Insurrection - Chapter Four
#19 of Blood And Water
Blood And Water - Insurrection
Part Two: FRAEN
Chapter Four
It was possible, through magic, to transport one's self across great distances in the blink of an eye. Such things were more difficult when carrying a passenger, or traveling somewhere one had never been. It was dangerous, highly inaccurate, completely unreliable and a technique that a magi could spend years training without mastering.
Though Ransley had a head-start on Deacon, that didn't keep the fox from tracking the traces of Ransley's _ulurn_magic. The ferret jumped about again and again, flickering across the southern reaches of the Noctus Imperium no fewer than a dozen times before he finally came to rest. Deacon had grit his teeth by the time he'd made the eleventh jump across the miles, as frustrated as he was exhausted by the effort.
It didn't help that after the first jump, Deacon had stopped a moment and attempted to heal Bain. He could sense the damage within the otter, but his powers refused to find purchase no matter how hard he tried. Something inside Bain was stronger, and it prevented the fox's powers from mending his wounds. Half an hour of attempts to force the healing process were met with failure, and it was only then that Deacon decided that the Font was too powerful to fight directly.
And yet, as he continued on in pursuit of Ransley's magical tracks, Deacon could not help but turn his thoughts to Oswell. There was no way to deny what he'd felt. For a brief instant during the fight with the shade, he'd become aware of it. That little splinter of his creator, wedged down deep in his mind and concealed so long, was awakening. Whatever its power, it was of Oswell and therefore was a considerable threat.
There was only one solution to the problem as Deacon saw it, and that was the only thing that helped push him onward to try and catch up to Ransley. Deacon had to ensure that Bain would be well before he did the only thing that he could to stop Oswell. If the fox had to enter a fight he knew he could not win, the least he could do was ensure that Bain would live first.
When he finally caught up to Ransley, it was to find the ferret already sat down beside a small campfire with an angry expression on his face. He turned his glare on Deacon as the fox appeared in a burst of flame, Bain still wrapped tight and safe in his arms. "Did you perhaps stop for lunch somewhere along the way?" growled the ferret as he pushed himself up off the ground. "What took you so long?"
"Spare me your tongue and help me with Bain," Deacon grumbled back. He gently set the otter down on the grass before the fire as he glanced up and around himself. They were well out of the forests of the southern Imperium, if only judged by the long, grassy plains they found themselves upon. A strong breeze blew in from the east, and Deacon sighed as the cool air ran across his face. It carried with it something new; an unfamiliar scent he'd never experienced.
His sigh turned into an indignant, wordless grunt as Ransley shoved at his shoulder. "Hey! What are-"
"I want the truth now, fox," hissed Ransley. Deacon could sense the other magi gather no power to himself, but his anger tumbled off him like a landslide. "Oswell. I saw your battle in your memories; you killed him. Set his body ablaze."
Deacon growled as he bared his teeth, and he was gratified to hear a quieter hiss from Ransley as the ferret danced back a couple of steps. There was a brief surge of ulurn magic, but it abated as Deacon held Ransley's glare. "You know the truth as well as I did," he forced out.
Both of Ransley's eyebrows lifted as his tail lashed uneasily behind him. "Did?" he echoed.
"Yes, did," Deacon shouted back. Ransley stood firm against the outburst, but the fox was able to feel the ground beneath him quake. The ferret was _scared_of him, even if he tried to hide it. It took him a moment to realize that it was not just Deacon that the ferret was afraid of. There was something else; something worse that stoked that fear. "And do not play this game with me, Cunliffe. You sensed it, as clearly as I did. You know that the power is in me."
"But you were not the one directing it." Ransley's eyes narrowed. "That was not just his power. It was him, wasn't it? It was Oswell. It was him, inside you."
Hearing the words said aloud was somehow all the more terrifying than the simple realization had been in the middle of the battle with the shade. Deacon felt a shiver run from his head to tailtip as he glanced out across the plains. He'd been too busy to truly drink in that thought and everything that went with it. Now that he had a calmer moment, exhaustion be damned, it was enough to almost overwhelm him. "Yes," he sighed.
The fox closed his eyes for a moment as he sank down to his knees beside Bain. He ran his paw gently down the otter's chest. "You sensed him. You saw what it did to me. But... you cannot understand." His eyes lifted to meet Ransley's gaze. The ferret continued to glare angrily back. "You have no idea how that felt."
"Enlighten me." Once more came a quiet rumble from the ground. Ransley's paws had curled into fists.
Deacon glanced at those fists for a moment. "Or what? You destroy me?"
The ferret tilted his head up. "I give it a good shot, yes." In spite of his words, his fingers began to slowly relax. "Explain it to me then, perhaps so that neither one of us has to die here."
Beneath Deacon, Bain refused to stir. He stared at the otter for a moment as he traced his fingers gently down Bain's cheek. "It was hatred," he sighed at last. "It was simply raw, overpowering hate. It was cold and it was dark and it was utterly pervasive. It felt like all of winter, wrapped into a single moment that then stretched across all eternity. It felt like that... that baseless fear of a kit, stranded and alone in the middle of the night. Absolute darkness, forever.
"And that," Deacon added as he slowly brought himself upright again, "is the best that I can put it into words. There are no words for how that felt, because I was not the one truly feeling it. They were not echoes or fragments of Oswell's past. They were not dreams. They were Oswell himself, trapped inside me."
"But you killed him," Ransley protested. His fingers twitched, though his fists uncurled as Deacon spoke. "I saw it in your mind. You bested him with his own powers. You knew your creator better than I ever could have, fox. Would he really have anticipated you turning on him? Would he have planned for your ability to kill him?"
That was the question that had been running through Deacon's mind since the moment he'd struck that killing blow. He frowned as he glanced back toward the horizon again with a shake of his head. "I want to say no," he replied at last. "I want to say he was so sure in his power that he would never have let himself be put in a situation where any of his creations could turn on him. I want to say that he is dead... that he is not coming back."
Ransley winced as he followed Deacon's gaze. He folded his arms and tapped his fingers against them as he shook his head. "But?" he offered.
"But." The fox lifted his paw and tapped a pair of fingers against the side of his head. "But I felt him. You felt it, too. It wasn't me. That was not what you no doubt saw of me when you sifted through my memories. If you thought I was a monster, I doubt I would have woken up the first time."
A glance aside showed that the comment had twitched the ferret's muzzle into a slight smile, even if it didn't seem to set him at ease. "Maybe I've just got a sense of honor about me," suggested Ransley. "Maybe I don't like the idea of cutting down a helpless opponent, even if he is a monster."
"That is a weakness you cannot afford around me, Cunliffe," Deacon replied. His ears twitched back as he stared hard at the ferret. "If I have been compromised and Oswell is inside me still, then he no doubt still has a means by which to possess my body. If he takes control, you cannot hesitate for an instant." Deacon's muzzle curled into a snarl as he stared down at the ground. "If I lose control, you may be the only one able to stop him."
The ferret frowned as he leaned back slightly. "Surely it hasn't come to that already?" he asked. His tone of voice gave away his own uncertainty. "And besides, Bain would never let me get away with murdering you under any circumstance."
A growl slipped out of Deacon as he shook his head more violently. "He will live with it," the fox firmly replied. "He will understand. We have both seen up close the dedication Oswell had to his work. We have both seen, in horrific detail, how he conducts himself. He murdered your father and that is terrible, but it will be a single, bloody drop in a very deep, bloody ocean should he return through me."
Deacon watched the surge of anger run through Ransley at the mention of his father. "Terrible? That is what you call it?"
"Yes. Terrible. A tragedy. A waste of life." The fox reached out to jab a finger at Ransley. "And you would be the first person Oswell destroys if he takes me over, in a similar terrible, tragic waste of life. If Oswell is truly inside me somehow -- if he was in fact able to escape true death through me by some arcane means -- and gains control, _you_will be the most immediate threat. He will kill you without mercy or restraint for no other reason than you _might_threaten him at some point in the future. That is why you must help me to restore Bain, and then destroy me."
"Well, it's a good thing that you're... I'm sorry. What?" Ransley's brow furrowed as he stared at Deacon. "Did I hear you right? Destroy you?"
The fox set his jaw and glanced up again as he nodded. "Before Oswell takes control. You must kill me as soon as possible. You know what Oswell was capable of, but I alone have an idea of what he could do if he gained control of my body and my powers. We cannot allow that to happen."
Deacon frowned deep as Ransley held up both paws and shook his head again. "Wait a moment. This is a drastic thing that you suggest, fox. We may-"
"Oswell may be growing stronger even as we debate this," Deacon interrupted. Flame flashed in his paws. "If you will not kill me, then I will do it myself. Now help me attend to Bain, and then let us finish Oswell off completely."
"Then we are agreed."
The unfamiliar female voice caused Deacon to whirl on its owner as Ransley stepped aside with a gasp. There, no more than twenty feet away and with their gray robes whipped up by the stiff breeze stood a pair of magi. They stood side by side, one hooded and gloved to reveal nothing of species or gender. All that could be seen of the second, taller figure were the orange, striped paws of a tiger. "You agree?" he said as he reached out tentatively with his mind.
The tiger drew back his hood as he took a step forward, and Deacon could feel the familiar crackle of fraen_magic burn within him. It surged, barely restrained by the tiger's will and stronger than any _fraen power he'd felt save for his own. "You call yourself Deacon," he said. There was obviously no question to it; he knew who he was looking at.
Deacon's eyes flicked between the pair as he felt Ransley slide to the side and toward Bain. "And what do you call yourselves?" he asked as he willed flame to his fingertips. There was a spark of light from the tiger as he immediately did the same.
"Names do not matter," spoke the shorter figure. Deacon could at last identify her as the voice that had first spoken, though her white gloved paws gave him no clue to species. "What matters is that you have done half of our job for us. You have identified that Oswell survives in part through you. We thank you for your honesty and your wisdom."
"And know that we will not show the same restraint as the ferret," growled the tiger. His eyes stared hard at Ransley, and Deacon could feel the ulurn magi's immediate unease mingle with something else. Fear? "You are indeed wise to choose death over allowing him a chance to return."
Deacon's eyes widened. He lifted a paw slowly to ward the tiger off as he turned to glance back at Bain. The otter was still unconscious, and Ransley knelt near him even as he stared up at the two other magi with concern. "My companion is wounded and ill. I seek to see him restored to health, and then I will of course submit to destruction."
"Fox, what are you doing?" Ransley hissed. His eyes were like insects as his dance leapt back and forth between the new magi and the fox. "Do not tempt them!"
As Ransley spoke, the tiger laughed. The flame in his paws burned brighter as he took another step forward. "Submit to destruction, and then we will restore him to health."
Deacon's ears flattened. "You do not know what is wrong with him."
"And we do not care," spoke the female. "He is as guilty as you."
Those were their last words before the tiger roared and raised both of his paws. A wave of flame fanned out from his fingertips toward Deacon, and the fox leaned back and settled into a crouch as he swept his own paws quickly up. He grit his teeth as he pushed back against the flames that raced toward himself, Bain and Ransley. It was just enough, and the wave of flame bent upward and over the trio as Deacon's paws curled into fists.
It was not, however, quick enough to prevent the concentrated ball of flame that launched from the tiger's paw. It soared across the distance in the blink of an eye and exploded against Deacon's chest, and the fox cried out as he was blasted back. He hit the ground hard and tumbled across it as his robes caught alight. A swipe of his paw across them gathered the fire there into his grip, and he thrust forward his empty paw with fingers hooked.
The telekinetic grab wrapped around the tiger and bound him still and surprised as Deacon returned with a fireball of his own. It was deflected to the side by a wave of the other magi's paw, and Deacon turned his glare on her. A flick of his paw sent another ball of flame in her direction, but that too was harmlessly pushed aside as the tiger's powers began to struggle against his own. With a growl, Deacon pivoted on one footpaw and swung his other arm about.
The feline magi in his grip careened toward the hooded figure, but she deftly danced aside as Deacon hurled him toward her. She twirled as her paws vanished into her robes for a moment, and when they emerged again they held a pair of long- and curved-bladed daggers. "This does not have to be so difficult, Oswell."
"Stop calling me that!" Deacon roared back. Rage surged at the fresh comparison as he launched his power at her just as the tiger had at him. The fire wave blasted outward and swallowed the magi up in the intensity of the flames, but when they died away it revealed a swirling orb of mist that encased the enemy magi. It sizzled and hissed in the wake of Deacon's fiery attack, and some of his rage faltered at the sight. "I am not Oswell!" he shouted, as he hurled bolt after fiery bolt at her.
The magi calmly walked toward him as those bolts flashed to nothing against that misty orb. Deacon's eyes widened as she calmly stared back at him from her shadowed face, and he held back a moment to gather a larger, more powerful ball of flame in his grasp. He dug deep into his powers as he sucked in a breath, and barked as he thrust forward with that paw.
But not with that fireball. Instead the flames puffed out as he desperately reached into that splinter in his mind for Oswell's powers, and they answered. An arcing bolt of red lightning stabbed right through the orb that protected the magi and ran through her chest. A screech of pain split the hills as she staggered back from the assault and dropped to the ground. Her paws shook as they clutched at her wound, her daggers embedded in the dirt. Behind Deacon, the fox heard Ransley cry out in shock.
A whisper ran through Deacon's mind as he heard the roar of the tiger. Neither sound carried words, but a warning as Deacon felt the magi's fraen powers flare to life again. His breath came short and sharp as he felt the tiger's powers flood out of his paws. A stream of flame reached out to Deacon as the fox lifted his own paws to catch it.
Heat -- but not that calming warmth of his own powers -- scorched his fingers as he reached out to the tiger's flames and snuffed them the moment they touched his flesh. The stream sparked to nothing against the fox's paws. Black smoke billowed out from the point of contact as Deacon absorbed what energy he could and crushed the remainder as harmlessly as possible. Across the hilltop from him, the tiger's roar of rage continued. Through the smoke, Deacon lost sight of the other magi.
His footpaws dug into the dirt as the tiger's assault intensified. Deacon's eyes squeezed shut as the heat continued to build and build against his defense, and he panted for breath as stinging pain began to lance up both of his arms. The torrent of _fraen_energy came faster than he could diffuse it, and he could feel his fur begin to burn away under the tiger's rage-filled attack. He could only hold on for so long. If he didn't do something, the tiger would overwhelm him by raw force of power.
But all of Deacon's focus was being taken up in fending off the attack. He didn't have the strength to redirect the flow of fire back on the tiger, or even push him back. Such a shove would barely penetrate his defenses, let alone slow or stall his assault. Deacon grit his teeth as he glanced toward Bain. Ransley knelt over him, with a bright green shield of energy wrapped around them both. The ferret was too busy protecting Bain from any stray bolts to help Deacon, his face and mind equally unreadable. The tiger had poured everything into his magical assault.
Deacon's eyes snapped open. That was it. The tiger had poured everything into his magical assault. His magical defenses were raised and his magical offenses had his full focus. He had tried to overwhelm Deacon by sheer force of power. The fox could almost hear Oswell's teachings inside his head. Magi do not do battle with brute force, boy, he had said. Subtlety is key. Find the weakest point. Assault it. As it is shored up, find the next weakest. Assault that. Do not attack where they are strong.
If the tiger's raw power was his strength, then his mind was the weakest point. With this realization, Deacon forced himself to relax. He willed his muscles to slacken slightly, even as he kept his mind and powers sharp in the face of the overwhelming power the tiger had conjured. He didn't need to strike back against the tiger directly. He just needed enough power to hold his attack at bay a moment longer as he reached out.
The tiger's mind was clear as day. It was a brilliant spark in the infinite world around him, made all the brighter by the power it called on. Deacon wasted no time with anything fancy or elaborate. Any delay would surely give his opponent time to prepare. As he took a breath, Deacon gathered all of his mental reserves and threw them into a single, spear of thought.
That spear lanced deep into the tiger's mind, and his howl of pain came with a telekinetic blast that flattened the grass all around him. He buckled as his stream of fiery attack died suddenly. The smoke that wafted up from Deacon's paws was blown away in a moment by the wind as he opened his eyes. There, for a moment, the feline magi was vulnerable. Even as he watched, he began to pick himself up and shield his wounded mind from further attack.
Deacon gave him no time to strengthen himself. With the tiger's attention turned inward again, Deacon reached out with his powers to snatch up the daggers that the other magi had dropped. A flick of a finger sent the two blades spinning through the air, and the tiger raised his paw to try and ward them off.
But Deacon had attacked just barely too quickly for him. The first sliced through his raised paw, and set a new howl bubbling up in his throat. The second dagger swept across that throat though, and the howl turned into a pained, surprised gurgle. The tiger's eyes went wide as crimson light burst from his paws, and he quickly clutched both of those paws against the gash in his throat as blood began to pour from the wound. Deacon could sense the healing magic welling up as it began to cauterize the cut and sear closed the flow of blood.
Then both daggers came back around and buried themselves in the back of the tiger's head.
His eyes went wide before they rolled upward. He fell forward as the ruby glow about his paws sputtered away with his life, and his blood began to drool out from his neck across the grass. Deacon watched the life drain from the feline as he stood up a little straighter, and he took a breath as he turned his gaze on the other magi.
She was still crouched low, one paw clutched to her chest. Deacon could see the hole in her robe he had burned with his lightning strike, and blue motes of ilaen magic danced beneath her grip. Her eyes were not on Deacon, but ostensibly on the body of her fallen ally. A hiss slowly emerged from within her hood as she stood.
Deacon raised both of his paws, ready to fend off either a direct or mental assault from the magi. No attack came, however. Instead, she swept both of her arms out wide and the same blue light wrapped around her. Her body was filled with it, and within a moment she had dissolved into the wind like foam on the ocean. Save for the whistling of the wind across the plains and Deacon's pants for breath, the hilltop was silent. It was over.
"Uh... Deacon?" The voice belonged to Ransley, and as Deacon turned he could see the ferret had slunk a little lower under his protective shield. "That is still you, isn't it?"
The fox flexed the fingers of his right paw as he looked down at them. He could see where his fur had burned away under the tiger's assault, but even more clearly could he feel the residual tingle of Oswell's aerun powers. "Yes, it's still me," he sighed as he lifted the paw higher to rub across his muzzle. "For the moment, at least. You see now how dangerous it would be for someone like Oswell to have my powers. Why we must destroy me."
Ransley's shield remained intact for a few moments more before it almost reluctantly sparkled out of existence. The ferret frowned as he remained close to Bain. "You are so insistent that we kill you. You could have simply let those magi destroy you, if that was what you truly wanted."
Deacon felt a pang of sadness as he watched Ransley slink back from him an inch as he stepped over to kneel beside Bain. Despite his reluctance to accept Deacon's words, the fear that boiled off of him was something the fox could sense even without his powers. "You heard them," he said as he stroked a paw down Bain's side again. "They called him guilty. As guilty as I am. How dare they? He has done nothing."
"Neither have you," Ransley pointed out. "I mean, now you have killed another magi in self-defense, but you have done nothing else save for existing. Life is not something that should be punished with death."
The fox smirked mirthlessly as he glanced out into the wind. "I am certain that the magi who just attacked me feel the very same way."
Ransley sighed as he stood and started toward the tiger's body. "Cheeky. Alright, fair call. But as I said, perhaps I am not willing to murder someone in cold blood. And yes, I know that the otter is innocent in all of this. I saw it in his mind. I know he has done no wrong... well, save for what you two have done together, of course." His tones became distracted as he looked down over the tiger's fallen form.
Deacon watched him silently for a moment as he continued to gently stroke at Bain's arm. "Bain deserves to live, regardless of where his heart lies," he said at last, as Ransley crouched low to examine the body. "Bain was taken from his home, his family and his life. As I understand it, he is the last of his immediate family. Oswell has taken everything from him. For him to be punished by magi he has never met or even known of simply for the crime of being experimented on by a mad magi is ludicrous." He felt anger surge to the fore again, but quickly forced it down. Rage would not help him figure out how to help and protect Bain.
The ferret clucked his tongue as he reached out to grasp a hold of the daggers buried in the feline's skull. "Well, you sure showed him," he said as he pulled both blades free. Ransley began to clean them of the gray and red goop that coated the metal on the tiger's robes. "Do you really think you will be able to save Bain's life?"
Deacon blinked as he glanced back down at the otter. He looked peaceful, as if he were asleep rather than overcome with magical energy. "I do not know," he replied at last. The words felt like ashes in his throat. It felt like admitting Bain was already beyond salvation. "I have to try. To my dying breath, if I have to. Oswell has cost him so much. He deserves... anything. Everything. Everything I can give him. For what he has lost, my devotion is hardly anything at all." He sighed. "Bain deserves a life. I must ensure that at the very least."
"I agree," Ransley replied with a nod. He started back toward the pair and slid the blades he'd taken into his belt. "And because you believe that, I believe that you deserve the same."
A frown crept back across Deacon's brow. "Cunliffe, you know-"
"No, I do not," Ransley interrupted. His muzzle twitched into a slight smile. "Listen, fox, and listen well. I may not agree with what you two do and I may personally think that you're an annoying, whingy little brat of a magi with more power than clarity of thought."
"I do so hope there is a redeeming compliment ahead," Deacon grumbled.
"But," Ransley continued with a perked eyebrow, "your dedication was the foremost thing I was able to dig out of your mind. I pieced together your time with Bain from his mind. Even unconscious, you wrapped yourself around your memories of him with greater fervor than you protected your knowledge of Oswell. It was not out of fear of them being known, was it?"
Deacon felt his teeth grind again as he was once more reminded of how thoroughly Ransley had sifted through his memories. "No. No, it was not."
The answer seemed to satisfy the ferret, and he turned back toward where he'd started his little fire. It had burned out almost entirely during the fight, and he sighed as he poked at a half-burned piece of wood. "I have come to understand something very simple about you, fox. You would shatter the heavens and lay low every demon in the underworld if it would ensure that otter's safety. I don't know if it's love, guilt, madness or a combination of all three. Your determination in this matter is factual, irrefutable and immutable. I admire your dedication to him, whatever your reasons may be."
His eyes flicked up to take in Deacon's face. The fox just stared back as he squeezed at Bain's paw. "Thank you?" Deacon replied at last.
Ransley nodded back at the otter. "So. Before you go throwing your life away, how about we see if you need not make a noble sacrifice for Bain's sake, hmm? Surely he would not wish you to die."
Deacon sighed and nodded. "Of course he would not. But I have no intention of being destroyed until I know that he is going to be safe and healthy. Oswell is too great a threat to allow a moment longer than is necessary, Cunliffe. My sacrifice in the face of the hundreds or thousands of lives that Oswell's twisted schemes could undo? It bears not even considering."
"But you will wait until he is healthy and safe?" Ransley smirked as he looked over the fox.
Deacon stared back, and one ear perked for a second before they both fell flat. "Only until I know that he will be healthy and safe. Only then," he replied.
With that, Ransley nodded once and sat himself down at the edge of his makeshift campfire. "Good. Then the first order of business is you starting that fire back up. I will see about obtaining us some food while you rest. We will do our best to rouse Bain, and then I will take you somewhere where perhaps you may be able to find the help you need."
The fox cocked his head to the side. "More magi?" he warily asked.
"Hmm? What? No, of course not. Are you joking? Even I can feel those aerun powers bleeding through you now. Any magi worth their magic would sense it and know something is very wrong with you." Ransley shook his head firmly. "No. We will go to the north-east, to the Isles of the Demeresan."
Deacon's face took on a skeptical expression. "Your solution to Bain's condition is clergy?"
Ransley actually laughed as he poked again at the remains of his fire. "You say that as though the old temples are all that they could possibly have there. Trust me, fox. I studied focal points of magical energy most extensively. There is an arcane confluence in the island of Lamis; a melding of_fraen_ and ilaen power. Once we find it, you should be able to tap into it." He shrugged. "Between Bain's natural _ilaen_vibrancy and your own _fraen_healing techniques, perhaps you can restore him and spare him this degeneration you so fear."
A sigh slipped from between Deacon's lips as his tail tucked low. He wrapped his singed paws around his middle as he willed the burned-out fire to spark back to life, and it shed its warm glow over the three of them as he stared into those flames. "I do not fear the degeneration itself," he said. "I fear not being able to stop it. I fear not being able to save him."
"Perhaps Lamis contains the answer you seek," reasoned Ransley as he stood. "Now. I'm going to see what I can find in the way of food. You stay here and rest. Keep an eye on Bain, in case that other magi returns." He shrugged again as he brushed down his tunic. "I think you must have scared her off, but better that we be prepared in case she is simply biding her time."
Deacon nodded and watched as Ransley's body flashed with green light and vanished. He continued to stare after the ferret even after he was gone, and it wasn't until his shoulders drooped that he turned his gaze back on the flames before him. Maybe Ransley was right, and Lamis held a solution for Bain's condition.
But that shade was still out there. The shattered remnants of Haldane's spirit would not stop until it had whatever it wanted. Deacon was sure of that, but the surety came from that splinter in his mind. The surety was not his own, but it came with such authority as to be unassailable. He could not trust whatever of Oswell was inside him, but Deacon had faced the shade twice; the evidence was plain to see, even without the whisper.
And then there was that other magi. He'd slain one of the pair, but who was to say there weren't more? Ransley had spoken of a cabal of magi that Oswell had joined with and betrayed. How many other magi out there had Oswell run afoul of? How many more were just biding their time until Deacon was weakened enough to strike?
All of that, however, was something that he could not worry about immediately. He had enough to worry about solely focused on Bain and on himself. As he willed the flames to burn brighter and hotter against the cold, easterly wind, Deacon lay himself down against Bain and draped his robes across the otter's body. It wasn't much, but perhaps it would help. His best, as ever, was all he could do.
Deacon just hoped that his best continued to be enough.
The flash of light that brought Aeola back to the central chambers of the Ring of Fate was accompanied by a series of surprised gasps. The female magi appeared amid the flash, and as it faded the rest of the magi around the table could see her on the floor. She knelt low, her breath labored and heavy as she clutched at her chest with one bloody, gloved paw.
Lady Kan was the first to rise from her seat, and great wings unfurled from behind her to propel the dragoness over the table and down to Aeola's side. The flames were still out, else Kan would have been consumed in their intense heat. "What has happened?" she asked as she reached out one white-scaled hand to help Aeola up.
That hand was swiftly batted aside by a vicious sweep of the other magi's free paw. "Master Tamil is dead," she growled. The voice was deep and dark in a stark contrast to her usually unflappably calm tones. "Oswell's vessel struck him down. We were... not prepared for his power."
Again Kan reached down toward her fellow magi, and again Aeola slapped her hand aside. A growl rumbled in the dragoness' throat as she reached forward with incredible speed and grabbed a hold of Aeola's shoulder. Claws threatened to penetrate her robes and her flesh as the dragoness knelt lower to bring herself in line with Aeola's hooded face. "I warned you. I told you _both_that this was an unwise course of action."
Another surge of ilaen energy swept through Aeola, but it was not released. Instead she hissed again and slowly forced herself up off the ground. The other members of the Ring continued to stare at her as Kan's hand slipped off her shoulder. "When compared to your methods, my lady, it was still necessary," she countered. There was still a note of aggression in her voice as she tugged her ruined robe tighter around her middle. "The previous plan enacted by this council has failed."
"No. You have failed." Kan rose more slowly, but she could feel the emotions that flooded outward from Aeola. Her anger was barely held in check, driven by a deep wound to her pride. Kan could not remember the last time someone had bested Aeola in combat. "You were not as prepared for Oswell's vessel as you thought. He faced two of our best and triumphed." Her eyes narrowed. "You thought him easy prey, and Tamil paid the price."
Aeola fell silent, and though Kan could not see her eyes she knew that the other magi was glaring at her. She could feel her stare as if it burrowed deep under the dragoness' scales. "And now we all see the price we pay for trying to force the future to bend to our will!" she shouted as she turned back to the others seated around the Ring. "We had set to the task of observation and management first and foremost, to so that we could determine if the vessel required our intervention. Now that we have attacked it, who amongst you would like to stand in its way?"
Her eye ridges lifted slightly even as her eyes narrowed. Her glare traversed the table, but to their credit not a single magi shied from her. "Perhaps you, Master Espen? Or you, Master Cormic?" They held their tongues even as they held her stare, and Kan shook her head as she turned back to Aeola. "Now that you have seen the power of what we face, perhaps you will not be so quick to challenge it again. Perhaps now you can devote your efforts to helping this already depleted council in its much more important work."
"No, my lady." The reply came in the form of a deep growl as Aeola shook her head. "Now I know what I face, and I can instruct others. Now I know the danger better than I did before, and Tamil's sacrifice will not have been in vain. We must go, and now, to destroy the vessel and scour it from the world for good."
In a rare display, electricity crackled for a moment between Kan's fingers. It vanished as she slowly folded her arms across her chest and stared deep into the shadows under Aeola's hood. "That is not your call to make."
"Oswell lives."
The words produced a wave of shock and fear that expanded outward from each and every one of the remaining magi seated around the Ring. Kan felt their concerns wash over her and mingle with her own. Dread suffused her heart as she nevertheless held her stare. "How do you know this?" she asked.
Aeola's head tilted down an inch. "I felt the vessel's will as it directed its fraen magic. I also felt the vessel's will direct its aerun_magic to penetrate my defenses, but there was something else. Something buried beneath it." Her head lifted again as the magi hissed once more. "I have felt Oswell's power as surely as you, my lady. I am _quite certain. He survives in his vessel."
Murmurs began to rise around the table as Kan allowed her gaze to dip to the floor. Her dread took a greater hold as she took a moment to allow Aeola's words to sink it. It was possible, after all, that she was wrong. Aeola could have been mistaken, or could have been projecting her own fears onto the vessel. It would not be the first time a magi's sense of a situation had been tainted by their own feelings or fears.
But Aeola's voice was resolute. Kan could sense her surety even without pushing into the magi's mind. If nothing else, Aeola was certain of what she'd felt and both powerful and experienced enough to be trusted in such matters. "Then Oswell lives," she ground out at last as she squeezed tightly at her arms. "Woe betide us all."
"Not if we track him," Aeola pointed out. She stepped forward and past Kan, and the dragoness frowned as Aeola began to address the council itself. "The vessel is powerful, but it is singular. We are many more. Now that I know what to expect of this creature's power, I believe myself able to best it with the aid of a few brave souls from this council, if they would have me."
Kan whirled on Aeola with a snarl, and she felt a moment's satisfaction as the other magi turned quickly and shrunk back from the enraged dragoness. "This is a challenge of leadership then, Aeola? And so soon after the last member of this council you lured to your side with assurances was cut down by a threat we were already monitoring?"
In spite of the ferocious display, Aeola drew herself up straighter and steeled herself. "If we had engaged the vessel once we became aware of it, we would have caught it unawares," she replied, but her calm began to sound forced. "Instead, you insisted to this council that Cecilie's visions were the truest of all of us. You used them to direct an Acolyte of our order -- not yet a master amongst us -- to monitor that which we always knew would be a threat."
The dragoness' teeth were bared as she took another step toward Aeola. "Then this is a challenge."
"A challenge, my lady, yes. But not for your leadership." Aeola whirled back to press both paws atop the table as she addressed them again. "I call for revocation of Lady Kan's previous instructions regarding Oswell's vessel, and an immediate vote on my proposal to lead a force to destroy it."
The eight figures seated around the table immediately began to exchange looks. Kan fell silent as she watched them. She could feel their confusion mingle with their uncertainty and fear. It was not a combination that instilled in her any hope for rational discourse. If Aeola riled them up any further, any such vote would swing sharply in her favor. "A call for revocation must be seconded by a master of the council," Kan growled back. "Who would second Master Aeola's call?"
Silence reigned through the chamber for a long few moments as Aeola stared at each remaining member in turn. Each of them glanced away, one after another, until at last a short, thick-set wolf stood from his chair and bowed his head. "I will second Master Aeola's call for revocation," he slowly announced, "in the interest of ensuring we understand that which we now face."
Kan could not quite keep the sigh from slipping out of her, but between clenched teeth it only sounded like a hiss. "Very well. Master Cormic seconds the call for revocation. We will vote."
"A few words first, my lady, if I might," Aeola quickly said. She didn't even turn to address the dragoness as she spoke. "I believe we are entitled to make our respective points before the council's vote."
"Your civility in the wake of challenging my leadership is admirable," Kan replied, but she nevertheless waved a hand toward the council. It was, after all, Aeola's right to speak. Kan knew she couldn't deny it without further alienating what support she still had on the council.
Aeola bowed her head in thanks and started around the table. "When Tamil and I tracked the vessel, it was to a small town in the south of the Imperium," she said. "Destruction was left in its wake. Demonic energy and Ahron sorcery were present, along with the markers of the vessel's powers." Her words immediately stoked a flurry of quiet conversation amongst the masters of the council. "Ignoring this still presents us with a magi of considerable power that bears Oswell's imprint. It is only a matter of time before Oswell's true nature asserts itself.
"But faced with Tamil's assessment that both demonic and Ahron magic were present, we cannot allow ourselves any longer this flawed attitude of passive observation. The vessel _must_be destroyed, and now. For now, its own will continues to drive it. Should Oswell gain control and gain access to demonic power -- or worse, Ahron sorcery -- there will be no power in the world that could stop him." She lifted a paw and curled it into a fist. "We must strike, and we must strike with our full fury. To do any less would only damage our chances of success."
From the table, Cormic raised a paw of his own. "And how many of the masters here would you insist accompany you to assault Oswell's creation?" he asked.
"Half," Aeola replied with a firm nod. "Along with a selection of Acolytes that have shown particular promise."
"This course of action would leave our sanctuary dangerously vulnerable," Kan pointed out as she let her hands come to rest on the table. Her clawtips clacked against the wooden surface as she stared at Aeola. "You risk much in this venture."
Aeola nodded once. "In order to save us all. I would demand we all go, but there are threats out there beyond merely Oswell. Some must stay to protect this place from any of our other enemies."
As she fell silent, so too did the conversation around the table begin to quiet. It continued for a few seconds more as Kan looked on. So many of them were uncertain. She suspected that they did not even know which way they wanted to vote. "And this is your statement?" she finally asked as she turned her gaze on Aeola.
When the hooded magi nodded, Kan returned it. "Very well. A show, please. All those who would vote against revocation of the previous directive and the installment of Aeola's plan?"
She was at least pleased to see Cormic's paw lift into the air. Two more followed it, along with Kan's own. She held there for a few seconds more, her teeth grit in the vain hope that another paw would lift. A stalemate would stay the previous plan and stall out Aeola's challenge. She just needed one more vote.
But it did not come, and finally Kan was forced to lower her hand. She sighed and closed her eyes. "And all those who would vote in favor of revocation of the previous directive and the installment of Aeola's plan?"
As predicted, Aeola herself and five others at the table all raised their paws in the affirmative. When Kan opened her eyes again, it was to stare right at Aeola. She fought back a growl as she gave a single nod. "Then the vote is taken. The previous plan is rescinded. Aeola, you have command of the assault on Oswell's vessel. You will choose from amongst your supporters those who would accompany you on this mission, and submit to me a list of the Acolytes you will also require." Her muzzle twisted in a snarl as she narrowed her eyes. "You will do this with all haste, and then you will go."
"Of course, my lady," replied Aeola. She bowed her head low in respect, though Kan had a hard time feeling that respect right at that moment. "By your leave, I will go to prepare the list." With nothing more to be said, she turned and headed toward the chamber doors.
Kan remained silent as she watched Aeola go. Now, more than ever, she felt Cecilie's absence from the council. Cecilie's powers were impressive and, for as unhinged as she sometimes seemed to the others, Kan knew that both her preternatural Sight and her mind were as keen as anything. She might have seen something, or had some other insight that could have given her a chance to put aside Aeola's challenge.
The dragoness slowly made her way back around the table to her seat. The others watched her every movement, and Kan felt more self-conscious than she ever had before. Perhaps they had begun to see her differently. Powerful, yes, but just some old crone who feared to act. Perhaps she had begun to lose them, and at the worst possible time.
Oswell lived. He had survived, if Aeola's story had been true. If so, he was a threat that most definitely had to be dealt with. Kan gently tugged her hood back up over her head as she once more silently lamented the silence of the firepit in the heart of the chambers. Without the holy flames of the Ring of Fate to guide her, Kan felt well and truly alone.
"Now then," she said at last as she sat up a little taller. "We have a newly pressing matter to attend to, before she returns and several of you depart. Master Idaia, I would have you please gather Master Tamil's tapestry. While we lack the Ring of Fate's flames and his body to submit to them, we still owe our brother his funerary rights.
"I hope only that he is the last that our hubris will doom in this crusade."