezed it tight as Bain patted the back of that paw and took a deep breath. "How... I mean... how do we do this?" he asked.
The fox's breaths became ragged as Oswell poured everything had into Deacon. He pushed back as best he can, but it was fighting the tides themselves. Sooner rather than later, he would be swept away. "H-here," he said, as he reached over with his empty paw. He gently took Bain's dagger paw and guided it to his chest. He let go when the tip rested just over his heart, and he winced with the effort it took to bring his own blade up to Bain's chest. "I guess when you're ready... we go. Together."
"Together." Bain nodded and swiped his arm across his muzzle as he sniffled. He looked down at the point pressed against his chest and the way Deacon's arm shook. "Are you ready?" he asked as his voice began to tremble.
Deacon watched as new fear -- _mortal_fear -- spread across the otter's face. As ready as he might have been to die before, he faced the edge right then. It was different to see it before him than to know it was eventually coming. His paw shook with his grip on his dagger in a wholly different way than Deacon's did.
And as he looked up into the otter's eyes, Deacon felt himself hesitate. He grit his teeth as he fought back tears of his own. How could he? How could he strike the otter down? Oswell had told him, what felt like ages ago. He'd said that Bain would be looking into Deacon's eyes as Deacon killed him. Even in the end -- even to stop Oswell himself -- Oswell had still been right. He'd still achieved some measure of victory over them. Bitterness rushed through Deacon as he forced Oswell back, but to limited effect. His strength gathered for one last push, and Deacon didn't know if he could stop it.
But as he squeezed his eyes shut and opened his muzzle to tell Bain to do it, his muscles froze. His arm locked up. Everything Oswell had went into holding his blade at bay, and Deacon could only gasp as he felt that final act of defiance of Oswell held back. "I... I can't," Deacon stammered. His body shivered as he fought to move the arm again. "I'm not... not strong enough. He won't... Bain... I can't...!" He struggled again to drive the dagger forward, new desperation that overcame his unwillingness. He'd waited too long. Oswell was taking control. "Oh, gods; I can't-"
"I... I know," Bain replied. Deacon looked up with new fear at the otter, surprised by the steadiness of his voice. Bain looked down and over the fox's broken body as his grip on his dagger firmed for a moment. "It's okay, Deacon," he said as he squeezed at the fox's paw.
Then he let go, and he lifted his paw to press against the back of Deacon's held dagger. He drew it in again until the point rested against his chest, and he took a deep breath as he lined it up. "It's okay," he said again as he stared into the fox's eyes. "Don't worry, Deacon. It's okay... you don't have to do it.
"Let me."
Even so far down the winding corridor of the Ring of Fate's lair, the explosion could be heard and felt in equal measure. Ransley turned from his dutiful march away from the sanctum when it happened, his eyes wide as the thunderous boom shook every inch of the complex. There wasn't even a moment of hesitation before he turned fully back the way he'd come and ran back toward Deacon and Bain.
By the time he made it to the inner sanctum's doors he could see more clearly the maelstrom that had erupted within. A tiny pair of forms on the ground lay limp together as the flames in the heart of the Ring launched high into the air. They swirled with energy as it poured out of both crumpled bodies and flashed through the flames, until every ounce of that energy was swallowed up. The green flame turned yellow as electricity crackled through it, and the flames themselves climbed higher and higher as they took on the shape of a fox's head.
A roar of pain and rage and defeat shattered the opals mounted on the walls. It rippled the air with its force and knocked Ransley clear off his footpaws. Every chair around the Ring's table was launched by the blast as the head collapsed in on itself, and an explosion of lightning and flame expanded outward to caress the top of the table. The echo of that howl remained for a few moments longer as heat rushed over Ransley's face, and it carried with it a tingle that sent a chill up his spine and set his tail to mad twitching.
When he could sit up, the ferret stared into the darkened sanctum. The flames were out again. There was no light from the opals, nor the torches. The tapestries that had been draped over the chairs had scattered with the chairs themselves. Those on the wall were mostly intact, though a couple had caught fire in the wake of the explosion.
And there, on the floor in the darkness, lay Deacon and Bain.
Ransley was by their side in an instant. He could feel even before he reached them that they both were gone. Their chests were still, pierced and bloody; neither the fox nor the otter drew breath. They lay side by side on the floor, face to face with their eyes closed. Each held the dagger that was buried in the other, and the blades themselves hummed with the spent magical energies.
But there between them rested their other paws, tightly squeezed together. Their fingers were entwined, not even broken by the eruption of all of that power. The ferret bowed his head in respect as he knelt down before the pair. Even in death, they had not given Oswell an inch. They had not been broken by him.
While the sense of Oswell's power pervaded the sanctum in the wake of that eruption, Ransley allowed himself a moment to relax. The mad magi was, at last, gone. The traces of his power that were left were nothing more than arcane residue. He'd run out of plans and plots and, just as they had before, Deacon and Bain had stopped him.
The cost weighed on the ferret as he closed his eyes. The Ring had been destroyed. Deacon and Bain had been lost. He was alone. The ferret had nowhere to go; nothing to do. He could only kneel there beside his friends and shake his head.
There was only one thing he could think to do at the moment; only one thing that made sense to him. As he bowed his head low, the ferret placed a paw on either of their heads and sighed. "Mother Almighty, I beg of you. Take these two into your embrace and hold them close. They have given everything for your world and its protection.
"Please... let them rest well together."
Epilogue
"Why?"
Ransley frowned as he sat and stared out across the island of Lamis. From the entrance to Aishah's cave, he could see nearly the whole island bathed in the light of the setting sun. He could see the beach as it wound along the ocean. He could even see the island of Silas, not too far off the Lamis coast. "Why what?" he grumbled as he leaned against the side of the volcano. The stone felt particularly uncomfortable that afternoon.
Vernell drifted into view as he sat down beside Ransley. The fox curled his tail up into his lap as he regarded the view with a perked ear. "You have come up here every day for the last two months. You come down in the morning to help our farmers with their crops, and then... you sit. All day. All night. Why?"
Ransley's eyes narrowed as he watched a ship set sail just off the edge of Silas. Every day, Vernell came to ask that question. Every day, Ransley's patience for it waned further. "I have nothing else," he replied after a moment. "I still don't have a rutting answer, Vernell. Stop asking it."
"I think it's penance." The fox leaned back as he lifted his arms over his head and stretched slowly. "I think you feel the weight of your sins and are looking for a way to absolve them."
"Your Mother tell you that, did she?" he replied with a roll of his eyes. "If she were so powerful and just, Deacon and Bain would be alive and Oswell would not. My mother would still be alive. They'd all still be alive. But no... no, they're all dead and your goddess just watches. How worthy of devotion she is."
Vernell simply shrugged as he glanced at the ferret. "You are not upset with Her, Ransley," he said, his voice suddenly gentle. "And She knows it, too. That's why I'm here."
The ferret snorted as he shook his head. "Yeah? Good for you, and good for her. I don't have any sins I need to beg her forgiveness for."
With a smile, the fox perked his other ear as he turned to face Ransley. "And what of the sins you need to beg your own forgiveness for?" he asked.
That drew a deeper frown across Ransley's face, and he forced himself upright as he folded his arms. "You don't know me, fox," he growled. "I get that you think you do, but you don't."
"Nonsense." Vernell leaned in a little closer and stared into the ferret's eyes. "You feel guilty. You lament that you could not have done more for them. You wish you could go back and set things right. Help them from the start. Know what you know now, and use that foreknowledge to protect them. Maybe find a way to save them both."
"Can't change the past," muttered the ferret.
"But you can affect the future," Vernell pointed out. "You can do more in their name by venturing beyond this place than you can by wallowing in your own defeat. You have a great future ahead of you, Ransley. You simply have yet to realize it.
Again he snorted as he glared at the monk. "Got my future all planned out for me now, do you?" he asked. "All ready down in your temple to have me take your vows?"
Vernell simply smiled. "No. But I have somewhere to go... places to be. I have a mission I must undertake, and I could use a traveling companion. Someone who knows magic could be useful, and the journey could be good for you, too."
"Pass, thanks," the ferret immediately replied as he waved a paw. "I'm sure your temple matron or whatever would be happy to help."
"That's not her journey to make, Ransley," Vernell said. "There is much in the world that is wrong. It teeters on the brink of chaos and destruction. The Advent that you said your former masters feared? The Mother knows it is coming still. She's afraid of it as well." He reached out and offered the ferret his paw. "We need you. I need you."
Ransley shook his head more firmly. "What part of 'no' do you not quite grasp, fox? You don't need me. The last time people needed my help, they died and I lost everything I had ever known. You don't need me, and you'd best not want me."
"Not even for your father?"
The suggestion whipped Ransley's head around as he stood quickly. "Do not speak a word of him," he hissed as he glared at the monk. Why had he told Vernell all that had happened at the Ring? "He died. He is dead, no matter what Kan had to say about it."
"He is not dead, Ransley," Vernell insisted. He let his arm drop back to his side as he slowly stood alongside the ferret. "He has become something else. Something terrible. There will come a time, very soon, when he must be met. Faced." He tilted his head to the side and smiled. "You could be there for that, Ransley. You could meet him again, if nothing else. Would you not want that?"
The ferret's muzzle twisted in a deep scowl as he stared hard at the fox. "Kan said they did to him what Oswell did to himself. If that's right, then he's not my father anymore. He's something else, twisted and... and at _best_he's a shadow of who he used to be. At worst, he's another Oswell. Why would I want anything to do with someone like that?"
Vernell continued to smile softly at him. "Because deep down, you know that punishing yourself for failing Deacon and Bain or the Ring or your family is not the way to spend your life," he reasoned. "They sacrificed everything to protect the world from Oswell. You do them no honor by wallowing in your own misery. You joined the Ring of Fate for a reason. You joined to help people. To protect this world. Why do you turn away now?"
"Because I'm not strong enough to protect anyone," he growled back.
"If you weren't, I wouldn't have come to you in the first place," Vernell countered. He shrugged and smiled. "Tell you what. You have the power to transport yourself across vast distances. You can come back any time you want. You can run away, any time you want. Why not try? Why not come with me, and at least see what I have to offer?"
The ferret hissed a quiet sigh as he stared at Vernell. The fox was as stubborn as anyone he'd ever known. He just did not back down. "Is it the only way to convince you to leave me alone?" he asked.
Vernell shrugged again. "It could be," he agreed. "If you try, and decide not to come with me, that is fine. I will not hold it against you. But you will have tried, and I will relent. I swear, on the Mother Herself, that I will not stop you if you want to leave." His eyes sparkled in the afternoon light. "But I know you will not leave. You will stay, and see that my journey must be completed."
Ransley sighed as he stared back out over the ocean. The sun would dip below the waves soon, and night would swiftly come. "Fine," he grumbled at last. "But only because I want you to shut up about all of this stuff."
The fox looked thrilled with his decision, and he nodded as he grinned wide. "I knew you would see reason," he said. "I'm pleased to hear it. We will leave at dawn tomorrow. I suspect you will want to stay here for tonight. I doubt there will be a better view of the blood-moon this evening anywhere else in the world."
"Huzzah," Ransley replied, his voice a dull drone. He was bound, then. Vernell had his way, but at least the magi had a way to leave if he wanted to. He doubted he'd have to deal with Vernell for long before he just got sick of the monk and brought himself home. "And where are we going, then?" he asked as he nodded out across the water. "What is our destination?"
Ransley frowned as he watched the smile fade from Vernell's face. It was replaced by something sadder as he looked out over the waves. "It is not what, but who," he replied with a soft sigh. "An old friend. Someone who is about to have a very, very bad night. You and I have a dragon to find.
"Everything rests upon him."