It was certainly a strange city.
Saranam loomed past the bow as Dancer glided into a shallow, open harbor. It was a strange city, a city of color. Tents dominated the city, staked in orderly rows that resembled buildings, interspersed sparsely with buildings of stone or wood, and the rare tower or other structure that rose over the colorful meadow of tent roofs. Tarrin had never seen anything quite like it bofore. Saranam was a trade city, a place where Arakite merchants came to sell their wares, since so few traders and merchants would go to Dala Yar Arak. It served as a transition for trade, and that explained the tents. A merchant who came to Saranam wasn't going to be staying longer than a couple of months, and inns were expensive, so a tent was the perfect alternative. The city was nestled against a very shallow, gentle harbor, little more than a dip in the coastline, rising only slightly from the ocean. The only thing that stood out in the city were the towers of the city's walls, and the docks. Saranam had an impressively large dock system, to handle the volume of ships that visited, complete with those strange crane devices he'd seen in Den Gauche. The harbor was full of ships, Wikuni clippers and Arakite caravels, Western galleons and smaller fishing vessels of myriad constructions. Even an Ungardt longship was docked in one corner, something Tarrin never expected to see in the Sea of Glass.
The place smelled very bad. Even from as far out as they were, he could smell the reeking stench of the city. That only seemed to make sense, since the city looked to be lacking a sewer system. It was hard to drain water from streets that were lined with tents. From where he was, he wasn't sure if the streets were even paved. Saranam was an extremely arid place, so it probably made little sense to pave the streets. No rain meant no mud, and so long as the ruts made by wagons were raked out from time to time, a dirt street would serve the city just as well as a paved one. Saranam seemed to be a city that lacked many things he was used to seeing in a city.
"What's the matter with you?" Dar asked curiously, staring at him. He and the Arkisian were standing at the bow to get a look at the city in the waning light of the afternoon. The sun was close to setting, and Renoit was trying to dock before the sun went down.
"Can't you smell it?" Tarrin asked in disbelief. "It's so strong, even you should smell it!"
"Smell what?" Dar asked. "I just smell ocean."
Tarrin threw up his paws. "Humans!" he snorted scathingly. "That place reeks, Dar! It stinks so bad, I can smell it from here!"
"We're a longspan out, Tarrin," Dar objected. "And the wind is to our back!"
Tarrin gave him a flat look.
"Oh. I guess that's why you think it smells so bad," he reasoned.
"Exactly," Tarrin said, putting his paw over his nose so his own scent dulled the sharp stench assaulting him. "I'm starting to hope Renoit will pass this city by."
"We need supplies," Dar said. "Renoit said we'd only be here a day. Two at the most."
"That's two days too long for me," Tarrin grunted. "I think my nose is going to melt."
"Go human," Dar said. "You told me once that your nose isn't as sensitive in human form."
Tarrin snorted. "Kill my nose or kill my body. What a choice." He absently shifted into his human form, causing the nagging ache to immediately take up residence inside him, but it did blissfully cause the horrible stench to fade, and then disappear from his nose. "I think my body can take it better than my nose."
"Sometimes your blessing is your curse," Dar said philosophically.
"I see you shaved."
"How many cuts do I have?" Dar asked with a chuckle.
"A few. Nothing serious. Nothing your horde of admirers will notice."
"Please," Dar grunted. "They drive me crazy. What do they want from me, anyway?"
"I can tell you that, Dar," Tarrin said with a steady look. "Humans may be smart, but they're still animals. Those girls want exactly what any female in season wants."
Dar blushed furiously. "How do you know that?"
Tarrin touched the side of his nose meaningfully. "When a human woman's in season, her scent changes," he said calmly.
"I wish I could smell that," he growled softly. "Talli stuck her hand on my rear yesterday, and she tried to kiss me."
"If you want to get rid of them, bed a few of them. They'll realize that you're just using them for sex, and they'll stop bothering you."
" Tarrin!" Dar said in a strangled tone. "That's-that's-well, that's rude!"
"So?"
Dar gawked at him, then he laughed helplessly. "Like you care about what people think of you," he accused with a grin. "I was raised with manners."
Tarrin lowered his eyes, then turned and looked back over the bow. So had he, once. But a bite from Jesmind had changed all that. Now he had a new upbringing, one that was much more primitive, much less civilized. It hurt a little to think that Dar thought that what he was now was what he always was. He was human, once. He'd had a life, and friends, and family, and he wasn't violent or dangerous. But that was another life, another time, a time long past. Being in human form made the Cat a bit more distant, but it was never enough to get away from it, to return to what once was. His human form was just an image, an illusion, a convenient way to hide the truth within. A painful reminder of what he once had, and what was taken from him.
"When do you think we'll get there?" Dar asked.
"Go away, Dar," Tarrin said calmly, quietly. Dar understood Tarrin enough to know that he wasn't being facetious or playful. Without another word, Dar quietly retreated from him, leaving him alone in the bow with his thoughts.
"That wasn't very nice, Tarrin," Sarraya accused indignantly as she winked into view beside him. Sarraya really liked Dar, and she jumped to his defense whenever she felt him slighted.
"Get away from me, Sarraya," he said in a deceptively calm voice, low and throaty, nearly a growl.
Not one to be foolish, the sprite did as she was told immediately.
He spent the time it took to dock in complete solitude and in silence. Dar's jibe stung, but he hadn't meant it as an insult. Tarrin had to admit that he didn't care what people thought of him. He was who he was, and he accepted it. That was all he needed. The approval of people he had no care for didn't concern him. It didn't hurt to think of what people thought of him, it hurt when he remembered how he used to be, how much he had changed. Changed in ways he'd never have expected, changed in ways that would make his family ashamed of him. It was a good thing they were all in Ungardt, well away from him.
The ship tied up and lowered its gangplank smartly at sunset. Tarrin was joined by Allia and Dar, each wearing long silk robes to conceal themselves from wandering eyes. Allia looked particularly uncomfortable in her attire. It was a bright red silk, complete with a hood-like cowl and veil common in Saranam and Yar Arak. Saranami and Arakite women favored the garments, for some mysterious reason. She was carrying his staff, which she handed to him wordlessly when she reached him.
"You look unhappy," Tarrin remarked to her.
"I despise being dressed like this," she growled. "But Dolanna said that we must not attract attention. She feels I would attract attention."
"You're Selani, Allia," Dar said simply. "You'll attract attention. Trust me."
"She'll attract attention like that anyway," Tarrin noted. "She's about a head taller than an average woman. It makes her stand out."
"No disguise is perfect," Dar shrugged.
Dolanna arrived, wearing a similar robe and veil. The woman's pale skin made her stand out a little from her black robe. "Tarrin," she greeted, "You need to take your cat form."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you will be the one to try to find the Doomwalker," she replied. "You cannot smell it in that form. You need a form with good senses, and your natural form will give us away."
"With that stench out there, I may not be able to smell it, Dolanna," he warned. "This is the worst city I've ever scented before. It puts Dayise and Suld to shame. They smell like country meadows compared to that," he said with a wave towards the city.
"We will be happy with whatever aid you can provide, my dear one," she smiled through her veil.
"Any idea about what we do when we get to Arak?" Dar asked curiously.
"Some. I have been talking with Phandebrass and Camara Tal. We have worked out an idea."
"What kind of idea?" Tarrin asked.
"The Book of Ages is an ancient tome, dear one," she replied. "And there are weaves for locating items of extreme age."
"I-ohhhh," Dar said with a smile. "I get it. Even in a city the size of Dala Yar Arak, there can't be thousand-year-old antiques in every attic."
"Precisely," she nodded. "Phandebrass is researching a wizard spell that will duplicate the weave, and Camara Tal has already arranged the proper spell with her goddess."
"You didn't ask me," Sarraya fumed.
"You already have a primary task, Faerie," Dolanna replied. "We will not usurp you from it."
"I could be convinced."
"True, but I will not answer to Triana for your own failing. That is an unpleasant chore that you may undergo alone."
"Cheater," Sarraya grumbled.
"There are bound to be a great many items that will react to the spells we have in mind, but at least it will give us a way to search in a systematic manner," Dolanna told Tarrin. "But we must do it quickly. We are not the only ones looking for the book. We must find it first."
Faalken joined them, wearing his full armor, his magical sword belted at his side. "We're about ready to go, Dolanna," he reported. "That crazy wizard's stuffing his pockets with sand, scales, a lizard's tail, and other weird things."
"Spell components, most likely," Dolanna replied. Tarrin looked, and saw the mage rifling through his pockets and a satchel he was carrying. The drakes were on his shoulders, looking down as he checked his inventory of goods.
"Maybe he just wants to scare somebody," Faalken chuckled to himself as he moved towards Camara Tal. The Amazon still wouldn't get all that close to him, but for this excursion, he had already steeled himself against her presence.
"Allia, you carry Tarrin. You are the only one that can understand him," Dolanna ordered.
Allia nodded, and Tarrin absently shifted into his cat form. It felt a little weird doing it directly from the human shape, but the immediate easing of aching muscles and joints was a blissful relief, release, from the unnatural form. His staff disappeared with him, since it was in his hands when he changed form, riding along in that elsewhere his clothing went when he shapeshifted. It would reappear when he changed back. Allia reached down and picked him up, then cradled him to her chest gently. The horrific stench of the city assaulted him with surprising power, since they were literally in the city now, and the wind blew its foul miasma right into his face. He sneezed a few times at the horrible odor, but forced himself to test it, sift through it, rule out the stink of human waste and decaying vermin and animal droppings to search for that unnatural grave smell that accompanied the Doomwalker. There was no hint of the Doomwalker in the wind, but he'd know more when they went out into the city, as Dolanna planned. Go out and make sure it either was there or it wasn't there, and plan the rest of the night accordingly.
"Alright, is everyone ready?" Faalken asked with a light smile.
"Let's go, then," Camara Tal grunted.
"I say, I'm ready to go," Phandebrass announced. "Chopstick, Turnkey, you stay here and watch the ship while we're gone. Come get me if something bad happens," he ordered the drakes, who both nodded and flew up into the rigging. "Alright, let's go about and hunt down that fell monster."
"Sounds good to me," Sarraya said with a bright eagerness in her eyes.
It worked rather well. Allia carried Tarrin through the city, following Dolanna and Faalken confidently, as Tarrin choked through the horrible smell of the city and searched for any scent trace of the Doomwalker. They walked along streets that were bustling with many people, dressed almost universally in robes or silks so as not to stand out. Most of them were dark-skinned, Arakites, Saranami, maybe even a few Godani or Nyrians from east of Yar Arak. A few dusky Tellurians from the southern continent were also visible on the streets. All of those people were merchants, traders, coming to Saranam to arrange trade with Yar Arak, or arrange for goods from that massive empire. Many outlander merchants preferred to deal with Arakites outside Yar Arak, because of the Arakite penchant for enslaving outlanders. More than a few slaves were former merchants who had offended their potential business associates. The late hour didn't seem to affect business in the slightest, and the few permanent structures were loud with musicians, dancers, and revelry. Those permanent buildings were either inns or festival halls, hosting open parties for anyone with the coin to pay to enter. The streets were lit by torches on tall stands, ten spans overhead, torches that spat and guttered in the moderate breeze blowing towards the sea. The minor streets were surprising, haphazard at best, packed dirt with slight ruts in them from wagon wheels, which turned and meandered around tents that were erected wherever there was enough room for them to fit. Only established large streets were kept open, streets clearly marked by shallow ditches on either side, ditches filled with human excrement and dead rats. Those major streets had been what had made the city look more orderly from a distance, for the tents lining those streets were evenly spaced and created a pattern that the eye naturally sought out. Wooden slabs were laid over the ditches to form smaller side streets, streets that rarely went straight for more than twenty spans before curving around someone's tent. It made the city a packed maze of stretched cloth and decay, where the only landmarks were the major streets and the towers of the city wall, which were visible over the tents.
"Any sign?" Allia asked quietly.
"Not yet," he replied in the manner of the Cat. "It's hard to smell anything over this stench, sister. I'd be surprised if I could sniff it out."
"Just do your best, deshida," Allia replied aloud. "It's all we can ask of you."
"Any sign?" Faalken asked back to them. Allia shook her head, and the Knight nodded to her and returned to guiding them along meandering streets bordered by colorful tents and illuminated by a thousand wandering torches.
"I hope Renoit has the sense to keep his people close," Camara Tal grunted. "With as much ale that flows in this city, he may lose a few if he lets them run free."
"I doubt they'd get that drunk, Camara Tal," Dar objected.
"It's not them drinking that would be the problem," she replied. "It would be them surviving the ones that are drinking that's tricky. Those performers are all generally small, thin people. They'd look like juicy targets to a drunken bully looking for someone to fight."
"I learned early in life that there are three kinds of people you don't bully, Camara Tal," Faalken looked back with a grin. "Warriors, dancers, and acrobats."
"Why is that, Faalken?" Phandebrass asked curiously.
Faalken grinned at the mage. "All three are alot stronger than they look," he replied. "I knew a dancing girl in Ultern that could bend pewter tankards by putting them between her knees and squeezing them."
"Ouch," Dar grunted.
"I'd certainly not want to be married to her," Faalken chuckled. "I'd be afraid to fulfill my marital duty."
Tarrin's ears picked up as a faint trace of a horrible earthen smell touched his nose, the unmistakable scent of something beyond the grave. The smell of it made his heart pick up and his ears lay back. It was in the wind, not on the ground, an airborne scent that came from their right. "That's it," he told Allia quickly. "It's here."
"It's here," Allia echoed to the others.
"Where?" Dolanna asked.
"The scent on the wind, it could be anywhere upwind of me," he told Allia, who relayed that to Dolanna. The texture of the scent changed quickly and steadily, becoming more and more distinct.
With a gasp, he understood the meaning of that. It was moving towards them!
He struggled out of Allia's arms, and shapeshifted to his humanoid form immediately. His staff appeared in his paws with him as he got a bearing on the scent. Much stronger, much closer, and getting stronger and stronger! People gawked and gasped and pointed at him as he turned his nose into the wind, tuning out all other scents, concentrating solely on that one smell, and his sudden transformation made his companions put hands on their weapons. "Tarrin?" Dolanna asked nervously.
"It's moving right towards us, Dolanna," he said in a low voice. "Fast. Very fast. It knows exactly where we are."
"Phandebrass!" Dolanna barked. "Cast your spell now!"
"But we don't have time-"
"We don't have time, you fool!" Camara Tal snapped, whipping he sword out and pointing. "There it is!"
It charged from between two tents, sword in one hand and shield strapped to the other arm. It wore different armor this time, a heavy plate armor breastplate with no greaves or armguards, and a large crested helmet with cheekguards. The gray emaciation of its face made no doubt as to what it was, as did its unnatural scent. "No stone, Were-cat!" it cackled in hideous anticipation. "I have ye now!"
Tarrin raised his staff as it lunged right at him, ignoring everyone else, then slammed it into its shield in a broad sweep when it tried to skewer him, smashing the skeletal being to the side before it could find its mark.
"Sarraya, now!" Dolanna screamed. "Do it now!"
The Faerie appeared over the Doomwalker's head, and she raised her arms out to the sides. Her body began to glow with an incandescent light, but it ended with a squeaky "Eep!" when Jegojah's shield smashed into her from below, sending her careening over a tent and out of sight. The Doomwalker grabbed its sword in both hands, for it had thrown its shield to stop the Faerie from using her magic.
"Clever," Faalken grunted in appreciation as he pushed his helmet down a bit more on his helmet and drew his sword. "Let's get `im!" he called loudly.
Tarrin, Allia, Camara Tal, and Faalken attacked the Doomwalker literally from all four sides, but it completely ignored the others to focus on Tarrin. Its sword moved with deadly speed and precision, a shallow slice to the chest. He deflected it easily, turning the weapon away from Allia as she stabbed the Doomwalker with both her slender shortswords so it couldn't reverse its blow and attack her. Allia's weapons bounced off its armor with a metallic clang. Camara Tal stabbed it on the other side, with no more effect Allia's weapons had. But the Doomwalker staggered forward when Faalken hit it from behind with a massive overhanded blow of his magical weapon, a blow that split the back of its helmet and dug a deep gash in the back of its armored breastplate. It staggered right into Tarrin, who took a paw off his staff and hit it with a vicious, powerful sideways swipe of his claws, ripping the helmet off and ripping out a sizable chunk of the side of its face in the bargain. The strike sent it wobbling to the side, where Allia kicked it dead in the face and snapped its head back, arresting its sidways lurch. It seemed to recover immediately, kneeling and driving a fist into the ground-
– -and they were all flying through the air away from the undead warrior, struck by some magical force that emanated from that punch into the ground. Tarrin's breath whooshed out of his lungs as he sailed through the air, landing heavily on his side and rolling a few times before stopping on his back. The others weren't as resilient as he was, Faalken was laying on his back, rolling over as Camara Tal pulled herself up onto her knees. Allia was the only other one to withstand the blow, landing heavily but rolling with the momentum to come up lightly on her feet. She dashed forward with impossible speed even as the Doomwalker rose from its kneel and moved towards Tarrin.
He sucked in precious air for a long second, recovering his wits in time to see the Doomwalker charging at him with its weapon over its head. Such an obvious move had to be a feint or trick of some kind, he was sure of it. He was so sure of it that he nearly got hit by that weapon when it tried to cut his head in half. Doing the only thing he could think up, he shapeshifted quickly, turning back into a small cat. That made the attack go high, changing literally just as it struck, making it impossible for it to adjust to hit the smaller target. He scrambled to his feet and ran between the Doomwalker's legs, then turned and shapeshifted back to his natural form, raising his staff over his head to slam the Doomwalker into the ground. He gave it everything he had, knowing it wouldn't hurt the monster but it would take it off its feet-
– -and his staff hit nothing but empty air. It smashed into the ground, raising a furrow of flying dirt. He seemed to sense the Doomwalker to his right, and he slipped forward just in time to avoid having his head chopped off. The swipe took off his braid and nipped off the tip of his left ear, sending a bite of pain through the appendage. It reversed it swing to try to slash him, but Allia was there, striking the sword and sending it high as Tarrin ducked under it. The Were-cat and the Selani paused side by side, unspoken plans passing between them, and then they turned on the Doomwalker and attacked.
It had no idea what to do. The Were-cat and the Selani moved with blinding speed, in perfect harmony with one another, staff and slender swords jabbing, slashing, striking and worrying at the Doomwalker from every side all at once. Without its shield, it suffered innumerable nicks and slaps from the weapons, weapons that could do it no harm but succeeded in frustrating the undead creature as it tried to form a defense against the dizzying attack. With Allia there, Tarrin took one paw off his staff and wielded it like a sword, using it mainly to parry and push at the Doomwalker as his free paw and feet sought out the undead monster's flesh. His claws could do it harm, ripping chunks of gray flesh away with every swipe of them and digging gashes out of its exposed bone whenever he could. Any time Jegojah turned his attention to Tarrin, Allia would strike at its sword or knock it off balance, leaving it open for Tarrin's damaging claws. Any time it turned its attention to Allia, Tarrin would redouble if efforts to rip off the Doomwalker's head. It was caught between them, struggling to mount any defense against the deadly pair of skilled warriors.
Seeming to tire of the assault, it reared back and stomped on the ground, sending a shockwave of energy through the ground. It hit Tarrin and Allia like a giant's fist, slamming them back and away from it, but both of them twisted in the air and landed on their feet. They didn't have to fend off the Doomwalker, however, for Camara Tal had re-engaged the monster, and the fact that her sword was glowing with a magical light said that she had prepared herself before coming back into the fight. Every blow from the weapon sent brilliant sparks of light flying away from it, and the impact with the Doomwalker's sword seemed to shudder it back, as if Camara Tal were a full-grown woman striking at someone with a child's strength. The Amazon was cursing and chanting at the same time, something that seemed to unnerve the undead warrior, and the silver amulet around her neck was glowing with a brilliant amber radiance. She beat the Doomwalker back, beat it back with several broad, powerful blows from her sword, then knocked its weapon to the side and levelled her sword to stab it through the belly. But as she made the thrust, the Doomwalker simply disappeared, reappearing right behind her, just as it had done to Tarrin. She moved just as fast as he did, sliding to the side, but it wasn't fast enough. It tried to impale her through the back, but her move had caused the blade of the sword to cut a deep gash in her side, a minor wound that would only need stitches to mend. But the act of twisting had caused a foot to slip out from under her, spilling her to the ground right in front of the undead monster. It raised its weapon to chop her in half, but backed up when Phandebrass faced off against it.
The wizard was also chanting, chanting in the discordant language of magic, and his body flared with a bright light. When it dimmed, he was again turned to steel, and he wasted no time going after the Doomwalker. He smacked the Doomwalker's weapon aside almost negligently, then levelled an overhanded punch that would have driven the monster through the ground. But the Doomwalker raised a hand, a hand pulsating with magical energy, then levelled it at Phandebrass. It coalesced around him quickly, then it flashed so brightly that Tarrin lost sight of the mage for a second. When it faded, Phandebrass was flesh and blood once again.
The Doomwalker had somehow cancelled out Phandebrass' spell.
"Oh, bother," Phandebrass snorted as he backed quickly away from the undead warrior. It hadn't been for naught, since he had given Tarrin and Allia time to get back to the Doomwalker, and had given time for Camara Tal to scoot out of the way. Tarrin bulled into it from behind, driving it to the ground under his weight, his claws immediately seeking to rip the Doomwalker to shreds. Where was Dolanna and Dar! They needed some help here! But the Doomwalker simply vanished once again, and Tarrin scrambled forward instinctively after it disappeared from underneath him, fearing it would appear behind him and try to skewer him.
But it hadn't. It was right on top of Allia, and it was trying to kill her before anyone could arrive to help her against it. But the Doomwalker was suddenly perplexed by the lithe Selani. Allia had sparred against Tarrin for so long that she had a keen understanding of how someone with inhuman strength fought. She understood the tactics that Jegojah was trying to use, and she used that knowledge to keep herself absolutely out of his reach. She was like a piece of silk, bending and swaying in the wind, always within reach but never where she could be touched, evading his sword and free hand rather than trying to parry it or fence with it. She knew that to try to match Jegojah strength for strength would be suicide, so she unleashed the full power of her inhuman speed and agility on it, speed and agility that even Tarrin could not match, and the Doomwalker found itself trying to fight smoke. Allia threw her weapons aside quickly and raised her hands into a guard stance, and fire appeared around them. It was a clever move, because she immediately turned and attacked the Doomwalker, using the Sorcery around her hands as weapons. The sudden assault took the Doomwalker off guard, and it suffered several burning blows from her hands before it could mount any kind of a defense against her furiously speedy attack.
Tarrin glanced back quickly. Faalken was standing between the Doomwalker and Dolanna and Dar, blocking any attempt to get at them, and Phandebrass had maneuvered to join the two Sorcerers. Dolanna and Dar had their eyes closed, and it was obvious that they were circling, joining their powers so their magic would be stronger than if they worked seperately. Spectators had gathered at a safe distance, watching the fight with morbid curiosity. After that quick assessment, he smashed his staff into the side of Jegojah's face from his weak side, sending the Doomwalker flying, landing heavily on the street several spans to the side. He made sure to send it away from the magicians, keeping them and their power out of Jegojah's reach.
Jegojah regained its feet quickly. " Aruja ne!" it boomed loudly, then it reached down and punched its fist into the ground. Tarrin gripped his staff nervously, but nothing happened. At first. Around the Doomwalker, the ground began to shift, then it began to move. Skeletal hands erupted from the ground around it, and four skeletal beings, all wearing rusted armor and carrying badly rusted swords, climbed out of the earth.
It had summoned reinforcements!
"In the name of Neme, Goddess of the Amazons, I abjure ye, creations of darkness!" Camara Tal suddenly boomed, holding up her glowing amulet. "Return to the earth whence ye came!"
Tarrin glanced at her in confusion, but what was more confusing was that her loud command worked. The four skeletal beings seemed to shudder slightly, then they just fell apart, piles of bones and rusted metal.
Jegojah glared at the Amazon, holding up its hand at her. A blinding bolt of lightning erupted from its hand, sizzling across the space between them, and it struck her right in the chest. She was catapulted backwards heavily, landing on her back, where she laid still, smoke wafting up from her chest. He could see that she was still breathing, still breathing, and that averted a sudden powerful urge to enter a rage and go after the Doomwalker. His anger rose several notches at seeing Camara Tal hurt, but she wasn't dead. Regardless of that, it was going to pay for injuring his friends!
With a gutteral shout, Tarrin dashed the distance between them and slammed into its side before it could turn that lightning on him. It staggered back, and he punched it dead in the face. He punched it again, again, and yet again, snapping its head back, then he grabbed it by the free hand and turned his back, then whipped it over his shoulder in an Ungardt arm toss, smashing it into the ground. It tried to stab him from the ground, but he slid around it and drove his padded foot into its breastplate, punching a deep dent into it, but it seemed unmoved by the assault. It slashed its sword across his leg, opening a long wound that bled profusely. The pain only intensified Tarrin's anger even more, and with a savage snarl, he brought his foot down right on the Doomwalker's head, crushing its face and making its body convulse sharply.
Tarrin staggered back as the sword moved again, and to his horror, the Doomwalker's face simply repaired itself. It was regenerating, the same way he did! It had never done that before! It was the earth. It was standing on the earth, and it was drawing the energy to heal itself, just as Phandebrass said! It returned to its feet and brandished its sword at him, grinning evilly from a restored face.
What were Dolanna and Dar doing?
He found out. He felt them release a weave, a very strong weave. The ground around them suddenly began to shimmer, and then it ceased. The Doomwalker looked surprised, then it frowned deeply. What had they done? Did they try to leech the earth of organic material, as Sarraya was supposed to do before the Doomwalker knocked her out of the fight? The Doomwalker immediately turned in Dolanna's direction, but Tarrin intercepted it, forcing it to abandon getting at his vulnerable friends and making it fight, fight him. Allia joined with him once again, and they pressed the Doomwalker mercilessly. Tarrin ripped a huge chunk of flesh out of its neck with his claws, and he saw that thought it did start to mend, it did so slowly. They had at least weakened the Doomwalker with their Sorcery! They continued to press it, but the Doomwalker seemed not as confused this time. Its sword moved with certainty and speed, moving precisely to counter their harmonious attack. It was starting to figure them out. Allia changed tactics, her hands still burning with Sorcerer's fire, darting back and letting Tarrin square off against Jegojah, then striking him from the flank. It turned to deal with her, but she back off again, forcing it to deal with Tarrin's powerful staff, working her way around it to strike at it from behind. Tarrin attacked with a series of complicated high-low sweeps with his staff, an intricate series he had used against the Doomwalker before, a series it had defeated every time. He knew it would defeat the attacks, but it was a very complex defense that would absorb all of the Doomwalker's attention and give his sister the time she needed to get into position.
She struck like a viper just as Jegojah parried a low sweep from Tarrin's staff. Fiery hand leading, she came in high, but to Tarrin's shock, the Doomwalker twisted inhumanly with its sword leading, trying to cut Allia in half. She saw it coming and twisted in midair, but it wasn't enough. The blade of Jegojah's sword cut a deep line across her ribs, just under her right breast. Allia hissed with pain and staggered backwards as soon as her feet hit the ground, hunching over the deep cut in her side and chest, backing away quickly to prevent it from finishing her off. Tarrin's rage quadrupled at that sight. He blocked the Doomwalker from pursuing his sister, eyes burning with their green fire and attacking the Doomwalker with savage, mindless fury, forcing it to give ground to him, to get distance between it and Allia. He didn't see that he was backing Jegojah up right towards Dolanna, Phandebrass, and Dar, and Faalken lunged forward as the Doomwalker approached, to give the Doomwalker something else to worry about.
Faalken hit it from surprise, his magical weapon ripping a huge hole in its breastplate as he hit it from the flank. It staggered only one step, moving right into the path of a searing blast of fire that erupted from Dolanna's and Dar's slender hands, fire that engulfed the undead warrior, licked at it, clung to its form like a cloak and tried to burn it to ash. The Knight and Sorceress had worked together for a long time, and he realized that Faalken had knocked the Doomwalker into a position where Dolanna and Dar, linked into a circle, could hit it with Sorcery without endangering anyone else. Tarrin recoiled from that magical fire instinctively, feeling its searing heat and nearly getting burned himself by it as it flared into being around the Doomwalker.
"Ye friends, they only delay the inevitable, yes!" Jegojah screamed with a horrid cackle, pushing its hands to the sides. The move caused the fire around it to blow outwards, winking out and leaving a seemingly unscathed Doomwalker standing there with an evil grin on its face. Tarrin backed up a couple more steps as the fire swept in his direction, but it dissipated before it reached him. Faalken simply covered his face with his armored forearm and allowed the licks of flame to pass over him harmlessly. The disruption of their Sorcery made Dolanna and Dar stagger backwards, Dar falling back on his backside as Dolanna put a hand to her head woozily. That smile didn't last when Faalken stabbed it right in the back of the head from behind, splitting its face as the blade erupted from right between its eyes. He kicked the Doomwalker forward, off his blade, but the monster didn't fall. It only turned on the Knight with a leery grin, as the hole in its head mended itself before their eyes, albeit slowly.
"Your sword, even it can't hurt Jegojah when Jegojah stands on earth," it said tauntingly, raising its sword against the Knight with deft speed.
Anger and fear mingling within him, Tarrin turned and lunged towards the battling pair. He was only a few paces away, but those few paces were an eternity to the two armored adversaries, who had engaged one another. Faalken was one of the best Knights, grizzled, experienced, skilled, and he gave the Doomwalker a serious challenge. Swords struck one another with dizzying speed and sharp ringing as the pair duelled, trading blows back and forth. But it was clear to everyone that Faalken was incapable of dealing with the Doomwalker's inhuman strength. Jegojah's attacks drove the Knight's sword wider and wider as its superior strength overpowered its human foe. Faalken seemed to understand what the Doomwalker was doing, letting it pull his weapon wide and out of position, until the creature feinted a diagonal slash towards his sword arm, then reversed and tried to take Faalken apart at the shoulder. The Knight twisted around the blow with surprising agility for someone encased in steel, but the edge of the sword bit on the Knight's breastplate and cut a shear all the way to the stomach. Faalken retaliated with an underhanded thrust to the belly, driving his sword into Jegojah's abdomen, sending the tip through the back of its armor. It was a subtle, exceptional move, a move that would have ended any other battle. But the Doomwalker seemed to be completely unphased by the sword rammed through its stomach, a magical blade that should have done it harm. It turned its sword and moved to do the same thing, impale Faalken on its blade.
But then Tarrin was there. With a loud, furious scream, Tarrin struck the Doomwalker dead in the face with his staff, snapping the head around, knocking it to the side. Faalken's sword came out of it, the Knight not letting go as it wrested aside, and Tarrin hit it again, again, yet again with his staff, then reared up and drove all five claws of his foot up under the chin of the Doomwalker in the standing split-kick that Allia had taught him. Where his staff couldn't hurt it, his claws could, lifting the Doomwalker off its feet and sending it a few spans backwards and up, until it landed heavily on the back of its neck.
Tarrin felt furious heat under his feet. He looked down, and stared in shock. The ground was turning into glass! He looked up, and saw Phandebrass chanting loudly in a discordant language, throwing sand onto the ground and continuing to chant. The circle of hot glass expanded around them, consuming the ground under the still-dazed Camara Tal and Allia, under Dolanna and Dar, then under the mage himself.
"Now, lad, before it breaks the glass!" Phandebrass screamed.
"Faalken!" Dolanna cried with ominous concern. Tarrin glanced back and saw Faalken sagging to the ground slowly.
Blood was pouring from the sheared slash in his breastplate.
The sight of his good friend injured, the sight of a friend getting hurt because of him, was all it took. Throwing the staff aside, the Cat rushing into him and filling him with primal rage, Tarrin attacked the recovering Doomwalker with wild abandon. Claws ripped and slashed, pummeling the kneeling foe mercilessly as the enraged Were-cat unleashed his full fury on the shaken opponent. The Doomwalker attempted to stab him with its sword, but Tarrin simply caught the blade in a paw, cutting it deeply, then literally ripped it out of the emaciated hand and tossed it aside. Still screaming in a mindless fury, he continued to rip the Doomwalker apart with his bare claws, sending gray flesh and bone flying away from him with every swipe of his claws. He heard something crack, and then something hit him hard just under the ribs, sending him off his feet and tumbling through the air, to land lightly on his feet several spans away.
Jegojah had punched through the glass. The rips and tears in its body were quickly healing over now that it was back in contact with the earth. Tarrin panted as he tried to get the air back into his lungs, blown out by the force of the blow inflicted on his ribs by the Doomwalker's other hand, but it only intensified his fury. Jegojah raised his hands to point at Tarrin, but the Cat remembered what that meant. He waited til the last second, til the ozone smell filled the air, and then he leaped into the air, leaped clear as a brilliant bolt of lighting blasted through the air beneath him, striking a tent behind him and causing it to burst into flame. Tarrin's paws were reaching for the Doomwalker as he soared towards it, but it caught his wrists and brought him to a stop just in front of it. Tarrin dug his claws into the glass beneath and pushed with all his might against his undead enemy, eyes boring into it and fangs bared in a vicious snarl. He pushed his claws towards that skeletal, leering face, pushed them towards the object of his explosive fury.
"The human, he is mortally wounded," the Doomwalker hissed at him in a low tone, a tone of mocking. "Ye magic, where is it to heal him, yes? Ye can try to rip me apart, or the human, ye can heal him, yes. Which will it be, Were-cat?"
Tarrin, the Cat, only glared at it more furiously and redoubled its resolve to destroy it.
"Which will be next, Were-cat?" it taunted. "The Amazon, yes? Maybe the Sorceress? Perhaps the Selani wench."
With a vicious shriek, Tarrin exploded against the Doomwalker's strength, driving its arms back. Stark hatred burned inside him, burned against anyone who would threaten his sister. Hatred that fueled him, drove him, demanded that he destroy the Doomwalker, and do it utterly. But it held fast against him, hands crushing his wrists, causing pain that Tarrin could no longer feel. But no matter how much he pushed, the superior strength of the Doomwalker, fueled by its magical connection to the earth, could not be overmatched.
The Cat could not overpower it. But the Cat could overwhelm it. Overwhelm it and destroy it. It knew what to do. The human wizard had explained it to Tarrin, and it was something that the Cat remembered.
Eyes burning a bright green in fury, that green suddenly blazed into an incandescent white, a light of painful intensity that illuminated the Doomwalker's faced, bathed it in the light of doom. It seemed to sense that it had crossed a line that it should not have crossed, that it had sent Tarrin from the the fury of a rage into the dark pit of total maniacal bloodlust. A scream issued forth from the Were-cat, a sound of pure, unmitigated hatred, a sound that did not even remotely contain rational thought.
Tarrin's body exploded into a brilliant, incandescent aura of Magelight, fingers feathering from him as he reached out with coiled tendrils of the seven spheres. They sought out strands, and when they touched them, he snapped them, causing them to form into new strands. A concentrated web of magical power formed around him, with the Were-cat at its nucleus. Still being held by the Doomwalker, the Were-cat opened himself completely and utterly to the power of the Weave, letting it fill him, suffuse him, sweep him up in its ecstatic depths and drown him in the rapture of its power. He drained the Weave of its energy all around him, bringing it into him, into a body that was never meant to contain such incredible power. But that power was held for only a brief moment, long enough to form it into a titanic weave consisting mostly of Mind and Divine energy, with only token flows of other spheres to charge the weave with the power of High Sorcery.
Tarrin released that weave against the Doomwalker's body, filling it with every iota of the power he had gathered within him, utterly draining him of everything he had. It entered the dead shell and infused it, charged it with a magical force it could not possibly hope to contain. Jegojah's body suddenly began to glow, and cracks formed in its gray, pallid skin, beneath which pulsed a blazing incadescence that seared the eyes. The Doomwalker fought against his magic with its own, but it was like a mosquito challenging an eagle. It tried to pull away, but Tarrin grabbed it by it hands and held onto it, held it in a crushing grip that doomed it. Those cracks widened, split, crisscrossing the entire body, until that material form achieved the maximum potential of energy it could hold. And even still Tarrin poured magical power into it, breaking that ultimate threshold.
The body held by the Were-cat shuddered only once, and then it detonated in a blinding flash of fire and light, generating an ear-splitting BOOM that echoed from the city walls. It knocked everyone but Tarrin off their feet for hundreds of spans in every direction, who was shielded from the explosive force by the power of his own Sorcery, the ghostly aura of wispy light that shimmered around him. Tents uprooted and blew away by the power of the explosion, buildings shuddered and glass windows shattered, and a cloud of smoke and dust was sent high, high into the air.
When the smoke cleared from around him, Tarrin stood blankly, standing before a smoking crater in the hard packed street.
The Were-cat sagged to the ground, still connected to the Weave. Release. It had to release the Weave, or he would be destroyed. Gritting his teeth, he severed himself from the Weave, taking advantage of the fact that the spell he had woven had completely drained him to the point where the power couldn't resist being stopped.
The backlash blew at his clothes, pushing them away from him, sent a shockwave away from him as he cut himself off from the Weave, ripped an avalanche of pain through him that shocked him back to his senses. Sagging to his paws and knees, Tarrin sucked in air as fast as he could draw it into his lungs, feeling the searing pain ripple through him, feeling like he'd been boiled in his own pelt. Memory of it all was scattered in his mind, with only nightmarish images of the Doomwalker, Sarraya being struck by the shield, of seeing Allia and Camara Tal laying motionless on the ground. Of Faalken-
Faalken!
Tarrin pulled his head up, looking towards the Knight. Dolanna and Dar had the burly Knight on his back on the ground. Camara Tal was standing over him, her halter burned in half and leaving her bare from the waist up, but she had no blackened wound in her chest. She had healed herself. She had her amulet in hand, but her head was bowed. Both her hands were bloody. He saw with cold horror the huge pool of blood that was around the Knight, covering his sheared armor, soaking into the dirt and into the robes that Dolanna and Dar were wearing.
"Fa-Faalken," Tarrin wheezed, trying to get back his breath. "N-No, Faalken."
Dolanna looked up at him, looked into his eyes, and what he saw in them caused a cold hand to wrap around his soul.
Faalken was dead.
It struck him like the hammer of a giant. The enormity of it drove daggers into his mind, burned his soul with the purity of its significance. A friend had died, a friend had died protecting him. A friend had died because of him, a friend was dead, and it was his fault.
It was his fault.
Images of his mother, staring at him with terror in her eyes as he held her against a wall, preparing to rip off her head, swirled in his mind. Images of the many people he had killed, images of Faalken, the cherubic, optomistic Knight who always had a smile and a comical word, one of the few people who could make Tarrin laugh. A cheery soul, a warm friend, his light forever extinguished.
And it was his fault.
Faalken was dead because of him! The words of the Doomwalker returned to him, the taunting, offering him the choice between saving his friend or destroying the Doomwalker. In his rage, he followed the only path that made sense to the animal within, the destruction of an enemy. He had let Faalken die just to satisfy his own lust to kill. Jegojah may have struck the blow, but it was Tarrin who had let Faalken die!
Faalken was dead. Faalken was dead, and Tarrin had killed him.
He shook his head dumbly, denying the stark truth, the horrible realization that he was now the monster that he had always feared he would be. He had caused the death of his own friend. But there was no denying a truth so powerful, so simple, so logical. Tarrin had had a choice, and he had chosen to let Faalken die. He was guilty, he was the one. It was all his fault.
Paws to the sides of his head, Tarrin reared back and wailed to the sky, a heart-rending moan of utter despair, of abject sorrow.
Faalken was dead. And he was the monster that killed him.
GoTo: Title EoF