Insurrection - Chapter Seven
#22 of Blood And Water
Blood And Water - Insurrection
Part Three: ILAEN
Chapter Seven
Bain didn't return that night.
Deacon left the cavern shortly after Ransley went off to find him. He'd settled for a short time in Aishah's makeshift home, but the longer he spent there the more he felt ill at ease. It was, after all, a dead person's belongings that surrounded him. That it had been his body and his powers -- if not his will -- that had killed her only added to his discomfort.
Instead, he settled at the mouth of the cave. His back against the side of the volcano, Deacon closed his eyes and focused his mind. In the silence and solitude of the night, he could more readily turn himself inward. He did not relax as Aishah had taught him, though. Instead he kept himself rigid and alert, prepared for any trickery Oswell might pull.
This preparation only seemed to amuse Oswell. No words came from his creator, but the splinter that bore him seemed to have wedged deeper into Deacon's mind. It had created a wound, and that wound had grown larger in the wake of Aishah's efforts to awaken and control Oswell. He'd felt it, when similarly trapped.
A shudder ran through Deacon that had nothing to do with the cool air. He remembered it as a darkness; a blackness that twisted him and bent him and crushed him into a box too small to contain him. He'd fought and strained and stretched against it, but it was to no avail. The only gap in the box had been barred by Oswell's will, when Oswell had been in control.
Knowing that gave Deacon something to focus on. It was a weak point he could shore up against his creator's attempts to encroach further in his mind, but the effort it took was immense. The gap through which Oswell could escape wasn't beyond Deacon's ability to protect, but it required his concentration.
And yet, that concentration was frayed. Deacon was consumed with concern for Bain. The otter's anger had been entirely justifiable, of course. He had every right to be furious with Deacon for concealing the truth from him. The pain that had been on his face when the truth had been revealed was not the physical, but the emotional. Intention didn't change the lies he'd told. He'd betrayed Bain's trust.
The sound of footsteps on approach perked up Deacon's ear. He turned toward the path and sat up a little higher as he reached out mentally for Bain's reassuring presence. Instead he caught the thrum of Ransley's familiar ulurn magic, and the fox sighed and slump back down again. Obviously the ferret hadn't had any luck in calming Bain down.
He didn't bother to look up as Ransley approached. He didn't move when the ferret knelt down beside him, and he offered no sound when Ransley sat down to Deacon's left. He clenched his jaw as his ears flattened down and he hissed out a quiet sigh. Deacon should have known that Bain wouldn't forgive such a betrayal so easily.
"Make me understand," Ransley said. He let one arm lean back behind himself, and it planted in the dirt to brace him as he tilted his head up.
Deacon could only frown as he turned to look at the ferret. His expression was hard, but earnest. "You will have to be more specific, I am afraid," he growled back.
Ransley rolled his eyes. "Illegal in Noctus. Illegal in Talmaruk. Illegal in Kashirad and Beldora and Laighn. Heresy to the Lord of War, blasphemy to the Lord of Justice and perversion to the Mistress of Fate." The ferret shook his head as he nodded to Deacon. "That is the path you have chosen with Bain. So... why?"
"You ask me that?" Deacon countered with a snort. Heat began to boil off him. "You come up here on what has probably been the worst day of my entire life, and you ask me this question?"
It was Ransley's turn to narrow his eyes as he stared hard at Deacon. "I have heard plenty of arguments, fox. Some have said that this is the way that the gods created them. Some have said that they were cursed. But you were not created by the gods and you, powerful as you are, are not bound by enchantment. Oswell, from what I have seen of your memories, was as adamantly against it as anyone. So why?"
Deacon squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his eyes begin to moisten. It had been a question he'd struggled with ever since Bain first opened him to it. "Does it matter?" he sighed.
When Ransley didn't respond, he turned with his ears pinned back to stare through tear-filled eyes. "I do not know_why. I do not _care why. Whatever in me is broken, I cannot find it. I cannot correct it."
"Would you?" the ferret asked. He pushed off his planted paw and leaned forward. "If you could find it and correct it, would you do so?"
"No. I would not." Deacon felt his teeth grit as the fur of his cheeks became matted by his tears. Steam rose from the droplets before they traveled far. "And I do not expect you to understand that. I do not expect you to accept it. I do not expect you to be anything other than disgusted by it all, and by all the gods I do. Not. Care."
Ransley lifted an eyebrow as Deacon sighed and let his head roll back against the rock wall. "I lived to serve Oswell," he continued as he closed his eyes. On some level, he hoped that would help slow the flow of those vision-blurring tears. "All my life, I served him. I did what I was told. I allowed him entry when he wished to sift through my mind. I allowed him to try and mold me into whatever he wanted me to be.
"And until Bain, I might have gone through my whole life -- short as it would have been -- without knowing what it is to be cared for. To... to know the warmth of an embrace." His eyes opened and narrowed with bitter anger. "Oswell was not one for sentimentality. Oswell was not one for emotional attachment. I called him father, but there was no paternal care for him to give. I was as much a tool to him as Bain. As your father. As anyone else."
He rolled his head to the side to bring the ferret back into view. Ransley continued to stare, his attention firmly held. Deacon didn't know if that was unnerving or flattering. "Have you had to endure that? A family... a life as cold as ice? Have you ever had anyone care for you not out of obligation, but out of genuine want for your well-being? Have you loved?"
The question seemed to penetrate Ransley, and he blinked as he finally dropped his stare and glanced aside. "I cannot say that I have, no," he replied with a shake of his head. "Lusted, certainly. I know that I do not share your perv... uh, your-"
"Sentiments," Deacon offered through gritted teeth. "How fortunate for you, then, and how saddening."
Ransley snorted. "You seem truly blessed at present," he pointed out.
Deacon rolled his eyes as he turned his gaze up to the stars above instead. "I hurt because I have hurt someone dear to me," said the fox. "I suffer because I have caused him to suffer. I would endure the worst agonies and terrors that this world has to offer to grant him but a second of peace." Deacon worked his jaw from side to side as he felt the barest surge of Oswell's presence within his mind. "I already endure playing host to a monster's will, and the only thing that gives me strength enough to resist Oswell is Bain."
"And does Bain know this?" Ransley asked.
The stars above twinkled down, and Deacon wondered if any of those minuscule pinpricks of light cared for his situation. Certainly they had seemed so cold and distant when he'd first come to terms with his attraction to Bain, but nights under them seemed so much _more_when Bain was at his side. Now, in Bain's absence... "I have spoken at length of what he means to me. He tells me I am too verbose for simple feelings. I tell him I cannot find words that adequately describe how I feel." He sighed again. "But you cannot understand that. You have not loved, and you cannot believe that to be what I feel.
"So now I ask you," he added as he lifted an ear. "Are you satisfied? Now that you ask me all of this, have you found the answer you were looking for? Or was this all an excuse to continue to worsen an already bad day for me? Certainly you've already spoken to me of my dedication to Bain. You were, as I recall, impressed by it."
Ransley wasn't looking at Deacon as the fox spoke. In fact, he'd not even turned back to Deacon since he'd looked away. "I don't like you," he said at last. The words made Deacon's ears twitch as he frowned, before Ransley continued. "But that bias comes from... well, from where you come from. You've got the face of a monster. The body of a murderer. Gods all... you have his powers and more at your disposal, and he's still alive in some form inside you. I look at you and see the creature that killed my father."
Deacon sighed and shook his head as he turned away again. "Now I feel so much better."
"Shut up. I wasn't done." Ransley folded his arms as his tail twitched. "I don't like you, and I can't help that any more than you can. But Bain? The otter is friendly. Kind. Warm. He's a good person. I like Bain plenty. Ignorant, perhaps, of our power. Not as smart as we have to be, or as skilled."
The fox's brow furrowed as he turned toward Ransley again. He fixed the ferret with a stare for a moment before he said, "I'm sure he'd be overwhelmed with gratitude to hear this. It would surely mean the world to him."
"But," he continued through briefly-clenched teeth, "I appreciate him. I respect him for what he has been through. I even respect him for the way he looks at you. The whole world tells him that he is a perverted creature worthy only of death and dishonor, but he defies that because he cares for you with a smile on his muzzle and a spring in his step. He defies that out of a sense of... rightness, that comes from some place of certainty within himself. It is enviable."
Deacon allowed his head to tilt a little higher as an ear perked up. This was new. "You do not feel a sense of certainty in your actions?" he asked.
Ransley snorted. "No more than you do, I expect," he countered. "No. No, I feel very little certainty these days. Particularly now that you have tried to answer my questions; you leave me in a difficult position. I'll admit it. I don't quite know what to do. I don't know where to go from here."
There was a faint, if obscene, moment of relief that Deacon felt with the admission. At least he wasn't the only one with no clue how to approach the future. Still, it didn't help him to restore Bain. That was about all that mattered, even if it was impossible. "If there was a means by which Bain could be saved, I would have found it already," Deacon said, his voice quiet and his words slow.
"He does not deserve this end," Ransley added with a nod. His eyes finally lifted to meet Deacon's gaze, and the ferret nodded again. "And for what it's worth, I still believe that you do not deserve this, either. You were forged by a crazed individual. You did not bring yourself into existence or choose the path that Oswell set you on. You were a victim of him."
"And what does this have to do with questioning why I could care for Bain?" asked Deacon.
Ransley's muzzle twitched for a moment. It almost looked like he'd started to smile. "Because I like to know who I'm really dealing with," he answered. "Bain bares his heart openly. You hide yours close. And after what happened to Aishah..." The ferret sighed. "I may not like you, or agree with what the two of you are, but... you and he deserve to find a way out of this situation. You both, as I have said before, deserve to find some peace."
Deacon felt his eyebrows dip. "Then why the questions?" he asked.
The ferret shrugged. "I needed to know who I was dealing with, as I said," replied Ransley. "I had to make sure I was talking to the right fox before I take you to Bain." He slapped his legs and pushed himself upright again before he reached out to offer Deacon his paw. "Come. We'll head back down the mountain and go to your otter. Maybe by the time we arrive, you'll have figured out what you're going to say to him."
Deacon blinked. He glanced up at the offered paw before he looked past it to the ferret's smiling face. "Does he even want to see me?" asked the fox.
Ransley just rolled his eyes. "Of course he does. He's back at the temple to the Mother Almighty. He wanted to talk to Vernell some more... see if he could get his head straightened out." The ferret shrugged and glanced down the path they'd come up. "When I spoke to him, he wanted to talk with you. He had some things he had to say, but I think he was scared you hated him for walking away."
The fox shook his head as he gingerly took Ransley's paw and allowed the other magi to help him up. "I hope he knows I could never hate him."
"Of that I have no doubt, but I hear matters of the heart are seldom so logical," countered Ransley with a smirk. "Besides, I'm done listening to that missionary preach about the Mother Almighty. I've heard enough dogma for one day. I definitely think it's about your turn to sit through it."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Deacon felt his muzzle curl upward. The smile only lasted a moment before it slipped away again. "I sit through Bain lecturing me on the scripture of the Mistress of Fate all the time," he said. "You grow accustomed to it."
The ferret rolled his eyes as he let Deacon's paw go and started down the path. "Would that I never have to grow accustomed to it, then," he muttered with a shake of his head.
Deacon wrapped his arms around his middle as he fell into step behind the ferret. If nothing else, the few hours that the fox had suffered in solitude sounded to have at least done Bain some good. It was a price he was all too happy to pay to see the otter gain some peace of mind.
It of course wouldn't be enough to erase the way Deacon had lied to him. The fox knew that, and the shame of it burned him to his core. The best of intentions hadn't justified deceiving Bain. It was, after all, his life. Deacon had no right to dictate how it played out, nor had he the right to deprive Bain of the truth of that life. That dominance over another -- that control over what they knew and how they reacted -- was all Oswell. It wasn't Deacon.
While he could transport himself instantly to the temple, Deacon chose instead to stretch his legs. The journey down would take longer, of course, but it would give him time to think. Time to consider what had happened, and why it had been wrong. He could explain to Bain what he'd learned. He could apologize, knowing why the otter had been so upset. Bain's body might be broken beyond Deacon's ability to heal, but his heart was another matter.
And perhaps by the time he arrived, he'd have learned to shut out the mocking laughter of Oswell that echoed through his mind.
"I just don't understand why he had to lie to me," Bain sighed.
The otter's head hung low as he sat in one of the temple's corners. The stone was cool against his back, but the mug of tea cupped in his webbed paws sent steam up across his face. He stared into the liquid with a shake of his head. "You say he had no choice. That makes it right, does it?"
Beside him, similarly leaned against the wall and with a mug of the same tea in his paws, Vernell smiled and closed his eyes. "What is right and what is wrong is never absolute," he replied. "They are malleable. They shift, like the tides."
Bain snorted, and then cast a quick glance up at the nearest depiction of the Mother Almighty. "Don't see you doing much lie-telling," he countered.
"Your mother would tell you much of what I say is a lie," Vernell pointed out with a quiet chuckle. He leaned in against the otter and elbowed Bain's side gently. "Truth lies in the heart of the person who perceives it. It is theirs to define. Oswell was evil, yes?"
The otter felt his muzzle twist. "Absolutely."
"And do you think he thought of himself that way?" asked Vernell. He sipped at his tea as he watched Bain take on a more contemplative expression. "Do you think that this powerful magi you so feared believed, deep in his bones, that everything he did was evil? Or, perhaps, did he believe himself to be right?"
The immediately instinct was to dismiss the monk's suggestion as insane. Bain opened his muzzle to do just that, but he paused and gave the words a little more thought. "I... I don't know," he admitted. "Oswell always talked like he had some grand... plan. Something he _had_to do."
Vernell nodded slowly. "People do not do evil because they believe themselves to be wrong. They do it, Bain, because they believe they are right. They believe their cause is just. Just as they believe themselves justified, I think your beloved felt his deception necessary."
Bain took a quick sip of tea and swished the flavorful beverage across his tongue before he gulped it down. "If you're trying to tell me Deacon felt like he had to lie to protect me, I already get that," Bain said after a moment. "If you're trying to tell me he's justifying evil to me just for lying to protect me... I don't know."
"Then why do you hate him so?" asked the monk.
"I don't... wait, what?" Bain frowned as he turned to stare back at Vernell. "What are you talking about?"
The fox shrugged back at him. "You hate Deacon," he simply replied.
Bain recoiled as if shocked. "I couldn't hate Deacon if I tried," he snapped back. "Not ever! Everything he did to hurt me, he did because of Oswell! Everything else he did... every bit of care he showed and everything he tried to make me feel better? That was him. He couldn't do anything for himself, and he tried to do _everything_for me. Gods all, he's still trying to save me even after I stormed out on him! After months of trying to heal me all by himself!"
As Vernell watched on, Bain's anger grew. The otter slammed the mug down against the ground as he forced himself up. "He made us stay in Oswell's home not because he wanted to or because I wanted to, but because it kept me safe! He left to keep me safe! Now he's up there in that volcano right now, all by himself! He doesn't trust Ransley for a second, and... gods, he doesn't trust Ransley and he still keeps him around just because maybe he can help me! He came here to try and save me! He does everything for... he... he does..."
Vernell smiled as understanding dawned on the otter's face. "For you," he finished for Bain.
"For... me," echoed Bain as he leaned back against the wall. His eyes were wide as he slid right back down again and covered his face with his paws. "Oh, gods... and I... I..."
"Left him there alone," Vernell added. He reached out one paw to gently take Bain's into his grip. "Was that wrong of you?"
Bain blinked. "Was... yes! Yes, of course_it was wrong of me! I was angry, and I was upset, and I was _wrong!"
As tears welled up in Bain's eyes, the otter whimpered and slumped down and toward Vernell. The fox caught the upset otter's head on his shoulder as he gave Bain's paw a squeeze. "Good and evil are not the same as right and wrong, Bain," he said as the otter began to cry against him. "You had to leave. You did it to protect yourself from a hurt you were not ready to face."
"And Deacon had to lie to protect me from another hurt," Bain said, in between quiet sobs.
"To protect himself from your pain as much as to protect you from the pain of the truth," corrected Vernell with a smile. He nuzzled gently into the top of Bain's head as he reached up to brush a finger across the otter's tear-soaked cheeks and muzzle. "Whether it was right or wrong does not matter now. What matters is what you choose to do with what you have both learned."
Bain began to chew on his lower lip as he brushed a shaking paw across the matted fur of his face. "And what has he learned from this?" he asked.
Vernell simply shrugged as he smiled a little wider. "That is entirely up to him.What do you want him to have learned from this? To never lie to you again, under any circumstances?"
The otter sniffed as he pulled back from the fox. He pulled his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms tight around them as he began to shiver. "No," Bain quietly replied. "Not to never lie to me. To... to believe in me. To trust I can handle it, even if he doesn't know I can."
The monk nodded. "And what, I wonder, have you learned from this?"
It took a moment for Bain to suck in a shaky breath of air, and he held it a moment before it came back as a shuddered sigh. "That... even if it hurts... Deacon would do anything for me. I don't have to... to like it, and maybe there's better ways than just what he thinks... but I should trust that he cares."
"Not blindly," Vernell said as he shifted his paw to Bain's shoulder. "Never blindly. Trust in what you've both been through. Trust your shared experiences. Trust your history. Let that guide you to your future, whatever it may be."
Bain nodded slowly as he turned to smile at the fox. "Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to sit here with me all night."
Vernell smiled back. "Of course I did. The world we live in... the darkness that it directs at you both, just for who you love?" He shook his head slowly. "A life without love is a terrible thing. I have... seen it. I have seen love consumed by darkness. That is why I will fight to see you both in its light. Everyone deserves that."
The otter blinked as he watched Vernell suddenly turn to stare at a corridor that led deeper into the temple. He heard it a moment later; footsteps that rapidly hurried across the stone floor. "What's going on?" he asked.
"I don't know," the fox replied. He quickly stood and started toward the hallway.
He barely made it more than two paces before a blinding flash of light erupted before him. Wind billowed out of the eruption as Bain scrabbled to cover his eyes. "Vernell!" he called out.
When his vision cleared, Bain's eyes opened wide. Before them was a magi, gray-cloaked with a tall, wooden staff clutched tight. The figure was hooded and their identity concealed, and gray gloves that matched their robes helped keep their species secret. Their back was to Bain, and to Vernell.
The fox leaped into motion well before Bain could have moved an inch. One leg lifted before it drove his footpaw down into the back of the magi's knee, and the scream that pierced the temple was too deep to be that of a female. The magi buckled back as Vernell curled an arm around the figure's neck, and his grip tightened for a moment before he pulled hard.
Yanked by the force of the blow, the magi's whole body whipped around and slammed into the floor. His staff was knocked loose, and Vernell snatched it out of the air with his other paw. It twirled for a moment as he brought himself around, and the flat end of the staff slammed down against the side of the magi's hooded head. There was the sickening snap of broken bone as the magi was slammed back into the floor, and his cries of pain cut off quickly as blood stained the temple floor.
Bain was frozen in place with surprise as he watched Vernell's ears perk up. The fox's gaze followed them as they swiveled toward the hallway, and the monk rushed over with his stolen staff to press his back against the wall beside it. He took a deep breath and held it as he closed his eyes.
The otter of course saw the next magi approach well before Vernell. This figure, hood back to expose the head of a fiercely focused doe, stormed up the corridor as flame wreathed her hands. Her eyes locked on Bain as the otter scrabbled back into his corner, and her eyes narrowed as she started into the room toward him.
A sweep from Vernell's staff took her legs out from underneath her. She cried out in surprise as the flame in her grip sputtered out, and she hadn't even struck the ground before Vernell had reversed his strike and slammed the other end of his staff into her chest. Bain almost felt like he could feel the temple shake as she was forced hard into the stone floor, and he winced in sympathy as the doe crumpled under the impact.
The fox turned quickly back toward Bain, but his eyes widened as he only made it half way. He raised his staff as he stared toward the temple entrance, but it did nothing to stall out the wave of force that slammed him back against the wall and pinned him in place. Vernell gasped as he felt himself lifted up from the ground, his body splayed out across the stone under some magi's power.
That magi came into view as Bain turned his head to the entrance to the temple. Three magi stood there, shoulder to shoulder with the central figure's arm outstretched. A white-gloved paw shimmered with blue light as its owner stepped forward. "Now, now," she admonished Vernell as he struggled against her grip. "Please play nice."
"This is holy ground," he hissed as he tried to force himself off the wall. "You are not welcome here."
The female magi's head tilted as Bain started to slink slowly across the wall and toward the temple entryway. If he could make it before they noticed he was there... "And how do you know who we are and why we have come?" she asked.
Vernell's muzzle drew back into a snarl as he growled back at her. "This is holy ground," he repeated. "The Mother whispers warnings to us. She knows what you've come for, and neither She nor we will not allow it."
"Then your goddess is weak and a fool," the magi replied. Her other paw shot out to the side, and Bain yelped as he found himself lifted from the ground. His back slammed hard into the ceiling, and he grunted with the impact as he found himself similarly pinned. "A fool to deprive us of that which we seek, and weak to fail to stand against us herself."
Vernell had no answer for that, and the magi turned her gaze instead on Bain. "You should know that I can slit the monk's throat from here before you blink, let alone conjure any of your Ahron sorcery," she warned. "Should I fall to it, my companions will swiftly incapacitate you. You will serve our purposes, one way or another."
Bain too tried to struggle free of the magi's grip, but her hold of him was as sure as her hold on Vernell. He simply grit his teeth as he strained nonetheless against her. "Killing me would be a big mistake, lady," he said as he found himself pushed back harder against the ceiling. "You shouldn't be afraid of my power."
"Do not worry. I am not." Her head tilted the other way as her arms lowered. "Nor do I fear the power your companion will bring to bear. This time I promise you, I am quite ready for all of Oswell's work." She leaned toward the nearest of her companions. "Search the temple. Subdue any you must, but leave them unharmed. They will make a fine example should Ransley and Oswell's vessel fail to show up."
Both of the magi that flanked her bowed their heads. "Yes, Master Aeola," they said, before they started forward.
The otter blinked with confusion even as he watched them go. "Fail to show up?" he echoed. "You think they won't come for me?"
"I am counting on it," the magi replied as dread rose through Bain. "Indeed, why else would I not simply cut you down here and now? You still have a purpose to serve.
"You will bait Oswell to me, and then you both will be sent into oblivion together."
It wasn't until Deacon and Ransley had made it to the base of the volcano that the fox felt the surge of arcane power. It rolled over his mind like a stiff breeze across the plains, and he inhaled sharply as he turned to face into it. The fox's ears perked up as his eyes widened. Behind that surge came a sense powerful enough to have only come from many. Surprise. Terror. Pain.
Bain.
Deacon began to call on his powers, but the feel of Ransley's firm paw on his shoulder gave the fox pause. "Bain is in danger!" he snapped and shrugged the paw off.
"I know. I felt it too. They've found us." The ferret reached up again to take a firmer grip on Deacon's shoulder. "But launching yourself into their midst is not likely to do you any favors, fox. One escaped last time. They will have brought help. You need to be careful. Cautious."
The fox's eyes narrowed as he glared at Ransley. "Between my powers and yours, they have nothing they can bring to bear to stop us."
But the other magi shook his head. "I won't be facing them," he replied. "Not if it's the same group. I can't. I'll see to getting Bain out of there safely if I can, but I'm not fighting those magi. They're too strong for me."
The frustration of the delay was dimmed for a moment by Deacon's confusion. Surely the ferret was joking. His powers were strong; they were some of the strongest he'd seen that hadn't been augmented by Oswell's techniques. "I need your help, Cunliffe," he insisted.
"And you'll have every bit that I can provide, and not one whit more," Ransley agreed with a nod. "But if your plan is to charge down the temple's front door, they'll just cut you down and then kill Bain. You heard what the magi said when we last faced them. They think he's as guilty as you!"
The fox pinned his ears back as he glared at Ransley. "Then what do we do? What in the hells am I to do if I cannot attack them? They could have Bain already! They could have taken the whole temple!"
Ransley just nodded again. "And they probably have, which is all the more reason for you to have a solid plan before you approach. You cannot rely on raw power for every engagement, fox. Not even Oswell was that powerful."
Deacon remained silent as Ransley took a step back. "I'm going to go scout out the village. See if I can slink around them and identify where they are, and where I might be able to take Bain to keep him safe. You want the otter safe, yes? Let me use you as a distraction to ensure he gets out of here alive."
"A distraction?" Deacon rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to do, walk right up to their front door and announce myself?"
"Precisely," Ransley replied with a smirk. "They will all be focused on you to make sure you don't do anything Oswell-like. If you can keep them talking long enough, I can secure Bain and take him out of here."
The fox frowned as he glanced off down the road. He could still feel the distant echoes of Bain's fear. They'd already delayed too long. "Promise me you'll protect him."
Ransley frowned. "I would hope you'd trust me by now, fox," he muttered.
"Promise me," Deacon growled again.
"Okay, okay. I promise I will protect Bain," replied the ferret with a sigh. "Single-mindedness does not become you, you know."
Deacon answered with a grunt as he shook free of the ferret's grip again and started to run toward the monk's village. He felt Ransley behind him for only a short time before the ferret slipped off into the brush with barely a rustled branch. The fox sucked in a quick, deep breath as he willed arcane strength to flow to his muscles. They thrummed with power as he sprinted for the village.
Anger kept his mind in sharp focus all the way there. Each heavy thud of his footpaws against the ground came with a fresh surge. If they had hurt Bain -- if they had harmed one fur on his body -- there would be nothing they could do. They would be forfeit. Each and every single one of them.
It took the work of moments to reach the main road that led to the temple. Deacon didn't even slow down as he raced down the road. It wasn't until a pair of gray-cloaked magi stepped out of the shadows to either side of the temple's entryway that Deacon allowed the magic to leave his body and his legs to slow his mad dash.
They'd spotted him of course, and both hooded figures brandished fire-wreathed paws at the fox. He glared at them as he began to march slowly toward the temple. "Where is Bain?" he all but yelled out at them.
There was no response, and Deacon felt the heat in his body flood toward his fingers. "Where are the monks? The priests of the Mother Almighty?" Again, they failed to answer.
Deacon stopped in the middle of the road and held his cold stare as flame sparked to life in his paws. He watched as both opposing magi took a step back from him, and he felt his muzzle twist in a smile. Good. Fear was something he could work with. "Answer me. Answer, or I will take the knowledge from you. Do you know what I am? Where I come from?"
When still they refused to speak, Deacon took another step forward. It wasn't him they were afraid of, after all. It was what was inside of him. Even as his face remained a mask of rage, he winced internally as he reached deep into himself and sought out Oswell's power. Through the splinter in his mind and past the mocking laughter of his creator, Deacon could feel it. He gripped it tight and drew it forth.
Lightning flashed across his eyes and arced from his flaming paws to the road beneath him. "Answer me!" he roared. Above, echoes of the lightning in his grip lashed across the empty, dark sky.
Both magi stumbled backward, and Deacon could clearly feel the sudden terror that gripped them. He was about to open his muzzle to make one final demand before the magi on the right finally lifted his head and spoke. "Inside!" he called back. "The otter, and the monks. All inside!"
Deacon allowed his muzzle to curl into a snarl as he started forward again. His stride was slow as he let his glare trace over the magi that had remained silent. "Then you will take me to them," he growled. A flex of his fingers sent crimson lightning arcing back into the ground again. "You will take me there now."
"Of... of course, M-master Oswell." The magi turned together and started hurriedly into the temple.
For once, Deacon didn't bother to correct them as he followed. The bitterness he felt at the comparison once again to his creator was nothing. Bain was inside. He was in trouble. If he played along and imitated Oswell, they might be less inclined to simply kill him. It could give Ransley the time he needed to free Bain.
He couldn't sense the ferret nearby, but that didn't mean much. He could have been dampening his powers to try to avoid detection for longer. Deacon hoped that was all that Ransley was doing. He tilted his head up as he started through Vernell's garden after the two magi. If the ferret meant to betray him, this would be the best time to choose. Ironic, he thought, that the test of his faith in Ransley would take place in a temple.
Deacon passed under the temple's entry arch and took a deep breath as he tried to ignore the sudden quiet in Oswell's little corner of his mind. He could worry about Oswell later. Right now, Bain needed him and he wasn't about to let the otter down.
Not at any cost.