Insurrection - Chapter Three
#18 of Blood And Water
Blood And Water - Insurrection
Part One: ULURN
Chapter Three
That Deacon woke up was, in and of itself, a surprise.
Not an unpleasant one, of course; the fox's last thought before he'd passed out had been one of fear. Not even a fear of death, but rather a fear that he wouldn't be able to reverse Bain's degeneration. Fear of failing the otter. Fear of dooming him to a painful death. That Deacon was alive still to try, as curious as such a thing was, wasn't unwelcome.
The comfort at his back was almost equally a surprise. The bed beneath him was warm and soft, and the well-fluffed pillow behind his head rested comfortably. The fox's eyes opened slowly to glance around at his surroundings, and he grunted quietly as the brightness of the room blinded him momentarily.
His paw, once he wrested it from the sheets, did little to block the glare of the arcane crystal that burned with white illumination across the room. The room itself seemed cozy if a little on the mundane side, with a simple dresser against one wall and the only source of magic nearby being that little crystal. Deacon reached out with a flicker of thought and willed it dimmer, and the fox sighed with relief as the crystal complied with his request.
Finally though, there beside the bed and in a chair far too big for him, rested Bain. The otter was also asleep, head lolled to the side against the chair's back. He'd changed out Deacon's robe and into a set of simple traveling leathers over a belted tunic. The little book clutched in his paws seemed to be a tome of fanciful stories, if only judged by the colorful cover and the swashbuckling knight that adorned it. Deacon smiled at the sight. No doubt the otter had been practicing his reading.
But how, and where had he found the clothes? The smile fled from Deacon's face as he slowly swung his legs out from under the bedsheets. He'd exhausted himself in battle against another magi. No opponent would leave their foe standing if given half a choice; magi were tenacious and difficult enough to safely put down. Ransley didn't seem to have collared his powers, nor had he exactly imprisoned Deacon's body. So where were they?
Deacon curled and uncurled his toes for a second before he pushed up onto his footpaws. His legs responded for the first time in far too long without fatigue, and Deacon flexed his arms for a second as he gave another sigh. Wherever they were, trapped or otherwise, he'd been able to take some rest. While being beaten into unconsciousness in an arcane duel was hardly an ideal thing, the fox couldn't help but smile at the new life in his body.
As he walked toward the door however, it opened of its own accord. Flame leaped into Deacon's paw with barely a thought as it swung open, and a familiar ferret stepped into the room. "Oh, put that away," Ransley muttered as he entered, his paws laden with three steaming mugs atop a wooden tray. He didn't even look up at the fox as he walked in. "You'll wake Bain if you keep that up."
A flicker of anger flashed through Deacon, and the flames burned brighter for a moment. When the fox offered no response, Ransley sighed and set the table down atop the dresser before he fixed Deacon with a stare. "Really. We're going to play this game again, are we? So soon after I put you down? This is the sort of thing that'll grow tiresome very quickly."
"Where are we?" Deacon demanded. He felt his fingers flex within the flames in his paw. "What do you want?"
The ferret rolled his eyes as he snatched up a mug from the tray and offered it to Deacon. "We are still in Iounis. I want to understand." He sloshed the tea around in the mug. "Drink? I promise I've done nothing to poison it. Not that I would need to, of course; you understand that I could have killed you at my leisure when you assaulted me in the store."
Deacon's eyes widened for a moment as he willed the flames from his grip. Better to strike in a more creative fashion, if the ferret gave him half a reason. "When I assaulted you? How-"
"You struck first when goaded into it. I would have expected Oswell's instructional methods to cover his more charming interpersonal skills, if not his patience. No tea? You're sure? Ah well." Ransley stepped forward, and a smile curled his muzzle as he watched Deacon's paw lift ever so slightly higher. He held the fox's stare as he sat down on the end of the bed and took a slow sip of the tea. "It's clear he never taught you the finer points of a magi's duel. You have power, but you are woefully inept at protecting your mind. How lax an instructor he must have been."
"If you knew anything about Oswell, you would know his 'instruction' mattered little in the grand scheme of his plans," Deacon growled back. He continued to watch Ransley out of the corner of his eye as he reached down to touch a paw to Bain's shoulder. Oswell had, of course, always demanded that Deacon's mind be open to him. It had left little time to practice closing it off. "And that he could never afford to teach me anything that I might use against him."
The otter nuzzled in against his arm, but otherwise remained quiet as Ransley offered a quiet laugh. "Oswell's reputation for cheating death was well known amongst magi, but few knew the methods he used to accomplish such feats." The smile left his face as he stared hard at Deacon. "And you are truly not him, are you?"
Deacon shook his head as he gave Bain's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Not even close," he confirmed. The fox sat back down on the edge of the bed as he ran his paws gently along his legs. "Which makes me wonder how much of my mind you probed as I was otherwise disabled."
"I would ask you to forgive me for such an invasion, but I neither care about the imposition nor believe you would have denied yourself the same opportunity." Ransley sipped at the mug of tea as he stared up at the wall. "Though I will admit, it is a pity that Oswell is truly dead. I had hoped to destroy him myself."
The fox frowned as he glanced up and down the ferret. Ransley had an almost faraway look in his eye as he took another sip of tea. "I wonder if it is a natural gift of yours, or whether you have practiced extensively your ability to be vague."
That drew a smirk across Ransley's muzzle as he briefly looked over in Deacon's direction. "Sarcasm doesn't become you, you know. Still, I take your point." He took another long gulp from the mug, and once drained set it down on the floor. "I suppose I drove you to unconsciousness and absconded with your body. Perhaps I owe you some answers, yes?"
"Yes. I suppose you might, at that." Deacon waved a paw up at the ceiling. "Where are we? Are Bain and I safe here?"
Ransley snorted as he folded his arms and stood up again. "Hardly, though that could be said of anywhere if you spoke truth in the shop. You mentioned a shade coming after you. Few survive such an assault, particularly magi so young." The ferret perked an eyebrow, as if to ask for elaboration.
Deacon wasn't entirely sure he wanted to give it. Instead he glanced over at Bain's still sleeping form and dropped a paw to pat gently at the otter's arm. "Oswell was prepared for many threats, though this one cost us any semblance of safety we once had," the fox replied at last. He frowned as he glanced up at Ransley. "Bain played no part in facing the shade, nor attracting it."
The ferret shrugged and waved a dismissive paw as he walked over to the dresser and picked up another mug of tea. "I can sense his power, you know," Ransley pointed out as he hefted the mug. "You don't need to lie to me to protect him. His ilaen connection is strong. Something to be proud of. You sure you don't want the tea? It is quite good."
"No, thank you," Deacon replied. He watched Ransley shrug and take a sip from the new mug. "You would have sensed his power when you first met him."
"Mmm. I suspect it protected him from my enchantments." The ferret shrugged as he leaned against the wall and stared back at Deacon. "You were affected to a surprising degree. I thought you would have been stronger than you were. You put up less fight than I would have believed a creation of Oswell would."
This time it was Deacon to smirk and shrug. "You try sustaining yourself on magic for several days in a row, take a mortal injury you must heal immediately, escape a shade and then engage in battle against a..." His smirk slipped as he cocked an eyebrow. "A... competent_practitioner of _ulurn magic."
The chuckle that rolled from Ransley's throat belied any offense he might have taken from the remark. "A fair point. I saw the shade in your mind as I examined you. Your plan was ingenious. I doubt I would have thought to trap it within the crystal matrix and overload Oswell's arcarnum shards, what with being merely competent at my craft and having but six years more arcane experience than you."
"You would have discovered less to like were I so well rested as I am now," Deacon pointed out.
"Rest that I allowed you to take, after I bested you in combat," countered Ransley.
The groan from beside the bed drew both the fox and ferret's gaze to Bain. One of the otter's paws rubbed at his head as the other ran across his face. "Girls, girls; you're both_pretty," he grumbled from behind his paw. "Just... kiss and make up, gods _all..."
Deacon turned toward him almost immediately. His outstretched paw was grasped gently by one of the otter's as he saw Bain lift his head and smiled at him. "Are you well?" he asked, even as he reached out.
Ransley sighed from across the room. "You already know he is," he replied with a roll of his eyes.
Both Bain and Deacon stared at him before the otter diverted his gaze to the fox. "I'm fine," he answered as he gave Deacon's paw a little squeeze. "Ransley explained that you to got into a bit of a fight about Oswell, but that he knows you're not his enemy." He smiled as he fought back a yawn for a moment. "He was very nice to me."
"Not as nice as I would be," Deacon growled. He could sense it there as he focused for the barest moment on the otter's mind. It was just a lingering trace of ulurn energy, but it bore Ransley's imprint. The ferret had gone through Bain's mind as well. "And I did not know already that he was fine," he added as he narrowed his eyes at Ransley. "I do not invade his mind or body with magic under any circumstance."
Bain coughed to cover a chuckle, and Deacon had to fight to keep his own face still. He needn't have bothered; the ferret waved his paw and rolled his eyes again. "Please. I know what you two are. You may not be my enemy, but please don't parade your perversion in front of me if you can help it. Some of us still hold to some moral standing, thank you."
"The same moral standing that gives you the right to invade his mind without consent?" Deacon asked as he stood up tall again. He was almost gratified to see Ransley lean back harder against the wall and set the mug hastily down. "You wish to hold our nature against us? Very well. Do not think yourself of superior moral standing when you invade the core of our being against our wills to satisfy your curiosity."
Both of Ransley's eyebrows lifted as his tail began to twitch against the wall. "And you two are normally so completely honest with one another?" he asked, as his gaze flickered back and forth between the pair. "In every regard? On every matter?"
"We are," Bain proudly replied as he gave Deacon's paw another squeeze.
Deacon himself remained silent, but he watched as the ferret began to relax. He could see it there, in Ransley's eye. Just a glint, reflected in a knowing, minute smile. He knew exactly what Deacon himself knew about Bain. He was aware of the degeneration. He was aware that Deacon knew. He was equally aware that the fox had told Bain nothing on the matter.
He shook his head ever so slightly as he reached out with his thoughts. The fox immediately felt Ransley's defenses rise, but the gesture was non-threatening. Do not speak a word of it, he whispered through the ferret's thoughts. He cannot know. Not until I have found a solution.
Ransley continued to stare, but his expression shifted. His smile slipped away and was replaced by something more somber. It deepened when he glanced at the earnest otter, and he sighed quietly as Deacon felt his resignation. "Perverted though you are, I cannot fault your care for one another. Vile and disturbing, but... all-encompassing. I could almost be fooled into calling it love, if I dared to believe Oswell could craft a tool to do such a thing."
"You know a lot about Oswell," Bain pointed out as he stood up. His paw slipped out of Deacon's as he walked over toward the ferret, and he smiled as he was handed off the last mug of tea. As he headed back to the chair, he added, "You said you'd tell me more when Deacon woke up. He's awake now, and I've been waiting two long, boring days."
"Yes, I too would... wait, what?" Deacon frowned up at Ransley. "Two days? You put me out for two whole days?"
The ferret chuckled. "This surprises you? You, who declared yourself so powerful at the best of times and only lost to me because of sheer exhaustion?" He nodded to the bed as he took another sip of tea. "That there is testament to your story, fox. I didn't 'put you out' for any length of time. Your body needed to rest, and to do so in its natural state. You put yourself out for two days." Again he laughed quietly to himself. "Strong enough to defeat me? Perhaps. The vibrancy of your spirit is greater than most anyone I've ever met, after all. Smart enough to sleep? Well... I suppose not."
Deacon's eyes fell as he sighed. Two whole days. What if the shade had attacked? Could Ransley have protected Bain? Would he have even bothered? The fox knew he couldn't let that happen again. "I have had important work to do." Bain's snort drew another sigh from Deacon. The otter had tried to encourage him to relax, to no avail. Perhaps he should have listened.
"I imagine so. And given our recent history, I wonder if you even care to hear more about your creator from me." His eyes glittered as he shifted from footpaw to footpaw. "I imagine you would have quite the hard time taking me at my word at present."
That was an understatement, but Deacon had precious little to go on. He glanced back at Bain as the otter nodded. With the manor gone, who else could provide him with that sort of information? "What do you know about Oswell?" he asked.
Again Ransley laughed. He took one last sip of tea before he set the second mug down beside the first. "Oswell. Three hundred years ago, Oswell was a young fox apprenticed to a rogue magi known as Haldane Feddersen. Haldane was a deserter from the Talmaurk kingdom's sorcerer ranks, and took to training those he chose as apprentices in harsh, often lethal regiments to unlock their full power. He believed that strict control over their lives and a healthy dose of pain awoke their potential. Sound familiar?"
"Too familiar," Deacon growled. Bain rubbed at his arm, but it did little to quell the fire in Deacon's veins.
Ransley simply nodded. "Well, of the ten known apprentices that Haldane took over the course of his life, only two survived. One was later captured by Talmaruk spies and executed on the spot, and the other was Oswell. Oswell, if you believe the stories, managed to kill Haldane in a rage one night." The ferret shook his head. "I doubt it, personally. Historical record states that Haldane was enormously powerful, and Oswell was far from his full potential at that point in time. Certainly, he never said anything about what sparked the rage or how exactly he killed Haldane.
"Regardless, Oswell was a known threat in the north-western reaches of Talmaruk for the next few years as he honed his powers. Stories from that time are very weak; they share no common points save a vulpine magi with potent aerun powers slaughtering those who encountered him... if he didn't take them prisoner first." A shiver went through Ransley. "I suppose his experiments in prolonging his life had to begin somewhere, didn't they?"
A growl ran through Deacon even as Bain shook his head. "What does that have to do with Oswell when we knew him?" he asked.
As Ransley glanced between the fox and the otter, Deacon turned slowly to glance at Bain. "I need to understand him better," replied the magi. "He ruled my life for so long, and I am not convinced that I am beyond his influence. Not the way these dreams I've had plague me tend to play out."
Those words perked Ransley's ears, and the ferret began to squirm against the wall again. "Yes, I did mean to ask about those dreams once you were awake. I also wanted to know if you experienced them while unconscious these last two days."
It wasn't something that Deacon had considered, and the answer he gave surprised even him. "No," he muttered with a shake of his head. "None this time. The first time in a long time I have gone without them. It was... merciful. Pleasant, almost. But I can tell you more about the dreams later." He waved a paw for Ransley to continue.
The ferret hesitated, but nodded along anyway. "The exact nature of Oswell's techniques for prolonging his lifespan were a closely-guarded secret for the first two hundred or so years of his life. More than a few thought he was a shade like the one you fought."
Bain frowned. "I thought you said shades were corrupted spirits," he said as he glanced at the fox.
Deacon leaned in toward Bain and nodded. "Shades are often what is left behind by magi, or other strong-willed people when they are violently killed," he explained. "They are fragments of the individual's mind and spirit; magical energy given intangible form and often bound to a single purpose. Usually this purpose is vengeance, but not always. Some just look to consume more energy to sustain themselves for longer, or to cheat true death as long as they can." He shook his head. "The demonlords hunt them. Shades exist both in our world and in the Hells simultaneously. When captured, they are often contained for their power... or further empowered and sent to serve the demonlords themselves."
"Not that this is what Oswell was," Ransley continued with a nod. "He never died, not until you. His spirit never crossed to the Hells or to the divines. How he survived became the subject of much conjecture amongst the world's magi, to the point where 'the deathless one' came to feature prominently in even divine prophecy. Some wondered if he would outlive even the gods themselves." Ransley shrugged. "Still, he traveled. He left Talmaruk about thirty years after he allegedly killed Haldane, and over the next few decades he made his way toward what would become Noctus."
Bain blinked in confusion. "Oswell was older than the Imperium?" he asked.
"By about a century, give or take," Ransley confirmed with a chuckle. "You seem surprised."
The otter nodded as he glanced up at Deacon. "Think you're gonna live that long, too?"
Deacon didn't reply, but the glare Ransley leveled at the fox showed his absolute contempt for the thought. "As the Imperium formed out of the three kingdoms that were united under its first ruler, Oswell was there. It was in fact Oswell, by his own admission, who planted the seeds that formed the Noctus Imperium in the first place. It was designed to be a safeguard against the power of Ahron, and the Font of Ages."
Ransley perked up and glanced between the fox and the otter as they shared a glance. "And that means more to you than it should, does it not?" he asked with a slight smile. "All magi know the story of Ahron and learn to admire the powers of their particular breed of sorcery, but... what do you know that I do not?"
Even as Deacon hesitated, Bain took a deep breath. "That's what Oswell wanted me for," he replied. "He said I had an ancestral connection to the Font."
"Makes sense," was the ferret's distracted reply as he tapped at his chin and stroked at his whiskers. "Oswell always coveted more and more power, and Ahron sorcery is second only to the divines themselves. That's why every new body he forged for himself was capable of greater and greater feats of magical prowess. That is why you had strength enough to defeat him, fox. You were built to surpass his old body in every possible way. He engineered his own destruction."
Deacon nodded along. This much he'd figured out on his own. "And with Bain's ilaen powers and his connection to the Font awoken, he would be in command of power the likes of which was reserved for the Ahronni alone," he added. "Something that has not been seen since the Ahron Rebellions."
"But that was only eleven years ago," Bain pointed out.
Again came Ransley's laughter. "Oh, the Ahron were very good at keeping to themselves, Bain," Ransley explained. "They rarely ventured beyond the walls of Ahron itself, and they were jealously protective of the secrets of their power and the Font itself. During the Rebellions, they even refused to exercise their full power to the point where many magi wonder what they are even truly capable of. Even now, I suspect your companion could tell you more about the Font than I."
When Deacon shrugged, Ransley continued. "In that time, well before the Rebellions came about, Oswell did something unusual. He aligned himself with a cabal of powerful magi; an ancient order with history that stretches back to the dawn of magic itself. He set aside personal power for some reason or another and collaborated with others. My father was amongst those he worked alongside."
Understanding came to Deacon before the ferret even needed to say it. "And at some point, Oswell slaughtered them all," he sighed.
"Not all, but many," corrected Ransley. "This is where much of my knowledge comes from. My father trained me and taught me much. He never trusted Oswell from the moment he joined the order, and he was justified in his mistrust. Oswell had come to understand something; a truth that drove him to seek the order out and confirm his findings."
Bain frowned. "What truth?"
But Ransley shook his head and shrugged. "Would that I knew. As I said, I was very young when my father was murdered and he never spoke of his work to mother. From what I have learned after the fact, Oswell became obsessed with the future. He pushed his experiments to greater and greater heights, looking to meld the different magical arts into a cohesive whole." He glanced at Bain. "I believe, from what I have discovered of his efforts, that he was attempting to forcibly bond Ahronni power to himself. To what end, though? I could not even begin to speculate."
"Command of the Font," growled Deacon. Ransley simply looked puzzled as the fox shook his head. "He tried to marry me off to the heir to the Noctus throne."
"Princess Corella?" The ferret's eyes widened. "Gods. What a horrible joke that must have seemed for you, with your... perversion. Would that I were so lucky to have made that match in your stead. I heard she recently married some commoner, somehow to the adulation of the royal courts. It boggles the mind."
Bain grinned. "Corella got to marry who she wanted, and I got Deacon. True love wins out sometimes, I suppose."
The ferret didn't seem impressed. "You perhaps have been told too many stories of heroics and swashbuckling glory. The real world hardly works that way, and I would certainly not call what you both practice to be 'true' in any form."
"The position, once Oswell overtook my body and consciousness, would have given him direct access to the Font of Ages," Deacon continued. He had to force himself not to rise to the ferret's prejudices and instead remain focused. "Not to mention that I have little doubt that he could have produced any form of heir he wanted with Corella, and later take its body as his own to give himself the crown directly. He'd have full custodianship of the Font in two generations, and free access to it in the meantime."
Ransley's tail began to twitch uneasily as he looked over at Deacon. "Then we are perhaps all fortunate that he was killed when he was," said the ferret. "If it had taken much longer, perhaps he would have been too strong... to..." He frowned as he trailed off and began to look around himself.
Deacon and Bain exchanged a quick glance before the otter spoke up. "Is something wrong?"
"No... no, I don't think so," Ransley replied. His tone was distracted as he continued to scour the walls with his gaze. "I just... thought I felt something. That's all."
With a frown of his own, Deacon reached out with his mind. He extended his senses beyond the room, past the walls of the house itself and into the town. All of Iounis stretched out before him, but he could feel nothing out of the ordinary. "A little on edge, are we?" he asked, and nodded at the ferret's tail.
The magi snorted as he glanced at the twitching thing. "You'll find that it happens more often than not," he replied. "Paranoia, you may have noticed, is a reasonable quality for a magi to possess. I think..." His eyes narrowed as he whirled on the wall. "No, I know I can sense something. Something nearby. Powerful ulurn energies."
"The shade?" Bain asked.
Deacon didn't answer. His eyes were already closed as he focused harder. He might have missed it earlier when Ransley had first detected something; his spirit would have thrummed in harmony with the ulurn energies that the shade was bound together with. The fox's awareness extended further, further, further, fu-
"OSWELL!"
The enraged roar came both through Deacon's ears as well as his mind. The latter was clear as if the shade had been right beside him, and he buckled under the raw hate behind the mental yell even as his ears told him the sound came from further away. "I would say that is a fair guess," Deacon replied as he rubbed at his head.
A glance up showed Ransley, his face full of new fear. He leaned heavily against the wall, one arm outstretched to steady himself against the dresser as he gasped for breath. "That came from the demon you faced?" he panted as he shook his head. "Gods all..."
"Come on!" Deacon shouted at Bain as he leaped over the bed. The otter's paw fell into his own as they darted out of the bedroom and along the hall beyond. The roar of the shade came once again, and Deacon almost missed a step as he charged for the door. Bain tugged him back and helped him straighten up, before Deacon swept a paw out before him and blasted the door open with his powers.
The pair emerged to a town in panic. The various people that had mere moments ago been minding their own business and going about their day were running scared. A glance down the road toward where Deacon sensed the shade's concentrated power showed a building alight with brilliant green fire. He winced as a plume of flame erupted from one window. That was the apothecary's store where he'd met Ransley.
Then, just as the fox started toward the shop and Bain slipped off to take cover, the shade swept out of it. Its eyes locked on Deacon as the magi stopped in the middle of the street. "Finally," it rumbled, and the echo of the word rippled through Deacon's mind. "Surrender, Oswell."
"No." The word came with firm finality as Deacon's fingers curled to fists. Lightning crackled in his grip as he held the shade's stare. "Oswell is gone, demon! If you want him, you're too late!"
Deacon could sense the shade prepare to strike. One paw lifted as tendrils of smoke boiled up the shade's body in the shape of an arm. A wave of force pulsed out from its grasp, but Deacon shoved back right down the wave's middle. It sluiced off his will and spread around him. The two buildings on either side of Deacon groaned under the force of the shade's will, before the one to his right collapsed in on itself. The other remained upright, though its windows shattered.
Before it could wind up another attack, Deacon swept his other paw up. The ground beneath the shade erupted in a cloud of dust as he wrenched the soil away by force of will. It swirled around the demon and obscured its vision as the fox glanced back the way he'd come. Ransley was there in the doorway to the house they'd been in, almost cowering at the sight of the demon. "Come and help me!" Deacon roared at him.
If the ferret replied, Deacon was too overcome with pain to hear it. He'd been distracted a moment too long, and when he turned back to the shade it was only to receive a face full of dirt and dust and rock shards. The cloud he'd ripped up around the shade had been taken in by the demon and redirected in a stream right at him. Deacon grunted and buckled under it as he slammed both paws into the ground.
A wall of flame flashed up in a circle around him. It incinerated the dust as it blew in toward him, and Deacon blinked to try and clear his vision. A swipe of his forearm up over his eyes did nothing more than rub more dirt through his fur, and he grunted as he shook his head and stretched out instead with his mind.
He only had the barest moment to prepare for the shade's approach. No sooner than Deacon sensed it rush toward him than it had appeared through the flames and the dust. Shadowy arms reached out toward the fox, and Deacon cried out in pain as they ran right through his fur and his flesh. Cold spread from their contact to flood his whole body, and the flames around him erupted outward as he lost control of his powers. The ring of fire exploded, cinders and sparks strewn everywhere around as Deacon was forced to his knees. "Surrender!" snarled the shade
As that darkness poured into him, Deacon felt a flash of memory overcome him. The ruins of an ancient temple; the thunder of an approaching storm. Blood. Fear... no, terror. Pain. Betrayal. Loss. In an instant, as he looked up at the twisted, demonic face above him, Deacon could see it. He could _feel_it in his memories. He knew the shade; he knew exactly who it was the twisted remains of.
"Haldane..." he gasped. The shade's muzzle twisted into a wicked smile. "No... no..."
The magi tried to reach up to grab at the limbs that had penetrated his chest, but his paws just passed through them like smoke. He grit his teeth and began to pant as he tried to flood his body with fraen magic and force back the demon's icy touch, but it was to no avail. Deacon began to shiver as he gripped at the ground, unable to focus on his powers at all. Above him, the creature began to laugh.
The laugh became a surprised grunt, and then a growl as it found itself ripped off of Deacon. The fox slumped down in the road, and he gasped for breath as he looked back. It was Ransley; the ferret's paw was outstretched as emerald light played about his eyes. The ferret hissed as his tail whipped about behind him, and he reached out with his other paw toward the store the shade had destroyed.
It had barely righted itself before streams of green light flooded out from the burning shop. They wrapped around the shade as Ransley wove his paws through the air to bind it tightly. "Get up, fox!" he yelled to Deacon. "Get up! I don't have the power to hold it long!"
Another gutteral roar echoed through Deacon's mind, almost strong enough to force him back to the ground even as he tried to pull his legs up under him. Ransley was right; already the darkness that billowed out from the shade's nebulous form had begun to overtake the illuminated ribbons of energy that Ransley used to keep it in place.
Again came that roar, and with it Deacon felt an echo of the coldness that had spread through him. He felt pain of ages long gone. He felt hatred of ages long gone, and it wrapped about him like a cloak. The fox forced himself up and reached out as he dug as deep into his mind as he could. He felt his magic respond to his touch, and with a snarl he grasped it all and poured it into an attack.
It was not a torrential outpouring of fire that came, though. Instead it was great gouts of red lightning that arced from his paws and along the road to impact the shadowy remains of Oswell's former instructor. Thunder cracked again and again along the street as bolt after bolt lashed the bound demon. Smaller sparks leaped off the main attack and scorched the walls of the buildings along the main road, and more than one wooden wall was set alight as Deacon felt that_aerun_ magic course through his body and out through his palms.
He strode forward as the shade buckled under the assault. Wrapped as it was in Ransley's binding power, it could not avoid the outpouring of magical energy from Deacon. The fox's eyes vanished, replaced by seething flame as the lightning in his paws intensified further. The bolts thickened as the shade screamed in agony. It writhed under Deacon's power, and he felt his muzzle curl into a cruel smile as he watched it suffer. His eyes narrowed as he roared back at it, and the bolts intensified again.
"Deacon!"
The words came almost as if from halfway across the world, so faint were they behind the crackle of Deacon's awakened rage. They came again; another quiet cry that barely permeated the hate that clouded everything in Deacon's mind save for the shade before him. It wasn't until the third shout that Deacon was able to identify the voice as Bain's, and as that registered he felt the energy that streamed from his paws sputter out. The fire left his eyes as he sank down to one knee and panted for breath.
The coldness was gone. The hate was gone, but in its place was a lingering touch like a paw on his shoulder that he couldn't shrug off. His ears flattened as he closed his eyes for a moment. Deacon took a breath as he opened them and turned back toward Bain.
His eyes were wide with fear as he cowered back in the shadows by one of the burning buildings. Horror colored his expression as he stared dumbfounded at Deacon. Out of the corner of the fox's eye, he could see Ransley stare at him with equal confusion and concern. Revulsion ran through Deacon and his paws began to shake. He felt like he was about to be sick.
Somewhere, Ransley had lost the focus to maintain his hold on the shade. Deacon heard the echo of its low laugh like a rake pulled through his mind, and its eyes glittered with verdant light as it drifted toward him. "You see?" it growled as the dust nearby began to swirl around the creature. "Surrender... Oswell..."
That was it. That was what Deacon had felt. Breath left him as though he'd been winded by a punch to the gut. His legs wobbled as his tail curled between them, and he almost stumbled toward the ground as the shade drifted closer and closer. It was Oswell. That was what he'd felt. Not his own hate and rage. Not his own pain and determination.
He'd felt Oswell's. He'd touched Oswell's powers and Oswell's mind, and reflected in the shade's eyes Deacon could feel the truth. Oswell lingered inside him.
Oswell was still alive.
At least he was still alive in some form, but that was already too much for the vulpine magi. Deacon's teeth grit as he felt his vision blur for a moment. The fox took a deep breath as he stared up at the shade. Haldane awaited him, hovering just barely before Deacon and just out of the fox's reach. Deacon could feel it now, buried beneath weeks and weeks of fatigue and exhaustion and distraction. A slice of his own mind, black as coal and hard as diamond, was closed to him. Oswell.
But he didn't have time to worry about that right now. The shade was the present threat, not just to him but to Bain, the villagers and anyone else in Deacon's periphery. "How did you know?" Deacon growled as he lifted his eyes to meet the demon's gaze. He fought to calm his mind as he spoke, and drew in his power. He felt that diamond in his mind crack open a sliver. It invited him to make use of those aerun powers again. Deacon ignored it.
"I have always known," the shade snarled back at last. Deacon felt Ransley take a step forward, but he thrust a paw back to ward the ferret off. "Long have I watched... waiting for him to slip. Waiting for him to become vulnerable. And now... thanks to you..."
The attack came faster than vision could keep up with it, but Deacon could sense the surge of ulurn magic before it was unleashed. The dust that wrapped around the shade like a cloak condensed into a spear of stone that lanced toward the fox. It met a wall of force just shy of Deacon's flesh and shattered on impact. That dust spread across the wall Deacon had erected to protect himself and billowed outward.
Instead of wrapping around Deacon however, the dust remained trapped around the shade. The dust and rock shards spread around the wall of force and defined that anchored arcane energy. The shade's eyes went wide and burned brighter as it saw the wall that Deacon had risen around it, and it roared in rage as it thrust forward with both shadowy arms.
They expended their attack with as much success as the spear had. They erupted like smoke on impact with the invisible wall, and Deacon continued to stare on as he threw all of his focus into maintaining the barrier that contained the shade. "Bain! Ransley!" he called out, and for a moment he was surprised at how calm he sounded. "Hurry! I can't hold it for long, and I need your help!"
The fox could feel their combined trepidation, but nevertheless they rushed forward as the demon continued to flail at its prison. "Bain, give me your paw," he instructed as the otter skidded to a halt beside him.
But Bain simply stared at him with confusion and concern. "Why do-" he began.
"I need to tap into your powers," interrupted Deacon as he narrowed his eyes. The shade looked to grow more furious with every second that passed, and bright bolts of concentrated _ulurn_energy leaped from its incorporeal paws into Deacon's barrier. That barrier held, though the green light lingered and illuminated the entire shell for a few moments. "The Font of Ages is stronger than either Ransley or I. We will need its power to banish this shade, just like we needed it to destroy Oswell."
Ransley snorted as he arrived a moment later. "And did you destroy him?" he asked, his voice accusatory.
The growl that came to Deacon was certainly his own, and he hissed in a quick breath before he opened his muzzle. "We can worry about that later. The shade wields ulurn magic. You can take control of that power once it is distracted."
"Control?" Ransley shook his head as he took a step back. Before them, the shade hurled itself bodily against the Deacon's wall, and the fox buckled back as if he'd been physically struck. "I... I can't control that thing!"
As Deacon grit his teeth, he finally turned away from the thrashing of the shade. His mind remained focused on the barrier, but his eyes searched Bain's for something -- anything -- more than the fear that seemed to have taken a hold of him. "Bain, I need you," he said as he offered the otter his paw. "I need you more than anything in the world, but I need your help right now if we're gonna survive long enough to talk about this. Please... please trust me, and take my paw."
It looked, for too many painful moments, like Bain was about to turn and flee. Deacon could see it in his face, as echoes of the shade's attempt to free itself shook the fox's body. Bain's lips trembled as his eyes darted about, as if he were looking for a way out if only he could tear himself from Deacon's gaze. But he couldn't, and all it did was make the otter look all the more tortured.
Finally though, he reached out a shaky paw and placed it in Deacon's. The fox smiled as he gave those webbed digits a gentle squeeze, though he rocked with another blow from the shade. "Close your eyes," he told the otter as his thumb played softly along the back of the otter's paw. "Block everything out. Focus on me. Focus on my paw."
Bain nodded as he did as he was told. As he shuddered with another impact and another roar from the shade, Deacon watched the otter's brow furrow, only for it to relax as he felt the fox's thumb tracing that long, slow circle. "Forget the shade," he said and gave Bain's paw another soft squeeze. "Forget everything else. Focus on me. Help me, Bain. I need you. I need you now."
"He's untrained and untested!" Ransley protested. "You could kill him!"
"I don't think I'm strong enough to do this," agreed Bain as he squeezed back at Deacon's paw.
The fox shook his head as he stared into the otter's eyes. "You are stronger than anyone else I have ever known," he said, though his voice broke for a moment as the demon threw itself again at the barrier. "You are stronger than Oswell. You are stronger than I_am, Bain. I don't have to think you can do this." He smiled with as much warmth as he could muster. "I _know you can. You must believe that. I do."
As Bain smiled back and took a breath, Deacon turned back to the shade and raised his voice. "You wield the same power as the shade, Ransley," he growled as the shade reached out again to push at the shell of energy. Strain began to enter Deacon's voice as sparks showered from the contact point between the shade's paws and Deacon's shield. "Once I have a better hold of it, you need to rend it. Strip away its _ulurn_energies. Tear it to pieces."
The ferret shook his head quickly. "I've never-" he began.
"Nor has Bain, but that will not stop him," Deacon snapped back as he squeezed at Bain's paw. He could feel it there, brewing inside the otter. The dance of his latent, untapped _ilaen_magic and the more distant sense of the Font of Ages bound to Bain's blood mingled and hummed in harmony with the slow circling of Deacon's thumb against the back of his paw. He just needed a few more moments, and for Ransley to be ready.
The latter he couldn't be sure of, but new strength flowed into Deacon as he reached out less with his paw and more with his spirit. He squeezed at Bain's paw tighter as he felt the otter relinquish that power to him, and that strength poured through Deacon's mind and body. He felt his eyes snap open wide as they filled with white light. The diamond in the core of his mind snapped shut against the glare, overpowered for a moment.
That same white light began to pour out from the barrier Deacon had erected. The shade cried out; a shrill, unholy screech that pierced the fox's ears and threatened to shatter his concentration as that light burned into it. Deacon felt his fur catch painlessly, heatlessly alight as he stared through the illuminated wall of force and into the shade. The effort of maintaining the field was gone, borne instead by the Font. Bain was but a conduit, and Deacon merely directed the flow of the energy. Then, as the shade tried in vain to escape the walls around it, Deacon brought them in closer just as he had within the manor.
Finally, and just as he had at the manor, the shade was trapped with nowhere to go. Deacon directed the illuminated ball of energy tighter and tighter around the shade as it writhed and swirled within its prison. "Now, Ransley!" he yelled as he poured his own magic forth and infused the barrier with greater power.
The white light turn on a red hue as Deacon's fraen powers melted into it, and flares danced across its surface as he forced his will against the shade's. Behind him, Deacon could feel Ransley's hesitation even as the ferret conjured his own powers to the forefront of his mind. "Ransley," Deacon hissed from behind clenched teeth, "you_must_ act. We cannot contain it forever!"
As if to confirm Deacon's concerns, he felt Bain's paw tighten in his. He turned up toward the otter to find his eyes squeezed firmly shut. White light bloomed behind those closed eyelids, and it peeked around the rim of his eyes as Deacon held his paw tightly. "Ransley!" he roared.
The shout jolted the ferret into action just barely in time. Ransley reached out with both paws toward the shade, fingers hooked into claws as he bared his teeth. His tail twitched and flailed behind him as green light sparked between his fingers, and echoes of those sparks lashed the inside of Deacon's shield. Parts of the shade's nebulous form came off with those sparks as it howled in pain and outrage, but trapped as it was it could do little to stop Ransley.
Instead it redoubled its efforts, slamming against the glowing walls of its prison with greater and greater force. Ransley began to sweep his arms in grand slices, grunting with exertion. His mind mimicked the blows as he reached out to strike off the magic that bound the shade's form. He carved off piece after piece of the shade with each swing of his arm, and the ferret paused only long enough to grasp that disconnected energy and return it to the world below before he made another strike.
Beside Deacon, Bain cried out in pain. He fell to his knees as he began to tremble, and Deacon brought up his other paw to catch the otter's paw and envelop it completely. He reached out to Bain's mind to try and offer him strength or reassurance, but it was impossible. The power of the Font that Deacon had helped him tap was overwhelming anything else. "Hurry, Ransley!" he shouted again. Desperation wound through his voice as he felt his own powers buffeted by the demon's mad efforts to free itself.
The field began to flicker as Bain began to lose his connection to the Font's powers. He groaned as he held Deacon's paws as tight as he could, and the fox winced as the otter's little claws dug into his paw tight enough to draw blood. "D-Deacon-!"
The light that suffused Deacon's containment shield suddenly bloomed blindingly bright. Energy sparked from its surface and arced in nearly every direction. It narrowly avoided Deacon, Bain and Ransley, though a pair of cowering villagers were not so lucky. Their bodies erupted into short-lived flame that swiftly consumed them as the sphere that held the shade undulated like a living thing in the throes of pain. The buildings nearby that were struck with the bolts were quickly set alight, if massive holes were not simply blasted into their structures.
Then, with bone-shattering force, the orb collapsed around the shade and erupted in a wave of energy.
It radiated outward in all directions, and both magi and Bain were blasted bodily through the air. They collapsed to the ground a good twenty-odd feet away and tumbled end over end as the wind howled around them. The glow faded both from behind Bain's eyes and from the erupted sphere, and it took the three a good few seconds to stall out their motion.
Deacon recovered first; one of the fox's paws dug into the ground and his fingers gouged troughs through the dirt as he pulled himself to a halt. As Ransley recovered himself behind the fox, Deacon looked up toward where the shade had been.
'Had been' was precisely right. The explosion left a crater in the middle of the road that stretched half the road's width in diameter. Green sparks of rent ulurn energy arced across the inside of the crater as steam rose from the road. Seemingly under their own power, a handful of pebbles and other small stones floated a couple of inches from the ground, suspended and slowly spinning in the wake of the blast.
The shade was gone, and that was the limit of Deacon's care for the moment. He whirled around to find Bain, and gasped when he saw the otter as a crumpled, bloody mess further down the road. "Bain!" he shouted as he scrabbled up and ran to the otter's side. He was only slightly aware of Ransley as the ferret ran after him. "Oh, gods," he whispered as he knelt down beside the otter and grabbed at his side.
Smoke rose from Bain's paws as Deacon pulled him gently into his arms. Blood dripped from both the corner of his mouth and his nostrils, and he groaned even through his unconsciousness as Deacon cradled him against his chest. Beneath him and formerly shoved against his sternum were the broken remains of a wooden crate, the lumps of ore within strewn about the otter. "Oh, Bain," he murmured, his voice muffled by the otter's headfur as Deacon planted a kiss there. "I'm so, so sorry..."
"Uh, fox?" Ransley knelt down beside the fox, his ears twitching as as he glanced behind the fox. "Look, I want to say a lot of unpleasant things to you right now, but I think we should first take our leave with all haste."
It took almost everything in Deacon to turn away from Bain's slack features and follow Ransley's gaze. It didn't take more than a moment to see what had caught the ferret's attention. With the shade gone and the obvious display of magical power no longer present, the townspeople had begun to emerge again. Their expressions were filled with fear and rage. Deacon didn't need to be a magi to understand the danger of that combination. "I suspect you are right," he muttered back. "Where do we go? Where _can_we go? That demon will follow us anywhere."
"You there!" roared an angry, deep voice from somewhere down the road. "Magi! Stand, unarmed, and raise your paws!"
Ransley lifted an eyebrow. "You want to stay here? Taste their idea of judgment for this, perhaps?"
"This is not our fault!" Deacon hissed back.
Down the road, the owner of the voice moved faster. A glance showed it to be the skunk from the road into town. "I said stand, magi! Stand now, or archers will shoot you where to sit!"
The ferret shrugged. "I'm sure they're happy to listen," he dryly reply. "Look, I'm leaving. Follow me if you like; I'm not going far." Without another word, the ferret's body took on a green glow. It flashed bright for a moment as the ground beneath Deacon shook, and when the light faded there was no sign of Ransley.
Deacon sighed as he squeezed Bain tight and looked back up toward the skunk. His eyes were wide as he squeezed his spear all the tighter. Behind him, with arrows nocked and ready to loose were a pair of deer holding longbows. "Don't you move!" the skunk threatened.
But the fox didn't need to move. He could see what Ransley had meant. The villagers didn't care that it had been a shade that had caused the damage. They didn't care that the magi had stopped it and were on the verge of leaving to protect them. They were afraid and hateful and would not see reason. It took only a moment to focus his mind and feel the energy left in Ransley's wake. The imprint of his arcane transit left a lingering image in the corner of Deacon's mind. He could feel where the ferret had gone. He could follow. Deacon had to follow; if the shade returned, he would need Ransley's ulurn powers to stop it. He had no choice.
By the time the two deer had fired their arrows, flame had already wrapped around Deacon and Bain. It swirled like a burning maelstrom for a moment, and when it had passed the arrows struck nothing but an empty street.
The crying of the villagers of Iounis hardly affected the two gray-robed magi that strode down the town's main street. Hoods drawn up and over their faces, they needn't have looked about to see the damage that had torn the buildings around them asunder. They also didn't need to look to see the fear in the eyes of those villagers who noticed them, or the way they scurried out of their way like vermin in the light.
They paused in the middle of the road at the edge of the blackened crater left in the conflict. An orange, striped paw reached out as one of the magi crouched down to run a finger along the edge of the crater. "You were right, Aeola," growled the gruff voice of Master Tamil. "They were here. I can sense the traces of fraen magic Oswell's vessel left behind."
"Then we are not far behind it," Aeola replied. She remained upright as she glanced about and wrung her white-gloved paws. Around them, more than a few villagers cast fearful, curious glances in their direction. "We have not come to do you harm," she added, her voice raised to a sharp shout. "We seek those who brought this upon you, to see them punished for this offense."
The cough-broken laugh from behind Aeola drew both her and Tamil's gaze. They settled on a tall and muscled skunk, his leathers covered in blood. He leaned lightly on his spear as he glared back at them. "An' you think any of us actually believe that?" he snarled as he gripped his spear tighter. "Too much death's come through here, thanks to magi! Get out, or we'll get you out!"
Aeola stared back at the angry skunk for a moment from beneath her hood before she glanced over at Tamil. "Do you have their location?" she asked.
"I need a moment," was the tiger's reply, as crimson light played along his fingers. "A minute, and no more."
"You ain't got a minute!" roared the skunk. There was a rumble of assent from the townspeople all around the magi as the skunk approached with his spear raised. "I said get out, and now y-"
The wind rushed out of him as a gloved hand lifted to point to his chest. Invisible force propelled the skunk back along the street at high speed as Aeola's robes rippled in the wind, and the sickening crack of broken bones melded with the meaty thud of his impact against the side of a building. A gasp rose from the crowd as the building began to collapse under the intensity of the blow, and the rubble swiftly hid the skunk as it buried him.
The magi lowered her paw again and turned back toward Tamil. "We have not come to do you harm," she repeated, her shout louder than before. "However, should you intend to do us harm, you will be destroyed. I would like you all to be very, very clear on this." She paused for a moment before she knelt down behind Tamil. "Now?"
He grumbled under his breath as the energy that played over his paw grew brighter. "A moment, I said," he growled after a moment. "There is both Ahron and demonic energy infused in this place; tracking Oswell's vessel with such interference is not easy." His eyes fell closed as Aeola stood behind him once more, and he turned to glance a little further back along the street. "There."
Aeola watched him as he started up and toward the house she had collapsed with the skunk's body. Tamil knelt down beside a bloodstain and ran his fingers through the dirt just shy of it. A smile touched his muzzle as red light danced up from the ground and wrapped around his fingers. "Ah... there we are. Interesting. They were not alone."
"That does not matter." Aeola clasped her paws behind her back and looked around again, but this time the villagers refused to meet her gaze. Their eyes were studiously focused on something else. Anything else. "If Ahron magic is involved, we must hasten to Oswell's vessel. We are ready?" she asked.
"Yes. I have their destination," replied Tamil with a smile. "They will not be able to run far before we catch them." His smile slipped as he glanced around at the terrified townspeople again and offered Aeola his paw. "Fools should have known better than to test our patience."
She simply nodded as she placed her paw in his and squeezed tightly. Brilliant, sparking flame rose from the contact and swept out to surround both magi. It swirled as Tamil closed his eyes, and it enveloped the pair completely. There was a flash that blinded everyone left looking anywhere near them.
When their vision cleared, the magi were gone.