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.