After I finished Blood and Water, I started to kick ideas around in my head for a continuation for the series and an expanded plotline.  This little short story, set after the end of Blood and Water, is designed to be a bridge between the series and what's yet to come.

So yes, I'm not done with Deacon and Bain yet!  The wheels in my head are turning.  Smoke is pouring out of my ears.  I'm vaguely hungry.  Stay tuned for more Blood and Water news, and in the meantime, enjoy this mini-piece!

 - Master Meridian

Blood and Water Mini

Cast The Die

The ritual chamber was darker than Ransley had ever seen it.  Flaming torches normally adorned the walls.  Their light sparkled through the dark marble.  Black opals the size of a wolf’s head studded the walls as a rainbow accent to the shadows the torches cast.  Luxurious red tapestries normally hung from the wall, soft and velvet and rich as blood.  The table in the heart of the ritual chamber – the Ring of Fate as his brothers and sisters called it – was often adorned with gold and blood and herb and crystal.

Instead, the grey-robed, young ferret shoved his arms into their opposed sleeves as he hugged himself tight.  The torches were extinguished and cold.  The only light came from dim, dark green flames from the heart of the Ring, recessed into the floor.  The tapestries were down from the walls.  The opals refused to shine.  The table was bare.  Of the sixteen chairs that encircled the Ring of Fate, fourteen were occupied by people covered in the same hooded gray robes Ransley wore.  One of the empty chairs was waiting for him.

The final was covered by one of the tapestries.

When he saw the empty chair, the ferret had to catch himself.  His surprise caused him to miss a step, and it was only natural grace that helped him to stay upright.  He glanced around the Ring of Fate.  Not a single hooded face stared back at him.  “Oswell?”

It was forbidden to speak unless seated at the Ring itself.  Perhaps the raw shock in his voice was enough to forgive him the transgression, but more than a few seated at the Ring turned a baleful eye on him.  They said nothing, and their eyes followed Ransley as he hurried over to his open seat.

Only when he sat down did the largest member of their congregation speak.  A clawed, scaled hand drew back her robe’s hood to reveal a white-scaled dragoness’ face.  Her features were sunken, hollowed with age.  Her eyes sharpened like knives as she met Ransley’s gaze for the handful of moments it took the ferret to bow his head.  “He is dead.  Cecilie has confirmed it with her visions.”

Around the Ring, another hooded figure nodded once.  A pair of black furred canine paws came up to rest on the edge of the table, though Cecilie didn’t lower her hood.  “The Font sang to me,” she said, as her claws scratched down the obsidian table surface.  “She sang and wept for him.”

A snort from the other end of the Ring drew Ransley’s attention.  “Cecilie likes to play at the Sight, but we all know better,” growled a gruff male voice.  “Oswell was a firebrand.  Dangerous.  He pushed things too far, and look where he ended up.  No one would weep for his passing.”

Ransley frowned as he felt long-dormant anger stir.  Oswell was dead.  Finally, the monster had come across something that even his power could not tame.  “He was banished from his seat at this council for good reason,” he said as he looked around.  “We have all reaped the benefits of his research and at considerable cost, but we all also knew this day would come.”  He nodded to the dim green flames.  “He didn’t want to die.  She had other plans.”

As if the flames had heard him, they flared brighter for a brief moment.  Ransley recoiled from the light, but not a single other person at the Ring flinched.  He quickly bowed his head and pressed his lips firmly closed.  The ferret could feel his fur ripple under his robe.  It felt like his skin was crawling.

The dragoness’ eyes flickered with the green light for a second before she looked up.  “The question now is what this means for Oswell’s murderer,” she said.  “Oswell possessed a certain level of knowledge of this council that we cannot allow to fall into the wrong paws.  If the general populace discovered us and our plans for the world, it would be disastrous.”

A few hooded heads around the table nodded.  The gruff male just snorted again.  “According to Cecilie, he was killed by his own incarnation.  We understand the name he uses is Deacon.”

“He chased the river,” Cecilie muttered as her head lowered to the edge of the table.  “The river stole him.  Carried him so far on the lips of the serpent.  So far… so far…”

A sliver of doubt and concern rippled through Ransley’s fur.  He tried to keep his heart steady as he glanced around the Ring.  “Oswell would not have been so careless as to leave information about the Ring of Fate lying around his home,” he said.  The ferret was surprised at how even he managed to keep his voice.  The dread that ran through him came from some strange, alien place in the back of his mind.  Why did he feel so… off, all of a sudden?

“And he would not have left it in the mind of his creation, of course,” agreed the dragoness as she clasped her hands together atop the table.  “Oswell was always one thing above and beyond all else, Acolyte.  He was prepared.”

It was impossible to keep the frown from his brow as the ferret forced his unease aside.  Ransley glanced around the table slowly.  Once more, their eyes were studiously kept away from him.  All, of course, save the dragoness.  “Oswell could not have been prepared for a subject to turn on him, Lady Kan.  If he was always prepared, that was only because it narrowly edged out his pride.  I did study him intently, at your behest and out of personal obligation.  This much of his personality was well known.”

A soft, feminine voice spoke up from Ransley’s left.  “Oswell often thought himself master of even this council, my Lady,” the female agreed with a slow nod.  “He thought himself your master, when he walked these hallowed halls.”

“Which is why he left these hallowed halls in need of a fresh, new body,” Kan replied with the thinnest of smiles.  “That he left at all is a testament to his preparedness.  Oswell had a plan for everything and he never accepted failure.  Why do you seem so certain that he would accept death after the hundreds of years he has avoided it?”

The female beside Ransley rolled her shoulders in a slow shrug.  “You knew him as well as anyone could, my Lady.  You know that he was not perfect.  If he was, you would not have banished him.  He would sit now in your place.”

Ransley listened along, lost in his own thoughts and fears.  It came as a surprise to him when Kan’s gaze zeroed in on him again.  “My Lady?” he asked as he bowed his head.  The intensity of her stare was unnerving.

Kan nodded over toward Cecilie once more.  “She has seen more than just Oswell’s death, Acolyte,” she said.  The thin smile remained on her serpentine face.  “She has seen his creation and his creation’s co-conspirator.  She has seen where they have gone, and what is yet to come.”

The frown returned to Ransley’s features as he took another look around the Ring.  At some point, everyone had turned to stare at him with the same intensity as Kan.  Fourteen pairs of eyes locked on him, and it felt like their collective gaze was strong enough to force him into his chair.  “Why do I have a really bad feeling about what you’re about to tell me?” he muttered.

“The walls will breech around the composition,” Cecilie crooned as she lay her head flat on the table.  Her eyes – beady little black things that flickered in the light of the flames – never left Ransley’s face.  “This sanctum will fall.  He comes for us.”  Claws scratched along the tabletop again.  “Oswell comes for us.  Bloody retribution.  Hopeless desperation.  Power unseen.”

The gruff male waved a paw at Cecilie.  “If this shade-incarnation of Oswell comes after us here, he wipes us out,” he said.  His eyes narrowed as he glared at Ransley.  “And despite your inexperience in such matters, she saw it was you who went to draw him away.”

One of Ransley’s paws lifted, palm out to silence his fellow councilmember.  “The future is ever-fluid.  This is what I was taught when I was inducted here, and I have seen as much myself.”  He turned to face Kan.  She was no longer smiling.  “This… Deacon, you said?  There is no way he knows where we make our fortress.  There is no way a single, solitary magi could make his way through each and every one of our defenses and slaughter us all.  No one is that powerful.  Respectfully, not even you, my Lady.”

Where many in her position might have taken that as an insult, Kan instead simply tilted her head to the side and gave a slight nod.  “And you know Oswell’s work as well as any here.  He sought Ahron sorcery.  He sought to make use of the Font of Ages.”  Her eyes narrowed.  “You know what would have happened if he had succeeded.”

The shiver that ran through Ransley was not entirely caused by the cold in the chamber.  Under the table, the ferret clasped his paws together and unconsciously twisted the solid opal band that wrapped around the middle finger of his right paw.  “The damage would be impossible to mitigate,” he agreed with a nod.

Cecilie’s head twitched as she looked at him, but she remained silent as Kan nodded.  “This Deacon is a continuation of Oswell’s work, Acolyte.  You know what that means for us as well.”

Ransley felt one of his ears twitch.  The stare from Cecilie was setting him even further ill at ease.  “Respectfully, do we have the right?” he asked as he fought to keep himself from staring back at Cecilie.  “If this Deacon turned on Oswell, ostensibly it would have been a form of rejecting that which he was made to be.”

Another cloaked person at the table shook his head.  “We have all sacrificed much in the name of the Ring of Fate,” he said with a sigh.  “We do what is necessary.  Always what is necessary.  If we do not have the right, we have perhaps the responsibility.  This Deacon possesses more than just Oswell’s body and magic.  Fragments of his memories – indeed, his mind – may still reside within him. Perhaps even enough remains to command his creation still.”

“He may not be in complete possession of everything that made Oswell so dangerous and powerful, but Deacon may himself prove to be an even greater threat than his creator,” Kan continued as Ransley’s gaze turned back to the flames.  “He is the culmination of Oswell’s work, at least.  At most, he is a magi of sufficient power to slay a being that we collectively could not.”

The dragoness’ tone shifted at the end of her sentence.  It became more accusatory, and Ransley frowned as he fought the urge to look up at Kan.  “Do not mistake me for a fool, my Lady,” the ferret dared to say.  “I know many at this table believe that I had something to do with Oswell leaving our council.”

“The Sight is never wrong,” growled the gruff male across the Ring.  As if to punctuate his words, the green flames licked higher for a moment.

Ransley lifted his head slowly as he twisted the opal band about his finger again.  “I was not a member of this order when Oswell sat at the Ring,” he said as he finally locked his eyes on Kan’s.  She met his gaze unflinchingly.  “I was barely a child, with the smallest control over my ulurn powers when he killed many of your brothers and sisters, including my own father.  You are the ones that keep his chair vacant in this…”  He gestured with distaste toward the draped tapestry.  “This shrine to one you despise so.  I do not hold him in such high regard.”

A different figure raised a white-gloved paw that kept any hint of species hidden.  “It is no shrine to Oswell, Acolyte,” came a deep, male rumble from beneath his hood.  “It is a memory.  A reminder, to never allow power to corrupt us as it did him.”

“And to inspire us to grow such that we might wield that power ourselves, for the good of all, as your father did,” Kan added with a slow nod.  “You have sat at the Ring for barely six months, Ransley.  This is known.”  She waved a hand to Cecilie.  “However, we have never known her visions to be wrong.”

Cecilie twitched against the table as she ran her cheek across its smooth surface.  “Saw you free him,” she whispered.  Her breath left a fog on the surface of the table.  “How he burned in your defense, all lightning and wind… how he sang the song of death to your brothers and sisters…”

Ransley raised his own paw even as he stared at Cecilie.  He thought he caught a smile flicker from beneath her hood, but otherwise all he saw was shadow.  “I know Oswell by reputation.  I do not share his ambition, I do not share his methods, and I certainly never knew him.  I would never want anything… anything to do with that monster.”  He straightened his spine as he sat upright.  “I have no defense against your alleged Sight, nor do I feel I need one.”

“What you will need is a travel pack,” Kan said as she tilted her head up.  It looked as though she was staring down her muzzle at the ferret; her eyes lined up to beam fire right into his face.  “We have one such prepared.  Water canisters, rations for a time, and coin enough to secure you passage to and through the Noctus Imperium.”

Ransley’s brow furrowed deep as he glanced around the Ring.  “You send me away?” he asked.

Kan nodded.  “Cecilie has seen this as well.  You must go to this Deacon.  You must steer him clear of us.  Under no circumstances can Oswell’s bastardized creation enter these chambers, else everything will be lost to his fury.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and they flickered with repressed electricity as she stared the ferret down.  “The Sight is never wrong, Acolyte.  Should Deacon arrive, we all die.”

It was all Ransley could do to shake his head.  “I cannot travel across the Imperium to find some fox I’ve never met before,” he replied, somewhat more sharply than he’d intended.  “I do not even know what to look for!  Where is he?  Where was he last seen?  What has he been doing since he murdered his creator, and how am I to be any safer in his presence than here with those who would cast me out for a vision that cannot be possible?”

“For those who did not cast you out for the vision, Ransley,” snarled the gruff male.  His paws curled into fists and slid across the table before him to touch one another. “Enough voted to retain you.  Be grateful to those few that did.”

Ransley tried to keep a snarl of his own quiet.  “And should I thank those who would condemn me for a crime I could not have committed?” he snapped back.

Before any quick retort could be made, a sharp clap echoed through the chamber.  The sound came from Kan, her arms raised over her head as she glanced between the two robed councilors.  “Mind your tongue when speaking to your superiors, Acolyte,” she forced out between clenched teeth.  “Know that your place on this council is not assured, and it is not eternal.”

With a quiet sigh, Ransley nodded and bowed his head.  The threat was unstated but clear.  One did not gracefully retire from the council and move on with one’s life.  “I beg forgiveness, my Lady,” he said at last.

Silence reigned in the chamber, broken only by the crackle of the flames.  It rang louder than words until at last Kan opened her muzzle once more.  “Go to Deacon, Ransley,” she said.  The firmness of her voice left no question it was an order.  “Find him.  Earn his trust.  Use it against him.  Keep him from us.”

The ferret narrowed his eyes as he lifted his head ever so slightly to bring Kan into view.  “You want me to kill him.”  Dimly, he wondered if Oswell would have asked the same of him if he sat where Kan did.

Kan shrugged.  “If necessary.  Only if necessary, mind.  He is the pinnacle of Oswell’s research.  He may prove useful to us alive in our endeavors.”  She bared her teeth at the ferret as she placed both hands on the table.  “But if you think he will come after us, or if you think he will become as large a problem as Oswell himself was… I expect you to do the right thing.  The future is fluid, but only if those who are aware of it have the courage to act.  If not for us, then for your father.”

Ransley could see in her eyes that there was no argument to be made.  He had orders, and bringing up his father had made the matter personal.  He could choose to decline the orders, and the dragoness would simply incinerate him with a lightning strike.  He had seen it done, the day he was inducted into the order.  Her violent side was not something any member of their little council ever wanted to get on the bad side of. 

Or he could accept the mission as it was, and betray and potentially murder someone for the crime of existing.  “For how long?” he asked at last.  She hadn’t specified, and Ransley was aware enough of his situation to know that there was no real choice.  The future was fluid in many regards.  He didn’t want to test how fluid his life would be if he refused.

“Until you deem him a non-threat,” Kan replied as she stood from her chair.  As she rose, the flames sparked brighter and higher.  “The fates are entwining even now, Acolyte.  Destiny is closing and time is short.  If we are to do what needs to be done, we must act… and we cannot do that if we are looking over our shoulder for the failed experiment of our most traitorous former member.”  She waved a hand.  “This Deacon is not a person, Acolyte.  He is a resource.  A tool.  Remember that.”

A moment’s disgust came and went through Ransley.  He held Kan’s gaze for another couple of moments.  A part of the ferret wanted to stay and argue.  How could she say that a living, thinking being was not a person?  Deacon, who- and whatever he was, had made a choice.  He’d chosen to be something more than just Oswell’s tool.  How could he go into his assignment knowing he would-

“His thoughts betray,” Cecilie murmured from her seat.  A glance over showed that she no longer lay on the table, but sat up straight in her chair. “His soul sings of his doubt.”

As one, every pair of eyes at the table turned to face Ransley.  The ferret gulped down sudden nervousness as he looked around at them all, before he settled his gaze on Kan.  “I doubt that I can do this alone, my Lady,” he replied as he stood from his seat.

“Remember what you will be doing it for, Acolyte,” Kan said with a shake of her head.  “Remember what is at stake if you fail.  More than simply our deaths… with the death of our order will come the death of all things.  Your father’s sacrifice will have been in vain.  Darkness will rise and consume all.  You have seen it.  You have felt it.”

The shiver that ran up Ransley’s spine made his every limb twitch in an undignified, reflexive action.  “As have we all during our initiation into the order,” he countered with a shake of his head.  “I do not wish to fail, and I will not let my father’s sacrifice be for nothing.  I swear it, in his name.”

Kan smiled coldly.  “Then do not fail, Acolyte,” she answered as she nodded to the door.  “Follow Oswell’s example and plan… plan well, and for everything.  It may be your only defense against his legacy.”  The dragoness’ toothy smile broadened slightly.  “And do remember, Ransley?  She will be watching you.  We all will.”

Another glance at Cecilie gave that creepy, almost-certainty of a smile hidden in the shadow of her cowl, but it was as impossible to see as the first time he’d looked.  Kan had clearly dismissed him though, so there was no more reason for him to stay.  The ferret bowed his head as he stepped back and around his chair.  “By your leave, my Lady,” he said, before he turned and started out the chamber again.

They were silent behind him, as he knew they would be until he was well and truly clear of the Ring of Fate.  What more they had to discuss was not for his ears.  Anything they had to tell him they would in their own time, if they deigned him worthy to know.

It didn’t matter what they wanted him to know.  What mattered was that he carried out his mission.  Ransley just wished Oswell had not been involved in matters in any way.  Everything he’d read about the fox had set off alarm bells inside his mind.  That he was dispatched basically to observe and track the one magi in the world that could destroy Oswell didn’t sit right with the ferret. 

After all, Ransley only had one life.  Death would stop him quickly.  But for Oswell?  For Oswell, Ransley knew things were different.  The ferret had studied his work thoroughly, and the magi himself just as intently.  He knew that the fox would have planned for the possibility of his demise.  Death was something Oswell had become familiar with over the centuries.

For Oswell, death was just an inconvenience.