FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ayle yanked the kobold spear from Rith's punctured armor, tearing a fair amount of flesh back with it. The wolf let out a wordless moan of agony as the gryphon worked by the light of his staff. "Hold still, Rith. I can't - Oh never mind." Ayle set a firm claw on Rith's leg and released an immobilizing spell, the magic flowing easily through him. Most of the wolf's body went completely still, but he still groaned in pain.

Patient now steady, Ayle took a closer look at the wound. Punched right through the armor, probably an enchanted spear. No typical kobold weapon could do that much damage even if it did find a way through the thick plate covering the wolf's belly. He gripped the armor, magic loosing it from its ward. For the time being it could remain on the floor. The padding came next, though getting past that required a tricky maneuver, pulling the garment through higher spatial dimensions.

The gryphon wasn't one to strut his magical prowess about, but that skill certainly came in handy. Unfortunately, he had no gift for healing spells. Instead he removed a salve from his bag, purchased from the best alchemist in the city. Blood spilled from the wound, though thankfully it didn't look as though any arteries had been hit. Salve could do only so much.

As Ayle rubbed the paste into the wound, Rith sucked air through his teeth. "Lucky... shot," he said.

"I'm not sure luck had anything to do with it," Ayle said. "Seemed like a solid ambush to me."

"Thanks for - Ngh - letting me bleed out so you could fry those kobolds, by the way," Rith growled.

Ayle clicked his tongue. "Necessary, Rith." He packed the salve back into its bag, but left the wolf immobilized for the time. "I can hardly tend to you with forty pounds of sharpened iron pointed my way. Only natural for you to want someone to blame, though." He lifted one of the short creatures, this one only partially ash yet all dead. "This is the one that stuck you, I think."

"Give me my arm so I can punch it."

"In a moment," Ayle replied. "You need to remain still while the salve works." He didn't bother telling the wolf that he merely wanted to watch the process. Only on a few occasions had there been a reason to use the paste, and never on a belly wound. The concoction turned red, presumably soaking up blood. It sank into the wolf's flesh, shifting to a lighter hue until it sat perfectly even with the surrounding skin, both in color and location. Ayle prodded the small patch of furless skin with a claw. "Feel better?"

"I will once you let me get up," Rith responded. Ayle waved his claw, severing the magic holding the wolf still. "How come you can't use a healing spell on me? Aren't you really good at magic?" He sighed while lifting himself off the ground. "Thank you, though. Sorry I let myself get hit."

Ayle shrugged. "You can't avoid everything." He slung his bag back over his shoulder and grabbed the staff leaning against a wall. "Healing spells require a... delicate touch. A modicum of compassion that I haven't quite been able to grasp. Get your armor back on and we'll keep going."

Rith complied, though he had to remove the rest of his armor to get the padding back on, a task that required assistance. While magic would speed things up some, Ayle decided to do it the traditional way. He knew how all the pieces fit together, and it was nice to be close to the wolf. Many were put off by his demeanor, but this one took it in stride.

It was hard to be certain, but the feeling in his gut might have been peace. Or perhaps happiness. He waved the thought away, it would only get in the way of his spells.

<><><>

Rith pulled on his helmet, more comfortable now that he was back in his armor. He'd just have to be careful about letting anything get close to the hole. He was a little disappointed when the gryphon tightened the last strap and pulled away, finished with his task. For a bit, it almost seemed Ayle was attracted to him. Couldn't be, though. Even he knew how much harder it was to cast a spell with strong emotions in the way. All the mages he'd worked with told him that emotions clogged up the channel, or something of that nature. Ayle was the very best. In here, his emotions would be under control. Right?

"You just gonna stand there looking at me?" Ayle asked. "Let's get going." Rith shook himself. Right. Armored guy takes the lead. He stepped forward, giving that kobold corpse a good kick while he was at it. "Oh, hold on a moment," the gryphon said as he passed. "Let me repair that hole in your armor."

"You can do that? I haven't met a mage that could work with metal before."

Ayle shrugged. "Metal just takes a bit more convincing than most materials. Fabric actually tends to be far more difficult," he said while touching his staff to Rith's armor. The shadows it cast, so close to his body, filled the room behind him. "Each fiber needs something to connect to, and that requires quite a lot of focus." When the staff was removed, the armor was whole, as though fresh from the smith.

Armor repaired, Rith cleared his sword in its scabbard and walked to the far door of the chamber, a weak, splintered thing. "Didn't you notice the hole when you were helping me into it?" The wolf asked. "Why didn't you repair it then?"

"I-" Ayle paused and took a quick breath. "Keep going, and don't make too much noise." Rith sighed. He'd hoped that not every mage kept things pointlessly mysterious. The door creaked as it swung open, revealing a dark passage that smelled of rot. Ayle's light showed a floor of cracked tile, grungy with years of disuse. Footprints betrayed the kobolds' presence in the structure. Rith guessed there were at least fifty kobolds, counting the dead, with as many prints as were there. A rough estimate, but better than nothing. That left perhaps ten.

Even he couldn't take fifty. He glanced back at the gryphon, grateful for the mage's assistance. Rith might be bound to cleanse the keep as his duty to his lord, but Ayle had no such obligation. A mere request to help end the kobold pillages was all it took to earn his staff. Rith gave the gryphon a smile, though it couldn't be seen through his helm.

At first, Rith assumed the awful feeling wrenching his gut was the smell of the place, but the farther they pressed into the passage, the more powerful the feeling grew. Ayle must have felt it too, for the mage leaned on his staff while they walked. "Ayle," Rith whispered. "Are you alright?"

"No," he replied. "Something ahead - it's strong. Fuddles magic. Can't scry it." The gryphon looked ready to collapse.

Rith walked back to him, offering an arm to hold him up. "Hey, keep steady." He looked into the mage's eyes. They were unfocused. The light from his staff flickered. "Ayle. Listen to me, hold on. Keep talking."

"Can't go farther. Not yet." Ayle slumped onto Rith, dropping his staff. It gave off only a small glow now. "Go back... too strong." His breathing became labored, heavy. Rith picked him up, jostling him a bit to keep him awake. Whatever the problem was, Ayle had to stay awake. The wolf knew tales of those that fell asleep under such circumstances, never to awaken. "Get... me... out..." Ayle croaked.

Rith nodded and ran as fast as his armor allowed, clanking back up the now-dark hall. He nearly stumbled on an uneven tile, but was able to make it back to the previous room without falling. Enough light filtered in from windows to get around here, at least. Ayle looked much better, though his breathing was still deep. "Doing alright now?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," Ayle said. "Just... a little flustered now. Hold me steady." The last almost sounded like a request. Rith shifted the gryphon in his arms, leaning him against his breastplate. It wouldn't be comfortable, but then little was when plate armor was involved.

"Had me worried there," the knight said. "What was that?"

Ayle rubbed his temples with one claw. "Something I've only heard stories about. You know about the War on Magic?"

Rith nodded. "I always found it strange how a whole university of mages could fall against such a small force."

"They couldn't have. Not under normal means." Ayle was standing on his own now, but made no move to separate from Rith. "The Spellbreakers found something... evil. Something with the power to pervert the flow of magic. The power was contained within a set of urns, at least six of them. Only two have been discovered, and thankfully destroyed, but I'm certain this is another.

"It isn't something mages like to talk about, for understandable reasons. We actively suppress the knowledge, hoping that nobody ever finds that power again. But now... I can't destroy it, Rith. I can't even walk into that corridor again. You have to do it."

Rith looked down at the frightened gryphon. Frightened? Surely not. But he couldn't deny the look in Ayle's eyes or the slight tremors that occasionally shot through his body. "How do you know? What if it's something else?"

"There isn't anything else," Ayle said. "Magic can flow through a person and make its way into the world, as long as it isn't blocked by emotion. This... corruption flows back. Where it goes, I know not. It travels from this world, through people. As with magic, enough emotion can stop it. Mages have been experimenting for decades, and no other power exhibits those qualities."

Rith's eyes lit up. "That's easy, then. You've learned to control your emotions, yes? It can't be too hard to let them run free instead of bottling them up all the time."

It almost felt like Ayle withered in his arms. "I can't." He shook his head at Rith's protests. "I'm not the best mage because I can control myself," he said. "I've never had to learn control."

"What do you mean?"

The gryphon sighed. "I don't feel." He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wolf. "No matter what happens, emotions just don't come. Not much, anyway. Never strongly." Ayle looked back up, into Rith's face. "I don't get angry, or sad, or joyful. I don't feel hatred or jealousy or... or love."

"Never?" Rith loosened his hold, nearly taking a step back as his mind reeled. "That's why you use the salve, isn't it?" he realized. "Healing requires enough feeling to direct it, and you can't..." He trailed off.

"Don't feel bad for me, I came to terms with it a long time ago." Ayle stepped away from the wolf, holding out a claw to summon his staff from where it had fallen. "I just need you to destroy the urn so we can continue." The long wooden rod fell into his claw, once again lighting up the room properly. Lighting Ayle's face.

Rith lifted his visor, seeing a vulnerable heart exposed to him. Not empty, as the mage claimed. He saw fear there, strong enough to smell. Regret. Not something he'd ever want to carry around. Plenty of sorrow, too. How could Ayle stand to live like that? "I don't believe you. I know you can feel, even if you haven't figured it out yet." He looked through the lonely eyes, down past all the layers of feeling wrapped around his innermost parts. Pride surrounded a sheet of dread, in turn covering rage. Down past greed and shame, through a tiny shell of happiness. At the center of it all, he found what he was looking for. Ayle did contain love, an overwhelming amount of it. To have that wrapped up so tightly inside, and be unable to feel it... He pulled Ayle into a hug. "You can. But I think nobody ever taught you how."

A sound that might have been a sob reached the wolf's ears. His hug was tight, though he took care not to be crushing while wearing so much steel. At first, Ayle did nothing, but within moments his arms were around Rith. He could only feel the faintest spark of warmth behind it, but he knew it was there. "You stay here while I take care of that pesky urn," he whispered. "When I get back, we'll start your lessons on feeling. I plan to give you quite the education."

<><><>

Ayle lowered his arms, but it took the wolf a few moments more before breaking the hug. He worried for a moment that Rith could feel his heart, thumping strongly in his chest, but the armor would prevent that. He didn't actually love the wolf, did he? Certainly an attractive specimen, but those feelings were only natural. He'd appreciated a fine body a few times before. There was... something. But it wasn't love. Sure, he wasn't sure what it was, but it couldn't be love. At least the sickening feeling was fading, making it easier to think.

"Thank you," he said. "Please hurry. I'll be with you as soon as I know it's safe."

Rith grinned as he put his helm back on. "Might as well come down now, then. You'll be fine with me. I won't let anything touch you." He laughed. "Be back as soon as I can." He trudged off to the door.

"Wait, let me give you some light, at least," Ayle said. "I don't want you stumbling on another ambush in the dark if I can help it." He pulled an old, forgotten torch from its sconce in the wall. A bit of restorative magic brought it back into working condition, and some cooking oil from his bag would serve as fuel. Heat was the simplest part. A touch from his staff set the torch to flame.

The torch sputtered a little as he passed it to Rith. "Hey, thanks," the knight said. "I just figured I'd have to go blind since magic wouldn't work. Must be getting too comfortable with all these spells." Ayle thought he could hear the smile in his voice, though his face was covered. "Okay. One urn smashing, coming right up." He stepped through the door, back into the musty passageway, looking back once as he did. Then he was gone.

Ayle felt himself returning to normal as the wolf vanished from sight. He couldn't possibly have been feeling actual emotion, right? Looking at it more distantly, it was hard to be sure. How could he identify something he'd never experienced? The corruption felt a little stronger now, too. He rubbed his temples. If emotion truly blocked out that taint, there must have been some feeling. But was it love? Could it merely have been confusion? No, he was still confused.

His stomach churned as the corruption grew stronger still. Why couldn't he feel it in this room before, when he repaired Rith's armor? The only way he'd be suffering more now than then... Ayle stiffened. The urn was moving. This time, he let himself admit fear. Perhaps that would serve as a barrier. It certainly blocked magic well enough.

Which way should he run? If the urn was being moved to protect it, it wouldn't be coming closer. And if it were used as a weapon? It would still have to get past Rith, meaning there was probably an alternate route, one that came through from the room's only other door. Forward, then. He would rejoin Rith.

Ayle grabbed his staff, noting how dim the light was already, and moved for the door. Each slow step brought sharp pain. He wasn't going to get away, not like this. "Rith!" he croaked. It wouldn't reach him. It had to reach him. He had to hope. "Rith!"

The second cry was louder, and the influence of corruption felt less. Ayle squared the wolf center in his mind, crying his name again and again. They were still hoarse, helpless sounds, but they were growing louder. Can I admit feelings for him now? the gryphon thought.

He reached the door and clambered into the passage. The urn was coming closer, but he had a shield now. Rith wouldn't let anything touch him. Rith would-

"There you are, beaky," a harsh voice said behind him. Ayle groaned and spun, seeing a kobold in ragged clothing behind him. "You're not leaving, are you?" The gryphon lifted his staff, clearing his mind to cast a spell - any spell - but only allowed more of the corruption to flow through him.

"That... was the plan..." he shook out in ragged breaths. The kobold gave a wicked grin and snatched Ayle's staff, throwing it down the passage. With uncaring claws it gripped Ayle by the shoulders, dragging him back. Back toward the urn, back toward its evil taint. "Rith..." he croaked weakly before his eyes slipped shut.

<><><>

Rith's torch sputtered in the cross breeze between the chamber's broken windows. Shards of glass still clung to the frames, yet he could have jumped through several without even getting scratched, armor notwithstanding. The room contained a raised pedestal, but no urn. In fact, it almost felt like he was getting farther from the sickening thing. He certainly didn't feel sick any longer. There wasn't any other way to go, not that he'd seen. So if he was farther now than before, the urn had moved.

He examined the pedestal for any sign that the horrid thing had been there, but he wasn't sure what to look for. A circle in the dust? This room was fairly clear of such from the whistling wind taking it away. Standing, he looked at the open door at the far side of the room and pondered. The urn was moving, and since its influence was less, it was moving faster than he. There was only one route forward, but that could change in the rooms ahead. There was no telling what branches led where in the keep, no map survived that he had been able to procure. They'd already passed several branches on their way in. In all probability, some led back this way. The urn could be anywhere!

Which meant it could be with Ayle.

Cursing, Rith bolted back the way he had come, barreling through the musty passage and twice nearly falling on an uneven tile. Near the entrance, he saw Ayle's staff casually lying against a wall. It gave off no light.

No... The wolf didn't bother opening the door out of the passage, throwing himself into the ragged splinters. A single kobold froze at his entry. He didn't give it time for any tricks, punching the vile creature in the face. "Where is he!" Rith barked. "What did you do!"

"I die," the kobold rasped. "I die today for Gurmush!" Rith took in the damage his gauntleted fist had done. It wouldn't live, and he couldn't trust it even if it did. He gave it an angry shove and drove his knee into its belly as he drew his sword. A single hack took its head, throwing sparks off with it.

Ayle needed him. He could still be alive. The wolf lifted his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The corruption was stronger here. If there wasn't a body, they must have taken Ayle along. That meant he was probably still living, and that they would move more slowly with his extra weight. He could track them down, if he kept calm. He just had to control his emotions.

It felt wrong allowing such sickening sensations to enter his body, but Rith did his best to clear his mind as he stood and worked his way through the keep, back the way they had come. He doubled back several times, trying to feel where the strongest taint was. Shortly he was plunging through unexplored halls, torch flickering as he ran.

Stairs led down, into what could only be a dungeon. The smell of decay nearly overwhelmed him, coupled with the corruption, but he steeled himself and ran on. A cackling laugh came from around a corner, and Rith stopped. At least one kobold there, and the urn must be close by now. He still didn't know how many were left, so it was with great caution that he stepped to the corner and peered around.

The room beyond was like nothing he'd seen. A dark haze filled it, though strange green stones set in the walls gave off enough light to see by. Rith remembered his torch, hoping the kobolds hadn't noticed it yet, and set it in a sconce outside. One wall held a looking glass, large enough to fill the entire space. It seemed to melt into the stones that composed the wall's frame at the edges. It was the center of the room, however, that held his attention. An altar surrounded by four large urns sat on the floor, Ayle strapped naked to its surface. Eight kobolds stood around it, a ninth faced the glass.

Rith blinked. The kobold's image wasn't there. None of them cast a reflection, not even Ayle. Even the urns were missing. There was strong magic there, and with four of the urns - perhaps all that remained whole in the world - it wasn't any magic he was familiar with. Hesitation, he figured, would be prudent.

The ninth kobold lifted a claw and touched the glass. Immediately, a shadowy figure appeared beyond. A fair match for the creature that stood before it, if it were made of pure darkness. "Gurmush!" the kobold cried, raising a knife. "Today we release you! By the blood of the mage you will-"

That was all it took for Rith to abandon caution and charge. He drew his sword as he entered the room, knocking two kobolds aside to reach the last. It fell easily, with a single stroke. The others scrambled for their own weapons, giving Rith enough time to dispatch two more and injure a third. Five kobolds faced him with daggers in hand. Ordinarily they would pose little threat to his armor, but he'd thought the same about that spear. Not to mention protecting Ayle the whole while.

There was no way he could keep them all away from the gryphon without luring them elsewhere, so he took off his helm and growled a challenge. None made any move for the altar, so he took advantage of his blade's superior range, dropping a fifth before any were able to get close enough to attack.

Dodging was out of the question most of the time. Heavy armor never lent itself to speed, but it did have other uses. Two more of the beasts fell to a well-placed bash with his shoulder. Not dead, but they wouldn't get up for now. He brought his sword down sharply on another, severing an arm. Only one remained, but it kept itself back. Away from his sword. He advanced carefully, watching the creature retreat. It made no move to attack, but also failed to flee. The only reason for that... would be a distraction.

Rith whipped his head around, but saw no danger. A clank hit him, and he turned back to see the kobold's blade bouncing off his breastplate. The creature scrambled back, tripping. "You missed," Rith said, plunging his blade into its chest. "And good thing, too." He finished off the remaining kobolds still squirming on the floor and went to the altar where Ayle lay.

"Ayle, are you alright?" Of course he wasn't. Rith growled at himself. He started to grab at one of the straps when the gryphon's eyes opened. A tear spilled out one. His beak opened, but no sound came out. "It's alright. I'll get you away, Ayle."

_ He'll die, if you take him from here. _

The voice entered his head directly, bringing with it all the feel he'd pushed back from the urns. He looked up, seeing the shadowy image in the looking glass. It stared back at him, eyes glowing like coals. "I won't let him," Rith growled.

_ Do you know who I am? _

Rith glanced around the room, looking at the fallen kobolds. "Gurmush," he guessed.

_ A name only, wolf. I am the counterpart. I am the... corruption of which you speak. _

"The urns... they hold your power?" Rith stood and gripped his sword. "I'll shatter them all!"

_ It would only help me. I do not wish to be held within them. _

"I don't believe you."

_ Can you afford to doubt me? _

Rith paused.

_ Exactly. You could end me, you know. If you knew how. But you don't know anything. You can't take the mage from here, not because of what you know, but because of what you don't. You can't shatter the urns because of what you don't know. Come here, wolf. Let me tell you my secrets. _

With a throaty growl of rage, Rith took two steps to the glass and threw his fist into it, directly at the shadow kobold. A flash of searing pain, coupled with laughter, threw him back. He hit the far wall and collapsed, groaning. When he looked about, he saw his armor in pieces scattered throughout the chamber. Oddly, the shadowy figure now lay as he did, against the far wall. He stood, and the shadow matched him move for move. It even looked like him now.

_ You'll have to try harder than that. If you want to end me... _

A tendril of darkness spilled from Gurmush, lying on the altar as Ayle did. Rith found another reaching out of the glass, and he danced away from it, though it still found its way into his paw, forming a cruel knife. Gurmush still mimicked him perfectly. "You want me to kill Ayle," Rith said.

_ You understand the price of your actions, then. One so noble as you could never bring yourself to kill an innocent, could you? But what of your lord? Did you not swear fealty to him? Did he not instruct you to cleanse this place? _

"He did, and I intend to." Rith looked to Ayle, the gryphon's eyes still open. Tears spilled out freely now. The reflection's dead eyes had no such feeling. It just lay there, black eyes staring at nothing. Rith moved over to the altar, holding the dark blade over Ayle. A glance at the glass showed his reflection still following. Rith bent down, his muzzle nearly touching Ayle's cheek.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I... I love you." His own tears mingled with the gryphon's as he placed a delicate kiss on Ayle's face. He almost looked to the glass, but he didn't want to be stuck with the image of shadows kissing. "I'm sorry," he said again, straightening.

<><><>

Ayle tried to speak, to cry out, to whimper, but no sound came. Rith wouldn't actually kill him, would he? But if it would end Gurmush, it would be worth it. Giving his life for that would be a fair trade. If he were truly going to leave this life... he thought about the feel of the wolf's muzzle on his cheek. That's what he wanted to end with.

As Rith stood, Ayle felt the urns' influence weaken. Love, yes, he could feel love. At least for a little while. The wolf's arms lifted, both wrapped around that dark hilt. The kiss. Think of the kiss. Tension washed away, leaving a strange sensation in Ayle. He could feel emotion, he knew, and very powerfully. But at the same time, he felt peace. Perhaps... that was the key? Could he use magic that way? He tried casting the immobilizing spell again, but it wouldn't come through him. The block was there, a block he hadn't felt often before.

That was it, then. No magic, just a wolf's kiss and apology. That's all he was left with. It could be worse. Rith took a deep breath, looking into Ayle's eyes. He brought the knife up...

I love you, Rith.

... and plunged it straight into his own belly.

A wordless cry came from the looking glass, and Ayle could see the shadow bent over like Rith. The wolf's own howl mixed with the sound, a heartbreaking disharmony.

_ You cannot do this! _

Rith lifted the blade again, and the shadow still followed suit. He panted, eyes squeezed against the pain. No, Rith. The wolf ignored his unspoken plea, lining the blade up with his heart.

"I love you." He pulled sharply, and the blade sank easily into his chest.

"Rith!" The gryphon paid no mind to the glass as the shadows vanished, gave no heed to the retreating shadows, nor put any thought to the shattering urns. Everything was focused on the bloodied wolf draped over him. Not even the salve could fix a heart wound. Even if he could reach it.

He sobbed, tears spilling more earnestly than ever before. What good am I? No stronger mage has ever been, and what did I manage? What good is magic at all? I can't even cast a light ball like this. He paused. There was a spell he could cast.

Between sobs, he opened himself to the flow of magic. The block was still there, preventing anything from coming through. Too much emotion. He only wanted one. Deep, calming breaths. I love you, Rith. Don't leave me here. Discard sadness, that was key. Focus on the kiss. No need for shock, nor... jealousy? That hint of betrayal, it had to go.

Just love. He whispered into Rith's fur, still pressed against him. "I love you. Rith, come back." He could feel the magic now, flowing through him. It hit his feelings like a wave, but stopped there. Then, he felt the block open. The sensation was odd, new. It directed the magic, funneling it directly into Rith.

A sputtering cough. He'd done it! "Rith!" he cried, exultantly. More and more of the magic flowed into the wolf as the body tensed on top of him. "Rith, come back! I need you. I love you!"

"I love you too, Ayle."

It was weak. But it lifted the gryphon's spirits tremendously. The wolf stood, giving Ayle a good look at the bloody mess of his fur. But the skin was intact. He would be alright. He would be. For a minute they just stared at each other, words completely escaping. "Let me help you out of that," Rith finally said. He undid the straps, then lifted Ayle off the altar.

Ayle didn't give him a chance to speak, planting his beak on the wolf's muzzle and throwing his arms around him. Never mind that they were both naked. He could worry about that later. For now, he had everything he wanted.

<><><>

Rith lay in bed, holding his gryphon close. Ayle still hadn't managed to cast any spell other than healing spells, but he seemed fine with that. Definitely happier than before. He nuzzled his face into the space between neck and shoulder, earning a pleased hum.

Mages everywhere wanted to hear about the story, wanted to know if the threat from the urns was truly over. His lord took care of them, assuring the mages that their questions would be answered. Eventually. For the time, he was happy to have the keep's renovations underway, and figured his champions deserved a rest.

The two were more than happy to take that rest, and each night they found themselves together, holding each other close. Rith lifted a paw to his chest, feeling the perfect fur where he'd stabbed himself. He'd died. He knew it. It seemed that wasn't enough to keep him from Ayle. Grinning, he wrapped the paw around the feathered torso in front of him instead, rubbing his love softly.