Down and down and down, spiralling down out of the heavens, the fiery bird shone like a meteor against the night sky, illuminating the sheer mountainsides down which it lowered. It looked majestic and otherworldly, that bird of flame lighting the night sky, shining down on the dark stone of the sheer rock walls of the Sandshield. It was quite a spectacle, drawing Arkisian citizens from their beds to stare out towards the mountains, as the huge fiery monster circled down from the peaks and then disappeared behind the carpeted forests between their town and the Sandshield. Many of them expected to see a sudden eruption of fire as the magical beast set fire to the forests, but no such inferno occurred. Bolstered by the lack of fire, the exhileration of spotting the creature losing its impact, the sleepy denizens of the Arkisian town drifted back to sleep, reminding themselves to talk about the momentous event in the morning.
Patting the Fire Elemental on the side of the neck, accepting a playful nuzzle of its beak, Tarrin thanked the magical creature once more for its help, and then released its semi-aware Elemental spirit back into the Weave. He was sad to see it go, for in the three days that it had carried him up and over the Sandshield, he had learned a great many things about it and the magic surrounding its creation. He learned that the Elemental was truly alive, not just a magically animated glob of fire. Sorcery was a magic of the land, but in this regard it could exceed the borders of the universe and reach beyond. The Elemental's animating force came from another universe, just as the Demons came from another universe, a universe made up completely of fire. Everything there was fire; the land, the air, the sea, and all the creatures that dwelled within it. Tarrin's Sorcery had constructed a suitable shell for the Elemental's spirit, then called out beyond his universe, into that other fiery one, and begged aid of one of the denizens there. This one had responded to his call, and had come into his universe to occupy the fiery body Tarrin had constructed for its use.
The result was that the Elemental manifested in his world, but it was still the same creature it had been there. This particular one was a bird, and it had the intelligence and mentality of a bird. Tarrin's mind and thoughts helped guide it in his world, ensuring it wouldn't go out of control, and his magic sustained it in this harsh, hostile environment. He'd spent three days with his Elemental as it flew him over the mountains, over hordes of Trolls and Waern that had moved into the Sandshield and were occupying any possible pathway, road, valley, or passage through the mountains. They had watched him fly over them helplessly, and he'd even let his Elemental swoop down and attack those unlucky Goblinoids that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when Tarrin happened to be close to the ground. He'd com to learn that the Elemental had a personality, albeit a basic one, for it was nothing more than a big bird. This one was rather playful, and had a bit of a wild streak in it. It was the same Elemental that he had Conjured when he fought Spyder; it had heeded his call twice, attracted by his magical power. Being destroyed wouldn't kill an Elemental, it simply sent it back to its home universe. That made Tarrin feel much better, knowing that the Elemental he'd Conjured against Spyder hadn't been destroyed because of his own inexperience. As if it could have harmed her in the first place.
Three days of constant flying had taken a toll on his backside, not to mention his clothes. The clothing had been burned to nothing by the Elemental's fire, and he'd had to use Sorcery to protect the clothes he Conjured. But the protections only lasted as long as he could maintain them, and holding even a minor weave for a few hours got to be exhausting, so he'd been forced to ride nude for the last day and a half, sending his sword into the elsewhere to protect it after having to discard the scabbard due to the damage caused it by the Elemental. It was much easier on him than continually trying to protect or Conjure forth new clothing. Sitting down that long had also been hard on him, for he wasn't used to riding anything. He got down from the Elemental the last two days with a stiff back and an aching backside, which both were back to normal by morning.
Then again, that was his own fault. He had started with the idea of going up and over, but he had the Elemental go lower and lower, until they had to fly between mountains and along passes and valleys. He had to admit guiltily that he got caught up in the wondrous sensation of flying, and instead of taking the shortest route, he'd more or less wandered around the mountains for the fun of it. At first, he rationalized it by telling himself that he was getting a good idea of the numbers of Trolls in the mountains, the Trolls that the Selani would be facing. But that excuse didn't hold up for long, and then he simply admitted that he was taking his time because he liked flying, and he'd have to send the Elemental back when he got over the Sandshield. So he was dragging it out a bit, despite the fact that he was in a hurry.
Sometimes the impulsiveness of the Cat worked against him in more than one way.
Flying was wonderful, but it didn't change the new feeling of loneliness he had. Sarraya was with Denai, or probably had left her by now and was making best speed for the Frontier. Denai was back with her people hunting down Var. Jegojah was off hunting Kravon, and Ariana was probably well on her way to Suld by now, if not already there. He'd spent just about his entire life in someone else's company. Even when he was separated from Dolanna in Sulasia, he'd only been alone a portion of that time. And he'd spent most of that time too busy running from Jesmind to think about the fact that he was alone. The Cat was an independent, solitary creature, but the Human was not. It was the Human that missed companionship, and missed it with surprising power. But he knew that this separation was temporary, and the ultimate reunion awaited him at the end of his road. His mother and father and Jenna, Allia and Keritanima, Triana, Dolanna and Dar and Miranda and Azakar, Tomas the merchant and Janine the wife and Janette, they all would be in Suld. They were all there, and they were all waiting for him to arrive so they could all be together. His entire family was there, and it made it a triply-motivating thing for him. Everyone he cared about was in Suld, and Suld was in danger. He had to get there to protect them. He had to get there to defend the Goddess, and he wanted to get there to be with his family once more. He had to go there to find the location of the Firestaff. Everything in his life was now focused on that distant city on the sea, its riot of mismatched architectures dwarfed by the immense Tower of Six Spires rising above it all. Everything that he was was there, and everything he wanted to protect was there. Suld was the dominating force in his life, and he had to reach it.
It irked him a bit that he had to run there. He had toyed with the idea of disobeying the Goddess and flying to Suld, but that didn't last long. He was faithful and loyal to her, and she had told him to get there under his own power. That meant no cheating, and cheating meant flying. He wanted to get there now, but he wasn't allowed to do that. He had to cross Arkis and the Frontier, then cross Sulasia itself to get back, and that was still a formidable distance.
Looking up at the sky, seeing that it was the middle of the night, Tarrin decided that it would be best to get a little rest and start out in the morning. The months in the desert had locked him into a daytime cycle of activity, and it would take him a while to revert to his semi-nocturnal patterns. Besides, after three days of riding, he was ready to sit down on something that didn't move. But first things first, he needed new clothes.
That made him think. He wasn't in the desert anymore, and it was going to be noticably cooler in Arkis than it had been in the desert. He'd been there for so long, he'd gotten used to it. Besides, he was in hostile territory once again. Arkisians weren't very friendly inside their own borders. Arkisians were still Arakites, and those arrogant tendencies were still present in their cultural mindset. It was well known throughout the West that travellers weren't welcome beyond the coastal cities of Arkis. That meant that he needed to travel with at least a little bit of nondescript motivation, to at least not attract every eye to himself. His height and his race would make it impossible for him to hide, but at least he could try.
So he decided that a change in clothing was in order. He Conjured forth first a pair of leather breeches-some things would never change-and a linen shirt much like the one he used to wear while travelling to Dala Yar Arak. He'd gotten so used to wearing a vest that he Conjured a new one of those too, putting it on over the shirt. He remembered the cloak that had served him well in Yar Arak and Saranam, so he Conjured a new black cloak, voluminous and hooded to hide his race from the Arkisians. Then he Conjured a new scabbard and harness for his sword, then brought it out of the elsewhere and settled it onto his back, under the cloak, with the hilt protruding through a slit in the cloak. It would not do to go around without being visibly armed. It would just be begging for someone to challenge him. His sheer size and the sight of that hilt should frighten off all but the most rabid antagonists.
He wove together a simple spell of Fire and Air, forming a magical mirror in which he inspected himself. The cloak did what it was supposed to do, hid him from prying eyes. Pulling it closed in front of him made him look like a walking curtain, but it also caused his black fur and sun-darkened skin to become lost in the dark shadows inside the cloak. There was nothing he could do about his feet, but the black fur on them made them look something like boots to a casual glance, and that was usually enough to cause them to escape notice. He put on the sun visor he used in the desert, and nodded when he saw that it hid his eyes behind their violet coloring. With the hood pulled over his ears, he looked like nothing more than a rather striking, mysterious stranger. Not a non-human.
It would do.
He removed the cloak and scabbard, setting the scabbard on the ground and rolling up the cloak to serve as a pillow, then he laid down in the small meadow in which he had landed and stared up into the sky. He had passed through the desert. He was surprised that he managed to get so far, and do it so quickly. Laying there, counting back the months, he realized that they'd left Suld over a year ago, nearly a year and a half. They'd left in the early winter, arrived in Dala Yar Arak before the misdummer festival, then he'd spent the summer and early fall crossing into the desert. He'd spent the remainder of fall and the winter there, and it was now early spring in the West again. Early spring. It had been nearly a year and a half. It had almost been two years since leaving Aldreth. So much had happened in those two years.
Two years. He was nineteen now, though he felt like he was more like ten thousand. His life was so drastically altered from what he'd thought it would be when he left Aldreth. He wouldn't have even been able to imagine things turning out the way they had. Tarrin Kael, a simple villager with dreams of being a Knight, carrying the most second most sought-after artifact in the world. Tarrin Kael, the rather naive young man determined to chase a dream, turning out to be a Were-cat, a Sorcerer, a Knight, and so many other things. He'd live an entire lifetime in those two years, and if he died right there on that very hillside, in that small meadow, he could go to the Realms Beyond knowing he'd experienced more in those two years than many men did in their entire lives. It seemed nearly surreal, thinking back over the many things that had happened to him in those two years. Jesmind and the spat they'd had, the intrigue in the Tower, and Jula's betrayal. His turning feral from it, and the long ship voyage. Nearly getting killed and losing Keritanima to her father, then gaining the trust and love of Triana. The short yet momentous events that had taken place in Dala Yar Arak. Then the furious chase from the city, as Tarrin led away the seekers of the Book of Ages, and his nearly madness-causing melancholy trapped in cat form with emotions the Cat could not sort out. Then there was the desert, and all the crazy wildness that had happened there. Var and Denai, the rather invigorating weather and animal life, and the mysteries of the Cloud Spire and the ancient ruins of the Dwarven city. The final battle with Jegojah, and the revelations he brought that sent him rushing like a madman back to Suld.
Two years. Had it really been so long? Had so much happened in that short time? It had to have been. Tarrin's mind often had trouble noticing the passage of time, but in this case, he could feel every day of it gone by. It felt more like fifty years than two, but the Human in him easily rationalized that it truly had only been two years.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be another two years. That was his new dream. He would get the book to Suld, beat back the attackers, then hopefully the Firestaff would be discovered somewhere close to Suld. He hoped it would be a simple matter of riding out from Suld, picking it up, then sending it into the elsewhere and disappearing until after this supposed pre-ordained time went by. Then it would be harmless for another five thousand years, and by then it would be somebody else's problem.
And what about afterwards? After he completed this unwanted task for the Goddess and was released, free to go on with his own life? What then? Tarrin looked up into the stars and considered it. It was something he usually didn't allow himself, because for so long he thought he wouldn't live to the end of it. But now, now that he felt he was coming close to the end of things, it looked hopeful that he might actually survive to carry out his mission. There wasn't much left to do, and to be honest with himself, he was a totally different person now. He was no easy mark now, not by a longshot. It would take something truly significant to kill him now, but that didn't make him in any way complacent or secure in his power or his suvivability. That gave him hope that whatever truly significant things that were out there wouldn't take him by surprise. A child with a dagger could kill him if it caught him off guard, and that was the main thing he had to do now, keep alert and ready for such things.
But what then? When it was over, what then? What one thing did he want to do with his life after it became his and his alone?
It didn't take long for him to find an answer to that. Go home.
Home. There was only one place he thought of when someone said that word, and that was Aldreth. He'd be passing through Aldreth on the way to Suld, and in a way, he wanted it that way. He wanted to go through Aldreth and see it, to know what was waiting for him at the end of his journey, the carrot danging before his nose to motivate him to bring his task to a successful conclusion. He would go home. He would build himself his own place just across the boundary, in the Frontier, a place that would signify the changes that had taken place in his life. But he would be no more than a stone's throw from the old farm, always within a shout of parents and siblings and friends, the family he had left behind and so desperately wanted around him now. That was all he wanted out of life. A home in a place that felt like home to him, near his family, near what was familiar to him. And since he'd be in one place, Triana and Mist could visit him any time they wanted. Mist could bring their son with her, and he could at least pretend that a family of his own would be raised in that small farmstead.
It would be the closest he would ever get to having a family of his own. Were-cat females didn't marry, and they didn't allow the males to interfere with their raising of the children. Were-cat males accepted this, probably felt relieved by it, but Tarrin wasn't born Were. The Human instinct to nurture and protect children was strong in him, stronger than it would be in other males because of his unique origins. Of all the males, Tarrin was probably alone in his desire to be active in the lives of the children, especially his own. Mist's son was his son as well, and he wanted to be involved in the child's life. He wanted to hear his son call him father. He wanted small arms stretching out to him as small legs drove a small body into his embrace.
In time, maybe. Mist's son may not be the one to fulfill that dream, because of Mist herself, and the fact that he had no idea how long it would be until he would go home. But there would be other children. Were-cat females being what they were, and the fact that he'd be staying in one place and easy to find, they would guarantee it. If not Mist, then Rahnee, or Kimmie, or Singer, or Shirazi, or some female he'd never met. One of them would stumble into his life some day, one thing would lead to another, and he'd have a child in his home.
But those were misty dreams of a time not yet even certain to be. They would have to wait. He had crossed the desert, but he wasn't there yet. There were still a large number of Goblinoids roaming around, probably all rushing west now that he'd crossed the mountains, so he had to get into the Frontier as quickly as he could. He wouldn't be safe until he was where no Goblinoid would dare set foot. Once he was in the Frontier, he could relax. At least as much as he would allow himself, given what serious things were happening in Suld. After he got into the Frontier, the Goblinoids and the ki'zadun would no longer have a certain path to cover to catch him. He could come out north, in Aldreth, or in the central or southern reaches. He could even go to Shace and approach Suld from the south. They wouldn't be able to predict his movements, so he wouldn't have to worry about an army of Trolls waiting for him once he stepped out of the ancient forest.
And even that was going to wait until tomorrow. Absently weaving together a Ward that would stop everything but air, then setting it so it would last until morning, Tarrin closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
There were things that he needed to know.
It was the only reason he was doing this. Walking down the first of the streets of the nameless Arkisian town not far from where he landed wasn't something that he would have done willingly. Tarrin's change in his attitude towards strangers had softened, but it still hadn't been changed very much. He still wanted nothing to do with these people, these strangers, but necessity sometimes overrode personal desire. He wouldn't have entered a human city, full of untrustworthy strangers, otherwise. Unfortunately, there were things he needed to know about the surrounding area, and in particular about any possible Goblinoids standing in his way to the west. The maps he Conjured could show him where to go, but they didn't show any possible dangers on the path that he had selected for himself.
For that kind of information, he needed some outside assistance. And that meant talking to people. He could only do that in relative safety in the city, for he doubted that any Arkisians would stop and talk to him in the countryside, where his size and his obvious outlander appearance would put them off.
That was all they were going to see. Tarrin didn't feel like starting a riot, nor did he particularly want to have to run from or fight endless waves of militia, Watch, or army men, so he strode into town in his human form. The Arkisians probably weren't ready to see a Were-cat walking down their main street. They'd get enough exercise seeing a foreigner human. It had been quite a while since he had taken human form, and surprisingly for him, it didn't hurt nearly as much as he remembered. The itching was still there, though, and he knew that that itching would become pain after any length of time confining himself to a form that was no longer natural for him. The shift into human form dulled the wary ferality of the Cat inside him, but it also unsettled him slightly more because of the loss of his acute senses, making him feel more vulnerable. Those two cancelled one another out.
He'd had to make new clothes for himself for human form. His human form was a little more than a span shorter than his natural form, and that made the clothes he wore in his natural form too large. So he Conjured up clothes that would fit him-finding out in the process that he could access his Druidic magic while in human form-sent his Were-cat clothes into the elsewhere, put them on, and was ready to go. He opted not to get fancy, Conjuring the same clothes he usually wore, but he did give up the boots that he'd had before and go with a new pair of soft black leather boots. Though he was much shorter in human form, he was still very, very tall, much taller than the usually short Arkisians, but there was nothing he could do about that. He'd just have to live with it.
His size had already started to work against him as he strolled into the town just before noontime, having taken his time coming down out of the foothills to reach this place. They already began to point at him and stare, and the children had started following him from a distance. Strangers were uncommon in towns like this-he should know, he was raised in a place that saw maybe two strangers a year, outside the mysterious visitors from the Frontier-and it was probably even more uncommon given their distance inland and their position by the Sandshield. Strangers were probably unheard of here, and here was one, just striding into town as easily as he pleased. He looked around at the town as he moved into it, seeing many similarities between this town and the city of Shoran's Fork. They had the same whitewashed walls, the same red tiled roofs, the same long shuttered windows flanking the doors and lining the upper stories of the buildings. But this was a northern town, and the necessary differences in building were apparent. The roofs here were not flat, they were angled rather sharply to help the snow slide off of them. The streets were a little wider, as streets in small towns tended to be, taking advantage of the available space, and they were unpaved. This town was large compared to Aldreth, but it was little more than a bump in the road compared to some of the cities he'd seen, like Suld, Dayise, and the monstrous Dala Yar Arak. It had maybe one hundred or so buildings, a nice sized town surrounded by farm fields, with a small, lazy river flowing just on its eastern edge.
But the people didn't look strange. They were Arkisians, which meant that they were actually Arakites. They had the same swarthy brown skin and black hair, the same sharp features and thin, willowy appearance. They also had that irritating Arakite attitude, looking at him like he was some kind of diseased leper; it was obvious to any of them that he wasn't Arkisian. Neither Arkisians nor Arakites grew as tall as him. Arkisians were a stand-offish bunch outside the coastal cities, and that seemed odd, since the kingdom's main source of income was trade. This far north, deep into Arkisian territory, they seemed to be borderline xenophobic, as parents hurried children off the streets in front of him, and adults gave him a very wide berth and stared at him openly.
But at least they weren't fleeing in terror. He had a feeling that it they knew what he really was, they'd either run away or attack him with torches and pitchforks.
He intended to make this as short as possible. Tarrin's Were-cat pride was getting irked at the reaction he was getting, and that short-tempered attitude was going to cause him trouble. Tarrin didn't fear these strangers, not the way that he used to fear them, but he still didn't really want to have anything to do with them. He wasn't in the habit of trying to be civil to people who weren't civil to him.
He needed information, and the best place to get information in a town was the local tavern. It would hold what few strangers were visiting the town, and they would know what dangers could be lurking on the roads and in the territory he intended to travel. Armed with that information, his movement through Arkis to the Frontier would be smoother and quicker, so it was worth a wasted day and a little annoyance.
It didn't take him long to find the tavern. There were probably more than one in town, but this one was near the southern edge of town, and it would probably hold the most travellers within it. A town this far north in Arkis would have most of its traffic coming and going south. It was a typical tavern, from what he saw from the doorway, a doorway he instinctinvely ducked to get under, though it wasn't necessary, a rather rough-looking place with patched furniture and a slightly delapidated hearth on the far wall holding a large stewpot over it. The tavern's bar was on the left wall, and the rough tables and benches held some ten men in rugged leather clothing. A smallish, thin man stood behind the bar, and two bored-looking barmaids, both wearing dresses that showcased much more cleavage than they concealed, moved between the tables. The men here, about ten of them, had the looks of caravan guards or travellers, and they were exactly the kind of men who would have the information he desired. That information would be easy to get, if he went about it the right way.
Provided he got the chance. The look the little barkeep gave him was very flat and unfriendly, frowning and staring at him like he was some kind of Ogre. The conversation quieted down to a halt as the men in the bar stared at him, and it caused Tarrin to consider the best way to go about this.
"We don't serve no outlanders here," the barkeep said in Arkisian-accented Arakite. "Why don't you take your overly tall tail out of here and go somewhere you won't bother us honest folk."
"No barkeep I've ever met could be called an honest man," Tarrin replied in a blunt, flat tone, in flawless Arakite. That elicited a few chuckles from the men at the tables, but got him a very hot look from the barkeep. "How long I stay here depends entirely on how quickly you answer my questions."
"I ain't answering no questions for you, outlander," the barkeep said hotly, brandishing a pewter mug like a sword. "Now get yourself out of my inn before I call the Watch."
"Go ahead," Tarrin said, boldly sitting at the nearest available table. "I'm sure they'd love to see someone like me sitting in your fine inn. Why, I'm sure that the rumors that'll fly afterward will make you the most popular fellow in town."
"What do you mean?" the barkeep said suspiciously.
Tarrin withdrew his shaeram and presented it to him. "I'm sure you know what this is."
"Witchcraft!" the barkeep gasped, recognizing the symbol.
"Sorcery, actually. Witchcraft is an entirely different form of magic," he said absently. "Now then, would you like to answer my questions, or will I have to make sure that no soul in this town will come within a hundred spans of your inn?"
"What business do the katzh-dashi have in Arkis?" one of the men at the tables said in a rough voice. He was a tall, stringy fellow with a scraggly beard and a scar over his left eye. He wore a rust-splotched tunic, meaning that he usually wore armor. This man was a caravan guard. That meant that it would be a man like him that may know what he wanted to know.
"The Goblinoids," Tarrin said. "I've been sent to find out when they got here, what they've been doing, where they are now, and if anyone's had any encounters with them."
"Suld is on the other side of the West."
"Increased Goblinoid activity is everyone's business," Tarrin said to him crisply.
"True enough," the man chuckled gratingly.
The barkeep, who had been fuming for a few moments, banged down his pewter mug and glared at Tarrin. "Go ahead and ask your questions, then get out," he said heatedly.
"I'll be sure to recommend your inn to everyone I meet, barkeep," Tarrin said in a light tone, which made the man flinch. He just couldn't resist doing that. Sarraya had been a bad influence on him.
"That's a really big sword for a katzh-dashi," another man noted. "I thought you magic types didn't use things like that."
"I don't use the services of a Knight, so I've learned to do my own fighting," Tarrin told the man casually. "I was trained to be a soldier long before I was sent to the Tower."
That admission had a strange effect on the men at the tables. They all seemed to relax slightly, as if knowing that Tarrin was a fellow man of the sword gave them common ground.
"When did the Goblinoids start getting noticed?" Tarrin asked.
"Well, from what I heard, they started showing up about two months ago," another man said, a rather burly fellow sitting with the bearded man. "Only a few were seen at first, and then more and more. They were all seen on the edge of the Sandshield at first, but now they're being seen up to five days' walk west."
"Any large numbers of them?"
"One Troll is usually large enough," the bearded man chuckled. "They've been seen in small groups."
"Just Trolls?"
"That's all anyone I know has seen," the burly man answered.
"Hasn't the Emperor mobilized the army to deal with them?" Tarrin asked.
"Aye, but they're moving south to north," another man answered him, a short, pudgy man near the hearth. "They're sweeping the Sandshield near Arkis and Ardin before bothering with the small principalities. They'll get up here after chasing the Trolls out of the southern Sandshield. So it may be a while."
"Probably," Tarrin agreed. "Have they been making trouble?"
"Not at first, but there have been raids on villages and caravans recently," the burly man told him. "We got lucky not to get attacked, but Gren here and me, our caravan passed what was left of another one attacked by Trolls."
"It used to be easy money escorting caravans on this route, but not anymore," the bearded man, Gren, said sourly. "Them Trolls have made a sure thing not so sure anymore."
Most of them growled in agreement of that. No sane man wanted to fight a Troll.
"What about the local garrisons?"
"The nearest garrison is at Salimon," the burly man said. "That's a tenday south of here, and they're all too scared to come out of their barracks."
Tarrin paused to consider it. There were respectable numbers of them, they focused on the Sandshield, but they were patrolling out to five days' walk from the mountains. That was everything that he needed to know. That also satisfied all the questions that he told them men he'd been sent to ask, so he had no real reason to stay now. He stood up and looked at the men, then nodded. "I think that answers all of my questions," he told them. "The Tower thanks you for your willingness to answer, and be sure that your answers will help Arkis deal with the Trolls."
"Are the katzh-dashi going to do anything about the Trolls?" the bearded man asked.
"They already are," Tarrin replied. "Arkis isn't the only place having trouble with them. But the Trolls here will probably leave very soon, because the Tower has made certain arrangements." As soon as the Selani hit the Sandshield, he thought to himself with a grim smile. "So don't worry about them deciding to take up residence in the Sandshield."
"What kind of arrangements?" one man asked.
"You'll see," he said with a mysterious smile. He put his hood up once again, then pulled his cloak around himself. "Good day to you, gentlemen, ladies," he said calmly, then he turned and filed out of the inn in a regal manner.
All in all, that went better than he expected. He got his answers, and he also planted rumors and hints that the Tower was taking steps to help Arkis with its Troll problem. If the Selani chased off the Trolls, it very well may be that it would be seen favorably for both the Selani and the Tower. The Arkisians may be grateful that the Tower enlisted the aid of the Selani to deal with the Trolls, and the Arkisians may be less fearful of their desert neighbors when they find out that they aided Arkis with its Troll problem. It was a win-win situation, as far as he could see.
Turning a corner, he started towards the western edge of town. He couldn't wait to get somewhere private and shed himself of his annoying human form.
Travelling west in Arkis was much different than travelling in the desert.
Tarrin moved swiftly yet surely in the dwindling darkness of night, racing the dawn, running along a twisting farm road that led steadily westward, through a surprisingly warm night covered in clouds. Those clouds hid the moons and the Skybands, making his travel a bit less swift that it would have been had he had more light, but enough light was filtering through to allow him to see the dirt road well enough to move quickly. The night was warm compared to the desert, but there was the humidity in the air that had been missing there, a humidity that trapped the ambient heat and caused it to feel much closer to him. It still was cool-after all, it was spring-but the air lacked the bite that it had in the desert at night, so it felt much warmer. There was so much humidity that misty tendrils of fog clung to the surfaces of still water, like ponds or slow moving streams, adding yet another strange distinction to remind him that he was out of the desert. The land through which he travelled was that of very gentle hills, covered with farmland. Strange raised embankments with bushy hedges separated those tracts of farm, making the land look like some vast lanceboard when he could see down into valleys from the few high vantage points to be found in the progressively flattening terrain.
It had taken him no time to revert to a nocturnal pattern. Cats were active at both day and night, but their senses were geared more towards hunting in the darkness of night, so they were diurnal beings with a bent towards nocturnal activity. The darkness concealed him, protected him, and allowed him to travel virtually unmolested through the rather hostile Arkisian territory. For five days, he had moved steadily westward at night, and had concealed himself to rest during the day, hiding himself in cat form in whatever small cubbyhole or barn he could find, hiding from the Trolls that were prevelantly prowling the countryside in small bands, looking for him. At first, he considered simply killing them and moving on, but he realized that that was going to leave a path of dead bodies to show the others which way he was going. That may give them the chance to organize another blockade of sorts near the Frontier, and he couldn't afford to take two or three days to detour around a concentration of Trolls. So he chose instead to avoid them, and that was best done at night. Trolls could see in the dark, but nowhere near as well as he could, and he had the advantage of smelling them long before he got anywhere near them. Nothing that smelled as bad as them was going to come anywhere near ambushing him. He had neatly evaded several such small ambush points, Trolls hiding in hedges at the sides of the road and waiting to pounce on anyone passing by them.
He couldn't fault them for not trying, that was for sure. In the five days since leaving the small Arkisian border town, he had seen no less than fifty Troll patrols, and had avoided no less than twenty ambushes or Troll camps. They had indeed come boiling out of the Sandshield after the news that he had gotten past them had filtered through their ranks, and were now virtually taking over the northern sections of Arkis, tearing the place apart looking for him. He'd seen not a few columns of smoke in the distance, both during the day and the night, smoke caused by Trolls attacking farmsteads. Tarrin didn't care about the people on those farms, but he did have some small hopes that they saw the Trolls coming and fled. Odds were, they were probably very careful right now, and would flee at the first hint of something big marching down the road.
Part of him considered it a brutal concept, but those villages and farmsteads were actually helping him. Trolls delighted in plundering and raiding, and more often than not they would detour to sack a farmstead rather than continue about the business of finding him. Those little delays were allowing him to pull outside of the border of their invaded territory, letting him get away from them. They were continuing to expand to the west, but he had seen fewer and fewer of them as he moved west, and he knew that by midnight, he would be outside of their claimed territory. He would be free to really put his feet on the ground, rather than spend much of his energy watching for Trolls, and going slow enough to react to them in time to avoid them.
The five days and then some had only reinforced his feeling of isolation. He had been alone nearly a ride now, and he did not like it. He did not like it at all. No matter how solitary the Cat was, the Human in him wanted company, companionship, and it missed even the condescending chatter of Sarraya. Her talking would be much preferable to the painful silence that surrounded him now. But unlike what had happened in Yar Arak and Saranam, he only felt a longing pang, not the intense homesickness and yearning for his family he had felt then. He knew that he could talk to any of his sisters any time he wanted, and that brought him a large measure of comfort. Keritanima certainly took advantage of that fact to contact him every day, if only just to talk. She did, however, pass on information in carefully worded phrases, however. Some of her additional forces had arrived from Wikuna, and Shiika's cambisi also were there. The five Alu, as Kerri said they were called, had already begun to prepare quietly on the Tower grounds for both the arrival of their mother and the coming enemy Demons. The Sulasians were a bit perplexed at the large numbers of Wikuni and Vendari that had flooded into their city, but the Keeper was making sure that the Sulasian garrison in Suld cooperated with the Wikuni and the Knights to fortify the city against possible attack. That would be a logical precaution for them, given that Dal armies were in Sulasia, and it helped hide the fact that the preparations were being made with a specific objective in mind.
Talking to Keritanima every day, around noon every day, also helped ease his sense of loneliness a great deal. It gave him something positive in his day, something to await expectantly, something to brighten a quiet day spent staying out of sight and being somewhat bored.
Tarrin slowed to a stop as the sun began to appear over the eastern horizon, a horizon no longer dominated by the Sandshield. He looked back at the rising sun absently, realizing that he'd lost track of time again. It was time to start looking for somewhere to hide for the daylight hours. That usually wasn't a very hard thing to do. That region of Arkis was dominated by farms, and there were any number of farmsteads from which to take his pick. He looked back to the west and saw one sitting on a small hilltop, surrounded by planted fields. There was already activity out on that farm, the workers starting their day early, as all farmers did, and it was relatively close by. It would suit him.
Shifting into cat form, he wriggled through a hedgerow and started moving through plowed fields, fields planted with seed yet not yet showing any green from their growth. It took him about a half an hour to reach the large farmstead on the top of the hill, slinking into the compound in his cat form, stopping to appreciate the prosperity of the place. It had two farmhouses, not just one, and had six other buildings built in a roughly circular array around a grassy lawn in the center. Two of them were barns, one was a stable, and the last one was a small smithy. He sat on his haunches at the corner of one of the barns and looked out to see about twenty people bustling about the central lawn or near the buildings. There were older men and women and children, young adults and lots of chickens. There were three dogs laying on the porch of the house on the right, which was larger and looked older than the one beside it.
The place tickled at his memory, reminding him of a farmstead he had visited a very long time ago, a dim image of an old woman sitting in a rickety rocking chair on a large porch, a porch that faced a small stream and a road, where she could sit and watch the goings-on about her. The old woman had been wise and thoughtful, he remembered, and this place had the same gentle homeyness about it as that Sulasian farmstead did. It had the same warm aura about it, an aura of home and family, a sense of togetherness that he had not experienced in a very long time.
He wanted to stay there for the day, and not just hide in the barn. He wanted to look around, to observe these Arkisians go about their day. He wanted to see if a day in the life of an Arkisian farmer was the same as the day in the life of a Sulasian one. He wanted to experience the fringes of their togetherness, if only to see others enjoy the closeness of family, something he so desperately missed.
Tarrin put his nose to the ground. It would be nice to stay, but he'd best make sure that it would be safe enough. A crisscrossing multitude of scents assaulted his nose, but he was looking for particular smells. He found them after a little padding about, the smells of other cats. That meant that they wouldn't run him off as soon as they noticed him. Some humans had strange prejudices against cats, but they were a fixture on many farms. They kept the rodents out of the stored grains and vegetables. Farmcats served a vital function, just as the dogs and horses did.
He was noticed, and rather quickly. One of the dogs suddenly started barking, and when he looked up he saw it barrelling at him at full speed. But unlike normal cats, Tarrin had no fear of dogs. They happened to be the natural enemies of cats, but the Human compability with dogs cancelled out that instinctive fear. Besides, he feared almost nothing weaker than himself, and even in cat form, he was still strong enough to fight a dog. He enjoyed the same regenerative powers in cat form as he did in his other forms, so it could do him no true injury. So instead of running away, Tarrin simply sat back down and fixed the dog with an icy stare, daring it to be stupid enough to actually attack him.
The dog obviously thought that Tarrin was going to stick with the long-established way things were between cats and dogs. Dogs chased cats, cats ran away, then hid in some inaccessible place while the dog amused itself by barking at the treed animal. Then they would go their own ways and do it again later. The dog raced at the still cat exuberantly, but then it skidded to a furious halt just in front of the large black cat with those chilling eyes, a stare that could even instill fear in a dog. It stared at him wildly for a long moment, then started slowly backing up, fear evident in its eyes.
The dog had caught his scent. Now it understood that it was not facing a normal cat. Tarrin gave it a very low growl, and that was enough to make it turn tail and run back for the safety of the porch.
"I've never seen that before," a young man laughed.
Tarrin looked towards the sound of the voice, and saw that it did indeed belong to a young man, probably about twenty. He was tall and willowy, had the pattern Arakite black hair and dark, swarthy skin, and had a rather ruggedly handsome young face with a strong jaw and large, expressive eyes. He stood beside an older man with graying hair, who had similar looks as the young man. He was the boy's father, or at least an uncle or cousin. Large farmsteads like this often had entire extended families living on them, working together.
"I've never seen that cat before," the older man said.
"As many as there are around here, that's no surprise," the younger one answered. "I swear, they breed as fast as rabbits."
"Well, it's certainly a fearless one," the older man chuckled. "I've never seen a cat stare down a dog before."
"It looks like it has a collar on," the younger one noticed, starting towards him. Tarrin simply sat there and observed the man approach him, feeling no particular fear of the man. "That's right, kitty, I'm not going to hurt you," he crooned in a gentle voice, a voice that had a startling effect. This man had a way about him that most animals would find very inoffensive, a sense that this particular human was no danger or threat. It was in the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he looked at Tarrin that made any feral fear of the human melt away. The man could woo a squirrel out of a tree. Tarrin found himself almost totally caught up in the man's gentle nature, so much so that he realized that the young man had picked him up before he knew what was going on. "It is a collar," he said. "A very expensive one, from the looks of it."
"Maybe it's the pet of some noble that got lost, or fell out of a carriage," the older one said.
"I doubt it. With all those strange big monsters skulking around, I'd doubt anyone would be crazy enough to travel."
"Not everyone knows about those things, Greggor," the older one warned.
"They should," the younger one, Greggor, snorted. "I don't see why the army hasn't come to drive them off yet. We've sent more than enough messages to the garrison at Arkinar."
"They'll get here eventually," the older one assured him.
"Let's hope that's before they work up the nerve to attack us," the man grunted. "This collar is strange. It has no clasp or lock. It's all one solid piece of steel, but it's too small to come over the cat's head. They must have put it on it when it was a kitten."
"Let's hope that it doesn't get so big that it gets choked by its own collar," the older one sighed.
"I doubt it. This is the biggest cat I've ever seen. It's almost as large as a no-tail. It's like a little panther."
"Judging from how it stared down Buttons, it's got the attitude of a panther as well," the older man chuckled.
The man Greggor set him down gently, then scratched him on the top of the head. "Well, little visitor, make yourself at home," he smiled. "There are plenty of mice around here. Just do me a favor and lay off the dogs," he laughed.
They left Tarrin alone at that point, going back to their daily chores, which allowed him to wander around and observe this large Arkisian family. It was indeed a large family, as Tarrin counted them as they went about their day. He counted at least thirty different people, over half of them children, and all of them looked to be related. He reasoned out that there was a pair of grandparents who had four children. Those four children all had spouses, and they also had children of their own. Those children ranged from young adults, like Greggor, to babes still carried around by their mothers. It took a very large family to operate their farm, for it had a great deal of land planted, way too much for a smaller family to handle. Since the planting was done and that left nothing but waiting, the family worked mostly to prepare tools for the growing season, and also to go out and weed the large fields, pulling out any useless plants that would leech away the nutrients the seeds needed to grow. They had everything they needed there in the compound. One of the older men was a smith, and he was training two burly young adolescents about the trade in the smithy. One of the other older siblings was a carpenter, and he was teaching one young man how to build chairs around the back of the house, surrounded by shaped pieces of wood that would be assembled into a chair. Women were teaching young girls how to make butter in one of the barns, as another taught other young girls how to make candles in a large copper cauldron set over a fire behind the same barn.
People often misunderstood how smart and well trained farmers were. Farmers were jacks of all trades, having to learn how to do for themselves. Farmsteads were usually little microcosms of activity, where they built, maintained, and supplied themselves as much as possible, only resorting to buying outside goods when there was no other choice. The farm where Tarrin grew up was a good exception to that rule, for there was only four of them, and the farm was more of a hobby and a means of raising vegetables for eating and the hops and barley that father used to make his ale than a means to support themselves. But that didn't make it any less work to maintain it. Even a small farm required a great deal of effort.
After exploring the compound and counting all the humans, he settled on an open hayloft door, looking down into the grassy common ground at the center of the buildings and simply watched the humans go about their business. It didn't take long for him to identify certain children as common types of humans. There was the gentle mothering little girl, alot like Janette, who seemed to be a favorite with all the farm's cats. There was an incorrigible prankster in the midst, a little troublemaker of a boy that was more interested in having fun than doing his work. He reminded Tarrin a little of Walten, though Walten wasn't a prankster. It made him wonder fleetingly how Walten and Tiella were doing. They were still at the Tower, probably still in the Initiate. There was an industrious one, the one that would probably go the furthest if she ever left the farm, one who always had her nose in a book and was constantly seeking to learn new things. She reminded Tarrin of Tiella, who had that same drive to know things and be successful. There was a bully, and there was a whiner. There was a know-it-all teen who thought he was smarter than his elders, and there was a timid child not brave enough to be far from his parents. There was a dreamer and there was a shiftless, lazy foister. There was a chatterbox and a quiet, solemn one. There was a manipulator, and there was a gullible one that was in the manipulator's thrall. They had two adventurers, boys who endlessly wanted to explore, who often waved sticks about pretending they were swords. They even had a spoiled brat. The many basic types of children existed on this farm, which probably gave the adults alot of gray hair.
Were he in his other forms, he would have smiled. Those children reminded him of the children in Aldreth, the ones he'd grown up with, or at least seen from the fringes. He had been the adventurer, the one always out exploring and seeing new things, out hunting and searching for phantom enemies to battle. His mixed heritage had made him both a pariah and an object of intense curiosity among the other children, as they found Tarrin himself to be an interesting boy to play with, but were warned off from him by their parents. Of course, that made some of them even more determined to play with him, but he often left them all behind. He liked the other kids, but they couldn't do the things he liked to do, and couldn't keep up with him if they tried. He did have good friends, like Tiella and Jak, but most of the kids lost interest in him after some time. They didn't see him very often, for one, and when they did it was never for very long. He only came to the village with his parents or when he was on an errand. When it was his time, he much preferred to go the other way, the break the rules and enter the Frontier to explore, hunt, or search for those elusive Forest Folk that everyone told him were out in the forest.
He wondered if his parents ever really knew where he was going. After he got old enough and his father taught him all about woodcraft, they more or less let him roam around anywhere he pleased, so long as he was home before dark. He wondered if they knew that he spent most of that time where they told him not to go.
Thinking of that reminded him of this one place. It was a small clearing about an hour away from the farmhouse, a clearing nestled against a small escarpment about ten feet high, that had a stream flowing over that escarpment in a pleasant little waterfall. It formed a large pool at the base of the waterfall, full of fish, and was surrounded by thick growths of old forest that gave the place a feeling of isolation and peace. At night, the clearing was full of fireflies during the spring and summer. It was a beautiful place, a place he often visited just to enjoy the location, and it was something of a central landmark in the crisscrossing network of small paths he himself had made in the Frontier.
If he did live through this, if he did manage to return to his own life, that was where he would go. It was perfect. That was where he would live.
Tarrin laid down in that hay door and watched the goings-on below, feeling a strange sense of peace. It was almost like going home.
He looked up at the sun. It was past noon. If Keritanima had tried to contact him, she wouldn't have succeeded. He missed not talking to her, but he doubted that he missed any important news. Things in Suld had established into a pattern of waiting and preparing, and there wasn't going to be much activity until the ki'zadun started moving. That was what just about everyone was waiting for, and Tarrin hoped that he could wait for it just a little longer. He was just on the edge of reaching Suld before them with a few days to spare to get ready. He wanted as much time as he could get to learn Keritanima's plan and find where he'd best fit in. His magic could conceivably tip the balance, if he used it in the right place at the right time. He was about ten times stronger than everyone else, but as he'd learned, he couldn't use magic of that magnitude for long. He'd get two, maybe three really good spells off, and then he'd be too exhausted to contribute anything else. Those two or three spells had to count, and Keritanima would be the best one to decide when and where that card would be played.
It seemed almost a letdown from before. He'd had more strength before becoming sui'kun, it seemed. But that wasn't entirely true. The power he used before came from rage, and though that rage allowed him to exceed his own limitations, it came at the price of using that power indiscriminately. He'd gladly trade off that increased power for the knowledge that he wasn't going to slaughter innocents during the course of it.
Are you enjoying yourself, kitten? the voice of the Goddess touched him. Unlike the others, she could talk to him no matter what form he used.
"Just musing, Mother," he answered her in the manner of the Cat.
I have news for you. Keritanima's been going crazy trying to contact you. So crazy that she actually prayed to me to relay the message.
Tarrin rose to a sitting position, his eyes narrowing. "Then it must be pretty serious," he realized. Though Keritanima had taken the oaths, she wasn't very religious. Keritanima was suspicious of the gods, even the Goddess. For her to break down and pray was a telling sign of how serious her message was.
Relatively, the Goddess agreed. The mountain passes are going into a warm spell. They haven't melted yet, but they're going to be passable within five days.
"We knew it was going to happen eventually," he grunted. "I'm close enough now. As long as I don't dawdle, I can beat them to Suld."
I know. I told Keritanima as much, but she always wants confirmation. Sometimes she makes me pull out my hair.
"She's agnostic."
Not anymore. She's accepted me, but she's still very suspicious. I'll have to work on that, I suppose.
"She didn't tell me about this religious epiphany."
I'd hazard to guess that she's a little embarassed by it, the Goddess laughed. That, and since she's the queen, she doesn't want to show any of what she considers to be weakness. Letting people know that she has true faith is a weakness in her eyes.
"Judging by where she came from, I could understand why she'd think it was a liability," Tarrin told her. "You know about her childhood, right?"
Unfortunately. Given how she started, I think the girl's a marvel for ending up how she did. I'm very proud to have her for a child.
"We're all proud of her," Tarrin told the Goddess. "I guess this means that I can't just meander around anymore, and I can't stop over for long periods."
How long do you think it will take you to get to Suld?
Tarrin lowered his head, thinking it over. "I'm about a day from the Frontier," he began. "I can cross the Frontier in twelve, maybe fifteen days at the most. Once I get to Aldreth, I can cross Suld in about ten more days. That'll get me there a few days before the ki'zadun, provided I don't run into any major obstacles."
You're setting a hard pace. It took you nearly a month to get to Suld the first time.
"I don't have much choice," he told her. "Besides, I wandered around alot the first time. This time I'm going to go straight."
Are you sure you can hold that pace?
"I'm sure of it, Mother," he said confidently. "I'll beat the ki'zadun to Suld, even if I have to cheat. If it looks like I'm not going to make it in time, I'll have my Elemental fly me the rest of the way."
It's not cheating, kitten, the Goddess laughed. I've put you on the ground because there were things that you have to do, things you have to see. Surely you understand now why I sent you through the desert?
"Yes, Mother, I do," he replied honestly. "And thank you."
What kind of mother would I be if I didn't help my children grow and mature? she asked in a light voice. Well, you're not done with your journey of discovery yet, my kitten. There are more things you need to see, more things you need to experience. When you've seen what I've wanted you to see on this journey, you can reach Suld in any way you desire.
"When will that be?"
When the time comes, my kitten, you will know, she said to him gently.
"I'm not there yet," he said grimly. "I guess I'll just have to bull my way through to the Frontier. There are a heap of Trolls around here, and I've been moving carefully to avoid them."
Do whatever you think best, my kitten.
"You seem unworried."
She laughed in his mind, a cascade of silvery bells. I stopped worrying about your safety a long time ago, kitten, she admitted. I've come to discover that you're safer on the road and in the wilderness than you are just about anywhere else.
"You're probably right," he admitted after a moment of thought. "How is Sarraya doing? And Var and Denai?"
Sarraya is about two days ahead of you now, the Goddess told him. She's flying straight to her colony, which isn't far from the border with Arkis. Var and Denai have passed through the Sandshield with Var's clan. They're about three days behind you, and since you've been moving slowly, they're catching up.
"I think they'll make it in time," Tarrin pondered. "They can move nearly as fast as I can. So long as Sarraya clears the way for them through the Frontier, they'll be able to get to Suld unmolested."
Sarraya thought about that, the Goddess said to him. She intends to join Var and Denai after meeting with the Druids, to serve as a guide for them.
"She's doing the right thing," Tarrin agreed. "Wait a minute. How did the Selani get through the mountains so fast?" Tarrin asked. "It took me three days, and I was flying. And they were days behind me before I left."
They didn't go over them, kitten, they went under them, she replied. There are caves and passages through the mountains that most common Selani don't know about, caves that they wouldn't even show you , which make it very easy for them to pass into Arkis. They keep them secret in case they have to invade and attack Arkis. And as to why they're catching up, it may have to do with the fact that they're running about eighteen to twenty hours a day. Kitten, even you have underestimated the endurance and the mobility of the Selani. They can move faster over land than any other race. When you left the desert, they were only four days behind you. While you've been walking and hiding and wandering around, they've been steadily running forwards, in very nearly a straight line. They will run until they reach Suld, almost nonstop.
Tarrin had to agree with her on that one.
And, might I add, that those three days you took through the mountains were mostly spent just flying in circles, the Goddess said with an amused edge of accusation in her voice. You could have gotten over the mountains in one day, if you'd not kept flying back and forth looking for passes. Why didn't you just go up and over them? If you'd have done that, you'd have been over the mountains by sunset.
Tarrin had no good answer for that.
I know, kitten. You were just having too much fun, weren't you? You dragged it out, just for the excuse to fly.
Tarrin bowed his head in embarassed shame. Had he been in another form, he would have blushed.
No need to feel that way, kitten, the Goddess laughed. I'm glad you took your time. You needed some quiet time to yourself, a few days of rest. Even you need a day off now and then.
"Well, now it's costing me. If I'd have gone faster in the desert, if I would have flown straight over the mountains, I'd be in the Frontier right now, maybe even just outside Sulasia."
As long as you get there first, it doesn't matter how long it took to get there, she told him confidently. I have to go now, kitten. I've delivered Keritanima's message and served my children for today, but I do have other things to do.
"Thank you, Mother."
Any time, my kitten. Good journey.
And then she withdrew from him.
Tarrin looked down at the farmstead, knowing that he didn't have time to sit here and wait anymore. The news that the passes were melting was a thorn in his tail now, a constant reminder that the time he'd frivilously wasted both in the Sandshield and moving across Arkis mattered. He had to push himself as hard as the Selani now, or they'd actually pass him.
He had no more time to play or watch or rest. Now came the serious business of getting himself to Suld as quickly as possible, because now that the passes were melting, he knew that he had a solid line drawn in the sand ahead. He had to reach that line before his enemies did, and he had no more time to dawdle.
It was time to move.
Tarrin stood up, looking down into the farmstead, then he turned away to get down out of the hayloft. He would have enjoyed more time with this nameless family, watching them and sharing in their togetherness, at least from the fringes of it, but he simply had no more time. A few short jumps brought him down to the ground, and he padded quickly past several other cats towards the door. The other cats rose up to a sitting position as he went by, a signal of respect, but they didn't bother him. They could tell that he was in no mood for pleasantries or introductions. They knew what he was, and that made them obey his wishes.
By the time he got outside, however, everything was different. Crazy. The family was running around, and a few of the women and children were screaming. The men were running into the houses, and two of them were already outside holding a pitchfork and an old, slightly rusty sword. Tarrin stopped to try to figure out what was going on, but one of the older men answered him.
"Get the women and children into the storm cellar!" he called authoritatively. "Those monsters can't be more than a few minutes behind us!"
Monsters? The Trolls. He remembered, they didn't know their names, so they called them monsters. The Trolls were attacking this farmstead?
Tarrin looked around, then he saw them. Just between the barn and the stable, a goodly distance off, about twenty of them lumbering along in that deceptively fast gait, clubs and old axes and a few polearms in hands.
Tarrin paused. He had told himself that he didn't care about the fires burning in the distance… and in a way, he didn't. He didn't know those people, didn't see them, didn't really care what happened to nameless strangers. But this family, this family he knew. He didn't know their names or their personalities or their histories, but he had seen enough to know that they were a family, they were people that had accepted him into their farm, if only for a day, if only because they didn't understand what he was. He wasn't about to let those Trolls destroy this place.
Twenty. Too many to fight paw to hand, even for him. But there weren't enough of them to get past his Sorcery.
Loping out to the outside edge of the compound of buildings, Tarrin sat down and centered himself. He had never tried to use Sorcery in cat form before-at least not consciously-but he knew that it could be done. He didn't want to change form and alert them to his presence. He wanted them to keep coming, thinking that they were about to sack a farm full of defenseless humans. He wanted them to keep that overconfidence going until it was too late.
It wasn't easy. There was a fundamental difference when using Sorcery in cat form, having to do with the body he was occupying. Cats were not blessed with a potential to use Sorcery, and since he was using a cat body, that body resisted the Sorcery, made it more difficult to use and exacted a higher price of strength to use it. It was still connected to the Weave, but the manner in which it affected the Weave was diminished, since he was literally trying to reach through an inhibiting barrier. It took him a moment to sort through that difference, then learn how to circumvent it and bring his will to bear against the magic of the Weave. It took him just slightly longer to realize that he couldn't use High Sorcery in cat form; his connection to the Weave was strong enough in his cat form to be able to cross that boundary, diluted by the qualities of his cat form, for cats were not blessed with the innate ability to use Sorcery. But he could still use Sorcery, even use Weavespinner magic. It was the same as other Weavespinner magic, but he had to exert his will in a slightly different manner.
The end result was the same. The eyes of that solitary cat, sitting sedately between two buildings as the humans behind it all milled about to prepare to defend the farm's inner courtyard, suddenly blazed with an unholy greenish radiance, so bright that it became apparent to the charging Trolls. None of them stopped, however, since the concept that the cat was a danger to them had yet to reach their slow minds.
All the better.
It was a spell that showed no signs of effect until it was too late. In front of the charging Trolls, the ground suddenly erupted, dust and dirt flying and startling the dim beasts, dirt and soil displaced as multiple spires of solid rock suddenly erupted from the ground. They formed a bristling barrier of lethally sharp points, angled in such a way that their points were presented at about belly height to the Trolls, and they had erupted into being not five paces ahead of the charging monsters. At such a close distance, the Trolls had no time, no chance to stop.
At full speed, the twenty Trolls slammed into that deadly barricade. The lead Trolls were impaled on the lances of rock, and the fellows behind them drove them fully onto the barbs, even drove them through their bodies to drive into the bodies of those who had struck them from behind. The magic of their creation still charged those rock lances, making them unbreakable, but it also allowed Tarrin to maintain control of their shape and mass. With a sudden slap of his tail on the ground, Tarrin caused those rock lances to extend forth, thrust from the ground with sudden speed and force, ripping through the lead Trolls and slamming into the bodies of those behind them, making their bloody points erupt from the backs of his enemies with tatters of flesh shivering from their irregular, slightly serrated shafts.
Only one Troll managed to survive that attack unharmed, and only because it had had the presence of mind to fall to the ground and roll into the legs of those in front of him. Only it had had the reflexes to save itself from that deadly trap. It got up and started fleeing the other way, but it got no more than ten steps before a bolt of lightning flashed from the clear, sunny sky, striking it right on the top of the head. The intense heat of the bolt made the Troll's head literally explode, sending blood and brains and bits of skull, hair, and tissue sailing in every direction. It collapsed on itself, then tumbled to the ground in a head of lifeless limbs and wafting smoke.
Closing his eyes, Tarrin recovered from the effort of using Sorcery in cat form. It caused immediate, yet only temporary, exhaustion, like running at full speed for a short distance. By the time the menfolk had come out from the barnyard to stare in confusion at the suddenly dead monsters littering their field, Tarrin was fully recovered.
"What in the name of the golden coin of Mikaras happened here?" one of the men whispered, referring to the patron god of Arkis, Mikaras. He was the god of money, merchants, and trade. He was a suitable god for the materialistic Arkisians.
"I don't know, father," one of the others said after a moment of silence. "It looks like the earth itself attacked the monsters."
Without turning around, Tarrin changed form. He heard their gasps and startled shouts and sudden retreat from what had to be to them to be another monster, and this one looked almost as frightening as the big greenish-skinned brutes.
Ignoring the humans, Tarrin's paws suddenly began to limn over as he reached out and drew in the power of High Sorcery. He needed it to do what he was about to do. He raised those paws over his head as he wove together a Ward, a Ward that would do the Ward circling the Tower proud, a Ward that slowly wove together in a circle around the entire farm, with the compound forming its center. He set the Ward to kill any Goblinoid that attempted to cross its boundary. He heard the humans gasp as the Ward shimmered into visibility for only a moment before fading out of sight, but he wasn't done yet. He all but saturated the structure of its weave with magical power to make it last for a long time-then in a moment of brilliance, he spun out a single new strand and attached it to the core of the Ward's woven form, the heart of the spell. He had no idea why he had done that, but the effect of it was immediate and apparent.
By attaching the Ward to the Weave, he had made it as permanent as the Weave was. It would take another Weavespinner to unravel what he had just done, and it would last until one did so.
Tarrin blew out his breath, a little startled by what he had just done. Was it another echo-memory of the Weave itself, showing him how to make the Ward last forever? Charging the Ward was a manner to make it last a very long time. By overcharging the weave and weaving it very tightly, a Ward could last days, even rides. But what he had just done was make the Ward permanent. It would last until another Weavespinner removed it.
"Who-Who are you?" one of the older men suddenly asked.
"No one of consequence," Tarrin said in a low voice, turning around and facing the twelve men and boys, all holding a variety of farm implements as weapons. Aside from the two holding swords and another wielding a wood axe. "Tell your neighbors that this farm is now safe," he told them. "That shimmering you saw was a magical spell of protection. The monsters can't enter your land. If they try, they'll die at the boundary of that protection. Your friends and neighbors can find refuge here, until the army comes to drive away the monsters."
Reaching within, Tarrin came into communion with the All, and formed his image and intent. A chest appeared in front of him, open, and it was filled with twisted golden nuggets. Tarrin carefully weighed the value of that gold against what this family would lose in case their farm became a refugee camp. "I'll leave you this, so long as you use it to help your neighbors as well as yourselves. You can use it to buy food for everyone, and it will replace what you'll lose when they trample over your fields and ruin your harvest."
"You're a Sorcerer!" one of the younger men declared.
Tarrin nodded simply. "Among other things," he admitted. "The safety of your neighbors is now your responsibility, men. I watched you, I saw that you're men of decency and courage, who care about family, so I'm sure that you'll do what's right and proper. Take good care of them. Your neighbors need you right now."
Tarrin felt a resonance among the men. He reached out with his senses, and focused them on the youngest of them, a boy of no more than twelve, holding a hoe tightly in his nervous hands. "And in a few years, when he's old enough, send that one to Suld," Tarrin told the oldest of them, pointing to the boy. "He's a Sorcerer. Or at least he will be. The gold I gave you will cover the cost of the schooling."
That done, feeling a bit foolish for some reason, Tarrin turned west and started walking, a path that would cause him to skirt the stable and go out over a planted field.
"Wait a minute! Who are you? What are you?" the oldest called.
"A memory," Tarrin said, just loudly enough for them to hear, then he opened his stride and carried himself out of their sight, around the stable, before they could respond.
He really didn't know what else to do. He wasn't about to let the Trolls wreak havoc in the area, threaten that family, but he couldn't stay to hunt them down. So he created a safe place for the people to go, a place safe from the Trolls, where they could wait until it was safe to go home again. And he protected that nameless family that had made him feel better.
Of the two, the latter was definitely the most important to him.
To: Title EoF