[Mkguild] The Illusive Chain (16/?)

[azariahwolf at gmail.com]

Long part tonight.  Sorry!  Hopefully the long scene that follows will be worth both the wait, and the length.

-LurkingWolf

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Link 4: Influence

Lois started awake in a moment of panic.  Even with his memory in shambles as it was, he was unable to shake an unmistakable sense of familiarity with the sensation.  He rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes with one of his paws, thankfully wakeful enough to turn his claws away to avoid harming himself.  Turning to dangle his legs off the bed, he tried to determine what had woken him, but nothing stood out.

It was only after a few moments of sitting in silence that he was finally able to pick out something apart from his own breathing and the beating of his heart.  It was faint, even to the ears of an animal, but it did become clearer as he picked out the direction it was coming from and turned his ears to hear it better.  It was a sort of humming… no, singing, though he could only hear the cadence of words rather than what was being sung.  

Lois stood, adjusting the loose robe around his shoulders.  He stepped lightly to the door, feeling the cold chill of stone beneath his pawpads, and did his best to open it without causing any noticeable sound with the latch.  With the door now opened into the dark hallway, Lois could make out the sounds of singing a little more distinctly.  He took care to determine the direction that the sounds were coming from, but it did not take him very long to decide that the voice was coming from the right branch of the hallway.Despite what little hope he had entertained before falling asleep the night before, Lois remained an ermine when he awoke.  It was difficult to tell the time of day from within the walls, but he doubted that it would matter if he knew.  Balrog would be by to see him as soon as his absence was noted, and that would at least give him a reason to leave the room again.

Lois shrugged on the robe he had been given, still annoyed at how even the slim shoulders of the garment managed to be loose on his frame.  While many Cursed people now bore forms that made conventional clothing useless, it seemed that it was still most convenient to keep spare clothing that would fit a normal human’s body.  He might have been able to comfortably wear the robe at some point in the past, but the slim body of a weasel was perfectly sized to slip through even the smallest of necklines.

He sighed.  Sleeping as an ermine had thankfully not had any discernable effect on his behavior, but he still questioned whether or not he would be able to tell if there had been a change.  With what little he remembered from his past, it would seem an easy thing for an animal mind to convince him that his current form was simply too human.  If not for his vague memory of being entirely human and the clear suggestions of the others that he had been more human prior to the present crisis, he might already have allowed such thoughts to take hold.

Lois sat on the edge of his bed, a single solitary candle illuminating his sleeping quarters.  He ached to move, to run about and stretch his muscles, but his mind was too busy trying to piece together any bits of his lost past that it could recover – regardless of how futile it continued to seem.  Perhaps if he simply remembered more of his past he could coax more humanity back into his body.

As it was, the bits and pieces of memory that he still possessed were so scattered and disorganized that they did more to confuse him than anything else.  They all seemed disconnected and hazy, as though they could slip away at any time.  Only very few memories seemed to be connected at all.

Lois straightened where he sat as he considered this.  For the first time, an oddity in his memory came to his attention.  While most of his remaining memories had no clear connection, one very specific portion of his memory was easy to connect.  Somehow, for a reason he could not comprehend, his memories of his childhood, while not perfect, were all coherent and interconnected.  What sense did that make?  Certainly his oldest memories should have been his most vulnerable.  Instead, they were the only part of his mind that seemed wholly unaffected.

The ermine stood, shaking his head and pacing as he tried to unravel the complicated abyss of his own mind.  There seemed to be a sea of memory covering perhaps the first twelve years of his life, and specks of memory leading from there to the present.  What memories he had outside of his childhood were insufficient to paint any sort of picture of the intervening years.  He knew a few people, remembered a few places, but none of them really connected with him.  None of them told him who he was, or how he had come to be this way.

Lois spent some time in silent frustration, trying to force answers from his brain, before dropping onto the edge of his bed and pinching his temples with his claws.  He had to sort things out, but his own mind was not enough.  He needed help.  He had to go look for Balrog; he was the only one left within the walls who Lois could trust.
.  
The ermine quickly moved over to the wardrobe that sat against the far wall.  Inside he found a small leather satchel that contained the belongings that had been recovered in the lutin encampment.  While the clothing he had been wearing at the time was no longer suited for his current form, he was hopeful that he might at least be able to get some use out of the other things that had been on his person at the time.  If nothing else, he could use his weapons as a preventative measure.  Perhaps his enemies would not know of his vulnerable state and respect him more if he was visibly armed.’

Even though the belt that held the sheaths for his twin daggers was adjustable, Lois had trouble securing it about his waist.  Even at the last of the holes, he had to turn it diagonally across his body to get it to sit comfortably at his hip.  He sighed and shook his head at this, but at least it was still accessible to him.  Even if he remembered exactly how to use his daggers the robes he now wore would have obstructed him, but he hoped that any enemies who might have the opportunity to strike would err on the side of caution and wait to approach him.

Perhaps that would give him enough time to finally remember.

Shaking off further depressed reflection, Lois searched the pack for any other useful items.  There were a few small things that did not strike him as particularly helpful, and although the bandolier of throwing daggers that was draped alongside the pack was tempting, he decided that it would only make his ruse all the more obvious.  There was little reason to go about armed to the teeth while still in friendly quarters.

There were a few small things that struck his fancy as he searched, however.  He first pulled a long-stemmed pipe out from within the pack.  Much like most of the rest of the things he had encountered, it did not result in any sort of grand revelation, but it still interested him.  While he could not remember smoking from the pipe, he had a vague idea of how to go about doing so.  With a shrug, he took it and placed it in a pouch on his belt.  He also took the opportunity to take a small tin of tobacco from where it was kept as well.  Perhaps he could use them later to settle his nerves.

He continued his search only briefly afterwards and, finding nothing that truly stood out to him as useful, set the satchel aside and closed the doors to the wardrobe.  Just as he was about to set out for the hallways of the Outpost, however, a knock on the door interrupted him.

Lois paused.  There were not many people who would seek him out right now.  With his patrol out performing their duties, that left only Balrog and however few of the local garrison were aware of his presence.  He could not think of a reason why they might want to speak with him, however, and somehow he doubted from the volume of the knock alone that the disguised lutin was at the door.  With a paw on the hilt of one of the daggers, Lois cautiously approached the door.

Another knock came before Lois reached the doorway.  It was a quick series of knocks in an almost musical rhythm.  It seemed unlikely that someone seeking to harm him would be so nonchalant, but Lois was naturally uneasy with his mind already affected.

Once he reached the door, he carefully cracked it open so that he could see between the door and its jamb.  The face outside was unfamiliar, as were so many in his present state.  The individual before him bore the form of a tall, black wolf.  The wolf met Lois’ gaze around the corner of the door, seeming curious at Lois’ manner in opening the door.  The ermine made no apologies for it, but he did feel slightly odd acting like this.

“Hello?  Who are you?” Lois asked.

The wolf regarded Lois for a moment before he answered.  “My name is Nathan,” he said quietly.  “Are you Vincent Lois?”

The ermine hesitated, but realized that anyone who might want to attack him would almost certainly know what he looked like without any introduction.  He nodded.  “Yes, I am Lois.  Were you looking for me?”

“Yes,” the wolf replied, giving a quick wag of his tail.  “I’m sorry; I know we have not been introduced.  I am Balrog’s patrol commander.  He has told me something about what your situation, and I thought that I might be able to help you.”

Lois glanced at the man suspiciously, but he once again found it unlikely that the wolf might be trying to kill him.  It would not be difficult to overpower Lois in his current state, and the ermine could think of no reason why not to immediately strike if violence was the intent.  Once he had finally convinced himself to trust the waiting wolf, Lois opened the door instead of peaking around it through the doorway.

Nathan took this action as an invitation to enter and stepped into the room, briefly surveying the surrounding area before turning back to Lois.  He looked the ermine up and down, noting the way that Lois’ Curse had stretched out his body.  Lois returned the man’s gaze impassively, trying to disguise his own discomfort while at once doing his best to size up the wolf.  His claim of being a patrol commander did not seem far-fetched; even through his dark fur, his well-defined musculature was clear to see.  He was clearly trained for combat, most likely with the strange pair of rods which were secured in a pair of pouches on his right hip.  They seemed a bit thin to be used as clubs, but Lois still did not wish to learn how they would be used in a fight.

“You said that you thought that you might be able to help me?”  Lois was not certain if he trusted the wolf, but any offer of help was welcome in his current situation.

The wolf nodded in confirmation.  “Balrog told me something about your situation.  He told me that you had lost some of your memory.  I see that there were also some physical effects.”

Lois frowned.  The way his body had changed was still a sore spot for him, but he did not want to let the wolf know exactly how self-conscious he was about how much he looked like an animal.  He nodded.  “Yes; I do not recall much from my prior life, and it seems that even my recall of my more human form has been effected.  I hope that I will regain some humanity once my memories have been returned.”

“Yes, it was actually the matter of your memories that interested me,” the wolf said.  “I was curious exactly what the extent of your memory loss might be.”

Lois gave the man a scowl.  “You have no reason to know that information,” he stated defensively.  He could feel the fur rising on the back of his neck, and he tried to settle himself. For a moment before speaking again.  “I am sorry.  Recent events have been very difficult for me.  I am hesitant to trust anyone, especially strangers.”

The wolf shrugged.  “I do not mind your apprehension.  To be honest, I expected as much even before the extent of your memory loss became known to me.  I would have preferred to come in the company of Balrog myself, but he is speaking with the third member of our patrol.  The quarantine is hard on him.”

“Yes… I had heard briefly of the quarantine in the Keep,” Lois muttered quietly.  To himself, he wondered if perhaps there were loved ones within the walls that were now in danger.  He sighed to himself; it was just one more question that he was forced to ask with no easy answer in sight.

“At any rate, my question regarding the extent of your memory loss did have a reason.  Memories are almost always connected in various ways to one another; not always in a chronological order, perhaps, but often by some sort of relationship between different events.  The connections may at times be tenuous, but I cannot think of any place in which they are not present.”  The wolf looked Lois in the eyes seriously for a moment before continuing.  “I may be able to help you rebuild the connections.”

Lois scoffed.  “Another coincidence, I see.”  To the wolf’s questioning turn of the head, Lois explained, “Balrog told me that his patrol commander had directed the patrol to this Outpost on the guidance of some mysterious origin.  If you are this same man as you claim, you now claim to have some special insight into the workings of memory?”

“I don’t believe that coincidence exists, especially not in my own experience,” the wolf replied.  He shifted, glancing about the room silently as though in nervous consideration.  “The source of my guidance and the fact that I might be able to help with your memories are not disconnected, even if you will call them both coincidence.  Whenever guidance has been granted to me in the past, it has been so that I could help someone in some way.  In this respect, the current situation is no different.  I am here to help someone, and I believe that you are the one I should be helping.”

“Curious.  According to Balrog, you had some personal objections to restoring me in the first place.”  Lois’ accusing glare made the wolf shift uncomfortably and once more avert his eyes from Lois, but he nodded.

“I did not know who I would be asked to help when I first arrived, and when I learned of your identity I was hesitant to return your lost humanity, if only because I knew who you were and feared you would only return to you past when given the opportunity.  You may be ignorant of your origins, Lois, but I cannot forget, and if I told you who you once were I am certain that you would understand why I wished to wait.”  He paused, and reflexively licked his nose in a canine gesture that evidently came as no surprise to him.  “Fortunately, I do not have to rely on my skills as a storyteller to recount your past.  I’ve come here to show you what you have forgotten.”

Lois backed away from the wolf, leveling a sharp glare on him as he did.  “What are you talking about?” he asked suspiciously.  He did his best to circle towards the door as he backed away.  The wolf was beginning to make him nervous.

“You are a dangerous man, Vincent.  You must understand that I cannot simply tell you about your past and trust that you will do the right thing with that knowledge.  Your past gives me no confidence that you can be trusted, but I was brought here to help you for some reason and I will do so to the best of my ability.”

Lois had heard enough.  Every fiber of his being screamed at him that something was wrong.  His earlier instincts about the wolf being no threat were being quickly eradicated, leaving a feeling of terror to settle in his gut.  The door was just a few feet away, and he was now closer to it than the wolf was.  He did not have to think much to make his decision.

Rather than pursue the ermine, Nathan turned to watch as he fled.  Lois was initially confused by this reaction, but the reason became clearer as he reached to open the door.  All at once, the surface of the door seemed to warp, stretching out around him as though it, his only escape, would somehow consume him.  Lois still tried the door, but his paw found nothing to grasp.  He stumbled back, mind reeling.  What was happening?

He turned in confusion until his eyes fell on the face of the wolf who still stood, unmoving, towards the center of the room.  Now the rest of the room seemed to be warping and twisting as he watched, the figure of the man who must be responsible seeming to spiral away as the ermine watched, although Nathan himself did not physically move.  Lois tried to run after him, but soon Nathan’s body was lost in the spiraling abyss into which the room had now spiraled.

Lois could no longer tell if he was standing, or if he was somehow floating, suspended in whatever limbo had consumed the rest of his room.  What had the wolf done?  Where had he gone?

“I apologize for the inconvenience.”  Nathan’s voice resounded in Lois’ ears, coming from no clear source.  “I simply cannot allow you to go without hearing what I have to say.  Perhaps you will not listen willingly, but I will make you listen all the same.”

As the voice spoke, the warping that had turned his room into an unrecognizable pool of color began to reverse, and then to bend and fold in incomprehensible ways until the very colors that seemed the only surviving reminder of his original surroundings were turned into something utterly new.  For a few moments, those colors lacked any meaning, until finally some shapes began to catch Lois’ eyes; first edges, then entire surfaces.

In moments, Lois was able to identify the shape of buildings surrounding him, far more distance between them than the walls of the room would have allowed.  Only, the walls that should have been made of wood or stone were instead composed of what appeared to be cloudy sky.  In fact, looking up to see where the sky should have been revealed that the opposite was true above.  Instead of sky, the textures of wood, stone, dirt, and even grass were stretched in an incomprehensible panorama above his head.

At least he was not floating, but he stumbled in a daze as images of leaves and branches danced below him.  His paws found solid purchase, but his mind rebelled as his eyes told him that there was nothing to stand on.  Fortunately, even the world about him seemed to realize that something was wrong, and with a strange spinning sensation the world began to regain some sense.  Clouds and blue sky danced above him as they always should have, leaves and bark adorned trees in his surroundings, and finally the last of the dust, wood, and stone that had been forming an impossible dome about him returned to covering the ground and buildings around him.

At last the images around him began to make sense, although they were still utterly wrong.  He stood among closely-clustered buildings along a plain dirt road that wound further away, towards a town square where a few trees gave their shade.  Lois knew that it could not be true; there was no way he could have been moved from within the Outpost at night to this new location near midday in what seemed to be so short a time.  Still, the world seemed to make sense once again.  The dust under his paws rose in small, swirling clouds, a slight breeze that moved his fur also made leaves on the branches dance, and the light of the sun seemed to agree in all areas.

“Where am I?” he asked.  While he was not certain now whether Nathan or some other player had caused this shift, he still felt convinced that there was someone nearby, although to all appearances the town around him was abandoned.

“Physically, you are still in the Outpost.”  The voice that replied unmistakably belonged to the enigmatic wolf that had been speaking to him before his sudden change of location.  “For your own safety, you have been move to your bed, but you have not moved very far.  As for what you are seeing, it is an illusion, though it is one of a familiar place to you.  Do you recognize your surroundings at all?”

Lois took a deep breath, concentrating his will just to keep from demanding to be released.  He knew that it would do him no good in his current situation, and it might perhaps anger a man with power to do much worse than trap him in some illusory world.  He took a closer look at his surroundings, and felt a strange sense of familiarity.  At first it was an uncertain haze like so many other things he had attempted to recall since his mind had returned to him, but slowly the memories grew clearer.

“I remember…”

As he began to speak, strange figures suddenly appeared around him, apparently human in their silhouette but any specific image obscured by a strange, impenetrable veil as though of cloud.  He could not in any case determine race, gender, or age among them, yet they clearly stood in place of the people who were so evidently missing in the scene that now surrounded him.

“What is this?” he asked, hoping the wolf would somehow reply again.

“You are remembering,” Nathan’s voice rumbled in the air around him.  “As you recall more clearly, the images will clarify themselves into something more familiar.”

Indeed, as Lois turned his head to take in his surroundings, some of the obscured figures began to stand out.  Faces began to appear from within the standing clouds, colors swirling through robes that themselves had been uncertain in shape until moments before.  Some figures remained in shadow, but they served to create a clear distinction between the foreground and background of the scene before him.  Words began to dance through the air around him, while at the same time he could clearly hear a general rumbling of noise around him that was nothing more than meaningless babble, as though actors in a stageplay were attempting to make just enough noise to simulate a bustling city while allowing important conversation to stand out.

Indeed, as Lois walked forward, towards the town square, the small snippets he could catch all brought to mind some other small detail of the memory that he now observed.  Small memories, some perhaps near-forgotten before, convinced him more and more than what he saw was a reflection of his own memory.

Suddenly, a boy ran past him, dancing to miss another man who suddenly stepped out into the path near him.  The lad very nearly lost his balance, but managed to keep his feet as he ran from the town square with little more than a shouted apology.  Lois hesitated for a moment, but in a moment of realization he began to chase after the fleeing figure, not even noticing as the people seemed to simply disappear behind him in his wake.  The boy was the important thing; he was certain, that had been his own past self running!

The boy was quick, but Lois was able to keep up without too much effort, and the more he looked at the boy, the more he was certain of his original assessment.  While he looked very little now like the boy he had once been, the image he had of himself as a child was unmistakable to him.  The boy carried a wrapped bundle with him, likely something he had purchased from the merchants’ stalls in the town square.  It was a common task that Lois recalled having done the same way dozens of times.  Unclear to him was why exactly this particular time was being replayed for him.

Lois noticed that everything around the boy seemed to clarify itself; of course it did, he reasoned.  These were the memories of that boy.  He would naturally be the focus of the memory.  While Lois had a sense that the images he was now observing were coming from his own memory, however, he could not tell what events this memory concerned, and so he followed on in hopes that what he saw would provide some key to unlocking what he had lost.

The boy finally stopped short a short distance from the streets of the hamlet, and the following ermine found himself unable to stop.  He braced himself to trip over the boy where he stood, only to simply pass through the image like the specter that he was.  It served as a well-timed reminder that what he saw was nothing more than illusion created by the wolf for his own mysterious purposes.

Although the expected collision never came, Lois still had to struggle to regain his footing once he had managed to stop himself.  His tail flicked behind him in agitation even then, and he looked back to where the boy had stopped to see what had brought him up so short.  As soon as he looked, realization hit, and he felt his heart sink.

A small group of soldiers bearing the standard of the lord of the town were at the door, a few watching the surrounding area while others spoke with the owner within.  The owner, he realized, was his own father.  This was the day that had turned his life on its head.  The bread that his past self had carried from the town square had been bought with money that his father did not have to give.  The few coins, though likely the last few in the family’s possession, were also due to the lord as tax.  The ruler had long been gracious, since he did not have enough farmers interested in moving onto his lands to afford the loss of even one lazy lout.  Still, there was a limit even to his patience.

The soldiers who waited outside approached the Lois’ young, confused self.  The ermine that the boy had grown to become did not have to listen to the spoken words to know what was happening.  The soldiers were kind enough, but the news they brought did nothing to endear them to the young boy.  With his father unable to pay his debt, and the lord unwilling to throw him in prison since he had no one to take his place, the ruler had decided to take Vincent as a servant until his father could pay back the taxes.

It made Lois shiver to recall the dark day, but despite that perceived chill his blood still boiled.  To think that his entire life had changed because of this day, because his father would not work in order to pay what he owed.

“Why are you showing me this?” Lois asked sharply.  He knew the wolf was still there, somewhere, pulling the strings from behind the scenes.  There was some reason that this scene had been chosen, something that the wolf wanted him to see.

“Memories are not islands,” the wolf’s voice whispered from somewhere unknowable.  “Each memory connects to so many others, perhaps not in order, perhaps not for a reason we might comprehend, but they are certainly and undeniably connected.  This is likely the most important memory which remains clear in your mind, and it must lead to others.”  As the wolf spoke, the world suddenly seemed to pitch around Lois, recognizable images swimming together into something unrecognizable.  “We follow the links, we find the truth.”

The ermine groaned as the confused miasma began to refocus once again, this time thankfully more quickly and in a less confusing fashion.  He now found himself sitting on a bench inside a rickety carriage that bounced along the uneven earth road that led from the outskirts of town towards the lord’s manor.  Across from him, bundled up by himself despite the warm weather, was his younger self, intentionally avoiding all offered conversations – or even eye contact – offered to him by those who sat across from him.  Noticing this brought Lois to the realization that he was seated between two guards, neither of which seemed to notice him in the slightest.  That was all just as well; it gave him better opportunity to remember the event that the wolf was now showing him.

As it happened, the event itself was difficult to forget.  As the manor grew closer, Lois could even recall the emotions of leaving his home for the first time to be taken there.  Although the manor was hardly imposing – it was, after all, just the home of a noble with more aspirations than resources – it still seemed as intimidating to him as the very Keep of Nasoj himself.  The thought that he was being brought there against him will made him feel like a prisoner, despite every reassurance of the guards that served as his escorts.

They spoke in hushed tones and, despite the ermine’s apparent proximity to the men, he only caught snippets, no doubt reflecting the few words his younger self had managed to catch through the fog of grief and confusion.  Every word frightened him; they spoke quietly to each other, questioning whether he would ever go free.  One said he doubted the likelihood; his fellow tried to hush him, glaring pointedly in the direction of the frightened child.  Lois had heard the exchange of course, and it had changed him as the years marched on.  At first he had denied what he had heard, but then, as days and months wore on, he remembered the conversation more and more.

Even as he thought this, he felt a jolt as though the carriage had struck a stone in the path, only to realize that the world was tumbling into itself once more.  He grunted in discomfort, but no longer saw the point in questioning the unseen wolf about why he was doing this.  While the purpose was not much clearer now than it had been at the beginning, the tour through his memories was not a bad thing by any means.  Perhaps the wolf had a point, and if following a chain of his own memories would lead to the truth then perhaps he could abide a momentary intrusion into his mind.

In the meantime, he would focus his efforts on finding an escape.

When the images around him again took on a recognizable shape, he found himself standing in a long, dimly lit hallway.  The outside wall was made of rough-cut stone, and the interior wall was wood.  Because of this, the only torches in the hallway were ensconced on the stone walls, and their intervals were not regular enough to truly eliminate the shadows.  There were a few windows, but all of these were slim and too high to be of any help with the lighting.  In such a small space, the basic personality of the lord was easily seen; he sought protection from possible attackers while at once lacking the necessary resources to fully fortify his manor.  Lois found it much easier than he would have as a human to adjust to the depth of the shadows.  He was quickly able to spot his younger self, not long removed from that fateful carriage ride, fidgeting uncomfortably with his uniform, another unnecessary inconvenience that the lord of the land forced on his servants.  He stood by a familiar doorway, waiting for someone to emerge.

Thankfully, Lois did not have to wait through the entirety of his younger self’s impatient wait.  A few moments were enough to bring the emotions spiraling back.  Ever moreso than before, he had been feeling the impact of being forcibly removed from the company of his father and mother.  In addition, despite constant attempts to reassure himself to the contrary, the whispers of the guards still haunted him.  While he wanted to simply refuse to believe that his father would simply leave him in the lord’s care rather than do all he could to pay for his release, doubting words still nagged at the back of his mind.  He hoped that his patience would at least reward him with some reassurance.

His wait ended when an older man, perhaps close to his fortieth year, finally stepped through the doorway, almost colliding with the small boy on the other side in his preoccupation with matters that shifted his attention elsewhere.  As it was, he still had to clasp Lois by the shoulders and stumble a few steps before he was able to stabilize himself.  He briefly chastised the boy for carelessly standing where others might trip over him, but his reproof barely managed to be stern, and no true anger was evident in his voice or expression.  It was at least one mercy in Lois’ early life that the master of the servants was such an agreeable fellow.

The younger version of Lois very nearly convinced himself not to pursue his question, but any such thought was quickly thrown out as soon as the man asked what was troubling the young boy.  Standing a spectator to his own past, the ermine Lois almost cried out to stop himself from continuing, but the knowledge that the events had already passed and that he could do nothing to change the outcome regardless of what he might say made him hold his tongue.

“When will my father be coming for me?”  Lois did not even have to hear the words to know they had been spoken.  Fractured as his memory was, they stood out like a blot of crimson on a snowy hillside.  The reply he wished he could forget, but it still came.

The older man’s face was touched by sympathy and regret, and he replied as well as he could while trying to spare the young boy’s hopes.  “Your father’s debts are great, I’m afraid.  He will no doubt be very busy for quite some time to pay them back.  Patience!  You will see him soon.  Meanwhile, take advantage of this opportunity.  There is much to learn here, as a page to our lord.  Work hard, and you may even be able to help your father yourself.”

Even so many years ago, with so little experience, Lois had known what those words meant.  They were merely platitudes, attempts to hide the real truth behind a half answer that couldn’t truly be called a lie.  The debts to be paid were indeed great; great enough that few expected they would ever be repaid.  If Vincent were ever to live as a freeman, it would indeed require him to work where he was.  It was a single chance in a million that his lord would ever feel that his work merited a release, but to anyone familiar with the case it seemed the far more likely method for the young boy to escape his servitude.

Lois had to consciously unball his fists as he tried to calm himself.  The reminders of his past brought with them a rush of raw emotion that he could hardly bear, but he realized that getting angry would do him no good now.  The events he was now being forced to relive were past.  Theree was no way for him to alter their course, try as he might.

  He hesitated for a few brief moments, trying to decide whether following the mysterious voice was really in his best interests, but curiosity overruled any concerns that he had.

He padded quietly down the hallway after the unseen voice.  Reaching a corner, and his ears twitched to follow the sound in the new direction at the fork.  Uneasiness crept into the back of his mind; it seemed almost as if the sound had entirely changed directions as he reached this branch in the hallway.  He took a breath to steady his nerves; he would not be defeated by feral instinct, not again.  Something assured him that this was a song that he had to pursue, a song meant for him in particular.  He glanced around the corner to see if he could see the source of the singing yet, but the hall ended at another branch.

He moved as quietly as padded paws allowed, carefully muffling the sounds of his claws as much as he was capable.  The words of the mysterious song were becoming more distinct as the voice itself grew clearer, but he could not recognize anything that was being said.  It was a woman’s voice, of that he was nearly certain, but he was almost as certain that the words of the song were in a foreign tongue.  That itself was no great mystery; many people from around the Midlands came to Metamor for just as many reasons.  Lois was drawn on not by the foreign words, but by how they teased at something in the back of his mind.  He knew this language – had known it prior to losing memory of so much of his past.  He still understood and spoke the Common tongue; why would this other language so insistently evade his grasp?

He rounded another corner at a steady pace, and was greeted by the sight of starlight in an open sky.  He was leaving the barracks.  Here a few plants were grown in a small garden, a strangely peaceful location to be built directly adjacent to where the Outpost’s soldiers were gathered.  Perhaps it was meant to distract war-weary men from the pain of times past, or perhaps the pet project of some of the local citizens.  Whatever the case, Lois determined that the voice he heard was coming from under the centerpiece of the small garden plot, a tree that grew solitary among the many climbing vines and low shrubs that grew up around it.  While the garden itself seemed to have been raised up in recent days, the breadth of the tree spoke of long years remaining rooted as it was.  It had doubtless been here since before most Keepers had been born.

The ermine stepped silently between the rows of flowers, many freshly sprouting with the recent arrival of spring.  The voice was very strong now, tantalizingly nearby.  The words continued to tumble through his mind, each one seeming so achingly familiar yet remaining meaningless to his consideration.  He had to find the one who was singing, to see who was singing.  Perhaps it would be the spark to restore these fleeting memories…

Lois stopped as he rounded the base of the tree.  He had found the singer.  She sat on a stone bench that seemed itself to grow from the earth by the base of the tree.  Her tail, black-tipped like his own, swayed in time to the words as she sang, her white fur blown gently by an evening breeze.  His eyes widened as he spied her form, so similar to his own.  His breath caught in his throat as she turned slowly and glanced towards him, her eyes a pair of glowing blue orbs that shone even now, though lit by little more than starlight.  She moved slowly, deliberately, song never wavering, and offered him her paw.

Lois hesitated.  Something seemed strange; he had not known that there were other ermines in the Keep.  Or perhaps he had simply forgotten?  Something about this woman, much like her song, ached of familiarity.  Was she an enemy?  A friend?  A lost love?

Her offered paw remained steady, waiting for him to decide, and her muzzle turned in an earnest smile.  He took a step forward, trying to unwrap his confused thoughts.  He was struck by her beauty; the way her form, though Cursed, fit the dress that she wore made his heart flutter.  She seemed almost too regal for reality, and suspicion made him pause.  Still, Lois found himself drawn in by a strange allure.  He crossed on silent paws and took her hand, and she gently guided him around from behind the bench to stand before her.

Lois tried to speak, but his voice caught and little emerged beyond a confused squeak.  Her eyes laughed at him, even as the words of her song continued, their rhythm never wavering despite her clear amusement.  Her paw pulled him gently down, and he knelt before her, eyes still locked questioningly on her face.  She gently guided him to sit on the bench beside her, and then to rest his head cradled in her lap.  Although he continued to resist briefly, the nervous tension drained from his body until he was comfortably lounged across the bench.  Even his eyes fluttered shut, and the quiet tones of her song erased concern from his mind.

He rested there several golden moments, the jumble of his thoughts quieted in his waking mind for the first time in many an hour.  There must have been a touch of the Divine in her song; no lesser power could have so easily stilled his mental anguish.  With no desperation, his thoughts turned to his missing memories. In the clarity of his calm repose, he wondered if perhaps they would return.  He could almost visualize the jagged edges left between the things he recalled and those that had been lost.  It seemed so simple.  If he could only find those missing pieces…

A sudden, sharp, stabbing pain interrupted the ermine’s silent contemplation.  Opening his eyes, he glared in horror at the hilt of a stiletto, buried in his chest and held in the grasp of the mysterious ermine lady whose song still rang in his ears.  He reached up and grasped it, reaching after the lady’s hand as she released her grip but she easily slipped from his suddenly weak fingers.  Lois rolled from the bench and landed on the ground, tried to scramble away from his assailant, gasped in astonishment even though the pain of his injury was still unfelt.  Even as the song continued, he heard laughter from behind him.

“Vincent Lois.”  He rolled onto his back, gripping the hilt with both hands and crying out.  Somehow he could hear the lady speak as she continued to sing.  “Too valuable to die, too dangerous to leave alive.  You should feel privileged; that dagger is worth more coin than most men will see in their entire lives.”

Lois coughed and gasped, looking at the dagger.  He only now noticed that no blood was pooling from the wound.  It had been long enough; he should have been seeing the results of the injury, but there was nothing.  Still, the edges of his vision were beginning to fade, and he could feel his grip on consciousness slipping.  Grunting, he tried to pull the blade from his wound; perhaps he could stop the blade from accomplishing its purpose if he could remove it.  Unfortunately, removing it from his chest was like trying to lift a horse barehanded.  His vision faded entirely for a moment, and he was forced to halt his attempts.  What was the dagger doing?  His heart sank as he considered the words his assailant had spoken.  If he was too dangerous to live and too valuable to die, that didn’t leave any pleasant options.

His vision began to fade again, and he turned his head to glance towards his attacker.  She stood by the bench still, taking short, easy steps towards him, the dress about her paws still fluttering like something out of a dream even as she stalked him like a nightmare.  “Relax, assassin.  It will be over soon.”

Unable to remove the dagger, Lois struggled up to a kneeling position, then tried to stand long enough to scramble away.  He only managed to take one drunken step before collapsing again and rolling painfully onto his side.  The ermine lady was almost to him, and he could barely move.  An icy cold gripped his body, and he found it difficult to even think.

As his grip on consciousness faded, Lois was dimly aware that another person had arrived.  He tried to concentrate enough to see who it was or even track what was happening, but only vague impressions came to him.  A few heated words, a shout, a scuffle… then Lois couldn’t tell what was happening.  Everything went black.

Lois was not sure how long he remained unconscious.  There was no pain, nor feeling of any kind.  There was, however, an uncomfortable consciousness of a passage of time.  This blackness was not the pleasant refuge of sleep.  It was a terrifying, empty feeling that nagged at him, continually reminding him that the world continued on in his absence.

Finally, something changed, and the ermine slowly began to regain awareness.  His eyes felt dry, and the images he saw blurred into an unfocused, uncertain miasma.  His ears were a little clearer, and he could hear a quiet, masculine voice speaking to him.

 “Stay calm; you will be all right in a few moments.”

Slowly, Lois’ vision cleared, and he could see a wolf crouching over him, one paw grasping the hilt of the dagger which still protruded from the ermine’s chest.  He waved his other paw over the end of the hilt, whispering quiet words.  Runes along the hilt were glowing, pulsing in a silent rhythm as the wolf worked.  Feeling was beginning to return to Lois’ extremities, and he realized slowly that the paralysis in his limbs was relenting.  He twitched his fingers and began to raise his head, before a pointed glare from the wolf convinced him to stay still.

A few more moments passed before the wolf ceased his murmuring, and with a rapid motion withdrew the blade from where it had been buried in Lois’ chest.  The ermine gasped and reached hastily for the area.  As he clasped the area, however, he became quickly aware of the fact that there was no sign of where he had been stabbed at all.  Not only did he have no visible injury, but even his clothing was unharmed.

“Can you stand?”  The wolf offered Lois one of his large paws.  The ermine accepted the offer, and was pulled up to his feet quickly.  He took a few moments to be sure that his balance was sure, but whatever ill effects had been caused by the mysterious dagger seemed to have been fully removed by the wolf’s work.

“It seems so,” Lois replied, feigning a bit more confidence than he felt after being attacked.  He glanced at the dagger, which the wolf still held in one of his paws.  It seemed to be radiating heat, though the wolf gave no indication that it was painful to him.  Images beyond the weapon seemed to warp and bend as though it projected invisible flame.  “What sort of magic is in that weapon?”

The wolf glanced at the dagger with a scowl.  “Soul trapping magic.  It is strictly forbidden by any of the major magic schools in the Midlands, but I imagine that the people who are trying to capture you are not particularly concerned with anyone else’s rules.”  He looked around for a few moments before turning to look Lois in the eyes.  “We should get to shelter quickly.  She may be back soon, and if there are any others in her group then we may have more to deal with than one hypnotist with a few nasty toys.”

Lois nodded, but the wolf turned and stalked away without acknowledging his response.  The ermine followed him, still shivering quietly to himself as his mind replayed recent events, giving a few glances over his shoulder to make sure that they were not being followed.  The dark furred wolf quickly worked his way through a few halls in the barracks before reaching a room and entering hurriedly.  He held the door for the ermine, and threw the latch behind them.  Lois felt nervous to be locked in the room with the mysterious wolf, but silently reassured himself with the knowledge that he would not even be alive without the help of this mysterious figure.  For now, he was just trying to focus on settling his rattled nerves.

The room that they had entered was already lit by an oil lamp set on a table in the center of the room and several candles lighting the deeper shadows of the corners from sconces on the wall.  The room struck Lois as some sort of meeting room, likely for use by patrol commanders to plan their missions.  By the way the wax had pooled around the base of the candles, the wolf had been in this chamber for some time previous.  Lois tried not to think too much about why he had been expected.

With the initial need to escape from immediate danger gone, Lois was able to see his rescuer a little more clearly.  The wolf wore a light tunic that contrasted with his black fur, but over top of that he wore a dark coat that obscured most of what he carried on his belt.  Lois could see the haft of a weapon sitting readily available at either side of the wolf’s person, but the rounded design of those grips was unfamiliar to Lois, though that could as easily have been due to his loss of memory as to a lack of experience with this particular weapon.  Regardless of what they were, he meant to keep an eye on them.

Laying the stiletto upon the table at the center of the room, the wolf wasted little time walking to a cupboard to one side and pulling out a pair of glasses and a bottle.  He poured a glass and offered it to the ermine, who looked at it suspiciously.

“I’m sorry, someone has already tried to kill me once today.  I’d rather not accept a drink from you at this point.”

The wolf shrugged and set the bottle down while he took advantage of the drink himself.  “I do understand why you are hesitant to accept a drink at my hand.  Still, I think both of us could use one after what just occurred.”  He took another sip and walked to where he had left the enchanted blade.  “You would be hard pressed to find a weapon of this sort, even among the servants of Nasoj.”

Lois turned his head suddenly as the sound of singing resumed in the distance.  Even knowing what the lady intended for him, Lois found himself rising to his feet, meaning fully to again search out the source of the song.  He had already nearly reached the door when the tones of the song suddenly stopped, and he staggered to a stop, just a few steps short of a wolf who glared at him sharply.

“Get control of yourself,” he ordered sharply.  Lois saw now that the wolf had placed some sort of glyph on the door, which pulsed erratically with some unknown power.  “The woman who sought to trap your soul is a Siren, a very sinister sort of hypnotic mage.  Sirens can exert simple influence over the minds of men with their song, but I imagine by the strength of her power over you that she was given a vial of your blood.”

Lois blinked, backing away from the door warily.  “Why would she need that?”

The wolf made a few gestures about the door, and whatever he was doing seemed to calm the eddies of power that were causing the glyph to pulse.  “It is a primitive form of sanguimancy.  After drinking a small amount of a victim’s blood, a Siren can impose their will on a subject with very little resistance.”

The ermine stumbled to a chair and sat, feeling weak.  “I think I would like that drink now.”

The wolf nodded.  “Of course.  That ward should prevent her song from reaching you until her influence has passed.  Meanwhile, we have nothing to do but bide our time.”

He poured two more glasses of the drink and set the bottle between them before handing one glass to Lois and sitting across the table with the second.  He took a quick sip of the drink, and the ermine did the same.  The sharp sting of alcohol on his tongue assured him that whatever sort of drink it might have been, it would quickly leave him in a drunken stupor if he did not exercise restraint.  As tense as he felt knowing the control that the strange enchantress held over him, he did not need that sort of relaxation.

“I suppose an introduction would be welcome,” his host said after he had already downed another half tumbler full.  “My name is Nathan.  As to how I know you and why I came to your aid, that may be slightly more difficult to explain.  Truly the answer to the first question should have prevented me from ever helping you, but I am only here because I have been sent to someone’s aid, and as loathe as I have been to accept it, you are the one to whom I must now give my help.”  Lois was confused as he listened, and from the way the wolf’s voice changed tone and inflection throughout his speech the ermine could sense a clear conflict.  Again, he doubted his choice to drink, even as his savior leveled another sharp glare on him across the table.  “I ask you, Vincent Lois, what is the worth of a life?”

With adrenaline now fading and the touch of alcohol settling his nerves, Lois was better prepared for the sudden, unexpected shift in the wolf’s demeanor.  The question hung in the air, and Lois left it so unanswered as he slowly drank from his glass again.  Setting it down, he met the wolf’s gaze as directly as he could.  “I sense in your question a test for me.  If there is a countersign you expect me to deliver, I do not remember what it might be.  If it is a catechism I should recite, I have no knowledge of it.  I can only offer my own answer to the question.”

Nathan shifted in his seat, something changing in his expression, but that searching gaze remained.  “And?  What is your answer?”

Lois paused, trying to determine what the wolf expected.  Then, he realized, it made no difference.  “A life... is a man’s first and most valuable possession.  No other riches have value unless life itself remains.”

The wolf snorted a short laugh and stood, taking the bottle from the center of the table and filling his glass again.  “An amusing answer,” he said, drinking a quarter of his drink before immediately replacing it from the bottle.  He stared at the full glass again for a moment before setting it down and pushing it towards the center of the table, beyond an easy arm’s reach.  “I have heard you in your sincerity, now hear me in mine.  The answer you gave me is not the one I expected – and yes there was a specific phrase I expected to hear repeated – but it tells me what I needed to know.  You have lost your memory, as I had been told.”

Lois nodded, trying to determine exactly what the wolf was doing.  “I remember bits and snatches, people and events, but not much more than that.  There are only very few things I even recall from before coming here.”

The wolf nodded.  “So I have heard from at least one person I consider trustworthy, but I had to be sure.  Though they may think they know you, they do not know about you nearly as much as I do.”  He paced a few steps towards the door and turned back to look at the ermine contemplatively.  “Ignorant as you are of your own past, I suppose some degree of explanation would be helpful for us both.”

The ermine nodded his agreement.  “If you know anything of my past I would be glad to hear it.”

Nathan shook his head sharply with a bitter chuckle.  “I doubt that.  Nevertheless, I am not here to judge whether you will enjoy learning of your past.  For me to be of any true help to you, it is necessary for me to explain those things now past.”  He clearly wished to take more of his drink to still his nerves before starting his explanations, but some more rational part of him realized he needed clarity more than calm at this moment.

“Before you came to Metamor, Lois, long before you lost your memory, you were an assassin.  Not some hired blade who hid behind the influence of nobility or royalty to work tasks without hope of reprisal, no.  You worked for whatever sort might have the coin to pay: nobles, yes, but also merchants, moneychangers, even members of the clergy.  If a man wanted blood spilled and could afford your fee, you would see the task done.”

Instinctively, Lois wished to deny it, but something in the back of his mind kept him silent.  Whether it was simply the desire to remain impartial, or some part of him that wished to accept the story as truth he could not tell from his own part, but at least he meant to hear what the wolf would say.

“That is why I know you in a way that many others here do not,” the wolf said quietly.  “A merchant’s family should never have to hear that he was murdered at the behest of a rival, yet one day I returned home from learning my trade and found the town guard explaining to my mother that my father’s throat had been slit and his body left in a gutter with the sewage.  None knew it was your work then; no man in such profession wishing to live past the next week would perform such an act where he could be identified.  Only later were you captured after another attempted assassination, and you coldly and calmly admitted to killing a merchant in addition to several other murders.  I couldn’t bear to watch you sit there and smugly admit what you had done.  The guards had to escort me from the room screaming, but as they did I knew that you would escape.  How could you not?  The court had denied me justice, of course fate would do the same.  Before the gallows had even been prepared, your cell was found empty, and nobles are only too quick to forgive a killer when his services may be useful to them later.  I swore, with or without the aid of the law, to bring you to justice myself.”

The story made Lois increasingly uncomfortable.  He finished his glass in an attempt to settle his nerves, but he could barely even taste the alcohol anymore and certainly could not feel its effects.  Only the fact that the wolf had not yet killed him kept him from trying to make a quick escape.  “So… you have rescued me from the Siren in order to kill me yourself?”

The wolf sighed and paced back towards the table, leaning across to take his tumbler and drink again.  Between the two men trying to calm themselves, the bottle was already very nearly empty.  “I would sorely like to.  To be honest, had the Curse not changed your face, I do not believe I would have been able to stop myself.”  He glanced over at Lois, his expression impossible to read.  “In my obsession with revenge, however, I began to learn more about you.

“As soon as my time as an apprentice was over, I spurned the life of a craftsman to search you out, using what coin my father’s business had provided us after his death to fund my ventures.  I expected to follow a trail after you traced in blood and death, but as I slowly picked up your trail it was from men and women who considered you a friend, not from widows and orphans of your victims desiring to help my righteous crusade.  As furious as I was about my father’s death at your hands, I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.  I began to ask different questions, inquiring after your past instead of only asking where you had gone.  As I gathered new information, a strange picture emerged that I had not expected.

“You were, as I said before, an assassin under no banner.  I assumed that this meant that you worked alone, but I learned that this wasn’t the case as time passed.  You bore a brand on your left hand, inscribed with a simple message sketched in fine scars: ‘No life has value except for my own.’”  He let the phrase hang in the air as he watched the ermine for any reaction.  Lois was too frozen by anticipation to even react, though he did realize that this was the source of the wolf’s earlier question.  “Such a brand was entirely consistent with what I knew of you already, but it was something more.  I discovered in time that you were not the only one to bear such a mark.  I spent far too many crowns to purchase the cooperation of those who had seen the mark in other places, and what I learned in those interviews made me reconsider my quest, and drove me to turn my life to another purpose.”

Lois stirred.  He looked at the palm of his left paw, but found no message – there was only a clutter of scars with no pattern or meaning.  He sighed.  With what remained of his memory, the message might have been there once, now erased by the Curse.  As it stood, if this was the conclusion to the wolf’s tale, he was not sure he found it satisfactory.  “You came here, a place where the Curse would hold you and prevent you from completing your mission of revenge?”

Nathan chuckled with a shake of his head.  “I came to fight during the Battle of the Three Gates, responding to a summons from the Duke to fortify against the coming siege.  That the Curse kept me here was coincidence, though it did certainly make returning to my hunt much more difficult.  Then, after almost ten years of building myself a life here away from dreams of vengeance, you came to me.”

“And rather than kill me, you saved my life.”

The wolf shook his head and tried to drink again, only to find he had emptied his cup already.  Heaving a sigh, he set it on the table and placed his paws on the wood beside it.  “Vincent Lois, I cannot forgive you for what you did, but there is more at work here than one more death could possibly make right,” he said, speaking slowly.  “I do not know how to best explain what is going on, but my understanding of the evidence leads me to believe that every assassin with that mark upon their hands is a thrall, with no control of their own actions.”

Lois began to protest, but he held his peace.  Even if he did deny the claim, he knew he would not be trusted.  The very nature of the suggestion meant that denial would only serve to make him seem even more suspicious.  In fact, as he thought about it more, he began to see a strange sense to the idea.  “If that is true… that could explain why I remember so little.”

“Yes.”  The wolf finally sat again, clasping his hands before him.  He was clearly still struggling with his own emotions, but he also seemed to have reached the point where he was ready to try to help Lois.  “Some of the assassins that I discovered bearing that brand had disappeared without a trace, but others had been captured.  Disturbingly, of those that were captured, most died in their cells with no visible wounds, faces twisted in agony.  Of the few that survived, most were reduced to mindless babbling before any trial could occur.  Only a few had survived with some degree of sanity, but each maintained that they could remember none of their alleged crimes.  More strikingly, the mark had disappeared from their hands.”

“What convinced you that they were under someone’s control?” Lois asked.

The wolf turned to meet his eyes.  “Though many times I received my information long after any trail had occurred, once I was able to observe one of the trials myself, and had the opportunity to speak to the man in question.  Like you, he claimed that he had some fragments of memory remaining, but that included some dim recollection of assassinations he had committed, and of a voice directing his every action.”

“You trust his testimony?”

“Not without some cause,” the wolf replied.  He sat back, running claws through his fur as he organized his thoughts.  “Though that was the only one of the assassins to whom I spoke personally, his story matched too closely with the others for me to simply ignore it.  He gained nothing from convincing me of his innocence; I had no power to free him, and his appointment with the hangman’s noose was mere hours away.  There was no desperation to his speech, only an earnest desire to be believed.  Added to the weight of evidence I had already collected, it was enough to confirm what I had already suspected.”

Lois glanced at the door, where the glyph still pulsed with energy, though visibly weaker now than when it had first been drawn.  “So the Siren…”

“Likely sent to eliminate you after your masters’ control had been thwarted,” the wolf finished, nodding.  “To the best of my knowledge, you would be the first of their assassins to have broken free of their control without them intentionally abandoning you.  It seems that their magic was unable to withstand the Curse’s power to alter your mind, and with their control broken before they could dispose of you on their terms it seems they had to send an agent to do so personally.”

The ermine looked back at where the stiletto sat.  It still pulsed with a strange energy that warped the light around it, causing images of impossible shadows to flicker around its silhouette.  “They were not trying to kill me, though,” he mused.

“Lois, I was not able to determine exactly how long you acted as an assassin, but I know it was longer than ten years.  Thrall or no, I expect some measure of personal skill was involved in your success over that length of time, and that would make you an extremely valuable asset to them,” Nathan explained.  “If they could trap your soul magically within this blade, it would allow them to move you to whatever location they wished.  Your body would appear as a corpse, and few people would stop a hearse on its way to return a fallen soldier to his homeland, regardless of whether the body was Curse-touched or not.”

“And then they could have simply taken control again,” Lois muttered.  He shuddered a bit. Although he had no recollection of being enthralled, the idea itself sent an unearthly chill through him and made the fur stand straight along the back of his neck.

Nathan sighed and nodded.  “Unfortunately, the threat has not passed.  We have thwarted their first attempt, nothing more.  I have no question that they will try again soon.”

The ermine looked across the table seriously.  His claws were beginning to dig into the tabletop.  “I have to escape before they can strike again,” he hissed.

The wolf nodded his agreement.  “As much as I have wished to kill you, Lois, I realized in time that it was not Vincent Lois that I wished dead, it was the puppet master pulling the strings.  As soon as the Siren ceases her song, we must leave this place.”

“We?”

Nathan looked at Lois soberly.  “I cannot leave you to fend for yourself, as much as I might desire to do so for my father’s sake.  Throughout my quest for revenge, I have soothed my conscience by telling myself that killing you would not make me the same sort of assassin you were.  I have lived a life enviable by some priests, convinced that my good deeds would undo the necessary evil I sought to commit.”  He slowly shook his head, running a paw through the fur along the back of his neck.  “Jaded as I have become, I still could not consider myself honest in my intentions if I was not willing to extend a helping hand to you now that I am convinced of your innocence.”  The words he spoke came out from a tight jaw, and he refused to make eye contact as he spoke.  His continuing anger was clear, but he still made no move to harm the man he had rescued perhaps an hour before.

Lois watched the black wolf, trying to collect his thoughts.  On the one hand, he feared what would happen if Nathan’s anger were to boil over against him.  His duels against Balrog the day before had been ample proof that he would be defenseless if he was ever attacked.  By the same token, however, attempting to flee on his own would leave him exposed, forced to fight any pursuer with what little skill he still possessed. The wolf was dangerous, but Lois judged that fleeing on his own would be even more so.

“When can we leave, then?”

The wolf looked at him briefly, then turned to look at the rune that had been traced on the door.  The pulses I the energy seemed to have calmed and lost their regular rhythm, even as the glyph itself had visibly lost much of its power.  The wolf crossed to the door and ran his claws through the air near the door, and slowly dismantled the magic.  Lois strained to hear the hypnotic tones of the music, but even once the spell was fully removed he heard nothing from beyond the door besides a light breeze and the very quiet sound of a torch guttering in the sconce beyond the door.

“Better sooner than later I would say,” Nathan replied.  “We have several hours until sunup, and that should give us time to disappear into the wild before my patrol realizes that I am gone.”

Lois felt a sudden chill run through his body.  Though he felt willing to do almost anything to avoid another encounter with the Siren or anyone allied with her, the thought of leaving immediately made him realize how serious the situation was.  He was isolated, cut off from his patrol, with only this stranger between him and the sinister purposes of an unknown pursuit.

“I have one friend here still,” Lois said.  “Could we try to bring him with us?”

The wolf shook his head resolutely.  “If he is sleeping in the common bunk room it would not be worth the risk, even as empty as it is now.  We know for certain that the enemy has agents within the walls, and while it may very well just be the Siren, we should still take precautions and avoid giving her opportunity to find you again.  I will escort you to your chamber so that you can collect your things, but that is already a significant risk.  We should hurry to it.”

The wolf stepped briskly towards the table as he spoke, and leaned down to take a black travel bag from where it had been set below the tabletop.  He slung it over his shoulder and looked to Lois meaningfully.  It was clear that he was serious about his suggestion that they leave immediately.

Nervous as he was, Lois still felt that the wolf was right.  He stood and joined Nathan by the door.  The wolf cracked it open and glanced beyond the threshold, his ears swiveling slowly to check for threats his eyes could not detect.  The ermine waited, straining his own ears to try to hear anything, but there was nothing unexpected.  After several moments of silence, the wolf turned and nodded towards the door.  Lois took the suggestion and passed the wolf into the hall, taking a moment to get his bearings before setting off in the direction of the room where his possessions waited.  The wolf followed him, keeping close with eerily silent footfalls devoid even of the clicking of claws the ermine made himself.

Their journey was short.  Though many of the Outpost’s halls were uniform and utilitarian with few landmarks, Lois found himself following small signs that he could remember with startling clarity from his few trips through the halls since his transformation.  Momentarily, the nagging fear of becoming an animal again returned, but the spike of panic was quickly quashed.  There were far more immediate fears on his mind now.  Losing his mind to feral instinct now felt like it might be a welcome relief with the fate he had narrowly escaped barely an hour prior.

He realized that the door to his chamber was ajar as he rounded the corner, and Nathan sensed his unease quickly.  The wolf stepped forward and moved towards the door cautiously.  He reached under his coat and withdrew one of the weapons Lois had noticed earlier, revealing it to be a slender wooden rod of moderate length wrought with intricate designs up the half that the wolf gripped.  The manner in which he held it seemed odd as well: he held it almost vertically in his strong hand, with his other forearm braced behind it.  He reached the threshold and delivered a sharp kick to the center of the door, spinning to defend against any attack from the corner before entering the room and pinning the portal to the wall to prevent it from causing any more noise.

“I see no one,” he whispered, stepping back.  “I expect you left the door open while investigating the Siren song.”

Lois nodded, though his heart remained in his throat even as he followed the wolf into the room.  Nathan’s amber eyes glowed in the dark as the ermine stepped past him, but there was no threat in his gaze.  He turned and left the room to stand guard in the hall, pulling the door closed as he did.

The ermine wasted no time finding the wardrobe where his things had been placed.  Though he knew there was a rush, he could not help himself as he saw the small pile of weapons wrapped in clothing that no longer fit his strangely altered body.  He pulled one of the long daggers from their sheaths slowly, eyes falling along the silvery blade that almost glowed despite the darkness of the room.  His mind wandered to the claims that Nathan had made, and a chill ran through him.  Was he truly an assassin?  These daggers… he had no doubt that they were exactly the sort of weapons that such a man would use in his dark work. It only served to convince him even further of the wolf’s sincerity.  He wondered how much blood had been spilled at his hands…

No.  He drew a sharp breath as he snapped the blade back home.  Whatever evil had driven his actions of the past had been washed away by the enigmatic Curse.  He would not let it haunt him now, while his life still hung in the balance.

He examined the bundle of clothing that the weapons had been wrapped in, trying as quickly as possible to determine if any of the ill-fitting clothing could be useful.  The robe he wore gave him some degree of mobility, but it offered no protection.  Perhaps some of the armor could still be of use…

His contemplation was interrupted as something fell out of the bundle, landing on the floor with a clatter and rolling a few inches before coming to rest near the bed.  Clothing forgotten, Lois looked at it in confusion.  He knelt beside the object and took it in one of his paws.  It was a smoking pipe, ornately carved with designs intricate enough to convince him that no rank-and-file soldier would be able to afford such a thing.  Any question of its origin was cleared from his mind, however, by a strange ache.

The ermine knew what it was to try to remember something with no success.  It had become an infuriatingly common sensation to him over the past few days.  Looking at the pipe, on the other hand, produced an entirely different sensation.  No, he did not recall the mysterious artifact.  It was almost the opposite, as though he specifically recalled that it did not exist.  It was an inherently illogical feeling and he knew it, but it was so intense that it made him feel dizzy.  What did it mean?

He turned his eyes to glance about the room, suddenly aware of a hundred tiny details that had escaped his notice until now.  The stones of the floor in the room, he realized, produced a similar feeling of impossibility.  Turning slowly, he set a paw atop the table beside the bed, feeling a phantom sting shoot through his arm.  It was wrong.  His fingertips passed over the smooth wood.  Too smooth; he distinctly recalled having raked his claws across the edge of the table the night before.  His robe, the sheets on the bed, the wardrobe… they were all wrong.

Lois coughed, realizing that he had not taken a breath since finding the pipe, the impossible pipe that still rested in the palm of his hand.  He braced himself against the wardrobe, his eyes quickly darting to the door, which remained closed before him.  The ermine silently approached it, and tried to peek through the crack to see what was beyond.

*	*	*

Nathan maintained his defensive posture outside the door, glancing about for any sign of a threat while staying close enough to the door to hear if Lois called to him.  He hoped that the ermine would prepare quickly.  They needed to leave as soon as they could, and he hated to consider the possibility that the assassin might reconsider their attempt to escape.

“What are you doing?”

The wolf swore and stumbled back from the source of the voice, resuming his defensive stance as well as he could.  He had not expected any interruption, and now he struggled to catch his breath as he searched the shadows for the one which had spoken, finding nothing despite his predator’s vision.

“Who goes there?”

“You were sent to kill the ermine, not challenge him to a game of cat and mouse.”

The wolf swore again, letting his weapon drop to his side.

“I told the grandmaster that I could bring Lois back alive!” he replied, speaking to the air in the absence of a visible presence.  “I was given this opportunity; do you seek to undo the work I have already done?”

“Vincent Lois is too dangerous to be left alive!  If he remembers anything of who we are – if he remembers anything about what we did to him – he could destroy us!”

“Your argument is with the grandmaster, now leave before you compromise this mission beyond repair!”

“Lois is a shell!  Bringing him back will accomplish nothing.”

The wolf paused, blinking.  That was wrong, none of them would – and then he growled angrily.

“Well played, Vincent,” he snarled.  Behind him, the door opened fully, revealing the form of the ermine standing beyond.  Lois held one of his daggers casually in his right hand, walking slowly towards the wolf.

“I believe the grandmaster would have been pleased with your work, at least with how it started,” the ermine said drily.  His general bearing and manner had completely changed, and he spoke with confidence and a bite of anger.  “Tell me, do Sirens actually exist?  I am curious.”

The wolf angrily swiped towards Lois with his strange weapon, but it passed through the ermine as though he did not exist.  “You fool!  Do you realize what you have done?” Nathan barked.

“Evidently, you have failed your mission to bring me back to your masters,” the ermine replied casually.

“I failed to bring you back alive,” the wolf snarled.  “You have left me no choice but to kill you.”

“I assume we will deal with that once this dream has ended,” Lois remarked.  He stood muzzle to muzzle with the wolf now, staring him down despite his weaker, more slender build.  “When you do, what will your masters think?  You failed utterly to kill a vulnerable amnesiac, apparently following a plan of your own conception.  I expect you might be stripped of whatever rank you own, or perhaps they will send another agent to punish your incompetence.”

“I know you seek to learn more, Lois, and I will tell you nothing.”  The wolf was trying with little success to compose himself.  The anger was expected, but there was something else.  Frustration, regret…

“You are not fully your own either,” Lois spoke softly.  His voice held something new: a touch of pity.  “You never wished to kill me; you fought your masters for a chance to save my life.”

“Do not patronize me, you fool.”  The wolf angrily circled about the standing form of Lois, who merely turned to watch him.  “You are nothing more than a useful tool, a puppet to dance at the end of our strings.  After years of useful work, of course we are loathe to lose your services.”

“Yet my services are lost, perhaps irreparably.  You know as well as I do that I know too much to risk another attempt at subterfuge,” the ermine replied.  “Perhaps, though, you desire another chance, an opportunity freely given.”

Nathan stopped pacing and glared at the ermine.  “Whatever you would offer, I suggest you do so quickly.”

Lois gave an enigmatic smile.  “When we both awake, I will waste no time in making my way to the common bunks. If you wish to kill me there you will have to contend with my allies there, along with the eyes of every soldier currently housed in the barracks.”  The ermine knew that his deliberate speech infuriated the wolf, but he meant to make his case clear.  “I will tell them who you are, and while you may succeed in killing me if you remain persistent, you will never be able to work in the North again, and so Cursed as you are you will be worthless to your employers, left with nothing but to live out a short life in the wilderness.  However, if you so desire, I will leave Outpost behind and meet you in whichever location you wish, alone.”

The wolf sneered.  “Why would you risk such a thing with nothing to gain?”

“As I see it, I am very likely a dead man as it is.  I do not underestimate the powerful motivation that revenge can be, whether you would gain anything from my death or not.  I wish for a chance to face you, man to man.  I have had my fill of running.”

“I do not believe you,” Nathan replied.  “You know you will lose a fight against me as you are.  I watched you fight Balrog this afternoon, and any farmer’s son could have seen that you lost all of your combat skill along with your memory.”

“What do you have to lose, then?” Lois asked.  His smile was infuriating to the already-frustrated wolf.  “The worst scenario is that I bring someone with me, and you will have to kill me in a crowd, the same as you would if you tried to assassinate me in Hareford.  If, however, I am honest, then you have one more chance to bring me to your masters alive, and save your own life at once.”

The wolf’s amber eyes narrowed.  He slowly slipped the strange wooden rod back into its position on his belt as he took a deep breath.  “You will take the West Gate and follow the road,” he explained, speaking slowly and deliberately.  “About an hour’s march from here, you will see a partially cleared area to the left of the road, and beyond that a small path leading into the woods.  At the end of that path you will find an abandoned lumber camp.  I will wait for you there.”

Lois bowed his head in exaggerated gratitude.  “I trust that we will have time to get to know one another better.  We may be working together again after tonight, after all.”

The wolf turned and stalked away, stopping where the hallway visibly faded to nothing in shadow.  He calmed himself, taking a few breaths before he spoke one more time.  “Even without your Balance, you remain in some small way the same assassin that once convinced the Questioners that your mark commissioned his own murder,” he said.  There was a touch of admiration in his voice, some respect leaking in past the venom he had been spitting since his ruse had been discovered.  “I look forward to seeing how you will try to fix this gamble in your favor.”

The ermine had already begun to fade from the dreamscape, but the wolf turned in time to see a glimpse of the mischievous smile on his target’s face.


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