[Mkguild] The Illusive Chain (14/?)

[azariahwolf at gmail.com]

The news that Alex brought upon his return did not surprise Lucy, but she gave a sigh and a shake of the head regardless.  She was worried for several reasons; Lois was certainly not himself, and she was worried about what might happen to him or what he might do.  The effects of the magic also concerned her.  It should have been impossible for a spell, regardless of the power behind it, to have lingering effects such as this once it had run its course.  She wanted to investigate further, but her opportunity would have to wait.

A part of her could only hope that she would have that opportunity.

She passed the patrol notice on to Julian, who also seemed unsurprised by the development.  Although neither of them felt comfortable doing so, they left Lois where he was, giving him only a brief word to explain where they were going.

Balrog had left his conversation with his confused friend a few minutes before, and the ermine now rested alone in his chambers.  Based on the state of the bedsheets when she spoke with him, Lucy suspected that his efforts had been in vain thus far.  He met the announcement with little verbal reaction, but his body language spoke volumes.  He seemed to deflate, whatever little energy he had shown before fading in an instant.  She wanted to say something to comfort him, but every thought that entered her mind just seemed empty, or even harmful.  He did offer to see them off at least, and none of them could find a reason to disallow the request.

A few hours later, the ermine stood by the gate as his companions gathered to leave.  With only three of them present it looked to be a very small patrol, but each was confident that they would be safe in the company of the others.  They were more worried about the ermine that they would be leaving behind.

Alex clapped a paw on Lois’ shoulder in encouragement while the other two took a less familiar approach to saying their farewells.  He stood by the gate and watched them leave, looking nothing like the confident man who had accompanied them only days before.  The ermine almost seemed to disappear into the clothing he wore, his defeated posture making it seem even more ill-fitting than the borrowed robe truly was.

Thankfully, Balrog well before they all set off, and he stood by Lois and watched the patrol depart without comment for some time.  They were in no rush, and so the two watched the lynx and his companions until they disappeared out of sight into the trees.

“I can see this is hitting you hard,” Balrog said quietly.  He softly placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  The ermine tensed for a moment, but he allowed the intrusion without comment.

Lois nodded once he had taken a few moments to relax.  “Of the three of them, only Lucy is truly familiar to me.  Still, they were the closest people to me here within the keep.  I feel lost already, and with their departure I feel only more helpless.”

The disguised lutin nodded compassionately.  “Unfortunately, I cannot do much in their absence. I do not trust myself to tamper with such difficult magic, at least not where failure could bring harm to a friend.  I will still study it and try to understand it as much as I can, but I will wait until help arrives before attempting any sort of restoration on my own.”

“I appreciate your concern for my safety, but if you have any possibility of undoing what has been done, please attempt it immediately.”  Lois’ voice was subdued, but it was clearly kept low out of concerted effort and not of apathy.  “I cannot bear this ignorance for much longer; if there is any way I can be rid of it, I would hazard the risks most willingly.”

“As the one mage between us, I will evaluate the risks.  If I determine that the chances of success outweigh the risks, I will attempt it.”  He held up one of his large hands to forestall further protests.  “I know that you want to recover your memory as quickly as possible, but foolhardiness is only inviting worse complications.”

Lois sighed heavily, his eyes still following the course that the trio of Keepers was taking away from Outpost.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  “I need someone to make certain that I do not do anything foolish while they are gone.  I am nervous, I am tense… I just want to take some action instead of waiting here passively for my memories to return.”

Balrog nodded his understanding slowly.  “Perhaps it would be a profitable venture to see if you recall any of your combat training?”  To Lois’ questioning glance he continued, “If you expect the worst to happen, you should prepare for it as well.  Vincent Lois is a formidable fighter, but we have established that you have trouble recalling who you were.  It would be profitable to verify if you can at least emulate some degree of his skill in combat.”

His friend considered for a few moments, turning back to watch his retreating fellows.  His right hand scratched at his left absently, and he lowered his gaze to glance at those vicious scars.  How had he first acquired them, he wondered?  Were there more to come if he continued to fight?

And if he refused to continue, what would happen to him?

His mind swayed back and forth several times before he finally settled himself on his decision.  When he did, he turned back to Balrog.  “I believe that some training would be time well spent,” he determined.  “You will have to lead the way.”

Balrog managed a laugh.  “Of course!  This way.”

After a last glance back towards Alex, Lucy, and Julian, Lois followed Balrog through the streets of Hareford.  The larger man seemed to know his way through their tangled maze well enough, and it took them very little time to arrive back in the barracks.  Once there, the two of them took a brief stop by the armory to see if they could find something that Lois would be able to use.

The utter lack of anything that would fit the changed ermine was a harsh reminder that they were not in Metamor, where Kyia’s assistance could aid such a search.  It also reminded the ermine of the extent of his most recent change.  While a serviceable tunic could be found to adequately fit his upper body, there was none long enough to cover his lengthened body the entire way to the waist.  This would have been a permissible inconvenience as they meant only to drill forms and fisticuffs and did not require much protection; it was the search for fitting trousers that hampered their efforts.  Lois’ legs were likely the part of his body most altered by the fetish stone and its lingering effects.  They seemed almost entirely feral in all but length and a few barely-noticeable changes in the structure of the joints that permitted comfortable bipedal motion.  While Keepers had been afflicted by the Curse in many different ways, their search suggested that others afflicted as severely as himself were few and far between.

After some search, they were finally saved by others who had sought to fight in the varied forms the Curse had given them.  Upon asking for some help from one of the few guards who remained amidst the full-scale deployment, they were directed to another section of the armory that had been set aside for animal-Cursed Keepers who wished to test their feral forms in combat.  It seemed that a few of those so inclined, while willing to battle in the shape of animals, were less willing to do so while completely nude, despite how odd a clothed animal might look.  Here they met with some more success, although they were still unable to find something completely suited for Lois’ shape.  Still, they did find something that fit the changed hip structure and knee shape that he now bore, even though it was a little loose-fitting.  At the very least, it fit to an acceptable degree.

As the two of them stood opposite each other within the ring, Balrog winced with an unpleasant moue.  The clothing the ermine wore was meant to be worn under armor, not alone.  On the shirt he wore, several oddly-patterned stains showed where a soldier had once used it with an improperly-cleaned coat of links.  The article of clothing also ended several inches too high, showing nearly a handbreadth of Lois’ snowy white fur.  The breeches they had chosen were clean enough to suggest that they might have never seen serious use, but the way they billowed out around the ermine’s legs suggested that they had been made for a predator with a powerful build, not an ermine with the lean build that his companion bore.  Tied at the hocks to prevent interference with his paws, they nonetheless assisted the shirt in making him look like some sort of clown as he struggled with the poor fit.

“Are you certain that you can fight in that?” Balrog asked.

Lois sighed.  “I cannot say whether I can fight at all, and as much as I would prefer not to fight like this, experience suggests that I will not find anything better fitted to my form.  There is no better option.”

His friend nodded slowly, but his expression made it clear that the proposition made him unhappy.  “You need to see a tailor at earliest opportunity,” he concluded.  “You need to get your armor refitted.”

“I am not going to be like this forever!” Lois snapped.  He gave a quiet chirr, which he cut off with a conscious effort before stalking a few steps in a small arc across from the larger man.  When he continued, his voice was once again subdued.  “I will find a way to become human again; I have no need to have my clothing tailored.”

“No man who has suffered the Curse as you have has ever successfully returned to human form,” Balrog cautioned.

“Then I will be the first,” Lois declared.  His glare gave no place for argument.

Balrog sighed and shook his head.  “The armor you brought here is not the only armor you own.  You could safely have it tailored to serve you while you are temporarily afflicted with this form, and then continue using your other armor when you have escaped the Curse’s grasp.”

“We are here to test if any of my combat prowess remains, not critique how I look in practice garb.  Let us begin that task and cease these useless discussions.”  He retraced his earlier arc, returning to a position directly in front of his friend and taking on a loose combat stance.

Balrog frowned at his friend’s attempt at evasion, but he was pleased to note the competence that his friend’s stance showed.  “It seems that you do remember something about combat, at least,” he concluded.  Lois ignored him, adjusting his stance slightly.  He seemed somewhat uncomfortable, although it was not clear whether it was because he did not recall how to fight from the stance, or whether the changes to his physique made it difficult.  Whatever the case might have been Balrog moved forward and began to test his friend with a series of soft strikes.

While more suited to wrestling an opponent, the lutin was no stranger to fisticuffs.  His strikes were confident and precise, but easily slow enough that a trained fighter should have had little trouble facing them.  The ermine, however, did little to truly defend against them and instead absorbed them, taking the full force of the blows on his forearms and wrists.  Before long he stepped away, shaking out his arms with a pained growl.

“You need to deflect the blows away from yourself,” Balrog suggested.  Lois nodded slowly, but said nothing to the lutin.  Instead he grumbled to himself, shaking his head again and again as he thought through what had happened.

“I know what I should be doing!  I can remember it; I have been remembering it since I stepped into this ring!”  He stretched his right arm, massaging the muscles of his forearm gently as he tried to relieve the pain that permeated them.  “I can remember how to fight, but I can’t seem to actually do it.”

Balrog scratched his chin, playing with the twin forks of his braided beard.  “So, your mind remembers what you should do, but your body does not?”  Lois nodded his agreement to the assessment.  “Perhaps the way that the magic shifted your body has made your movements imprecise,” he offered.

Lois snarled.  “I should be able to adjust,” he spat.

“It will take time.  I am certain mastery will come with time,” Balrog stated.  He smiled, taking a ready stance.  “Are you ready to go again?”

Lois gave a pained sigh, but nodded.  “I am ready whenever you are.”

Balrog did his best not to hold back.  He hoped that his friend’s combat skill would begin to click again, but the situation only got worse.  Lois continued to absorb the blows’ full force, and left himself wide open for a counterattack every time he emerged from his defensive ball.  It was less than an hour before Lois was sitting on a bench to one side, groaning as he tried to recover from the blows he had taken already.

The large man sat beside him, brushing his hands clean of the dust from the fighting ring.  He wondered briefly if he should have held back a bit more.  Those thoughts were brief however; he needed to know what Lois remembered about fighting.  Even by finding out that he remembered very little, they at least knew what their starting point was.

Seeing him try to fight also made Balrog notice a few things.

“Your stance is too high,” he noted after a few moments of sitting in silence.

Lois sat up a little straighter, raising his head to glance across at his friend.  “Why do you say that?”

“It isn’t that your stance is not accurate to what you remember; your body is simply longer,” the lutin clarified.  “It is far easier to throw a blow to your body than it would be if you were entirely human.  Throwing a blow below your waist would be the harder task.”

Lois gave an annoyed growl as his friend again mentioned the change in his body, but at least the ermine nodded in agreement.  “I suppose as long as I am forced to live like this I should have the honesty to admit that fighting is useless.”

 “I did not say that, nor did I wish to imply that it was the case,” Balrog responded, a bit sternly.  “If you ask me, it would be worthwhile to fight from a more feral posture.  Start from all fours, keep your body behind your claws and teeth…”

“No!”  Lois suddenly stood up despite his aches, stalking away angrily.  He hissed and fumed to himself, making a full orbit of the fighting ring before returning to face Balrog.  “I am NOT an animal, and I will not reduce myself to the level of acting like one!  That would be precisely what my enemy wanted!”

“Your enemy is dead and his spell a failure!  His aim was to turn you into an animal, not to have you act like one when it serves your own purposes!  He wanted you to lose everything, not to adjust to its effects and become stronger for it!”  The lutin paused for a few moments to let his words sink in.  “He would love for you to refuse to accept the advantages of your new situation, to focus solely on the disadvantages.  I am not suggesting we do what your enemy wanted, I suggest we fight it!”

Lois shook his head.  “No, I cannot.  Not like that.”  He glanced to one side, taking a deep breath, before turning back to say more.  “I am sorry, my friend, but it is not as easy as you say.  I almost lost myself to this spell once; I fear that if I give it a second opportunity I will not be so fortunate.”

Balrog sighed, electing to admit defeat rather than continue their futile argument.  He could not convince the ermine to change his opinion, at least not now.  Lois had always been firm – a word the lutin often used to describe his stubborn friends.  To convince him to make any significant change in opinion was a task best left to the most cunning of diplomats.  The lutin did not consider himself to be among their number.

“I am done with this for now,” Lois declared.  “Let us get something to eat, and then I wish to return to my quarters.”

His friend made no argument, and the two of them returned to the armory in silence.  They took brief advantage of the small baths that the barracks offered, but the size and quality of the baths starkly reminded Balrog that they were not within the walls of Metamor.  Lois had nothing to compare them with, but he was not inclined to linger for very long either.  He seemed especially annoyed at how much water his fur managed to hold, but was thankfully able to get it dry enough to hide beneath his robe before the lutin started to complain.

They ate their evening meal together just as the last few rays of sun were disappearing behind the western horizon.  Balrog once or twice tried to pry a word from the ermine, but Lois only ever responded in one or two words, and his gaze traced the rest of the room’s few occupants repeatedly as they sat.  Balrog was uncertain as to the reason for it, but he supposed that he was either being wary of threats, or looking for a familiar face.  Whichever he was seeking, Lois reached the end of the meal having spotted neither.

Balrog again tried to start a conversation on their way through the hall.  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Lois shook his head.  “Balrog, I need time to think.  Please just take me to my quarters and we can continue this later.”

The lutin sighed, but nodded.  Balrog took the lead, following the hallways to the private cell that had been provided for the ermine during his recovery.  Balrog said a few words of farewell, but Lois merely grunted his own before closing the door and disappearing inside.

The mage waited outside of the door for a few moments, trying to convince himself to speak to Lois again, but he could not justify the intrusion.  His friend needed rest, and any conversation the two could hope to share would only be made the clearer if they were both rested.

With a final shake of his head and a sigh, he left the door behind and went to rejoin the rest of his patrol.

*	*	*

Lois drooped once the door was closed and Balrog was no longer nearby.  His shoulders sagged so much that the robe he wore very nearly slipped from its position and fell to the floor.  The fighting ring had been draining, and he had seen very little progress.  He was certain that if he were forced to defend himself with his current level of skill, he would be killed before he had to any chance to even launch a counterattack.  That wasn’t even considering the dull ache that completely pervaded his body.  He rubbed his shoulder, but it only made it worse.

His aches reminded him of the afternoon in the ring, and Lois’ mind drifted to Balrog’s suggestion.  Fight from all fours, like an animal… it was so easy for that insufferable lutin to suggest!  He had never had his mind wrested from him by a magic beyond his control, beyond his comprehension!  He had never seen his memories shattered, fragments melting away the more he pressed.  He had never felt the gnawing desire to go back…

Lois snarled and gouged a set of claw marks in the provided side table.  The candlestick wobbled a bit, but unlit as it was he was in no hurry to right it.  Why should he desire the mind, the life, of an ermine?  It offered nothing to him but a meaningless existence!  Yet the thought was there, the incessant nagging that suggested to him that being an ermine would be better than what he was now, a man thoroughly robbed of memory, of purpose!  He could convince himself that he had no true desire to be an animal, but the moment acting like one was remotely suggested he panicked, denied the thought, fought it with every fiber of his being!  Why was it such an abhorrent idea if the desire was not real?

The ermine sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, head low.  There was nothing for it.  He could only do his best to resist whatever magic now afflicted him.  For now, the best he could do was to get some sleep so that he would be clearheaded in the morning.  He adjusted the bed for a few moments, and then lay down to take his rest.

His attempts to sleep met with utter failure.  It was not even so simple as just tossing and turning.  Every time he closed his eyes for a few moments, an indescribable feeling of anxiety overtook him until he opened his eyes again.  No amount of bedding, no amount of self-encouragement, and not even leaving the candle lit for some illumination could lift that disquiet.  Only a few minutes after he had begun his attempts, Lois sat up on the edge of the bed once more, shuddering as he tried to settle his nerves.

Despite how little he recalled about whom he was, Lois knew that this was not the sort of person he was supposed to be.  He was convinced that no man could live with this sort of anxiety.  He put his head in his hands, growling his frustration to himself.  There was a clawing emptiness inside, and the lonely silence only piled more misery upon that.  He wanted to find Balrog to break the silence while he calmed down, but he did not want to disturb his friend after leaving him on such unfortunate terms.

Sitting there on the edge of the bed, he finally began to feel some semblance of calm.  At the same time, quiet questions began to prod at his mind, unheard but utterly real.  The more he relaxed, the more he wondered, until he finally lifted his head slowly, and beside it, his left hand.

While the memories of what he had looked like before the recent change were unclear at best, the knowledge of what a human hand should look like was hardly lost.  His hand was a mix of that and an ermine’s paw, the proportions of the mix uncertain but clearly favoring the ermine.  His fingers were significantly shortened and the padding on them was thick enough to dull the feeling in his digits.  The thickness of those digits also hindered their independent movement.  He could grasp things well enough, but precise movement, or artistic pursuit of any kind, would be nearly impossible with a hand like this.

Was letting it go truly so much of a change?

With that thought, Lois watched as his fingers dwindled until they were nothing more but the toes of an ermine’s paw, albeit larger.  It was barely an effort at all, he mused.  The change in shape was so minimal, though, so why should it have been difficult?

By the time he glanced at it, his other forepaw had already taken its most feral form, and was retreating slowly into the sleeves of the robe.  This development was unsurprising; his arms were still too long to be forelegs, after all, and making that simple adjustment was a logical next step.

He stood before proceeding with the next step.  In a few short moments, his body had gained several inches, stretching him out into proportions ideally suited to the animal whose semblance he bore.  Sighing, Lois willed his legs to change.  The alteration of his joints was perhaps the most dramatic of all the changes, and yet it passed in a moment, his knees and hips adjusted to prefer quadrupedal to bipedal movement.  He still stood on his hind paws comfortably, but walking in this stance would be difficult.

He dropped to his four paws, feeling the grain of the rough-hewn wooden floor beneath his pads and claws.  It was a welcome, familiar feeling, one that relaxed him further as he willed his size to match his shape.  When he had accidentally accomplished a similar shift earlier in the day, his two-legged stance had caused considerable disorientation during this adjustment.  Now, though the rapid loss of size still made his head swim, his quadrupedal stance made keeping his composure a simple task.

His robe enveloped him now, thick and warm.  Rather than panicking at its sudden cavernous size, Lois slipped easily from among its folds and stepped atop it.  The ermine tested several spots amid the haphazard folds until at last curling up amongst them.  He wound the material close about his body, a ward both against the cold and potential intruders.

Only once he had again settled into his bed and closed his eyes did he truly realize what he had just done.  The anxiety returned in force, and he sat up, fully intending to shift back.  Something stopped him, however.

He realized, lying there in a discarded robe as though it were the pinnacle of luxurious bedding, that he felt more at ease in this state than he had felt since regaining his senses.  He feared briefly that the mind of an ermine had taken control, but brief consideration convinced him that was nonsense.  He could still think, reason.  No wave of instinct threatened to send him fleeing the scents of men and animals around him, nor did a hidden mind attempt to usurp his human thoughts.  He was himself despite his abandoned humanity.

Why was he not panicking?  It was an easy question to ask, but the answer proved as elusive as a gem in a pauper's pocket.  His reaction to Balrog's combat advice had been immediate and reflexive, requiring no level of thought deeper than that which motivates the blink of an eye.  Now, however, rather than resistance being so natural, the opposite was true.  Shifting into the form of a feral ermine had been easier than any discernibly human thing he had attempted since waking in the morning, and it had come almost unbidden.  After demonstrating his repulsion at the idea of emulating an animal in combat, he could only wonder why fully adopting the form of that animal failed to produce a comparable reaction.

This question and several others hounded his mind as he once more prepared to sleep, wrapping himself in the fallen robe.  As he began to approach unconsciousness, however, only one of them stood out in his mind.

"Will I still remember being human in the morning?"

As troubling as the question was, it was not enough to dissuade him from drifting further towards sleep.  It did delay his slumber, but it could not fully stop it.  Finally, just as he fell asleep, one satisfactory answer settled into his mind.

"I would rather be an animal than live in fear of becoming one."


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